As always:
Thanks to Boheminxen for editing.
Thanks to "Doc" for story consulting.
Resurrection:
A young couple is running through the city of Boston in a torrential rain. Fear is coursing through them as they are followed by a middle-aged man. Periodically, the couple stops and the man tries to ward off their attacker while the woman stands back and clutches an infant wrapped in cloth, but soon they retreat again. They finally feel they lost the man tracking them and stand under an awning to shelter themselves from the rain. Without warning, the assailant comes through the awning and pierces the man in the chest. The woman flees. She runs, making as many turns as possible. Hearing the attacker in the distance, she places her infant on the steps of a Catholic orphanage and departs in a panic, hoping her foe did not see where she abandoned her child. A mile further, she was tracked down.
***
17 years later:
My attention was drawn from my studies by the sound of the other orphans playing outside in the cool spring air. The noise used to make me jealous but, alas, I've resigned myself to the fact I am never going to be able to play outside, let alone be adopted and have a 'normal' life in that world. I'm just too sickly. I simply get too fatigued and I lack the energy to be outside for more than fifteen minutes at a time, so I stay in my room. My physical limitations notwithstanding, no one would ever want me. I'm just too ugly to look at. My physical deformities are repulsive with my nose upturned and seemingly suppressed to my face, my eyes too small for my slightly larger head, and my ears, well let's just say they don't look right, not to mention my body is tall and gangly. I was probably abandoned due to some incestuous love affair. I feel more like Quasimodo stuck in Notre Dame's bell tower than a 17 year old teenager hoping to be adopted.
I have two saving graces to my name, the Holy Bible and Sister Mary Patrick. Other nuns shunned me, fearing I was some sort of demonic figure, but Sister Mary Patrick took me under her wing. She taught and guided me and showed me the solace that could be found in the Lord. She has been my nurturer, my disciplinarian, and my role model.
"Drake? Drake, where did you just go? You zoned out for a minute there."
"Oh, sorry. Just thinking, that's all." My head was still facing the window.
"I'll take you outside if you'd like." The nun spoke in her usual wispy but caring voice.
"No thank you Sister Mary Patrick, but I appreciate the offer." I turned to face the elderly nun and offered a smile to conceal my moment of depression. "You can continue. I believe you left off at the Battle of Saratoga being the major turning point in the Revolutionary War."
"How about we take a break and eat lunch?" Sister Mary Patrick stood. "I'll be right back."
She didn't get far. As soon as she opened the door, two people were standing right outside my door in the hall. One was Mother Superior, a person who frankly didn't like that I was under her roof and the other was a woman of simple beauty. She had to be in her mid-twenties and she had shoulder length brown hair and matching brown eyes. Her slender form was a marvel to behold. Then the truly unexpected happened. She smiled at me. There was no fear of me. No look of disgust when she saw me. She didn't run in abject horror at my visage. She just gave a small smile to acknowledge my existence. And then my door shut. I shook my head and couldn't help the grin now adorning my face. If nothing else, I will cherish that moment for eternity.
Two hours later, Sister Mary Patrick returned with a duffle bag looking none too happy.
"What's wrong Mother?" I curiously asked.
The elder nun stopped dead in her tracks at my first use of the term 'Mother' in reference to her. To be honest, it was a Freudian slip and I don't know why I said it. But truth be told, for all intents and purposes, she is my Mother.
Sister Mary Patrick eyed me in shock before her ever-present soothing smile returned, but this time a single tear trickled down her cheek. "I'm going to miss you Drake. That young woman you saw a short while ago has adopted you. For the life of me, I don't know how she got it processed so quickly." And then under her breath I would've sworn I heard her admonish Mother Superior.
"Really?" I was floored. I didn't think adoption was in the realm of possibility for me.
"Yes." She came over and hugged me. "Promise me you'll be careful and remember all I've taught you. Keep your faith in the Lord and do what you can to follow in his footsteps. I love you."
Now I cried. "I love you too." Those words were a first for us too, but it made sense. "I'll visit when I can. I promise."
It's a funny thing being adopted. I am leaving the only woman who has ever cared for me in seventeen years with a woman I hope will do the same. In one regard, it's a great feeling to be wanted but in another, it's a sense yearning to be with my Mother. All these years, she didn't have to say it. Her actions more than proved it, but to hear her say those three words, "I love you" was a monumental experience.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Drake. I'm Bethany Howe. Let me carry that for you." The young woman took hold of my duffle bag. "I wouldn't want you to exude all your energy so quickly now. After all, we need to move you in." She gave me her smile again. It was a smile of knowing, of desire. No one has ever looked at me that way before.
We spent the half hour drive to her house in silence. I thought that was odd, having just been adopted by this person, but I realize this has to be new territory for her too. I know I'm nervous. The house was a small two story blue Victorian home.
"Your room is the first door on the right on the second floor. Why don't you get settled in why I make you something to eat?"
"Thank you." I went upstairs and set my duffle bag down on my new bed. "Nice." I said to no one.
The room had a closet, a big deal if you've never had one and was furnished with a dresser, a small television, a computer on a desk with a chair, and a king size bed. It's going to be nice to sleep without having my feet hang off the bed. With the smell of food wafting upstairs, I finished unpacking my clothes and headed to the kitchen. A plate of food and a red frothy drink were waiting for me on the table. Bethany laid her plate across from mine and had a glass of tea for herself. The hamburger meat was damn near raw, at least mine was. The food was good, but the drink, oh my, was absolutely fantastic. Within moments, I had a sudden burst of energy. A flood of strength filled me. I felt like I could take on the world.
"What's in this?" I asked in wonderment.
"It has a special ingredient, just for you." Bethany gave me that smile again. "It will build your strength."
"How do you know what I need?" I was completely surprised by this woman's admission. "I've seen a few doctors and they didn't have any idea what was wrong with me."
