It was gone.
It had been gone.
That freak of a woman had eaten it right in front of her eyes, assaulted her, and then disappeared out into the street. Once the smiling woman had knocked her to the ground, Valia had waited for a beat before stirring or standing; she was too afraid that something cataclysmic would happen to punish her. For all she knew, now her followers would abandon her, and her world would fall apart. She had worked so hard to build something beautiful here in this town after escaping her awful ex-husband, who she wished was drinking himself to death, and she didn’t want to give up any of this.
Over the last five years, Valia had taken the miracle that had happened right in front of her eyes, on the altar she spoke at every week, and leveraged it to build a community of people who worked to find their inner truth. If they found it purely and with a willingness in their hearts, she knew that she could help another member of her flock find their authentic form. Another miracle and she would feel safe, she would feel validated and able to proudly walk back out into the world as someone who brought value and growth to her community.
But, despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t squeeze a miracle out of her grandson.
Nothing was happening.
“Henry, focus, okay?”
The little boy had been too preoccupied all afternoon with everything but the task at hand. She had brought him to the room, brought out the handful of the relic she had managed to grab, and had tried everything she could to get him to make something happen. She was angry, not just because her grandson wouldn’t pay attention but also because he couldn’t seem to do the one thing that she wanted him to.
“You have to do this.”
“I’m bored grandma. Why can’t I go play?”
“Because, we have work to do. We gotta fix this,” she said, nudging the smile pile of thread towards the boy, “Don’t you want to help grandma?”
“Not really,” the boy mumbled as he rolled his head along with his eyes.
Valia had the unkind thought that her little grandson, the supposed savior she had dreamed of, was dull and kind of a dud. She was disappointed, but she kept burying that feeling down below a sense of pride in her family line. She sat with him for a few more minutes before squirreling the relic away and releasing Henry from the tedium.
“We can try again tomorrow. Go play.”
She had barely finished getting the sentence out before the boy was scrambling up and bolting out the door to the playground. The other children welcomed him loudly, and the pack of them began running aimlessly around the churchyard. Valia was grateful for the fence in that moment; she truly didn’t want to watch the child any longer today. She felt cold and uncaring, but she had placed so much hope and expectation on Henry being able to reverse the effects of all of this, to prove that he was the child sent that she dreamt of so many years before.
Alice had delivered on her end, and while she was somewhat glad that Kane had absconded with the little devil, part of her wished that she had stuck around and caused some more upset. Valia didn’t want anyone else to get hurt necessarily, but a miracle, even a destructive one, would have bolstered her belief and her drive. It might have even encouraged Henry to get on board and do something. Losing his mom hadn’t helped, if he even knew she was gone. Valia wasn’t sure what Tom had told the boy, but Tom himself had moved on rather quickly albeit unsurprisingly. Her grandson probably inherited his dullness and predictability from Tom, after all.
The creeping thoughts of his inadequacy washed over her again, so she went to out to the altar to pray. The stage held the same red carpet that had been there since she arrived, and the wood was the same dark polish that others found dated. She had been asked a number of times if she wanted to update the church, but the sunk in smells and the knicks and scratches on the bannisters told of a history that couldn’t just be built over. Valia feared that if she took anything out, then the magic and connection of the place would become tarnished or dampened.
Her knees weren’t what they used to be, so she bent over to catch one of the higher stairs near the pulpit to ease herself onto the ground. Both of her knees needed to be replaced, according to her doctor, but she had relied on the power of her prayers rather than his medical advice, despite what Tom and Jo had thought. Tom hadn’t grown up to be the believer that she wanted him to be, but at least he was a good kid that did what he was told.
If only his son would do the same.
The carpet had lost its plush long ago, but Valia found comfort in the old floor of the altar. It reminded her of the church she had grown up in herself. She had chosen her favorite spot, the spot she had come up to witness to when the preacher called for those who needed prayer every Sunday. She didn’t go up to be healed herself but to be a part of the collective power by laying her hands on the others, the sick and poor that begged for comfort and grace. It was these Sundays that had grown a place in her that wanted to care, to lead, to be the shepherd for a flock of lost souls. Valia’s fervor grew with each year, each Sunday that went by, each Christmas and Easter service that brought the good Lord closer to her heart and soul.
She clasped her hands together, knees at the bottom of the few steps that elevated the stage and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and settled herself, talking herself through the same routine of calm and clear-headedness before she spoke and contemplated what she wanted to say to God. She felt the tension leave her body, felt her mind go clear and calm with her breath, and her heart and soul open to the experience. This meditative state was what she lived for, this moment in prayer when she was nothing more than a vessel and extension of the Lord.
“Dear Father, hear my words. Hear my call.”
She took a deep breath and settled herself. She didn’t need to speak anything other than that first call. He could hear what she wanted to commune with Him about. She thought about the guidance she was asking for; to clarify the prophecy he had sent to her in dreams so many years ago, and why Henry wasn’t who she thought he should be. She waited, sitting in the quiet, the hum of the church’s heater running in the distance. She waited for an answer but received none. She asked again, this time using her external voice.
“Father. Show me the way. Show me how I can move forward with this. Show me how I can do your work.”
There was no response.
She grew angry, her thoughts invading the state she had calmed herself into. For years she hadn’t heard the Voice anymore, couldn’t hear Him speak with her. She felt lost, and the disorientation that followed that stoked the fire of her anger even higher. She didn’t understand.
“Father,” she spoke tersely and with great strain in her voice, her eyes welling up with tears.
“Are you there?!”
There was no answer.
“TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” she shouted at the top of her voice, her hands clasped together trembling and her voice cracking with the strain of sadness behind it.
She sat in the stillness. The nothingness. She was nearing the end of her patience.
Valia felt suddenly like she was engulfed in flames, a bright light burning and emanating from inside her and radiating outwards.
FIND HER.
“Where?” Valia answered the call that echoed through her body.
FIND HER.
“Find her where?! Where do I find her?!”
FIND HER.
It was all the Voice kept echoing through her, each syllable booming and pushing the holy fire out from her. She knew that no physical flames would lick the inside of the church as she spoke with the Voice, but the raging heat drove her to press further, ask for more.
“I will find her, but what do I do with her?”
There was no response.
“What do I do with her, Father?”
FIND HER.
Valia collected herself and rode the waves of holy flame as it coursed through her body. The ecstasy of connection healed her, made her feel young and alive again, ready to shrug off the complications and weight of the last few years. She was to tackle whatever challenges He would set in front of her again. She wept.
“I’ll find her, Father. I’ll find her.”
Valia took a few breaths and continued to lean into the weight and power of the Voice, hoping to find more there for her to latch onto.
“The boy! What about the boy? How do I help the boy?”
Silence again, this time it felt as if there was a weight behind the silence, a contemplation of the part of who she was communicating with.
“How do I help the boy?” she whispered.
Forget the boy.
A new quality to the voice. Something further away.
Find her!
Then the Voice was gone along with the flame and light it brought with it. Valia felt suddenly alone and empty, the last dregs of her connection washing away in seconds. The church was empty again, save for the small woman kneeling at the stairs. He had gone, but He had chosen her again, after so many years. Her contemplation and peace in that moment, the afterglow of her holy experience, was cut short by a door suddenly colliding with the wall and small boy shouting.
“Grandma! Grandma!”
Valia looked at the little boy, disconnected from the purpose she had built for him, and answered him as sweetly and gentle as she could through her tears, despite the rage she felt at the disruption.
“Yes, Henry. What is it?”
“Grandma, I’m hungry.”
“Okay, honey. Let’s go get you some lunch.”
The little boy ran to her side, decidedly different from the bored and listless kid he had been not so long ago. The playground had reinvigorated him, and he teamed with the energy that makes the old envious of the young. They walked toward the kitchen, hand in hand, and Henry bounced up and down, skipping alongside his grandmother. She quickly made him a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, the crusts cut off, and threw some berries and carrots on the plate as well. She gave him a glass of water, explaining that juice was only for snack time, not for every meal. Despite his annoying behaviors, she appreciated that the little boy had learned to chew with his mouth closed, showing some sort of civility that his peers were seemingly immune to.
“Aren’t you going to eat, grandma?”
“I will in a bit, Henry. Grandma’s not hungry right now.”
The little boy chewed and swung his legs in his chair back and forth.
“Grandma?” he asked, mouth muffled and full of food.
Valia shot him a look and he held up a finger, marking the space where he acknowledged what he had done wrong and the time he needed to rectify it. The little boy finished chewing and took a sip of water to really clear his mouth.
“Grandma?”
“Thank you. Yes, Henry?”
“Do you wanna try again?”
“Do I want to try what again?”
“With the string? All the other kids had to go home, so I can play with you now. We can try the string again.”
His little face was so innocent, and the softness of his mother shown through. Valia sighed and thought about all the times she had sat frustrated with the boy, waiting for something to happen. She took heed of the directions of the voice.
Forget him. Find the girl.
“You know what, honey? Grandma doesn’t want to play with the string anymore.”
The little boy’s excitement fell from his face, a little flash of understanding and inadequacy ran across his face. He felt ashamed and disappointed that his grandmother was disappointed in him, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.
“Why?”
Henry watched his grandmother’s face expectantly, and Valia took control over the little expressions she knew gave away her thoughts and feelings. She painted calm and care across the face her little grandson knew so well.
“What if we played a game you wanted to play instead? How would that be?”
Henry thought for a moment.
“Like trucks?”
“Like trucks! Or anything else that you want to do. No more of grandma’s games for Henry. Let’s just play Henry games.”
The boy leapt from his chair and dashed to the other room. As Valia cleared his crumb filled plate, the carrots half bitten and the softer grapes discarded still on their stems, she could hear the boy digging through the community toy chest in the children’s room, some plastic and little bits of metal clanking against one another. He re-entered with an armful of trucks and a little helicopter.
“Let’s play search and rescue!”
“Okay, Henry. How do we play search and rescue?”
“You can be the helicopter, and I’ll be the trucks,” he said as he thrusted the aerial craft at her.
“Okay. What are we looking for?”
“Not what, Grandma, who. We are looking for a who.”
“Okay,” she sighed the way adults do when they are already tired at the beginning of a child’s imaginative scene, “who are we looking for?”
“A little girl.”
“… a little girl?”
“Yeah. A little girl and her dad.”
Valia’s ears perked at the mention of the pair.
“They were lost in the woods, and I already found the dad.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. We found him outside, but now we need to find the little girl.”
“Okay,” Valia started tentatively, “where do we find the little girl?”
“I don’t know. The dad is asleep and won’t wake up, so he can’t help. That’s why we need the helicopter!”
“Roger that. Where do you want me to look?”
“In the forest, flying over the mountains. If you go slow enough and make enough noise, she might come out on her own.”
Valia entertained the boy’s little game, thinking about the search she needed to make herself for a little girl and her dad. She half-heartedly flew the helicopter back and forth over the little scene of trucks Henry had set up during their play.
“He’s awake. Here, there’s a call for you!”
Henry jutted a toy walkie-talkie at his grandmother. She took it and pantomimed answering the call.
“Go for Grandma.”
“Go for Grandma, what? You have to talk to them properly or they won’t know, grams.”
“Go for Grandma. Over.”
“Roger that, Grandma. We have a message from the captain. Over.”
Valia was surprised by Henry’s formality and voice change in playing this new character on the other side of a walkie-talkie.
“We’re gonna put him on the line for you. Over.”
“Roger that. Over,” Valia answered.
Henry picked up his walkie-talkie, the batteries long dead, and when he changed his voice for this new character that Valia presumed was ‘the captain,’ Valia was shaken by the familiarity.
“Find her,” he said, mimicking the Voice unconsciously, “Over."
Valia felt embers glow inside of her.