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Authors: Michael John Sullivan

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Everybody's Daughter

Everybody's Daughter
Michael John Sullivan
Fiction Studio Books (2012)
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Default Category
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
The Fiction Studio
PO Box 4613
Stamford, CT 06907
Copyright © 2012 by Michael John Sullivan
Jacket design by J. Allen Fielder
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-936558-44-5
E-book ISBN-13: 978-1-936558-45-2
Visit our website at
www.fictionstudiobooks.com
.
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by US Copyright Law.
For information, address The Fiction Studio.
First Fiction Studio Paperback Printing: May 2012
Printed in the United States of America
Also by Michael John Sullivan
Necessary Heartbreak
For Cat and Jackie,
My two greatest gifts in the world.
Love, Dad.
Acknowledgements
While writing
Everybody’s Daughter
, I grew to love the story more and more as the plot moved away from its original outline. Thanks to my relationship with editor Selena Robins, I learned the value of tension between all of the characters as we spent much time over the phone, discussing each plot scene and interaction. Her efforts helped me transform this story into an intriguing thriller. She was tough, too. It’s an aspect of her personality that I only started to fully appreciate during the last step of my editing process. Ms. Robins suggested I read the story out loud. When I did so with my wife, Debbie, I was able to recognize with clarity the weaknesses of the story.
I thank my wife for helping me through this tedious part of the process. She also had to endure my many changing moods during the past two years in writing this second book of the trilogy.
Necessary Heartbreak
was certainly an easier task, as much of the material was already written two decades ago.
While I didn’t utilize an agent for
Everybody’s Daughter
, it is with great gratitude I thank Frank Breeden, who spent some valuable time with me explaining parts of the publishing business I didn’t understand.
Simon & Schuster VP Anthony Ziccardi, who signed me for
Necessary Heartbreak
, the first book in the trilogy, continues to be available to answer my questions. He has supported me with unwavering confidence throughout my publishing journey.
I’m excited to have
Everybody’s Daughter
published by Fiction Studio and deeply honored that Lou Aronica accepted my manuscript. Lou is someone I trust during this ever-changing time in the publishing industry.
I would have never written this story if not for the continued love given to me by my friends, too many to mention. Bookclub members were a source of information and feedback to me during my
Necessary Heartbreak
journey. I’ve made some lifetime friends while writing this time-travel series.
I look forward to taking one more journey in book three with Michael and Elizabeth Stewart as they discover that the most valuable part of life is to learn to just appreciate it. That’s a lesson I’m trying to embrace myself as I write this series.
Chapter One

Jingling the silver coins between his fingers that he had retrieved so many centuries ago, Michael Stewart again thought about what he should do with the blood money. He leaned on his broom, transfixed in his holy land memories, only to be startled by an intruder.

“Hey, Judas. Pastor Dennis told me to bring this down here,” the young man said, stomping down the stairs. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“In the corner is fine.” He pointed to the area and continued sweeping the church’s basement floor.

The teenager set down a candle snuffer and tugged on Michael’s Boston Red Sox jacket’s sleeve. “Don’t work too hard,
Judas.
” He ran up the stairs, repeating Judas’ name and laughing. The sound broke the majestic quiet of the church.

Michael never took offense when his fellow Yankee fans teased him, accusing him of being a traitor.

If they only realized he knew Judas. Personally.

He relaxed, allowing the slight pain in his forearm to ease, and slipped his hand again inside the pocket of his worn jeans. He never left home without the ancient relics, touching them periodically, forcing himself to believe that the week he and his daughter Elizabeth lived in first-century Jerusalem wasn’t a dream.

It was real. It
did
happen.

On days when his financial responsibilities overwhelmed him, as insurmountable bills piled up on a weekly basis, he had been tempted to ask an antique expert about their value.

No. I could never sell them, no matter how much they could be worth. I’ll burn in hell.

He realized he would perhaps have to explain how he had come to own these unholy souvenirs some day.

“But who would believe me?” he whispered. “They’ll think I’m crazy.”

He heard footsteps upstairs. “Well, well, surprise, surprise,” called a voice from above. “Look who’s down there,
again
.”

Michael went to the stairway and glanced up at his daughter. “How did you know I was here?”

“I’m psychic.”

Michael smiled. “So what does my future say?”

She laughed. “I saw your car parked in front.”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be at your self defense class?”

“That was yesterday. I’m almost done with it. I can push around the biggest guys. But now I’m rocking with the history club. They want you to come in and discuss your coins.”

“You can’t be serious?” He stared at her in disbelief. “Not only will they not believe me, but they’ll think my elevator is not going up to the right floor. Did you tell them where they came from?”

She didn’t respond.

Michael walked up the stairs into the church, gave his daughter a hug and kissed her forehead. “Did you show them the coins I gave you?”

“You look good today, Dad.”

“Uh-huh.”
Wonder what she’s angling for?

He sat in the first pew and gazed at the musical equipment behind the podium, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. Thoughts of finding another opportunity to travel to the Holy Land occupied his mind as he absorbed the peaceful beauty.

Elizabeth nudged his shoulder, shaking him out of his trance. “I didn’t show anybody the coins you gave me. They’ll think I’m crazy too.”

He slid over to give her room. “So, what do you need from me today?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s so quiet.” She looked around. “I haven’t been here in a while.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I think one church nut in the family is enough,” she said.

He gave her a surprised look. “Excuse me?”

“Just kidding. Why are you spending so much time in all the churches in town? Even a Temple.”

He didn’t answer right away, needing a few seconds to think. “I truly believe Jesus doesn’t care whether I pray in a Catholic or a Protestant church, or even a Temple or the ice cream shop or a toy store or...”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” she said.

He touched her hand. “I saw God in Leah as much as any person I know. She showed us so much love. Real love.” He let out a sigh. “Going back to that time and witnessing what we did, well, it changed my life.”

He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “And losing your aunt also changed the way I think.”

“Yeah, I know.” She nodded slowly. “I miss Aunt Sammie too. It changed the way I look at things.”

For several minutes they sat in silence. Michael found the stillness of the church rejuvenating.

His daughter nudged his shoulder again. “So what’s bothering you? That whole Jerusalem trip was incredible. But you’re still sad.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I know the real reason why you’re here.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yup. I do indeed,” she said with the grin of a typical fourteen-year-old. “I know everything.” She injected an air of pompous self-importance in her tone, but couldn’t keep a straight face. The giggle that followed told Michael she was having a good time ribbing him.

She fiddled with a strand of neon pink hair, twisting it into a small bow. “I’m glad we get along better since that trip.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’m kind of worried about you. You want to talk about it?”

Michael refused to grab the bait she dangled. “I’m waiting for the service to start.”

She clicked her tongue. “There’s no service today.”

“I enjoy being here. Dennis is one of my best friends now. He’s different from the others.”

“Oh, yeah, he is different.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he’s kind of old to look the way he does.”

“What’s he supposed to look like?”

“Like a pastor.” She faced him and touched her ear. “That earring he wears, his long hair, and the loud rock music he plays on his iPod. It’s just weird. And the motorcycle.”

Michael touched his ear. “I’m thinking about getting one.”

“Yuck. You’re old too.” She crossed her arms. “No way do I want my old man to wear one.”

“I’m not old and I’m thinking a gold sparkly one would be nice,” he continued, nodding.

“That’s not gonna happen.” She sighed. “Let’s talk about something else, so I can get that gross image of you out of my head. How often do you think about her?”

He twisted nervously, his leg pinned hard against the side of the pew. “Who are you talking about?”

“Leah. Who else?”

He hesitated for a fraction. “I think about her often.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s doing okay.”

“We didn’t see her get away from that Roman soldier.” He shifted in his seat to ease his anxiety. “I’m worried that I left her behind to defend herself against that maniac. I should have gone back.” He looked upward, avoiding her gaze. “That’s why I come here so often.”

She pressed her hand around his arm. “Yeah, I get it.”

“I should have gone back once I knew you were fine.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she let out a gasp. “I wouldn’t have let you go alone. I love her too.”

“I know.” He glanced at her sideways and noticed another pink streak near her temple.
Was that there this morning?

“We also didn’t know if that soldier was coming back after us in the tunnel,” Elizabeth said.

“I still should have turned around and made sure.”

She squeezed his arm tighter. “You’re still in love with her, huh?”

He grimaced, uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken and remained silent.

“Dad,” she said. “Answer me. Are you still in love with her?”

He kept staring straight ahead. “I guess.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t get me wrong. I still miss your mom. I’ll always love your mom. I sometimes wonder if I should have let go of her a long time ago.” He lowered his voice and changed the direction of the conversation. “I also wonder if we should have waited until Jesus rose from the dead. I think about that a lot. But it would have been a big risk. I certainly wasn’t going to put your life in danger any more than I had to.”

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know if there’s life after death, or whether someone can really rise from the dead like Lazarus or Jesus. But I do know what I saw. And I’m so happy to be home.”

Michael smiled.

“What?” she asked.

His heart swelled with pride. “You said you don’t know. But you really do.” He ruffled her hair. “By the way, I had to clean up part of your room.”

She shot him an angry glare. “What were you doing in my room?”

“You left your lights on. Again. I don’t have a money tree in the yard. Our electric bill was obscene last month.”

“You didn’t have to clean it up though.”

“No choice. I had to create a path to get to the lamps.” He nudged her. “Just the ones that were still on.”

She covered her ears with her hands and said through gritted teeth, “You’re going to make me crazy.”

“You’ll be even more crazy living in a dark house when they cut off our electric bill because I can’t afford it.”

An elderly man and woman entered the church, tip-toeing up the aisle, putting a temporary halt to their bickering. He whispered, “By the way, who’s this Matt fella?”

“Someone I met at school.” She shrugged. “How do you know about him?”

“Never mind how I know. Is he a boyfriend?”

“Kinda.”

He tilted his head heavenward. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. He will not be your boyfriend.”

“Why?” Her tone was loud and contemptuous.

He put two fingers against his lips. “Lower your voice.” He noticed the old man turning his head, obviously angling for a better position to hear their conversation as the lady gave Michael a disapproving glance.

“I don’t care if they hear what we say,” she said, raising her voice. “Why can’t I see Matt?”

He shushed his daughter again, wagging a finger at her. “I don’t like him.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Ugh. I like him. He’s a great guy.”

“You’re too young.”

“I’m old enough to get married during Jesus’ time.”

“That was then. Different times, different rules. This is now. My rules.”

The elderly man was practically hanging over the pew to catch every word. Michael figured it was probably the most entertainment he had enjoyed in a long time.

“Let’s discuss this at home,” Michael said, trying to put an end to the conversation.

“I want to date him.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Michael stood and gave an emphatic response. “Absolutely not.”

“Sit down. They’re looking at us again.”

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, now you don’t care?”

He waved to the elderly couple and sat.

“At least meet Matt,” she pleaded.

He looked at her adamant expression and saw how much this meant to her. “Okay,” he said, trying not to sound defeated. “I’ll meet him.”

She smiled. “When?”

“At least give me some time to adjust to the idea.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Too soon,” he said. “How old is he?”

“Older than me.”

“How much older?”

“He’s a junior.”

He looked upward, concentrating on the church’s beautifully hand-painted ceiling. “Oh, Vicki, look at what your daughter is doing to me.” Taking a deep breath, he remembered something he’d been meaning to ask her. “Who gave you the chain with the locket?”

“Where did you find it? Did you go in my drawer?”

“You know I’d never do that. It was on top of your dresser.”

She huffed out loud. “A friend gave it to me.”

“Friend as in this Matt guy?”

She stared straight ahead, shifting in her seat. “It’s not a big deal at all.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He winced, afraid to hear the answer to his next question. “Does this Matt guy drive?”

He put his hand under her chin, lifting her head. “Does he?”

“Yes. He drives.”

“Do not get into the car with him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

“Can you at least meet him?”

“Soon.”

“Okay, tomorrow then, right?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” He shook a finger at her. “And no dating until I meet him.”

“That’s not fair,” she said, raising her voice again and piercing the sacred silence.

He nodded toward the elderly couple. “Shhh.”

“They’re old. They can’t hear us.”

“Have you ever heard of hearing aids?”

She frowned. “We’re getting off track. What about Matt?”

“What about him?”

“Ugh. Can I bring him over?”

“Soon.”

“You won’t meet him. I know you. I know the game you’re playing.”

“I’ll meet him when I want to meet him and not a minute sooner,” he said in a stern tone.

“All right. All right. I can wait.”

Surprised, Michael made a pretense of checking her forehead for a temperature. “You feeling okay?”

“Very funny.” She smiled. “I know you have a lot on your mind, working so hard, trying to pay the bills. You deserve a break.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “How about I cook us a nice dinner tonight?”

He moved away. “You’re too obvious.”

She backed away and formed an angelic look like she always did when she tried to look innocent. “Obvious? Why, I don’t know what you mean, Father.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “What do you want now, Elizabeth Ellen Stewart?”

She smiled sweetly. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go to the concert.”

“What concert?”

“The one in New York City.”

“Where in New York City?”

“Madison Square Garden.”

“Who’s performing there?”

“Lady Gaga.”

“Lady Gaga? Why would you waste your money on her? Wait until Springsteen tours again.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Hasn’t he retired? Anyway, I don’t want to see an old dude on stage.”

“Hey, Bruce is not old.”

“Will you let me go to the concert? All my friends are going.”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes though it seemed like hours. Michael broke the quiet of the now unholy atmosphere. “No.”

“What?”

“No concert.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons. Number one. You’re too young to go into the city with friends. Number two. You’re too young.”

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