Chapter 22
"'I ask you, Florence, are you frightened? Is there anything the matter, that you came here?'
'I came Papa –'
'Against my wishes. Why?'
She saw he knew why: it was written broadly on his face: and dropped her head upon her hands with one prolonged low cry. Let him remember it in that room, years to come. It has faded from the air, before he breaks the silence. It may pass as quickly from his brain, but it is there. Let him remember it in that room, years to come!"
-Charles Dickens, Dombey and Son, Ch. 18, p. 285
Elizabeth waited almost a full week before she answered John's note. He had written once more and called and left a message before she wrote back. They had been in Houston for two days to see the Apollo Mission Control Centre where so much had come to pass. Esma wanted to stay a third day to interview the head astronomers there, and so the rest of them had a free day.
So Elizabeth wrote, "Free this afternoon if you're still available," half hoping that they weren't. But John wrote back immediately, saying how delighted they would be to see her, and what time were they coming?
"I'm going to see my brother this afternoon, if you still want to come," she told Dresle.
"Oh, yes, I would love to!" Dresle replied.
Elizabeth felt relieved. Now at least she would have an excuse to leave early.
"What should I wear? I mean, what kind of clothes are appropriate?" asked Dresle.
"Anything you want, really," said Elizabeth, shrugging. "Just wear whatever is comfortable."
"Oh," said Dresle. "I thought perhaps there were particular clothes one had to wear when visiting family."
"No, family's too ordinary to be a special occasion."
Dresle looked bemused, but nodded. "Family is very unusual for us."
She eventually settled on a violet skirt and white blouse, and pulled her long dark hair back from her face with a golden ribbon. She was exquisitely beautiful, even without makeup or any of the trappings that a modern-day woman requires (or thinks she does).
"I'm so glad it's warmer here," said Dresle, as they were driven in a large black government vehicle. "It was cold in Europe."
This was the first time Elizabeth had heard any of the Vellorians mention climate preferences. She had assumed, because they were adapted to all climates, that they were indifferent to the temperature.
"You don't like the cold?" asked Elizabeth. Dresle shook her head. "How long is the winter on your planet?"
"Oh, we don't have a winter," said Dresle, surprised.
"Really? Well, what seasons do you have?"
"Not – seasons, per se," replied Dresle, thinking. "It's generally temperate all year round."
"And you don't get snow?" asked Elizabeth, remembering the Vellorians reaction to snow when they had landed in Denmark.
"No, nor rain," said Dresle.
"How is that?" said Elizabeth. "It must be a very dry place."
"Not at all. It was very lush and verdant. There was a large layer of water surrounding our atmosphere, and it worked like a – how do you call it? – greenhouse effect."
"A layer of water?" said Elizabeth, amazed. "All around the planet? But, how?"
"I do not know," said Dresle. "It blocked the sun's full rays and protected us from its full heat."
"Did? Is it still there?"
Dresle shrugged. "I don't know."
"But that means your ship had to pass through the water."
"Oh, yes, well the ship was built by ingenious engineers like Marco who figured out how to make it water-resistant."
"That's fantastic!" said Elizabeth. It seemed that a memory long-lodged in her brain shifted somewhere, but she could not grasp it. She tried for a few minutes to recall it, but then gave up.
John's family lived in the suburbs, down a row of streets where all the houses looked the same. As the giant black vehicle slowed at the house, the little family came tumbling out of it. John was holding the hand of a five-year-old girl; his wife, Erin, was carrying the baby, and the seven-year-old boy pelted toward them, but stopped when he saw armed guards emerging from the vehicle.
Looking at the happy little family parading across the lawn, Elizabeth suddenly felt a terrible pain and was frozen in her seat. She couldn't do it. She simply could not move from this seat. She wanted everyone to get back into the car and drive away: only then would this anxiety pass, she thought.
"Are you coming?" asked Dresle, who was already out of the car and holding it open for her. It had only been a few seconds, but to Elizabeth it was minutes, or hours, of agony.
This was it. She had to get up and get out of the car. It took every measure of will she had to grit her teeth, clench her fists, and move her feet. If she could just get out of the car – then it would be easier, she told herself, not really believing it. Her arms shook and Dresle took hold of her hand to help her out. Then John was by her side and was hugging her as if there were no six years to separate them; and she could smell that scent upon him that was John, that she associated from their earliest days together; and the paralyzing angst melted away.
"It's wonderful to see you," said John, beaming and letting her go.
"It's nice to see you too," she said.
"Excuse me," said the guard, and John turned to her. "We must make a quick scan of your domicile before we can let your guests enter – just for safety reasons."
"Of course. Sure, no problem," said John, and they waited outside while three guards went in. "We figured you would once we heard who was coming.
"Could you introduce us to your friend?" asked John, turning to his sister.
"This is Dresle," said Elizabeth.
Dresle came forward to shake hands. "It's nice to meet you," said John. "I'm John, this is my wife Erin, and our children, Josiah, Lizzy, and Marie, the youngest."
Dresle smiled in greeting to them all, but when she looked Erin in the face she stopped suddenly and her smile faded. She looked worried and pale. She stepped over to Elizabeth and murmured, "What is wrong with her face?"
Elizabeth was slightly shocked by Dresle's behavior. "There's nothing wrong with it," she said rather sternly.
Erin was a woman of about thirty-five, with shoulder-length light brown hair and brown eyes. She would have been beautiful were it not for the pock marks that adorned her face, neck, and hands, which were all the skin that was visible.
"Nice to meet you," Dresle said, holding her hand out awkwardly to Erin.
"You too," said Erin warmly. "Now, can you repeat your name – just so I know how to pronounce it correctly."
"It's dress-el," the Vellorian replied.
"Dresle. Okay, good. I wasn't sure I heard it right on TV."
The head guard came back out of the house and told them they could go in now. "It's all clear. We'll wait outside," she said.
The family headed back toward the house. Once the soldiers had gone, the little boy ran straight at Elizabeth with his arms opened and hugged her around the waist. "Auntie Elizabeth, I can't believe you're here!" he cried. She kneeled down as the little girl came rushing forward and put her small arms around her neck. Feeling the little hands and the soft skin, seeing the hair the same shade as her dead mother's, Elizabeth could not help a tear coming into her eye. She rapidly wiped it away and stood up, carrying the girl into the house as she clung to her neck.
"Your name is Lizzy too?" the girl asked.
"Elizabeth," her aunt replied.
"Oh. Daddy always calls you Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth, too, but everyone calls me Lizzy."
"They named you after me?" asked Elizabeth in amazement.
The little girl shrugged. "I guess so."
The house was modest for a family of five. It had two levels. The first story was a living room, kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. Upstairs were three bedrooms and another bathroom. The carpeted living room had a couch and a large TV screen embedded in the opposite wall. There was also a large box of toys in the corner. "It's so clean in here!" said Elizabeth. "My place is always a wreck."
"Thank you," said Erin. "But it's not usually like this. John and I spent all week cleaning the place, ever since we heard you were in Texas. Can I offer you anything to drink? We have – uh – milk, water, apple juice, and lemonade."
"I'll have lemonade," said Dresle.
"Just water is fine for me," said Elizabeth.
"Shall we take you on a tour of the house?" asked John. Josiah and Lizzy were jumping up and down. "I want to show them my room!" they cried.
So they followed John and the two children around the house, showing each room as if it were a chamber in a mansion. One thing Elizabeth noticed was that the walls in the hallway and the bedroom were covered in framed pictures of family. Dresle obviously noticed it, too.
"Who are all these people?" she asked John.
"Our family," he turned to her with a smile. "Here's one of my parents, on their wedding day. Here's another one of all four of us, in our home in Zimbabwe. And here's another one of just Elizabeth and me, and Elizabeth's little friend. I forgot her name."
"Maisee," said Elizabeth, swallowing hard.
"That's right, Maisee. Poor thing," he sighed. "Then here are pictures of our grandparents – they died when we were young. Then this is Erin's family. Her parents are still alive, and she had five sisters – can you believe that? Her brother died in the Pandemic when he was fifteen."
"Where are your pictures of Elizabeth? I only see ones from when she was a child," said Dresle.
"Uh, no – we don't have any," said John. "I would love to have some, though." He looked at Elizabeth. They continued up the stairs. "Marie –the baby – sleeps in our room, but Josiah and Lizzy have their own rooms. Do you want to show them?" he asked the children.
"Oh, yes, Daddy, we do!" They both dragged Elizabeth forward and had a tug of war with her arms before John suggested they visit Lizzy's room first and then Josiah's.
Lizzy's walls were covered with posters of princesses – and, to Elizabeth surprise – a picture of herself when she was a girl, which hung next to the bed. Dresle noticed it too. "Is that you, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, I – I think so," responded Elizabeth.
"Daddy tells us stories about when you were kids together. We love to hear them," said Josiah. "Let's go to my room now."
Josiah's was a typical boy's room, filled with toys and superheroes – he seemed partial especially to Spiderman. "I didn't know Spiderman was still popular," said Elizabeth.
"It isn't really – this is vintage stuff," said John. "Let's go back downstairs. Erin must have your drinks ready."
Erin had put baby Marie into a play pen and they all sat down on the couch and on chairs. Dresle looked distinctly pleased. "It's so nice to see a real family," she said with a smile.
"Do you have any family in your – uh – home?" asked Erin.
"No," Dresle shook her head. "We were raised by the state. The state was our family."
"That sounds terrible," said Erin. "Do the people in your government have a responsibility to a higher God?"
"The government is benevolent, and took care of all our needs. But I can see, now that I've been here for seven or eight months, how nice it would be to have a family: although my compatriots I'm sure would not agree. We're raised to think of family as a negative thing."
"And do your people have anything like a creation story?" asked John, "like our Bible?"
Dresle looked uncomfortable. "Not really," she said.
Elizabeth hastened to change the subject, but before she could, Josiah, who had been tugging on his father's sleeve and whispering in his ear, came forward. John nodded and Josiah slowly approached the Vellorian. "Excuse me, Miss Dresle?" he said politely.
"Yes?" She looked toward him.
"I was wondering – why are you wearing that mask? Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick. I have some trouble breathing in this atmosphere. But I should be able to take it off for a while." Elizabeth had become so accustomed to seeing the Vellorians wear their masks that she had even forgotten it might seem strange to others.
"So tell me how you've been, Elizabeth," said John.
"Fine," she said shortly.
"How's your travelling going? Where have you gone so far?"
"Uh – Asia and Europe and now North America."
"Not Africa?"
"No, the African countries have not yet come to an agreement about that with the U.N., although we might get to go to Egypt and South Africa later. What about you? Are you still – preaching?"
"Yes. We have our own church building now. Come to think of it, tomorrow's Sunday. I'll be preaching on the Meaning of Suffering. You and Dresle should come –"
"I'm afraid we have to leave tomorrow," she cut in dismissively.
She turned back to the others to find Dresle still staring at the marks on Erin's face. Feeling aggravated already from her words with John, she pinched the back of Dresle's hand and hissed in her ear, "Will you stop staring?"
"It's all right," said Erin gently. "Dresle probably has never seen anyone with these kinds of markings. I got them when I was just a child," she explained to Dresle. "I was little during the Pandemic, and I got sick with the disease. Almost all the children who caught it died – my brother had it and he died. When they finally found something to battle the disease, it was a vaccine, and not a cure, so those who were already infected had to recover on their own. Most didn't. But I survived. God had a plan for my life, and if He hadn't saved me, I would have died. I recovered, but it left these marks."
"Did you get sick, too, as children?" asked Dresle, looking at Elizabeth and John.
"No," said John, glancing at Elizabeth, who was silent. "We were blessed to survive the initial contagion and then receive the vaccine."
"Cursed," murmured Elizabeth. "We should have died with them."
There was a long moment of silence, broken by Lizzy's pulling on her mother's sleeve. "Can you play blocks with us?"
Erin rose and Dresle followed her to the other side of the room where the toy box lay.
"It's true," said Elizabeth, as if she had not noticed their retreat. "I wish I had died then. It would have been better for everyone."
"Elizabeth, how can you say that?" asked John, horror-struck. "How would my life have been without you?"
"It's not like we've spent that much time together since we were kids."
"You know that's not my fault, Elizabeth," said John. "I've always wanted to see you. I've tried to keep in contact –"
"I can't see you. I just can't. It's too difficult for me to deal with."
"Why? Because you think it's my fault?" asked John gently.
"It is your fault!" cried Elizabeth, unable to contain her emotion. But seeing Erin and Dresle turn to look at them, she restrained herself.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you left them," she shot back. "They were dying and you knew it, and you left me alone, helpless, to watch them die!" She was holding back angry tears now. To her surprise she saw a tear glisten in her brother's eye.
"How do think I felt – leaving?" he said. "Father told me to take all the money we had and try to buy some medicine in town, so I rushed to it because I thought it might help them. And when I came back – they were both dead, my medicine was too late and I didn't even get to say goodbye," he said; but there was no bitterness in his voice, to Elizabeth's surprise. "I've regretted that all my life, and that I was not there for you, when you needed me."
"You were only twelve," she said. "How were you supposed to be there for me?"
"God provided both of us with health so we could live and support each other. I tried to support you. I tried to take care of you," he added sadly.
"You shouldn't have had to take care of me," she said. "It wasn't God who saved us – no God would have allowed our parents and our tribe to suffer like that."
"So you're saying that, because there is suffering, there must automatically be no God."
"I'm saying no God would let his creatures suffer like that. It wasn't God or Satan who killed them – it was a disease – microbes with no feelings or religion – ruthless pathogens that recklessly and indifferently destroyed everything in their path."
"God will judge the evil and the good," said John. "Those children who died, like your little friend, Maisee – they all go to heaven according to God's word. Remember: he that is dead is freed from sin. Romans 6:7. God can also remove people from the Earth so they do not suffer anything worse later. Even the errors of the wicked or the meaningless path of suffering, as you call it, can bring about good. Think how many people came to faith in Christ during or after the Pandemic. The apostle John in Romans chapter 5 says, 'If by one man's [Adam's] offence death reigned… even so by the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification to life.'"
"'Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.' You see, I can quote scripture too. But it still isn't giving me the answer. We were obeying God, we were doing His work, we were faithful – but evil and plague still came to us."
John looked at her sadly. "Elizabeth, I know you've been through a lot; we both have. You and I have both had trauma in our lives. But why should that make us reject the One who can make us whole?"
"There is no one that can make us whole."
"But I'm whole," said John. "I'm whole and free."
Elizabeth looked around his living room at his happy family and then back to him and his smiling face.
"That doesn't mean I don't get sad or depressed sometimes – it's okay to get sad. I have my dark days. Remember the books Mother and Father used to read us before bed? The Chronicles of Narnia? In the final book, The Last Battle, you remember there's a sort of stable – or that's what it looks like from the outside. But Tirian, Peter, Edmund, Lucy and the others, when they pass through, find it to be a blissful paradise. But the Dwarfs 'refuse to be taken in.' They sit at a table with a magnificent feast, but think they're still in the dark smelly stables, eating cow dung and drinking dirty water instead of fine meats and wines. They insist that they are still in the dark and smelly stable. The Dwarfs will not let anyone help them, or see the light. You remember that story?"
Elizabeth nodded tiredly. She felt mentally and emotionally drained from her discussion with her brother.
"Don't be a dwarf in the stable, Elizabeth," said John gently. "'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,' I Corinthians 15:26. All evil and sin will pass away."
"That's just a story," said Elizabeth.
"Some stories are true," said John with a smile.
There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the giggles of the children and the silvery laugh of Dresle as she played with them.
"Why didn't you ever defend yourself?" Elizabeth asked at last.
"What do you mean?"
"When we were kids – even when you were in high school, and all those foster homes. Why didn't you fight back? Why did you just let them beat you up? That was worse for me than anything else."
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I know once Mother and Father died it was very hard. I didn't mean to make it harder on you. But it is senseless to answer violence with violence. God will bless the peacemakers. Christ did not fight when they took him to be scourged and crucified, and he could have called ten thousand angels to stop it."
"Right," she said. This answer still made no impression on her.
"Sorry to interrupt," said Erin, "but supper is almost ready. We were hoping you could join us."
"I'd love to!" replied Dresle, before Elizabeth could answer.
She sighed heavily. "Okay," she said.
"I like to cook, Erin. Elizabeth has been teaching me," said Dresle. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Well, you'll have to talk to John about cooking. He's the real cook around here. When we heard you were coming, he set about preparing a Haitian meal. Have you visited Haiti yet?"
"No," said Dresle.
"It's not on our schedule," said Elizabeth.
"Of course," said Erin rather angrily. "It's so poor – they probably only want you to see the wealthy and well-off places. We went on a missions trip to Haiti last year. It's a desperately impoverished place."
"What is a 'missions trip'?" asked Dresle.
"We go to other places around the world and tell them about Jesus," said Josiah. "And we bring them stuff they need, like medicine, or food or clean water."
"Do you go as well?" asked Dresle with wide eyes.
"Of course. So does Lizzy. And I bet Marie will now, too."
"When she's a bit older," said Erin, smiling, and smoothing back the boy's thatched hair.
"So this is Haitian food?" asked Elizabeth, interested. She, like Dresle, enjoyed trying new foods.
"Yes. They eat a lot of spaghetti noodles – even for breakfast. And they prepare chicken in a special brown gravy or sauce with flour dumplings."
"Is that a dumpling?" asked Dresle, pointing to what looked like a white hot dog floating in the brown juices.
"Yes. They're very easy to make, and a staple there," said John. "I've also made some legrim – it's a type of vegetable stew. They also eat a lot of rice and beans."
"It smells wonderful," said Dresle. "Can I help you serve?"
"Oh, no, you don't need to. You're our guest," said Erin. "Why don't you and Elizabeth sit down at the table. Josiah, would you help Lizzy to set the table?"
"Yes, Mommy," they said.
Dresle and Elizabeth sat down at the oval-shaped wooden table which was draped with a tablecloth designed with sunflowers.
"Your family is so kind," said Dresle. "Why do you never talk about them?"
"It's … painful for me still," said Elizabeth reluctantly.
"Because of your parents?"
"Yes."
"They died when you were very young."
Elizabeth neither confirmed nor denied this.
"But why do you blame your brother? These are the nicest people I've ever met."
"It's … hard to explain," said Elizabeth. "I don't really know why I blame him," she admitted, and realized that only now did she believe that to be true. "It wasn't his fault. I blame God, I suppose."
"But I thought you didn't believe in God," said Dresle.
"I don't know," said Elizabeth wearily. "It's more like I don't want to believe in a God who would allow bad things to happen."
"I see," said Dresle. "But if nothing bad ever happened, how would we know when good things were happening?"
This rather prosaic statement got no answer, because just then Erin and John entered, carrying the dishes of food. They sat down, and Erin put Marie in a high chair with some porridge. Before they ate, however, John, put his hands together to pray; and Dresle, watching what they did, followed suit.
"Dear Father," John prayed. "We thank you so much for the blessing of having Elizabeth come to visit. We thank you also for Dresle and that she was able to come too. Thank you for providing this food and please bless it to our bodies. In Jesus' name, Amen."
Elizabeth had expected the evening to be awkward and painful, but John and his family were so warm and welcoming that Elizabeth and Dresle felt right at home, and even enjoyed a hearty meal. Little Marie entertained Dresle by smearing her oatmeal all over her face and clothes, and sometimes throwing it against the wall or on the floor.
"Daddy, tell us a story about you and Auntie Elizabeth when you were kids," said Lizzy.
"Oooh, yes, please!" chirped Joshua.
"Maybe not today," said John, glancing at his sister. "Perhaps before you go to bed."
"No, no! We want to hear one now!" they chorused.
"Well…" said John uncertainly. "Maybe just a short one. Let me think," he said, putting his hand to his brow.
As he was speaking, Erin got up and cleared away the plates and took Marie down from her high chair. She came back a moment later with a double-layered chocolate cake gratuitously covered in colourful frosting.
"John told me you like chocolate, Elizabeth," she said. "But I wasn't sure what Dresle liked."
"Oh, I love chocolate too, thank you," said Dresle. "I especially love cherries and chocolate."
"Oh, good," said Erin. "I made this today – Josiah and Lizzy helped me."
"Yes, we helped," piped up Lizzy. "I helped put on the pink frosting."
"I see," said Elizabeth, laughing.
"Do they have chocolate on your planet?" asked Erin.
"No. Well, at least I'd never tried any," said Dresle.
"Can we give Auntie Elizabeth our gifts now?" asked Josiah, as Erin served the cake.
"All right. I think now's a good time," said Erin. "You may go get them."
The two oldest kids scrambled out of the room. "They've been working on them for a week," said John, smiling. "Ever since we heard you were coming to Texas. They didn't know you were coming until this afternoon," he told Dresle, "but they spent the afternoon working on something for you."
"That's very kind. They didn't have to," said Dresle.
"Oh, they were delighted!"
The children raced back into the room.
"This is for you, Auntie Elizabeth!" said Josiah.
"No, Josiah, I wanted to give mine first!" cried Lizzy.
"Now, no fighting," said Erin. "Josiah, you give your gift to Auntie Elizabeth first, and Lizzy you give yours to Dresle."
"Here you are, Miss Dresle," said Lizzy, and presented her with a lopsided bow made of pink ribbon that she had evidently made herself. "It's for your hair."
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was looking at Josiah's gift in something like awe. It was a little book, made with pages stapled together, which he had illustrated and written himself. "You can write?" she said.
"Oh, yes," he answered proudly. "Mommy and Daddy taught me at home."
"That is wonderful!" said Elizabeth, with all sincerity as she turned the pages.
"It's about you, when you were in Africa," he said.
"Thank you so much," said Elizabeth, and pulled him into a hug, a rare show of emotion for her.
Then he gave his gift to Dresle. It was a drawing. "That's you," he said, "with your friends. And that's your spaceship."
"Thank you," she said.
Lizzy's gift for Elizabeth was a paper doll, and then a series of paper dresses she had made for it. "It's Princess Aurora from Sleeping Beauty," she told her.
"I have a gift for you too," said Elizabeth. "Well, for you and Josiah." She pulled from her bag a microdisc and handed it to them. "Sorry I didn't wrap it. It's a story your dad and I used to like as kids. It's called The Princess and the Goblin. Maybe you could get your mom or dad to read it to you."
"Oh, yes, I loved that one!" said John. "And we don't have it, do we, dear?"
"No," said Erin. "What do you say, kids?"
"Thank you, Auntie Elizabeth!" Josiah and Lizzy chorused.
Then it was time for them to go. Lizzy was crying, and Josiah was begging them not to go, so it was getting dark as they all came out onto the lawn together and shared hugs before the guards helped them into the vehicle. "Keep in touch," said John at the last. "We love you, Elizabeth."
And as the door closed on her and they drove away, Elizabeth felt a warm glow inside her she hadn't felt in years, and realized that she finally believed it. The wounded child inside her peeked out, and realized that it was loved.
