Brian was growing impatient. He sighed, “Can’t help but wonder if they would have replied by now, had we included an online gift?”
Jacquelyn looked up from the Bible she was reading, “You know the rules. No online purchases to outsiders. That would require our personal information with payment. Not good!”
“I know. But by not including a gift, I feel like our emails will remain buried like needles in millions of haystacks.”
“I still remember what the reporter on TV said about Hana receiving more than a million congratulatory cards before baby Salvadora was even born. How many more has she received since?”
“Please stop calling her by that name. Gives me the creeps.”
Jacquelyn kissed her husband’s forehead. “Sorry, sweetie.”
Brian frowned, “Sometimes I wonder why God prompted me to contact them in the first place. Every time I turn on the TV or go online, the Patels are being bombarded with house visits from celebrities and people in high places, including India’s President. Yet, I’m supposed to believe they’ll find time to reply back to the few emails we sent?”
Jacquelyn gazed into her husband’s eyes. The pain of losing his kid sister was still there. She was amazed at how much gray was mixed in with the beautiful auburn hair Brian had when they first met. “You know how God’s been communicating with us using dreams. We must remain patient. Surely, He’ll open this door for us when the time is right.”
Brian leaned over and kissed his wife on the lips. “Just one more reason why I love you so much.”
“Love you too, dear!”
After one more long kiss, Brian turned off the light on his side of the bed and the Mulrooneys eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, during Brian’s prayer time, Yogesh Patel kept coming to his mind. “Lord, are You prompting me to shift my focus from Hana to Yogesh?” Feeling the answer was yes, he shared it with Jacquelyn.
“Well, on one front, it certainly makes sense. It seems Yogesh is seldom mentioned among all the hoopla. Perhaps that’s why the Holy Spirit’s nudging you in that direction…”
“My thoughts exactly. Wouldn’t be surprised if Hana received more cards and emails in one day than Yogesh received in total.” Brian scratched his head, “Perhaps we can snail mail a package addressed to Yogesh only, using a fake name and return address.”
“Hmm, we’d need permission first...”
Brian nodded agreement, “Of course. But I want them to receive it before they go to the Middle East. Once they meet Romanero and receive the million-dollar prize money, with the whole world watching, it’ll be even more difficult for them to find time to open it.”
It was decided then. Brian shared his idea with Charles Calloway, who then contacted Braxton Rice.
At first, the ETSM security chief was dead set against it. It was too risky. The Patels were one of the most popular couples on the planet. With that came a very bright spotlight constantly shining on them.
“Perhaps in time it could be done,” Rice had said, “just not now...”
He reconsidered after dreaming about the very thing the Mulrooneys were attempting to do. He gave the green light to proceed, but told them not to send the package until he first had time to weigh all options and pray about it. He also needed to find a post office that was still open.
Most had closed after power was lost. Rice had no idea how personally involved he would be with this particular mission...
In the meantime, Brian spent a full day drafting a letter to Yogesh Patel, explaining what had happened to him after the disappearances, and how God had since changed him from a false to a real convert.
Taking a page out of the “Justin Schroeder Playbook”, Mulrooney followed in his late friend’s footsteps and placed the letter inside a Bible to be included in the package. His hope was, by paying it forward, those two things would impact the recipient more than the clothing for his daughter would, much like Justin’s letter had done for him.
Jacquelyn sorted through the small mountain of clothing she’d purchased for her unborn child before the Rapture, looking for an outfit or two to include in the package for the Patel child. The rest of the clothing would be shared with newborns at safehouse number one.
By choice, Jacquelyn didn’t want to know the child’s gender back then, which explained the two piles of clothing on the coffee table; one for boys, the other for girls. When the baby was suddenly sucked out of her womb on that life-altering day, the not knowing if it was a boy or girl turned out to be a minor blessing. Had she known, it would have only led to more personal anguish and given her something else to lament over.
Finally, on Braxton Rice’s order, Jacquelyn and Mary Johnston drove 66 miles northeast to a post office main distribution center in Trenton, New Jersey. All local branches were still closed.
Rice had one of his subordinates check the location the day before, looking for the best way for Jacquelyn and Mary to avoid detection. With so many security cameras, the only shot they had was to wear surgical masks and cover their heads in scarves.
Mindful that pregnant women were treated like diplomats everywhere they went, Braxton Rice told Jacquelyn to do all the talking. The only problem was, at three months pregnant, she wasn’t showing yet.
Leticia Gonzalez was going stir crazy and wanted to join them. Despite her constant pleading that she was showing, her request was denied. Not only was she hours away from giving birth, at only 12 years of age, her very presence would cause such a commotion at the post office. Everyone would want to take selfies with the young expectant mother and connect with her on social media.
It wasn’t a risk worth taking.
Before ambling inside the near-empty post office, Jacquelyn stuffed a pillow under her sweater to make her look even more pregnant than she really was. Many women had done that, post-Rapture, to further protect the child in the womb, in case the mother slipped and fell.
In Jacquelyn’s case, that was only partly the reason for doing it.
They had no intention of removing their masks or headscarves or revealing their true identities to anyone.
They just hoped they wouldn’t be asked to produce ID’s. If by chance they were, they’d say they left their purses in the car then drive to the next post office on the back-up list and try again.
As expected, Jacquelyn was showered with grateful smiles from the few people who were there, most of whom were postal employees.
Mary Johnston went largely ignored. She didn’t take it personally.
Posing as Joan Henriksen, Jacquelyn placed the package on the counter, and handed the postal clerk the shipping paperwork.
Seeing the recipient’s name on the label, the postal clerk said, “Can’t tell you how many packages I’ve shipped to this P.O. Box the past few months. Practically have it memorized. Only this is the first one addressed to baby Salvadora’s father.”
Jacquelyn gulped hard. The way he said it concerned her a bit. “I’m sure Hana still has a mountain of gifts to open. Figured they’d get to it sooner if I mailed it to him instead.”
The man raised an eyebrow, “Smart thinking on your part...”
“You should thank my husband, Brad. It was his idea.”
After placing the proper shipping label on the box and applying more tape for good measure, Kaito Yamamoto glanced at the return address label. “That’ll be a hundred and thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents, Mrs. Henriksen.”
Jacquelyn pulled two crisp hundred dollar bills from her pants pocket and handed them to him.
The postal clerk shifted his weight from one leg to the other and raised an eyebrow. This was his first cash client in many days.
For protection purposes, Salvador Romanero had urged all citizens, especially new and expectant mothers, to keep their cash in banks and use debit cards for all purchases, until the new monetary card became widely available, which ultimately would help usher in the cashless system.
Jacquelyn braced herself, praying
he wouldn’t ask for identification.
He glanced down at Joan Henriksen’s baby bump and, knowing she was an untouchable, he dismissed all suspicions and took her cash.
Hormones are probably out of whack from the pregnancy; she’s not thinking right. Besides, it was getting late. His shift was almost over. He was tired and hungry and wanted to go home.
He handed his customer her change, “The package should arrive in roughly ten days, give or take. Normally, it only takes three days.”
Jacquelyn said, “We understand.” So long as it arrives before the Patels leave for the Middle East, no problem.
“Here’s your tracking number. Good luck with the pregnancy.”
Joan Henriksen rubbed her belly, “Thank you.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Time will tell…”
The postal clerk jerked his head back, “Really? You don’t know?”
The way he said it made Jacquelyn gulp hard. “Been fighting it all this time. On one hand, I wanna know. On the other hand, I don’t.”
Yamamoto grew suspicious again. Something wasn’t right with these two women. There was this nervous energy swirling about them. And he couldn’t ignore what he saw on their faces. It’s like they were hiding something. It rubbed him the wrong way.
Sensing what the man was thinking, Jacquelyn gulped, then tightened her headscarf, “It’s windy out there...”
At that, the two ETSM women left the post office, praising God that Jacquelyn wasn’t asked to show ID. Nor was she peppered with questions expectant mothers were constantly asked a few short months ago.
“Did you win contest money? If so, how much?” “Were you given a place to live for free?” And on and on…
Perhaps because so many women had already given birth; or because their country was under constant attack, they refrained.
Whatever the reason, it was one less thing to worry about. The security cameras sweeping back and forth capturing their images gave them more than enough to be concerned about.
They hurried to the car parked three blocks away, without looking back. Before getting on the highway, they were surprised to see a small diner open for business. They stopped in for a bite to eat. Both considered it a rare treat.
Save for a handful of others, Jacquelyn and Mary had the restaurant all to themselves. The server, a young woman named Candace, was grateful just to have customers to wait on.
Mary ordered a Reuben. She’d been craving one ever since she left Manhattan. It was as good as any she’d had back home.
Jacquelyn ordered an appetizer tray that had chicken wings, stuffed potato skins and fried zucchini with a horse radish sauce.
The service was excellent, but the young girl was almost too attentive, constantly hovering by their table asking if they were okay. She made it difficult for them to discuss anything important.
The two ETSM women wanted to witness to her and indeed tried to in subtle ways. But it was evident, at least for now, that she was spiritually blinded to the Truth.
When Candace dropped the check, Jacquelyn paid in cash, rewarding the young woman’s good service with a generous tip.
The biggest tip Candace would receive would come in the form of prayer, even if she didn’t know it.
The main topic of discussion on the drive back to Chadds Ford was Sarah Mulrooney.
Mary asked, “How well do you know your mother-in-law?”
“In truth, I hardly know her at all. Before she arrived at safe house number one, we spoke on the phone a few times. Other than that, the only other time I met her in person was at our wedding. What a disaster it turned out to be.”
“Yeah, brother Tom told me all about it. Only time I met Sarah was when we drove to Pennsylvania with Braxton. Even then she was a mess.” Mary stared out the passenger window. “Think she’s suicidal?”
Jacquelyn shot Mary a quick glance, then refocused her attention on the road before her, “Why do you say that?”
“You know, after all she’s been through…”
Jacquelyn sighed, “Let’s hope not. Thankfully, she made a full recovery from her collapse. Even so, aside from eating and using the restroom, she never leaves her bedroom. We often hear her crying.
“She’s the only resident not living up to her agreed responsibilities. Brian’s always saying his mother has turned into Chelsea, only she still alive. It’s having a serious negative impact on him.”
As Jacquelyn guided the vehicle onto I-95 south, Mary lowered her head and prayed the package would arrive in Chennai, India before the Patels traveled to Dubai for the Day of New Beginnings celebration.
Mary then prayed that God would intervene and heal Jacquelyn’s mother-in-law before Sarah did something foolish like her daughter had done. Finally, she prayed for Candace, “Change her heart, Lord, as only You can, Amen!”
A teary-eyed Jacquelyn said, “Amen!”
Two hours later, after taking many detours along the way, they made it back to safe house number one to learn the population was about to increase by one…
20
JACQUELYN WALKED THROUGH THE front door to find Brian in the living room, reading the Bible by candlelight. There had been no contact between the couple since the two women left for Trenton. They were told to leave their cell phones at home, just in case. Brian looked anxious.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“It’s about to happen.”
Just as Jacquelyn was about to ask what her husband meant by that, her face lit up, “Leticia’s in labor?”
“Yup.”
“Wow, really? When?”
“An hour after you left. I think it’s been five hours now.”
“Let’s go see her!”
“The waiting line starts at the sanctuary…”
“Sanctuary?”
Brian nodded yes. “Everyone was so excited when she went into labor that they stormed the hospital. Meera was forced to kick everyone out. The sanctuary’s the waiting room.”
“Good thing she didn’t go with us today.”
“You got that right.”
“Let’s go to the sanctuary then.”
Brian put on his coat and surgical mask, made sure he had his inhaler and they left at once.
When they got there, a nervous Julio Gonzalez asked Tamika, “Has her cervix dilated any further?”
“Seven centimeters now. Won’t be long before she starts pushing. Congratulations in advance, Grandpa.”
Julio beamed. In his mind, at 34, he was too young to be a grandfather, let alone be called one. But now that it was about to happen, he liked the sound of it. “How is she?”
Tamika smiled. “Just fine. In the best of care.”
“And Marta?”
“Fine, too. Refuses to leave Leticia’s side.”
“I’m sure she’s hungry. Can you bring a platter back for her?”
“I’m going to the cafeteria now.”
“When can I see her?”
“Whenever you want, Julio. You’re her father.”
“What about me?”
Tamika smiled, “Soon, Joaquim.”
Tamika was impressed by Joaquim’s concern for Leticia. He wasn’t the father, but you’d never know it by the way he was acting. His concern for her was genuine. He was quite matured for his young age.
Leticia wanted him by her side holding her hand when she gave birth to her son she’d already named, Julio, after her father and late brother.
Her request was denied by her parents. Bottom line, they weren’t married. But the 15-year-old was assured that, as her new boyfriend, he would be among the first to see the child after he was born.
Tamika went to the cafeteria and filled three plates full of food—one for herself, one for Marta and one for Meera Singh, and placed them in a carrying bag to keep them warm. On the walk back to the subterranean hospital at the back of the property, she peeked her head in the sanctuary, “I’ll update you all again as soon as I can, Julio.”
“Thanks, nurse.”
Nurse…Tamika liked the sound of it. The way Julio said it filled her with pride, the good kind. She descended the stairs to the underground delivery room on the bottom floor, smiling every step of the way.
Her smile faded. Tamika was happy for Leticia, but sad for herself. It was impossible not to think about Jamal and Dante. Without a doubt, being Mommy to them was what she did best in life. No one brought more joy into her life than her two sons.
Will I ever have children again? It was a question she frequently asked but had no answer to. In this present climate, she wasn’t sure she wanted kids again. If she couldn’t have more children, she would love all ETSM children to the best of her ability, as if they were her own.
She arrived back to hear Dr. Singh say to Leticia, “I know so much about you, but it seems you know so little about me. Is there anything you’d like to know?” Having delivered so many babies over the years, Meera believed engaging with first time mothers often helped take their minds off the pain, even if momentarily.
Leticia felt a light contraction. When it left her, she said, “What made you want to become a doctor?”
“From the time I was a little girl growing up, I always wanted to help others. Whenever I saw someone in pain, it made me sad. My dream came closer to becoming a reality after my family migrated here from Calcutta, India, I was only six at the time.
“It took time to adjust to my new surroundings in Seattle, but eventually I flourished as a student. I received a full scholarship to the University of Washington. After graduating from medical school, summa cum laude, I was heavily recruited by dozens of hospitals and universities nationwide.
“But I wanted to be close to my family, so I rented my first apartment and decided to work at a hospital in downtown Seattle. From a socio-financial standpoint, my siblings all did well for themselves. All of us received college degrees and were achieving the American Dream.
“A year ago, this was something I was quite proud of, especially knowing how proud my parents were of us. We all chipped in and helped them open a small business.” Meera grimaced, “Everything changed at the Rapture. It just happened to be my fiftieth birthday…”
The Sealing Page 13
