Last Light Falling (12 page)

I’ve grown tired of trying to reject Father Joseph’s message, and I’m just too overwhelmed with all of this. My mother told me that people fear what they don’t understand. Well, I’m scared, and I don’t understand any of this. Yet the only thing clinging to my conscious that may persuade my assurance of my fate is my mother’s vision. But something appears to be missing from all of this. Why haven’t we discussed Finnegan’s dilemma? After all, he is the one who sent the letter to us.

“So where does Finnegan fit into all of this?” I ask.

Father Joseph just silently stares at us with no expression on his face. “I haven’t heard from Finnegan in over five years. I was the one who sent this letter. I knew you two would not agree to come here if I didn’t include Finnegan in all of this, nor did Finnegan.

“He told me that no matter what it takes, convince them to come here, even if it means deceiving you. Believe me, it was not my intention to lie to you. I was apprehensive about sending this letter to you at first, but I knew I had been called by the Lord to carry out His message and that I would die doing so. For years I have prayed for Finnegan, not knowing if he was still alive, until I received this …” Father Joseph places a photo on the table. “This was sent to me seven days ago by your uncle.”

I look up in surprise, my eyes wide. “I convinced myself he was dead all these years.”

“I’m sorry, Arena, but I don’t exactly know where he may be, or if he wants us to know,” says Father Joseph.

“Apparently, he’s safe enough to send this to you,” chimes in Gabe. The photo looks like it was taken from high ground. I notice that part of the area resembles Israel from the photos I’ve seen in my library book. I take a closer look and recognize that the picture is concentrated on the large structure that looks like a shrine.

“What is this?” I ask.

“That’s where the Dome on the Rock stood years ago,” says Father Joseph. His face is transfixed in a mysterious gaze as he draws deeply toward the photo.

“And now?” asks Gabe.

“And now … the Third Temple stands.”

“I thought the Third Temple referred to Jesus and we were the stones that built it,” I say.

“Whether figuratively or literally, it doesn’t really matter now. The end of history is nigh, regardless,” says Father Joseph.

I look at the picture more closely. This is without a doubt the most volatile piece of territory on the entire planet. With my body slightly trembling, I avoid looking at anyone, for I have no other words to speak. Have we truly been chosen by His Divine hand? As much as I have a difficult time believing all of this, I don’t know if I’m able to reject the idea just yet. I feel like I’ve been deliberately deceived all these years, but deep inside I strangely accept it. There is no doubt now that our lives are about to change forever. I feel a heavy burden suddenly lift off me, as if our mother is standing behind us, with her arms wrapped around us, comforting our spirits.

I glance at the clock on the wall. I don’t want to let go of this feeling right now, but we were due back home ten minutes ago. “Gabe, we’ve got to go, we’re late,” I say.

“Yes, that’s good, because I think that’s enough heavy-burdened information for today. Let’s meet here again tomorrow,” says father Joseph.

Before Father Joseph drops us off at the corner of our street, I put my hand on his shoulder, demonstrating my loyalty and thanks. I’m reluctant to say anything because I’m still a little bitter from being emotionally drained, but I feel the need to anyway. “Thank you, Father … for your protection, and all you have done for my family.”

As we walk the rest of the block, I can’t stop thinking about what our future may hold, but I’m also inclined to rid myself from the entirety of it all. I can understand Father Joseph’s stance in all of this, but the idea seems a bit far-fetched and slightly ludicrous. Maybe he’s right, but until I’m assuredly convinced of his irrational debate about my destiny, I’ll just pretend to accept it and humor his good will. It may not be what’s asked of me, but it’s all I can really offer at this moment.

Before we get to the door, I suddenly remember what Derrick did to Gabe’s face and quickly contemplate what we are going to tell Myra and Daniel. While I’m trying to conjure up a tall tale for Gabe’s misfortune, the door opens and there stands Myra, smiling. “Hey, glad to see you two make it back home. I’ve got dinner ready,” she says in her usual cheery voice.

I’m a little startled and confused by the response. Does she not see Gabe’s face? Has she suddenly developed a form of blindness? Still nervous about the response, I just blurt out the first excuse that pops into my head regardless if she noticed Gabe’s face or not. “He ran into a flagpole!”

“What?” she says, perplexed.

Her vision must be hindered, so I casually walk through the door as if nothing happened at all. It’s not until I get through the foyer when she notices. “Dear God! Gabe, are you okay? That looks terrible.” Concerned as she is, I’m pretty sure she isn’t boosting Gabe’s self-confidence at the moment.

“It was an accident. I’ll be fine, most of the major swelling has gone down,” says Gabe, unconcerned. His response to Myra’s reaction certainly shows a change in his demeanor since the first day of school. If he was lacking any self-confidence or struggling with insecurities, he’s been cured. I guess after today, both of us have changed.

I’m so tired, I just want to go upstairs, take a shower, and collapse on my bed, but talking with Niki always seems to alleviate my weariness.
She’s sitting in the living room, so I detour from the stairs to see her.

“Hey, Sis, come sit down and tell me about school,” Niki says. Before I sit down, I can’t help but to give her a hug like I always do. “You seem a little different today. Anything interesting you want to share with me?” she asks.

I think to myself for a moment before answering, because somewhere dwelling deep within my conscience, I feel the need to share the uncomforting conversation we had with Father Joseph, but I can’t. Whether or not she would understand as my sister, none of what transpired this afternoon must ever be mentioned. Even if she is loyal to my secrets, only Gabe and I can be privy to such matters, at least for now. It’s in my best interest to just keep the conversation to the normal small chit-chat before I reveal something I’m not even sure is true. “I’ve made some friends at school,” I say instead.

“Well, that’s good. What are their names?”

“Juliana, who I think has a thing for Gabe, but don’t mention that to him,” I say, “and Jacob, but he’s just a friend,” I quickly add. Niki smiles, as if she knows I may have a slight crush on Jacob, but she doesn’t push the conversation any more than that.

I guess he’s the first boy I’ve been attracted to who hasn’t acted like an ass, but I still try to convince myself that he’s just a friend.

“Don’t worry, I won’t mention anything,” says Niki with a wink.

After a nice meal, I like to lie down in bed and read into the late hours until I fall asleep. But tonight is different. I try to fall asleep, but it’s useless, so I get out a book of poems my mother wrote when she was young. They always comfort me when I’m depressed, but tonight I just want a little of my mother to speak to me when I read the verses. All of her poems were about her experiences growing up. I find a passage in the back of the book that I remember my mother telling me about when she read it to me for the first time.

Someone has left this earth and didn’t even say good-bye,
what a waste, did somebody really have to die?
His whispers remain in the silence, yet his spirit has departed,
I don’t really know how to feel, but our hearts have all been hardened.
A wife and child that’s left behind, I just cannot explain,
the words I say, I just can’t find, there is nothing here to gain.
We stand in silence to hear His call, as we mourn for another day,
and when my knees break down and fall, I speak to my Father and pray.

The poem was about a young man who killed himself because he had no money to feed his family and no job to support them. One of his legs was torn off from a farming accident out in the fields that left him disabled, depressed, and jobless. The only thing he knew how to do was farm, and when that was gone, so was his will to live.

I remember my mother being angry with this man for what he did to his family, and many times she prayed to God to have mercy on him. My mom always thought suicide was a selfish and cowardly act regardless of the situation, but at the same time, no one really stepped up to encourage, help, or give simple comfort to the man during his depression. She said they were both wrong—wrong for killing himself, and wrong for not helping their fellow neighbor.

I put the book away and kneel by my window, then pray as I do every night. I meditate and speak to my Heavenly Father for what seems like an hour, and the only thing that keeps me from continuing is the deep roar of thunder in the distance. It’s almost as if God is moaning from the sky.

I slip back into the bed underneath the shroud of blankets and try to fall asleep. While I turn my head and look out the window, lightning fills the sky and thunder rumbles, putting on a dazzling show as rain showers down, accompanying the two in a trio of nature’s wonders. After a few minutes, the rain begins to gradually calm my thoughts. My eyes grow heavy, and I fall asleep.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder booms like a cannon right outside my window, disrupting my dream. I awaken to the darkness as sweat runs down my spine, but not from a nightmare this time, from the word of God.

I pull the sheets back, sit up, and clasp my fingers together, holding up my knees, when my door creaks open. It’s Gabe with sweat on his face and a look of terror in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just …” he says, then pauses.

“Just what?” I ask.

“I had a dream, a vision, or whatever. I believe God spoke to me, or to us. You were there in the dream kneeling next to me on a stone next to a—”

“A tree with white blooms that appeared to be alive. I believe it was a cherry blossom,” I say, finishing his thought.

“Yes! And the two angels next to it. You had the same vision?” Gabe asks.

I can’t speak, so I just nod my head.

As long as I’ve known my brother, I’ve never had the slightest indication of what he’s thinking, much less finishing his thought. Regardless if we are twins, it’s not like we share the same brain. This is becoming a little spooky. We both try to calmly discuss the dream. What might be confusing to others seems perfectly clear to us, and it’s only because it was meant for us and no other. The dream was beautiful; it was like no place I’d ever seen. I can only describe it as a breathtaking view of vibrant color teaming with lively wonder surrounded by celestial creations. I’m completely without words that describe the place where we sat.

God stood before us, but He was not physically seen, and yet we knew He was there all around us—in the flowers, trees, the vast sky and space, and in the very air we breathe. His voice was like a father talking to his children, preparing them for a long journey, and His instructions were clear:

Trust no man who serves another god or idol. Two men will help guide you through your journey—one will leave this earth before your time is finished. Nation by nation, the world’s messages will be overcome by a mass of blackness and into a dead of silence. By nightfall your nation will have started what can’t be stopped in a string of horrifying events. On the seventh day of the new moon, your journey will begin. As the sky grows dark in the east, many lives will perish. Blackness will devour the Earth, covering the light of the sun. Your nation will soon succumb to another. Blood will rain from the clouds causing famine like no other. When the moon turns as red as blood, you will know the time is near. Do not fear your enemy. Do not worry, my children, trust in Me. Don’t boast in victory, but pray for your enemy. Do not seek revenge for the death you meet, for it will be by My wrath that is just. Go and fulfill your destiny. So it has been written, so it shall be done.

Another morning has come, but it’s unlike the others I’ve awoken to. I feel less engaged to entertain the new day after last night’s dream, but I guess I have no choice. I feel somewhat lost, and the only thing
somewhat calming my racing thoughts is the welcome chance to see Jacob’s face again.