The Healer

by Sharon Sala

  Luce was happy Harold was satisfied, because then she didn’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to work the extra hours.

  A couple of days later, Luce noticed that Jonah was preoccupied as he dropped her off at work, but she thought nothing of it. She knew it had nothing to do with her. She’d heard him moaning and talking in his sleep, and realized that he was reliving some bad memories. All she was able to do was love him without question.

  So when his goodbye kiss tasted of desperation, she held him just that little bit tighter as she told him goodbye.

  The morning, which had started off busy, turned hectic. A news crew had set up shop in the diner and, despite her misgivings, was filming nonstop, getting footage as part of what they hoped would be a documentary on Mark William Ahern, along with interviewing everyone who came in and was willing to talk to them about the Indian who’d supposedly performed miracle healings.

  Luce had taken note of the fact that, once Ahern had been arrested and identified as a serial killer, the media began referring to him by his full name, just like they did all the notorious criminals.

  More than one reporter had tried to get her to talk about her relationship with Ahern, but she’d refused every time. Then they’d started digging at her about Jonah, whom she also refused to discuss. Harold had finally threatened them with eviction if they bothered her again. They didn’t approach her personally after that, but she was well aware of how much footage they kept shooting with her in the frame.

  By the time noon had come and gone, she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. And the closer it got to when Jonah would arrive, the more nervous she became.

  For the past two afternoons, when it was nearing time for Luce to get off work, people had begun piling into the diner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the healer.

  Today a woman, a stranger to the area, had walked into the diner carrying a baby in her arms. She’d chosen a table with a seat facing toward the door and begun watching the clock. Luce knew it was because of Jonah.

  When three o’clock rolled around and she saw the black pickup pull up in front of the diner, she headed for the door, but the woman with the baby beat her out by a full thirty seconds. She already had Jonah cornered near the front of the truck by the time Luce got outside.

  “Please, mister…my baby is sick. She was born with cystic fibrosis. The doctor says she’s got it bad.” Then her voice broke. “He says she won’t live to see Christmas.”

  Immediately, every instinct Jonah had turned on. Christmas was less than two months away. This child wasn’t any different than the children he’d pulled out of the bus. She was in just as much need—only younger. When the mother suddenly thrust the baby into his arms, he felt the gentle soul with a waning life and ached to make it right.

  But another crowd was gathering.

  He hesitated, then looked up. He couldn’t do this again. Not like a circus event. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

  Before he could think what to do next, Luce was there, taking the baby out of his arms and whispering softly to the woman. “What’s your name?” Luce asked.

  “Eleanor,” the other woman said. “And my girl’s name is Brenda.”

  Luce looked up at Jonah. “Do you need a quiet place?”

  “Please,” he said, grateful that she understood.

  Luce smiled at the mother. “Eleanor, why don’t we all get inside, where it’s warmer? The cold can’t be good for the baby.”

  Thankful for the reprieve, Jonah followed Luce and the woman back inside the diner; then, after Luce’s whispered request to Harold, they trooped up the back stairs to his home.

  Once they got inside the solitude of the homey apartment, the thin, wheezing breath of her sick baby overwhelmed the mother, and she began to cry—deep, ugly sobs of despair.

  Jonah felt everything she was feeling. Her loss of hope. Her fear for the child. The acceptance that she would most likely never see her daughter to a first day of school. Never see her marry. Never know the joy of being a grandmother to her daughter’s children.

  Unless he healed her child.

  “Lucia.”

  She looked up.

  “Give me the baby.”

  Luce laid the little girl in his arms.

  Jonah took her to the sofa, then sat down with her in his arms. He unwrapped her from the blanket, then laid her lengthwise in his lap.

  The little girl immediately began to beat the air with her hands, startled and uncomfortable by the lack of swaddling.

  “Shh, shh,” he said softly, and then laid his hand at the top of the baby’s head.

  Immediately, the little girl went still.

  Luce heard a catch in the mother’s breath. Instinctively, she clasped Eleanor’s hands in her own, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

  Jonah could feel the baby’s lungs laboring heavily in an effort to draw in enough air to infuse oxygen into her blood. The tiny heart beat valiantly, but Jonah knew the doctor was right. The little girl would not live to see her first Christmas unless he intervened.

  He cupped the baby’s tiny head, and as he did, the child’s eyes suddenly focused, centering on his face with an intensity that was beyond her age.

  “That’s right, that’s right. One small breath, then another, and another. I promise little girl, it’s all going to be easy.”

  Then he stroked his finger down the side of her cheek until her eyes closed. At that point he picked her up and laid her against his chest, easing her tiny head sideways.

  Her little rosebud of a mouth was making quiet sucking motions, and when Jonah put his hand on the middle of her back, the fingers of her left hand curled around the edge of his sweater, then tightened—as if she knew what was coming and was getting ready to hang on for the ride of her life.

  Jonah inhaled slowly, then closed his eyes, letting every infirm facet of the child’s body soak into his strength.

  Luce found herself forgetting to breathe. When the air within Harold’s home went still, then seemed to thicken, she knew what was coming next. Even though she expected it, she jumped when the dishes in Harold’s cabinets began to rattle.

  The mother gasped, and then she began to rock back and forth where she sat, moaning and praying, unable to tear her gaze from the man who held her child.

  Luce knew Eleanor was scared, but there was no time to tell her that the end result would be worth the fright of her life.

  Within seconds, light enveloped both man and child, pulsing, glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second, until both women were forced to look away.

  Suddenly Eleanor slumped sideways, but Luce didn’t let go. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she realized it was over, Jonah was standing beside the window with the baby in his arms. She was laughing at him and patting both his cheeks with her hands.

  She reached for the mother. “Eleanor…. Eleanor. Wake up.”

  The moment Eleanor came to, her gaze immediately went to the chair where Jonah had been sitting, but it was empty.

  Then she heard her baby’s laughter and looked toward the window. “Lord,” she muttered, and staggered to her feet. “Lord, Lord,” she said again, as she started toward the man who held her child.

  When Jonah laid the baby in her arms, Eleanor put her hand on the baby’s chest. The steady rhythm of the heartbeat was impossible to mistake, as was the warm pink of her daughter’s soft skin. There was no pinched look about her lips. No gasping for air. The end-of-life look was gone from Brenda’s eyes, replaced by a sparkle representing a lifetime of hope and expectation.

  There were tears on Eleanor’s face as she turned to Jonah. Twice she tried to speak, and both times words failed her.

  Jonah felt her joy. It was enough. He laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It was good to meet you, Eleanor. Take your baby home.”

  Eleanor nodded wildly, then began to talk to herself and to her baby girl as she reached down to gather up their things. When she would h
ave gone back down the stairs they’d come up, Luce stopped her.

  “Let’s take the back way. Then you can go home without being bothered by all those cameras and people.”

  “Yes, yes, all right,” Eleanor said, as she settled her baby in her arms. She was halfway out the door when she paused to look back.

  Jonah was standing with his back to the window, and from this distance and with the tears in her eyes, all she could see was his silhouette—a dark angel against the light. He would forever be the miracle she’d prayed for.

  “God bless you,” she said, and then stepped outside.

  Luce glanced back at Jonah. “Are you coming?”

  “You two go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Luce nodded.

  Together, the women made it down the back stairs and to Eleanor’s car, which was parked down the street from the diner. Luce watched the baby being buckled into her car seat, then stood until Eleanor drove away. She turned to see if Jonah was following, then realized someone had seen their exit.

  She looked back wildly at Jonah, who was standing at the top of the steps, fearing he would be trapped by a throng of people begging for the same thing he’d just given to a woman with a dying child.

  He waved her on, and she didn’t question the action; she just started walking down the street toward home.

  Jonah’s quiet exit had just become a thing of the past. After he’d sent Luce on her way, he hesitated at the top of the back stairs, figuring out his next move. Then it hit him.

  He looked up at the sky, then closed his eyes. A few moments later, he ducked back inside the apartment and took the stairs that led back into the diner.

  As he suspected, the room was packed. Word had obviously spread that another healing was taking place. These gatherings would only grow worse as time went on, but for the moment, there was nothing to be done except endure.

  Steam from the heat of Harold’s cooking was drifting from the kitchen and out into the dining room, while Dorrie, the new waitress, poured coffee and took orders as fast as she could write.

  Jonah paused in the doorway. Through the plate-glass windows at the street, he could see Lucia walking down the sidewalk toward home. Somebody from one of the news crews suddenly bailed out of a parked van with a camera on his shoulder and aimed it in her direction.

  Still, he waited.

  Then he heard someone inside the diner give a shout. “For the love of God…would you look at that?”

  Everyone turned to look, then jumped out of their chairs and crowded toward the windows. They were staring at an eagle that was soaring down Main Street, no more than thirty feet above the ground. The wingspread of the bird was as majestic as its demeanor. Back and forth it flew, soaring up, then floating down, riding the wind currents in glorious silence from one end of town to the other.

  Outside, the cameraman was going crazy, angling for the best footage of the phenomenon, while the people inside Harold’s diner began to spill out into the street for a closer look. Jonah started to head out with them, completely unobserved. As he moved toward the doorway, he suddenly felt the presence of a hunter. He knew the sensation far too well to mistake it for anything else.

  He looked about him as people pushed out through the doorway and into the street, but he couldn’t pinpoint the location. It wasn’t a surprise that the hunter was already here; whoever it was, they would meet soon enough. For now, he just wanted to go home.

  He paused for a second, gazing up into the sky just like everyone else. As he did, the eagle made one last pass, and as it flew over Jonah, it screamed.

  Jonah headed for the truck. By the time he turned around and picked Luce up at the corner, the eagle had taken flight.

  One minute it was there, and then it was gone. The crowd was ecstatic at what they’d seen. It was only after they began to file back into the diner that someone noticed Jonah’s truck was gone. Then Harold went upstairs to check on Luce and came back with the news that no one was there.

  No one had seen them leave. No one had known the woman who’d come in with the baby. She wasn’t a local, so they had no way of knowing where she’d gone.

  And while they knew the general vicinity of where Jonah would be going, no one would be following them out of town. After what Jonah had done for his son, Sheriff Tom Mize had put the fear of God in every resident and every member of the media, warning them all that if they intruded on that man’s personal space, he would arrest the offenders and run the rest out of town.

  For the moment, time—and Sheriff Mize—were on their side.

  Fourteen

  T he ride up the mountain was quiet, even peaceful. The residue from the healing had left Jonah satisfied and Luce in awe. There was a part of her that didn’t feel worthy of this man, but she loved him, in spite of all her misgivings. They were more than halfway home when she began to voice some of her concerns.

  “Jonah.”

  “Yes?”

  “What happens to you if you tie yourself to a mortal like me?”

  Jonah laughed. “Hey, now, I’m good in bed, but surely I’m not that good.”

  She grinned back, then thumped him on the leg.

  “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the other…you know…the miracles.”

  The smile on his face slid sideways. “Only God makes miracles, honey.”

  She frowned, then shook her head. “No. What you do is miraculous.”

  Then he sighed. “No. It’s not, at least not in the way you’re referring to it. That’s what no one understands. What I do isn’t miraculous…at least, not to me. It’s just something I was born with. Something I’ve always been able to do. My father was a doctor. He could heal people. For some reason, my abilities are a few steps beyond what doctors do.”

  Luce rolled her eyes. “A few steps? Yeah, right. More like a few light-years. It’s like you’re not even of this world, Jonah. No one has ever been able to do what you do.”

  A shiver slid through his body like a sneak thief in the night. Not of this world? That didn’t compute.

  “You just keep on thinking I’m out of this world and we’ll both be happy.”

  Luce laughed, and the moment passed.

  “Hey, we’re almost home,” she said, as she pointed to the road leading to the cabin.

  “I love the sound of those words,” Jonah said, and took the turn in a flurry of dry leaves and flying gravel.

  “What’s the hurry?” Luce asked, as she grabbed onto the dash to keep from sliding.

  “I’m hungry,” Jonah said, as he hit the brakes and slammed the truck into Park. “Hungry for you,” he added, then growled beneath his breath as he pretended to nip at her earlobe.

  By the time he was through, Luce was weak from laughing, and Hobo was barking wildly, trying to figure out what was going on inside the truck.

  “Look what you made him do,” Luce said, as she let Jonah lift her down from the truck.

  “He’s just jealous,” Jonah said. “Before I came, he was the only man in your life.” Then he pointed at the dog. “Get used to it, boy. She’ll feed you and love you, but I sleep in her bed.”

  Hobo barked, then began running in circles, as if he were laughing with them.

  The evening passed. Halloween was over. Thanksgiving was ahead. Jonah could only hope that when it came, they would still have something for which to be thankful. It wasn’t until they had gone to bed and were almost asleep that Luce piped up with one last question for the day.

  “Jonah?”

  His eyelids fluttered as her voice called him back from where he’d gone.

  “What?” he mumbled.

  “Are you afraid?”

  This sounded serious. He opened his eyes all the way and rolled over, taking her in his arms as he asked, “Afraid of what, honey?”

  “The bounty hunters…and that man Bourdain. After all that’s happened, he’s certain to know where you are.”

  “I know.”

 
; Luce was shocked by how quickly he’d answered. “You’ve been thinking about this for some time, haven’t you?”

  “It’s something I’ve lived with for more than ten years. It’s become a way of life…running, I mean.”

  “The other day, we talked about me going with you, remember?”

  He tightened his grip. “I’m not running anymore.”

  “What if they come?”

  “They’re already here,” he said, remembering the knowing that had come to him when he was leaving the diner with all the customers. Somewhere in that crowd, the man who wanted to use Lucia to get to him had been there, watching.

  Luce frowned and would have pulled herself out of his arms, but he wouldn’t turn her loose.

  “What do you mean, they’re already here? Who are they? Why haven’t you said anything? Why haven’t they made a run at you?”

  He didn’t go into details with her about it. Trying to make people understand what he knew and how he knew it was too difficult.

  “He has to be here. It stands to reason. But until he makes a move, I won’t know anything.”

  “You can’t just…sniff him out?”

  He grinned. It seemed she’d taken his tracking abilities to a new high.

  “Not if I don’t know what he smells like first.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Right. Drat.”

  “It’s all right,” Jonah said. “Whoever it is, he can’t hurt me. It’s you he’ll come after. That’s what I know. That’s what I fear.”

  Luce shuddered, then closed her eyes and clung to him as tightly as she could.

  “I won’t let that happen. I’ll never let myself be alone with a man, even if I know him.”

  “That’s good,” Jonah said. He didn’t want her to know how little her caution would mean when his tracker decided to make his move. “Now go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “I love you, Lucia. I will take care of you. Know that.”

  Luce sighed, then burrowed her nose a little deeper into his chest. “I love you, too,” she said. “And I’m not afraid.”