by J. M. LeDuc
Twenty minutes later, she stood and wiped the sand from her pants. As she turned to walk back, Alana was standing a few feet away. Through the moonlight, Scarlet could see her tear stained complexion.
“Why did you have to bring up the past,” she cried.
Scarlet was breathless and she wished the ocean would suck her in with the tide. She took a deep breath and gathered strength. “Because,” she finally said, “if you don’t talk about it, it will eat you alive. You will never be able to love yourself again and more importantly, you will never be able to love anyone else.”
Her words pierced Alana’s heart. “It was all my fault,” she screamed. “I deserved it.”
Scarlet reached out and hugged her. “No it wasn’t,” she said softly. “I thought the same thing. I thought I must have done something so bad that I deserved the punishment I received.” Holding Alana’s face in her hands, she continued. “But I didn’t and neither did you.”
Alana cried harder. “I was so young.” Her anger erupted. “They took my youth and they took my innocence. Why would God let that happen?”
Scarlet choked back her emotion. “I don’t know the answer. I asked the same question. Brent told me that it was Satan who allowed it to happen and that it was God who stood by me and helped lead me out of my despair and hatred.”
“Damn him,” Alana said. “Why does he always have the right answers?”
“Because no one has been through more than he has. I think that’s why he is God’s Chosen.”
Scarlet’s words brought comfort to Alana and her tears began to subside. They walked back to where they had been sitting earlier. Scarlet listened as Alana talked of her youth, growing up outside of Jerusalem and of her mother’s death and how it changed her father. Alana spoke of how she refused to marry the man her father promised her to at an early age, and when she did, her father thought she must have been a whore. She revealed everything that she had never expressed to anyone before, not even Brent.
They discussed Brent and how he had treated them when they first met him. They spoke of his kindness, his generosity, and most importantly, his spirit. By the time they had finished, both had a renewed hope.
“Why did he have to leave?” Alana said. “I was so scared to come here and have him reject me, but to have him gone is even worse.”
Scarlet laid back and looked up at the sky. “He changed after Chloe died. He felt it was his fault.”
“Why? How?”
“Before he left for the Mid-East in search of the Ark of the Covenant, they had an argument. Chloe didn’t want him to go. She told him he was being selfish, and that he should stay home and be with his family. She told him nothing good could come of it and if God had wanted the Ark found, it would have been found many years before.”
Alana lay back next to her. “When we first met, I told him the same thing; that nothing good could come from the search, but I was wrong.”
Scarlet turned her head and looked at Alana. “How so?”
“I never would have met him nor would I have had the courage to leave my homeland, and I wouldn’t have come to Palm Cove.”
Scarlet just nodded.
“You said he changed. What was he like after . . . you know?” Alana asked.
“He grew more distant with each day. He became detached—cold.” Scarlet tried to think of a way to say what she meant. “Have you ever seen how he gets when he is on a mission?”
Alana thought back, “Yes, it was as if he was no longer there. I mean he was there in the flesh, but his spirit, the things we just spoke of, were gone.”
“Right, well that’s the way he seemed after her death. It was as if he was just walking through life, not living it.” Scarlet shook her head. “No one could talk to him. Not his mother, not Maddie or Joan, not even Seven. He seemed bent on only one thing . . . revenge.”
“Do you think that’s why he left? To seek revenge on the Brotherhood? That would be suicide!”
“No, well, I don’t think so,” Scarlet said. “Brent managed to leave Joan a note before he left. In it, he mentioned going back to the beginning, back to where it all began, back to a place and time where he could make sense of what happened and become the man he once was, the friend and leader he once was, and the father Faith needed. In the note, Brent said he needed to leave because he was no good to Faith in his current condition.”
“I pray he finds what he is searching for. I pray Joan finds some way to reach him.”
“If anyone can, it’s her.”
Joan was getting worried. It had been two hours since her friends left and her imagination was getting the best of her. She was about to wake Lucille and tell her she was going to look for them when she heard the front door open. When she looked at them, she smiled and a small laugh escaped her. Joan saw that Alana’s posture was more relaxed and she sensed a slight vulnerability in her that only came from unburdening oneself.
After everyone went to bed, Joan’s laptop alarm went off. She scrambled out of bed hoping to get it before anyone heard it. By the time she opened the lid and hit the off button, it was too late. Both Alana and Scarlet were standing in her doorway. Alana was holding a none-too-happy Faith.
“Is everything okay?” Scarlet said.
Joan didn’t seem to hear her, she kept her head down and continued to stare at the computer monitor.
“Ahem,” Scarlet said. “I know you can hear like a dog, so I know you heard me. What has you smiling like you just saw God?”
“Not God,” Joan cooed, “but maybe a Greek or Indian one.”
The girls looked at each other and went to stand next to Joan. They noticed she was watching a video feed of a young man with long, shiny, black hair and an olive complexion. “No wonder you’re smiling,” Scarlet said. “Where have you been keeping him?”
“Him, I . . .”
“Hello, earth to Joan. Come in, sister.”
Joan closed the laptop and turned to them, red-faced. “What’d you say? I wasn’t listening.”
“No kidding.” Pointing at the computer, Scarlet asked again. “Who’s the hunk? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
Scarlet’s words snapped her out of her funk. “I’m not seeing anyone. I’ve never even seen him before. He just . . .” Joan’s eyes opened wide. “Oh crap, that must be the lieutenant who’s with Brent.” She pushed her way past the others and hooked her laptop up to the television.
“With Brent? Now I’m confused. What are you talking about?” Alana said.
Joan knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “Sit here, facing the TV with Faith on your lap and see for yourself.”
She backed the video to the beginning and hit the play button. The widescreen flashed to life and Brent seemed to magically materialize on the screen. Alana waved her hand in front of the screen to see if she could garner a response. “Can he see us?”
“No, it’s pre-recorded,” Joan answered.
“Hi, Sweet Pea. It’s Daddy,” he said in a hushed tone.
Scarlet and Alana watched in astonishment as he spoke to Faith for about five minutes. Joan could sense their shock. She stared at the screen and bit her nails down to the quick. She wasn’t sure how she was going to talk her way out of this one.
When Brent blew Faith a kiss goodnight, she leaned towards the set expecting to see the man she saw earlier on her laptop, but instead was taken aback by Brent’s words.
“Joan, I went and visited your mom.”
“You what?” she exclaimed.
“Monica was my rock when I fell apart after my first encounter with the Butcher. Without her by my bedside, I don’t think I ever would have recovered to the degree I did.” He pushed his hair back. A gesture he used when he was nervous. “Since Chloe passed away, she’s been on my mind constantly. I hoped that if I spoke to Monica, visited her, it would some
how help me make sense of it all.” Joan stared intently as he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I had a real heart-to-heart with her. I told her what’s been going on and how much you reminded me of her. I let her know how proud I am of you and I
. . .” Brent’s voice began to crack. “I promised to bring you with me the next time I came to visit. I told her I loved you like a daughter.”
He leaned into the camera, his hair falling in his face. “I heard that Alana was in town. I wish the bishop would mind his own business, but then again, why should he start now.”
Joan glanced over at Alana. She saw her expression turn to one of disappointment.
“But to be honest,” he continued, “I’m sorry I missed her. I don’t know if you had a chance to get to know her in her brief stay, but I hope you did. She is an amazing woman and if it’s God’s will, I’ll get to tell her myself one day.”
Alana’s expression changed. The disappointment was gone, and a smile of radiant hope seemed to canvass her face.
The girls watched as someone tapped Brent on the shoulder. They watched as he turned and spoke to the person who was off screen.
“There is someone here who would like you to get a message to his family. I’ll let him talk. Take care of Faith and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Tag sat down and Joan leaned in, almost falling off her chair. “He’s even more gorgeous on the widescreen.”
He asked her to get word to his family that he was fine and that when he finished doing what he was doing, he’d be home. He thanked Joan by name for helping him and she quivered as he said her name. She typed the address and phone number he gave her and then before he could continue, they saw Brent’s hand come forward and pull the plug from the wall.
The three women sat there staring at the black screen for what seemed like seconds, but it was actually much longer. They jumped at the sound of Lucille’s voice.
“What in the world are the three of you doing up, staring at a blank screen and why do you have my granddaughter up so late?”
“We, um . . .”
Alana jumped in before Scarlet could say anything else. “The little one woke up crying, so we were watching The Little Mermaid. I guess we all fell asleep.”
“Well, go to bed, it’s late. Do you want me to take Faith?”
“No, thank you,” Alana said. Faith had a death grip on her hair. “I’ll put her to bed. Sorry we woke you.”
“I don’t sleep much anyway. Between my arthritis and not knowing anything about Brent, I’m surprised I sleep at all.” She kissed Faith on her forehead. “Goodnight, my angels.”
When Lucille was gone, Alana turned to Joan. “Tomorrow, we talk.”
“Okay, but only if you promise not to tell a soul. Promise?”
They all promised, turned out the lights and soon fell into fitful sleep.
CHAPTER 35
The morning started early in Khor Virap. Brent and Tag were awakened at o-four-thirty.
Tag exited the shower, teeth chattering and hands shaking. “With all the modern upgrades the brothers installed over the past eight years, you would have thought hot water would have been at the top of the list.”
“They use the runoff from Mount Ararat as their water source,” Brent said. “We better get used to it. We’ll be here for a while.”
Tag stayed silent as he tried to button his shirt. His teeth still chattering. “Nu, nu, now I know why they wear robes.”
Brent emerged from the shower with none of the same signs of hypothermia. He was dressed in the woolen robe of a monk. “Here,” he said, throwing one to Tag. “They’re actually quite warm.”
Tag put it over his head and let it fall around him. “And easier to put on.”
Brother Gregory entered their small room and saw Tag shivering. “I apologize that our ways do not have the conveniences that you are used to. There is hot running water in the village. May I suggest you go into town to bathe from now on?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Brent said. “If we are to learn your ways, then we will live as you do. We are appreciative of your hospitality.”
Gregory smiled. “Then come, morning vespers are in five minutes. The morning meal will be served afterward.”
They followed their host through a maze of tight tunnels until they reached a small chapel. All of the monks were gathered in the pews awaiting Brother Gregory’s arrival. He led mass which was concluded with the Lord’s Supper: Holy Communion. At the conclusion of mass, the brothers waited for their leader to exit the chapel first. They then followed by rank. The youngest ones were left to wash the chalice and put the Bible in its rightful place on the altar at the base of the cross.
Tag stood to leave, but Brent grabbed the hem of his robe and pulled him back down. “As a show of respect to the younger brothers, we should wait for them to leave first,” he whispered. “If we are to gain their trust, we will always be the last to enter and the last to leave the chapel.”
When all was completed, the young monks filed past them and nodded their thanks. Brent and Tag stood, fell in line and followed.
The dining hall consisted of one long wooden table with benches on either side. Brother Gregory, seated in the place of honor, waved for them to come and sit at the head of the table.
“With all due respect, Brother, it is our place to sit at the far end of the table,” Brent said. “It would also please us if we could serve you and the brothers. When the meal is concluded, we will also clean off the plates and put them away. It is only right.”
Brother Gregory looked at Brent with admiration, as did the rest of the brothers.
Because of the monks’ vow of silence, Brent and Tag learned by example. The meal consisted of figs and a homemade porridge. Tag was pleased when he realized that hot tea was served with breakfast. Once everyone was served, Gregory stood and blessed himself with the sign of the cross. The others followed suit. A short prayer was said in Latin and then once again the brothers blessed themselves.
The meal was eaten in silence. Brent looked about the table and saw that everyone ate at a slow pace.
Brother Gregory watched as the Brent observed the others. “The brothers eat in reverence for what God has provided,” he said. “Each meal, no matter how meager, is appreciated and eaten in a certain manner. All the hot food is eaten first, followed by the raw foods, and finally the dried foods. Bread is not permitted to be eaten with the other foods. Dairy,” he continued, “is prohibited from our diets as is meat. We eat what you would consider to be a vegan diet. We eat to sustain ourselves and for no other reason. It is the way it has always been and it is the custom we continue.”
Brent and Tag nodded their understanding and ate in the manner they were taught.
When all of the dishes had been washed and put away, they were led from the banquet hall into an open room to begin their training.
Brother Gregory gathered with the rest of the monks and explained their routine. “Every day begins with meditation and private prayer. The brothers pray for strength and that their thoughts and actions will be pleasing to the Lord.”
“I see that that you sit in the lotus position when meditating and praying,” Brent said. “Would it be disrespectful if I choose to squat instead?”
“Not at all,” Gregory smiled. “We wish to learn from you as much as you wish to learn from us. May I ask why you choose to squat when you meditate and pray?”
“It’s not for religious reasons,” Brent explained, “it’s just a position I have found which allows me to better concentrate on God and therefore block out the rest of the world.”
“It is not our intention to have you do anything that would separate you from our Father. It is safe for me to say that no one is closer to the Lord than God’s Chosen One.”
“No one is closer than anyone else,” Brent said. “It’s just my way.”
Addressing Tag, Gregory said, “Am I to assume that you too find this position to your liking?”
“Actually, Brother, I am more comfortable when sitting in the same position as you.” He bowed his head in shame. “To be honest, I am not a man of prayer. The things I’ve seen and done have taken me out of relation with God.”
“I will pray that your time spent among us will change your heart.”
Tag opened his mouth to speak, but he decided otherwise.
The time of meditation and prayer lasted longer than Tag expected. Every now and then he opened his eyes to see what the others were doing. He noticed how everyone seemed to be at peace and wondered at Brent’s ability to stay in his position for so long. Every muscle in the Brent’s body looked relaxed. Tag’s eyes traced Brent’s body. Nothing moved except his hands.
Tag changed his position and dropped into a deep squat, he imitated the actions he witnessed. Minutes passed before his quads began to cramp. Shaking his head, Tag opened his eyes and returned to his previous position. Minutes dragged on like hours until finally Gregory clapped his hands twice, a sign that it was time for them to end their private time with God. The noise brought Tag relief.
The brothers stirred at the sound of Gregory’s gesture. They all began to stand up.
All but Brent.
Brent heard Gregory clap his hands, but he was under too deep to respond. He was back on Mount Ararat where he had spent time with Christ.
He was on his knees in the same crevasse near the top of the mount. His hair blew across his face as the bitter cold bit into his flesh. As the frigid air tore through him, he realized he could feel the cold. This can’t be good, he thought.
“Why am I here, Lord?” The words seemed to burn as they passed his lips.
No answer.
He closed his eyes. His lids felt like an ice scrapper dragging across the windshield of a car. It was if he could feel ice shards tear into his eyes. They began to water and his tears froze as they touched his cheeks. The darkness seemed to soothe him in some way. His muscles spasmed from the harsh conditions. I need to block out my senses. Relax, he thought. Let everything go.
