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JEDIAH FIXED HIS SLIPPING collar and pulled it back up to his neck. His plaid shirt had him swimming in fabric, and his thick denim jeans were hot on his legs. Why anyone would enjoy baggy clothes too cumbersome to move in bewildered him.
He had been wandering the hospital for over an hour. The sickly sweet smell of medicine and floor detergent nauseated his unaccustomed stomach. And here I thought people came to hospitals to get well.
Repressing a gag, Jediah peeked into the next doorway. Much to his consternation, it looked the same as the last hundred rooms he checked. Hooped fabric hung on rails. Two railed beds. A few chairs and some devices. He couldn’t tell one room apart from another and wished something would break the monotony — anything to get him out of this deja vu.
Jediah peeked under the curtain that cut the room in half, subjecting his nose to the pungent chlorine wafting off the tiles. Frustrated, he got up and made for the next room. Every lost second was another second Malkior remained free.
Noticing his rising impatience, Jediah sucked in a soothing breath, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and turned left into the next hallway.
A nurse, sporting a messy bun and a loudly patterned smock, exited the closest room. By her wrinkled brow and her glum eyes, she seemed trapped in downcast thoughts. She shook her head at her clipboard as she passed him. “The poor thing,” she mumbled.
Jediah couldn’t help watching her disappear around the bend and contemplating what she meant. He turned toward the door. Not knowing what else to do, he lightly rapped his knuckles on the metal frame. “Hello?” He leaned in. “Someone here?”
A bedridden little girl stared back; her frail form nearly drowned in an ocean of messy, white sheets.
Jediah froze. A stone dropped from his throat to his gut.
Her hair was missing. Her arms were thin as reeds, and the pallor of her Caucasian skin almost blended too perfectly with the bedding. In fact, Jediah realized if she weren’t sitting up, he might not have noticed her at all. The one strength in her he could see was a subtle vibrance in those brown eyes.
The girl’s head cocked to one side, and for a moment, rain pinged the window like piano keys as the child and the angel stared at each other.
Jediah noticed her left hand fingering some plastic tubes protruding from her flesh. Unsure what they’re for but guessing they were important, he broke from his trance and hurried to her bedside to stop her. His hand took hers in a gentle firmness. “Ah, I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”
Her hand resisted him, and her innocent gaze locked onto him, uncertain yet not quite afraid.
“It’s okay,” Jediah cooed as he slowly worked her fingers off. “It’s okay. I’m a friend.”
Jediah looked up and almost jumped out of his skin. Hidden behind the curtain sat a ministry angel, one who started to cast suspicious looks. Swallowing a lump, Jediah averted his eyes, fearing he already blew his cover to the other angel.
The girl picked at the tubes again.
In an instant, Jediah forgot the ministry angel and pulled her hand off. “No. No. No. You mustn’t do that,” he said in soft tones.
Yanking her hand from his, she whined and thumped it against the mattress.
Jediah then noticed her Mark, and the worst possible dread pained him. It was incomplete. The Spirit wasn’t inside to comfort her. The Son wasn’t there to cleanse her. The Father wasn’t there to hold her. Then her horrid and sudden hacking pulled Jediah from his thoughts. Her eyes screwed shut, and her body convulsed, inflicting Jediah with a debilitating helplessness, the likes of which he never experienced before.
The girl clutched his sleeve and bunched the cloth between her fingers, as if begging him to make the coughs stop.
Powerless to do anything more, Jediah rubbed her back, and as soon as his fingers stroked those knobbed bones that formed her spine, his heart broke. Had she been starved too?
She buried her head into his torso. Jediah hugged her close and patted her shoulder. “Shh. Easy now. Easy.” Her coughs died down into thick swallows.
After she pulled back, he watched her thin lips form a strained smile, but her eyes watered.
Jediah’s mind raced to deduce what she needed. Water! She needs water. “Uh, just a moment.” He walked around, trying to recall what water containers today looked like. He grabbed a plastic cup from a tray, sniffed it for contaminants, then slipped into the bathroom.
Jediah leaned over the rimmed bowl, ready to dip the cup, but halted. Something inside nagged him. This wasn’t right. Turning his gaze, he spotted a higher bowl with a tiny spout attached and a mirror hanging over it. His eyes danced between the two bowls, until realization dawned on him, and he turned away from the lower bowl. “Not a well. Not a well.” He twisted the blue marked handle and caught the water in the cup.
Upon returning, he saw her hand rubbing her chest. Her guardian angel peered at him and his cup as he rushed past. “Here we go.” Supporting her back with one hand, Jediah knelt to her eye-level and brought the cup to her lips.
She grimaced, but kept gulping.
“Not too fast,” Jediah cautioned. “Drink slower.” He pulled the cup away and watched for any sign of relief. Wiping her mouth, she released a weaker cough that rumbled wet in her throat.
Jediah cast a sympathetic look at her bald scalp and imagined a crop of healthy hair where it should be. No one was meant to live like this — clinging to life, hooked up to unfeeling machines. The Sin Curse the humans’ ancestor Adam incurred so long ago had grown far worse than Jediah ever expected, and a sudden desire to see her smile overtook him. “So what’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her cheeks blushed, and she hid her face behind her sheets.
“Mine is,” Jediah paused, catching himself almost saying his real name. “Jack. I’m Jack.” His hand brushed a distinct bump from under the covers. Reaching in, he pulled out a stuffed lion. Its mane had been braided in so many clumps, it looked like bundled crops of wheat, and twisted strings entwined the fiber hairs.
“Is this yours?” Jediah asked.
She said nothing.
Jediah then read the name written on the plushie’s tag “Chloe. Is your name Chloe?”
She nodded.
Jediah set the lion’s paws atop the bed. The legs dance as he bounced it up and down, as he made a playful growl. Chloe giggled. He then made the lion climb her sloped sheets, and her giggles grew louder. Then, in a quick motion, he pressed the lion’s muzzle into her cheek while he faked silly “nom nom” noises. Her bright laughter erupted and grew louder as Jediah repeated the same puppetry twice more.
Chloe grabbed the lion and hugged it close. “Stop it,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
Jediah wished to keep that smile forever, but reality set in. Without salvation, she remained destined for final and complete death, and by the state she was in, she might not last long. The wheels in his head turned. His human neck beaded sweat. Yes, he needed to find Malkior, but precious, sacred life was on the line. He couldn’t leave her. Not yet.
Nerves skittered in his arms and legs as he looked around for what he worried he would not find. His eyes landed on a Bible sitting by the windowsill. Miracle of miracles! Jediah stood up and used both hands to retrieve the Sacred Text in as respectful a manner as possible. He opened its gold and black cover. Just inside, three words were scribbled: ‘With love, Grandpa.’
Jediah turned to her with a smile. “Would you like me to read this to you for a bit?”
Chloe’s eyes drifted to a corner.
“Just a few chapters?” he pleaded.
Chloe shrugged, though she looked disinterested.
Jediah’s spirits sank. Reading all the Scripture in the world wouldn’t do her any good if her mind wandered. She needed to do something to keep her in the present. He stared at the lion’s matted and braided main and observed how her hands automatically twisted another lock of its fur. “Did you do all those braids?”
Chloe’s eyes sparked, and she gave an enlivened smile.
“Do you want to be a hairdresser someday?”
She blushed, looking ever shyer.
Jediah drew up a chair. “How about this then? You can braid my hair while I read a little to you. Sound good?”
Chloe beamed.
Setting the nearby chair back against the bed rail, Jediah settled down and leafed through the yellowed pages. “Did you ever hear the parable of the loving Father?” His memory guided him to the New Testament. “I think you’ll like it.”
***
Alameth lingered close to the walls and kept his arms to himself. He didn’t like crowds, especially in hospitals, so to him, the sooner they found Malkior, the better. A rushing girl bumped into him. He flinched, but after watching her run off without incident, he released a breath and ran a hand through his hair. No harm done.
The tension in his shoulders slacked as he entered a gift shop. Fewer people bustled amongst the plush bears and blown glass figurines. He scanned the ceilings, walls, and corners. No Malkior.
After several fruitless minutes, Alameth turned toward the exit, but a muffled weeping stopped him in his tracks. He looked behind himself and waited. Another bitty sniffle reached his ears. Following the sound, he searched behind a shirt rack.
A young boy, curled up in the corner, choked on his sobs. His face looked ready to burst, only he seemed too embarrassed to let it out, or at least not in full.
Without a second thought, Alameth knelt beside him. “Something wrong, little one?”
“I—I can’t f-find my mom.”
Softening his eyes and allowing a smile, Alameth reached for the boy’s hand. His palms trembled, careful not to hurt those tinier fingers. “Then how about we find her together?”
***
Chloe’s bed bumped Jediah’s back as she wiggled. Her scrawny fingers fished through his hair. He winced at the pinching as she tugged a patch behind his left ear.
“So why did the father forgive the son?”
Jediah grunted as Chloe pulled a tenth batch of hair. “Because he never stopped loving his wayward son, even after he squandered his life.” Nestling the Bible in his lap, he could feel his skin burn around the tight roots of each braid. He glanced up at the ministry angel who sat on the windowsill. That brother never ceased to watch his every move, but time passed. His mood lightened, and by his few winks and nods, Jediah got the sense that he figured the real him out. Thank goodness the ministry angel felt no need to draw attention to it.
The ministry angel cupped his mouth, muffling several loud chuckles.
Jediah smirked back. He could only imagine how ridiculous his hair looked.
“Will you come back?” Chloe’s voice came in a mumbled whisper. “After you go?”
Jediah sighed. He had indeed tarried long enough, but every protective instinct in him pleaded not to go, not in her current condition. Then he remembered Nechum’s words from two days before. There were countless people Nechum said he loved that he never saw again. What if the same thing happened between himself and her? She’d never see God. All creation would soon return to the purity of its infancy, like the days of Eden... but she wouldn’t be there. Not even a memory.
Jediah squeezed his eyes closed, demanding himself to come up with a solution. “Chloe, to tell you the truth, I am—” He took a moment to reconsider his words. “I am traveling very far away soon, and it is unlikely I’ll see you for a while. Maybe never again.” Standing up, he turned and spoke to her with a firm promise. “But I will return, if I can.”
Footsteps entered the room. “Chloe? Is someone with you?” An elderly man, whose hair color mimicked salt and pepper, examined Jediah up and down. His face turned harsh. “Oh. Hello, and who are you?”
Jediah noticed the full Mark imprinted on his chest. Though pleased to see a Christian here to keep Chloe company, he realized what his actions might look like and backed away from the girl, praying he looked less threatening. “Jack. I’m Jack. Just a friend. I was about to leave.”
“He let me braid his hair, Grandpa!” Chloe said.
Her grandfather’s frown deepened. “Yes, I can see that.”
Chloe sat up higher on wobbling arms. “He read to me from your Bible too!”
This time the man’s eyebrows raised. “Really. Well, that’s very nice of him.” Tucking jingling keys in his coat pocket, the grandfather leaned in as if to tell Jediah a secret. “You know that’s how she runs her little slave chain, right? Let her braid your hair, you’re hers for life.”
Setting the Bible on the bedside table, Jediah stiffened, wondering if braids truly implicated a slave.
The gentleman waved a hand. The wrinkles in his face disappeared from his cheeks as he chuckled. “Kidding. Kidding. I’m just kidding.”
“Oh,” Jediah said, relieved. “Funny. Real funny.”
Walking up to Chloe’s bedside, the man lowered his voice. “Did your friends send you letters yet?”
In that one instance, all the cheer Jediah tried so hard to instill in Chloe fled from her face. She hugged her lion and fiddled with its tail.
Her grandfather frowned. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure they’ll send you some soon.”
Jediah took this as his sign to leave, but stalled at the door. He walked back. “Chloe.”
The little girl stared up at him as he took her hand in his. “Jesus loves you... and so do I. Never forget that.” Jediah bowed to her, then approached the door. He froze and turned to face her one last time. “I won’t forget you. I promise.”
Her pale face regained some color as she squeezed her lion closer and rocked it.
Just behind her, the ministry angel waved goodbye in silent approval.
“Goodbye, Chloe.”