The Prescience Read online

  I threw up my hands. “Daniel, this whole idea seems implausible. How could you find this train? Or find her?”

  Daniel ignored my questions. “I need to find the place where the train stopped. If we can find the lion, I’ll know I’m in the right place.”

  “Lion?”

  “Yes, a lion.”

  “What about Shira? We can’t leave her here if we go on this train. Should we bring her along?” I let go of Daniel’s hand and walked a few feet in front of him, torn between my longing to be by Daniel’s side and worry about Shira. “It’s one thing to put our lives in danger, but quite another to put an innocent child in harm’s way.”

  Daniel came up from behind and wrapped his hands around my waist. “You can stay here if you prefer.”

  I turned and faced him. “No, Daniel.” Tears came to my eyes. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to be with you. I want to marry you, but what about Shira? You know what you must do, but what does God want me to do?”

  Daniel lifted his hand towards the heavens. “God is on our side.”

  I glanced up, pleading my case. “I don’t want to go to Auschwitz, anywhere but a concentration camp. Suppose we end up there—permanently?”

  “The train should take us to Caesarea.”

  “Should?” I rubbed my teary eyes. “How can you be sure?” I backed away. Heavy indigestion made me feel like I was on the verge of throwing up. Panic filled every fiber of my being. “You’re talking about Auschwitz, Daniel. It doesn’t get any worse than Auschwitz.”

  Daniel persisted. “I need to give the necklace to my great-grandmother, and I don’t know of any other way to make that happen.”

  “We’re not back in time, Daniel. We’re in the seventh dimension, a spiritual reality. I don’t think you literally need to give it back to her.”

  Daniel began pacing back and forth, something I’d seen him do only a couple of times. “That photograph meant more to my mother than anything else, probably more than us.”

  I prayed under my breath. “Jesus, please show me what to do.”

  Daniel came alongside me, gently touching my arm. “We don’t have to figure this out now. Let’s leave it with God. We should return, so I can check on my mother.”

  Patience in solving what seemed like unsolvable problems was not my strength. I was glad Daniel had put this off for another day.

  Daniel kissed me lightly on the forehead.

  “I’m glad you found out about your father,” I said, focusing on God’s answered prayer.

  “Yes. Let’s keep praying God is with my father, wherever he might be.”

  CHAPTER 31

  AS WE ENTERED through the city gates, the temple environs appeared less crowded. The Roman guards were more visible with the throng of visitors dissipating. The baptismal lines at the mikvehs were shorter, and the grain offering stations inside the temple were closed. An exquisite aroma filled the streets. “What is that smell?”

  “Frankincense,” Daniel replied. “The priests add it to the grain.”

  I inhaled deeply having never smelled it before. Signs displayed at nearby inns read “no vacancy.” Even with the grain shared at the temple and the fruit brought into the city, beggars still begged. I wished we had time to linger, but Daniel seemed hurried to check on his mother. I hoped Kitty was doing better.

  We passed through the wealthy Upper City. As we neared the dwelling, I noticed many people gathered outside. Bouquets of black flowers were displayed prominently on the porch.

  I saw her and shook Daniel’s arm. “Look!”

  Daniel started running, and I followed on his heels. As we approached the house, the demon started towards us. What few whiffs of white hair she had on her head blew wildly in the breeze. She smiled, revealing several missing teeth. Then she extended her hand, offering us black flowers. Daniel pushed her arm out of his way. The flowers fell on the ground and immediately wilted.

  “She’s mine,” the ventriloquist announced.

  “Shira!” I cried.

  We raced up the porch steps, sidestepping mourners dressed in black. Daniel pushed the door open. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust. A multitude of people filled the small room. I searched for her.

  “She died,” I heard someone say. “She’s gone.”

  Who died? Who…surely they didn’t mean…my God! I searched frantically for someone I recognized amongst all the strangers. When I saw Daniel’s sister, I rushed to her. “Where’s Shira?”

  Martha pointed. “She’s playing over there.”

  I ran over and scooped her up in my arms.

  “Auntie,” she said excitedly. “Look what I made.”

  I saw a white rock in her hand, but could make out the faint impression of a bird. It was a poor imitation, but I praised her. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Do you think it will come alive?” she asked.

  I chuckled. “Probably not, but you can always pretend.”

  As I held her, in an instant, I realized how much I loved her. She was mine—or rather, God’s. But never would she belong to the ventriloquist. Never!

  I realized then that Daniel’s mother was gone. I had mistakenly thought it was Shira. My eyes met Daniel’s. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed.

  Daniel sat in a chair overwhelmed with emotion.

  The rest of the late afternoon and evening was a blur of activity. Kitty’s body was taken to its resting place. Burial couldn’t happen during the festival. I threw out the black flowers.

  “You don’t bring flowers to a Jewish funeral,” Daniel had said.

  Friends and mourners dropped off plenty of food late into the night. A few dirges were sung that I found mostly unsettling. I tried to comfort Martha and Daniel, but words fell short. How much did this dimension impact the world we left behind? Was there still time to change the future? Based on Daniel’s insights, I doubted his mother was in the presence of the King. I didn’t want to dwell on it.

  Late that night, when the visitors and mourners had left, and Martha had fallen asleep, Daniel and I sat outside on the porch steps. The stars shone brightly in the clear sky, and torches along the street lit up the area around the temple. Neither of us said much. I laid my head on Daniel’s shoulder.

  “I talked to the rabbi,” Daniel said. “The funeral is tomorrow morning, but you don’t have to come.”

  I nodded. “I should spend time with Shira. I think she missed me today.”

  My betrothed pressed my hand. “Shira loves you. You’re her mother now.”

  I started to resist. “I can’t—”

  “That’s not your choice. God chose you.”

  I bit my lip, feeling overwhelmed by the thought.

  Daniel put his arm around me and wistfully said, “If only…”

  “If only what?” I asked.

  Daniel shook his head. “Nothing.”

  After a few minutes, Daniel stood. “We need to get some sleep.”

  I nodded.

  Daniel embraced me but didn’t kiss me. “I want to watch you until you close and lock the door.”

  I glanced around, half expecting something to pop out from behind a tree.

  “Good night, Daniel.”

  Upon reaching the top of the steps, I turned once more and repeated myself. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” he echoed back. True to his word, he stood and waited as I closed the door.

  Once inside, I leaned my back against the doorframe and finished his sentence. “If only we were married.”

  CHAPTER 32

  THE NEXT MORNING, I rolled over on my stomach, pulled the pillow over my head, and groaned. Of course, I couldn’t sleep away my depression. I needed to take care of Shira.

  More visitors had arrived from faraway villages to drop off food and offer condolences. Sadness that Daniel’s mother didn’t know Yeshua added to my gloominess.

  Shira bounced on the bed. “Wake up, Auntie. I want to go play.”

  She jumped out of the bed and ran to th
e door, waiting for me to open it.

  “First, let me get dressed.”

  I was glad to take Shira outside. Many had already left for the funeral. Rain dripped from clouds that meandered across a partially blue sky. An unexpected rainbow popped out and arched through the heavens. How long had it been since I’d seen an unbroken one?

  Longing pricked my heart. I missed my mother. Thinking about the train ride to Auschwitz sapped my strength. How could Daniel be sure we would return?

  Could I claim the rainbow as a promise from God he would bring us back?

  I pointed up at the sky. “Look, Shira, a rainbow.”

  She stopped to look up. “Can we walk on it?”

  I chuckled. “No.”

  If only life was so simple as to walk on rainbows, but my mind was stuck in quicksand. If Daniel’s mother rejected the truth here, was that the true condition of her heart in our time? If Kitty didn’t believe Jesus died for her sins, she would pay the penalty for her own sins—through eternal death.

  Most of the spectators had left, probably headed home to outlying communities and towns. The city seemed deserted compared to when we first arrived.

  Soon we approached a young girl playing along the roadside. Shira struck up a conversation, and I sat on a nearby bench. I pulled out my diary from the bag and began to write.

  “Dear God, I pray we can visit Lowly and Baruch before returning home. I promised the pig I would return, and the donkey would be so happy to see me.”

  I reflected on the last few weeks. Thank goodness Scylla had left, according to Daniel. My father’s fourth wife had been cruel, ridiculing me and locking me up for days at a time. I sighed. If it wasn’t for the farm animals and my half-brother, Nathan, I never would have survived.

  I set down my pen. Despite my attempt to think only positive thoughts, my depression wouldn’t lift. I wanted Jesus to return. I was tired of dealing with thorns and thistles. As I wallowed in self-pity, I saw someone approaching. She waved, and once she was closer, I recognized her.

  Lilly came over and sat beside me on the bench. She remained quiet for a moment, perhaps not sure what to say. At last she offered, “I’m sorry about Daniel’s mother. I came to bring some bread.”

  I forced a smile. “Thanks for the food. Martha will be glad not to have to cook today.”

  Lilly rocked her feet back and forth. “How is Shira doing?”

  “Oh, she’s fine.”

  More silence followed. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. I sensed Lilly wanted to encourage me. At last she said, “God is going to use Daniel in a mighty way.”

  Was she a prophetess? “Thank you for your prayers.”

  After another long pause, she stood. “Come by and visit me anytime. I’m here for you if you need me.”

  I furrowed my brow. “You know, the funeral has already started, but you still have time to go.”

  Lilly smoothed her long dark hair with her hand. “I just came from the funeral.”

  “Really?” I didn’t know it had already ended.

  “Yes. Some have lingered, but I wanted to drop off this bread.”

  I groped for the right words. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

  Lilly hesitated. “You know, I don’t think Martha is far from the kingdom of heaven.”

  “I appreciate your prayers for her.”

  More silence followed. Lilly’s eyes focused on the street towards Kitty’s residence. Her feet started moving in that direction. “Come by and visit anytime,” she shot back.

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Later that evening, when everyone had returned home, and Shira and Martha were resting, doubt crept into my mind. “Do you think we did the right thing coming here?”

  Daniel took my hands in his and whispered. “I know God is with us. We’re in a tough patch right now.”

  I nodded. “I miss my mother.”

  Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Losing my mother has reminded you of yours. We’ll leave in the morning. I already told Martha we’re going to Caesarea. Before going to bed, she packed up some food for our trip.”

  “By way of Auschwitz,” I added. I stared at the floor. “I’d like one more chance to witness to my mother. Death is so final, you know.”

  Daniel’s eyes bore into mine. “God gives us the desires of our heart.”

  I didn’t know how to respond.

  I followed Daniel as he walked to the door, again wishing we were married. When would that happen? Maybe in Caesarea I would bring it up again.

  CHAPTER 33

  WHEN DANIEL ARRIVED the next morning, Shira and I were waiting on the front steps. We had said our goodbyes to Martha, tearfully hugging and promising her we’d be back after our trip to Caesarea.

  Daniel kissed me on the lips for the first time in a while, and then lifted Shira in his arms. “How is my princess today?”

  “When do we get on the train?” she asked.

  Daniel glanced at me.

  “Kids love train rides.” The issue had been settled. We had to trust God for her safety.

  “Let me say goodbye to Martha,” Daniel said.

  He disappeared inside the house and returned a couple of minutes later.

  “You have our snacks?” he asked.

  I held up the bag.

  “Good.” As we started down the road, Daniel said, almost as an afterthought. “I want to stop by the temple.”

  I was anxious to accomplish our immediate purpose without delay. That seemed like a waste of time. “Why?”

  “The disciples and followers are praying and breaking bread together.”

  “Oh, all right,” I muttered. That shouldn’t take too long.

  We entered through the Beautiful Gate and found a couple of dozen or more followers and disciples gathered at Solomon’s Porch. I noted Peter, whom I recognized. The others I wasn’t sure about. Then I saw Lilly. I walked over to greet her. “Thank you for your kindness yesterday.”

  Lilly gave me a quick hug and returned to setting out the food. “You looked so sad. After dropping off the bread, I went home and prayed for you.”

  I watched her in amazement. Could I ever be that caring? “Thank you,” I said again.

  Everyone had brought plenty to share, and we added ours that Martha had packed for the trip. There was more food than everybody could eat, so when we finished, several of the women gave the leftovers to the beggars by the Beautiful Gate.

  For the first time, a sense of awe struck me. The power and strength of the early believers was a force with which no one could reckon. Not Rome, not the Sanhedrin, not the unbelievers, not the dark powers of the netherworld that would wreak havoc with every generation to follow.

  The early Christians would turn the world upside down one martyr at a time. Did I have that much faith? My uncertainty compelled me to try harder to be like Jesus, remembering faith without works is dead. As the prayers and praise of the new believers rose into the heavens, gladness filled me with thanksgiving. When the crowd began to disperse, I was sad to leave.

  As we exited the temple, I confided to Daniel. “You know, I didn’t want to stop here, but I’m glad you insisted. I needed that.”

  Daniel squeezed my hand. “Me, too. Prayer changes things—especially perspective.”

  He turned to Shira. “Have you ever met a lion?”

  Shira’s eyes got big. “No.”

  “Would you like to meet one?”

  “Is he a nice lion?” Shira asked.

  “Yes, he’s a good lion,” Daniel replied.

  Shira tugged on Daniel’s hand. “Is he Aslan?”

  Daniel and I exchanged glances. How did she know who Aslan was? She must have seen the movie, or perhaps her mother or someone had read the Narnia Series to her.

  Daniel smiled. “If you want him to be.”

  “Where is he?” Shira asked excitedly.

  Daniel pointed to the heavens. “He’s on his throne.”

  We crossed the Kidron Valley
and continued along the well-worn path to the Mount of Olives. Once we reached the top, Daniel stopped to rest.

  The temple stood tall and majestic surrounded by the walls of the city. Its golden hues glistened in the morning sun as the Judean wilderness and mountains framed it as a center masterpiece. I couldn’t think of anything that compared to its beauty. I had to force myself to return my focus to Daniel and Shira.

  “I think we’re pretty close,” Daniel said. “Perhaps we should hold hands and pray.”

  Before we could, Shira let go of my hand and pointed. “Look, Aslan.”

  Several yards away, a magnificent lion appeared. A strong wind rippled his brown and golden mane, and his amber-colored eyes pierced my heart with an intelligence I couldn’t comprehend.

  My lack of faith convicted me. The animal roared. Trembling, I covered my ears and dropped to the ground. Shira forced her body into my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her. Seconds later, I felt the chugging motion of a moving train.

  I expected to be sitting in an overcrowded, dirty boxcar with Jews headed to Auschwitz, but when I was brave enough to open my eyes, I saw an old freight car with green walls and faded green seats. While antiquated, it wasn’t anything like the Nazi Holocaust trains.

  A young girl sat across the aisle from us. She wore a plain white dress, brown loafers, and white socks. Her dark brown hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen.

  I nudged Daniel. “Is that her?”

  “I think so, but this isn’t the way it was before. The last time the car was filled with too many passengers, and there was no place to sit except on the floor. Most of the men had to stand, holding onto a steel bar to keep from falling.”

  I whispered, “Why don’t you ask her if the necklace is hers?”

  The girl turned. Her questioning eyes revealed surprise that we had appeared on the train. She smiled faintly, but didn’t say anything.

  Daniel held up the necklace. “Did you drop this?”

  Her eyes went from surprise to recognition. “Yes, somehow I lost it.”

  Daniel handed it to her.