Broken Seed Read online

  But God, in his wisdom and love, sent his Archangel Michael to come comfort me, to tell me he had actually saved them from greater destruction Satan had planned for them—the loss of their faith and their eternal souls.

  I would have to talk to Elisabeth about this. I needed to find a way to hold him accountable for their murders! I had been a wit- ness! I had blocked it out lest he discover what I knew and kill me as well. I wasn’t going to let fear of him stand in my way anymore. I couldn’t let him get away with it!

  In response to the depth of my turmoil, Michael had brought with him the peace and hope of the Lord. As soon as he kissed me good night, I fell unconscious, and my sleep had been peaceful and uninterrupted. My mind silenced and shielded from all my tormenting troubles.

  The memories finally began to fade into a foggy haze as the residual comfort I had been given during my peaceful sleep returned to me like the heat of a slowly growing fire within a hearth.

  “Umm, Michael?” I whispered to the room once more.

  There was no answer. I waited a moment longer before continuing my hushed speech to the apparently empty room.

  “I wanted to say thank you again for coming to comfort me last night and for keeping Elisabeth asleep through my screaming fit. You’re good at your job,” I ended lamely, suddenly feeling sheepish. I glanced around the room once more and then added, “Maybe the next time I get to see you, we can have a longer chat? You keep putting me to sleep. I must be hurting for some beauty rest.” I chuckled.

  “Uh, please tell God, when he’s ready, I wouldn’t mind under- standing more of this whole plan and destiny stuff—” I broke off, feeling even sillier, and cleared my throat.

  “I mean…” I continued, glancing up to the ceiling, “God, I guess I should direct that to you. Well, you heard me already, right? I trust you’ll reveal to me what I need to know. I’m impatient I guess. But anyway, thank you for protecting me my whole life, even when I couldn’t see how you were doing it.” I paused. “Amen,” I added to end my conversation to God.

  Why not talk to God like a friend? I’m sure he considers it like a prayer anyway. I remembered my mother telling me Jesus is a friend who sticks closer than any brother or sister could. You can talk to your friends. Confide in them. Tell them your true feelings and thoughts. Even get mad at them sometimes but always receive forgiveness, and you should always forgive them. I think I was starting to understand more how a relationship with God and his Son Jesus was supposed to work.

  Talk to God like a friend. I could do that.

  Though Love

  Chapter Two

  M y mind was starting to clear, and after my little prayer, I felt the peace and contentment settle into stillness deep within me. I twisted my torso from side to side and bent down to touch my toes, my thoughts gently drifting to the morning ahead of me. I straightened up and took a step to go to my dresser but paused to rub my toes in my fluffy sheep rug.

  “Ahhh,” I sighed. I looked down and watched my stubby little toes rub through the long, white fur.

  Hmmm…I need to repaint my toenails. The polish was chipping off, and they looked sad. Good thing it wasn’t sandal weather yet. November was much too cold. I shrugged. Oh well. Not like anyone but me would be seeing my feet soon.

  I ran my feet through the rug once more for good measure and admittedly for the simple pleasure of it. It’s the simple things that make life sweet. It’s the comfort of the little rituals that reassure you that you are still you, alive and breathing without mechanical help. It’s all the other crap that can make life sometimes feel sour and threaded with disappointment. I had a little flash of an image I had relived last night, and I hastily pushed it aside.

  Cheery, Melanie. Cheery.

  I brushed off the negative thoughts and imagined closing down the gate in my mind to keep the memories from flooding back in. I mentally padlocked it closed. There’s plenty of time to sort those memories out and deal with them later. Right now I needed to focus on everything else I had to do today. I was still in college, struggling to complete my AA degree.

  The problem wasn’t that I was lazy. Oh no. I had a fulltime job at Kate’s Café as a server and was attending classes full time at Cosumnes River College, a junior college about four and a half miles away from my house. The problem was, I didn’t have a definite idea what I wanted to major in since I was interested in absolutely everything. Well, almost everything.

  I was twenty-three years old and still trying to figure myself out. But I wasn’t willing to leave college by the wayside while I mulled it over. I figured I could keep taking courses and hopefully one would hook me. I guess I wasn’t a picky fish since everything seemed to hook me. I loved learning and filling my brain with knowledge. College classes and relentless study were required in the pursuit of knowledge. Well, unless you were a genius with an eidetic memory like Elisabeth and had an IQ of 185. I didn’t know my IQ. I didn’t even know what IQ stood for.

  So, let’s see, I have philosophy first thing this morning, then sociology, and I purposefully scheduled myself a break for lunch before I started my next class. The last class of the day had been the most difficult for me to stick with this semester because it was the most boring. Boring as in oh-my-goodness-I-think-I’m- going-to-shoot-myself-boring. Unfortunately, it was the only class I could get into that fulfilled my last remaining general education requirement before I could transfer to California State University, Sacramento. The dreaded class was International Politics and Government, and the professor, Mr. Scully, was as dry as the Sahara Desert. Not fun at all.

  I had done all my homework before I had gone to work last Friday night including my extra credit essay for my International Politics and Government class. I had to turn it in today so I wouldn’t bomb the class totally. I needed a C to pass. Just one little scrappy, sappy C. I was getting A’s in all my other classes, but then again, I wasn’t struggling to stay awake the whole time. Ugh.

  “Yea,” I complained sarcastically as I walked over to my desk it to make sure my homework was there. I needed all the help I could get in Mr. Scully’s class. Missing one assignment might make me fail at this point.

  Dexter popped his white, whiskery face back into my room through my cracked door and meowed in agitation.

  “Yes, yes, Dexter. I know. I know. Come feed you. Why don’t you go play in your sandbox, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen? Stop rushing me, will ya?” I said affectionately to him in a high, girlie tone only he ever got to hear.

  He tilted his little face, and his orange and gold eyes peered up at me quizzically. Then he let out a chirpy, clipped meow and trotted back down the hall, tail perked high in the air.

  A few minutes later, I was dressed, hair manageably combed into a ponytail, and my face washed. My teeth were brushed and flushed out with a nice spearmint mouthwash. Makeup was not important today. I didn’t usually wear much anyway, and today I settled on none at all being the perfect amount.

  I had grabbed my favorite jeans, the ones with the holes in the knees, a baggy, blue sweater the color of my eyes, and slapped it on over a tight, white tank top. The neck of the sweater was so overstretched, it would slip off one shoulder or the other constantly. But I loved it anyway. My white jogging tennis shoes were next concealing a nice, snuggly pair of arch-support sports socks.

  Comfort. That’s key on a day like this. Pure comfort.

  I never quite understood why girls—well, I suppose you should call them women now that they were in college—showed up for a long day of college lectures and labs in five pounds of makeup, three cans of hair spray, a too-small pushup underwire bra, pants so tight they couldn’t even bend over let alone step over a puddle without ripping the crotch, and spiked high heels to tread across the campus on their tiptoes. Could someone please explain the logic behind that to me? It made no sense at all. Maybe I was too simple.

  “No, Melanie. You’re low maintenance and not desperate for men’s attention,” I said to myself reassuringl
y.

  Having indulged my morning philosophical skepticism, I skipped down the stairs and joined Dexter in the kitchen.

  Elisabeth was already sitting at the breakfast nook dressed in her olive-green suit, the jacket hanging over the back of her chair looking crisp and perfect. Her shoulder-length, dark-brown hair was down and curled at the ends to frame her stunning, exotic face.

  Liz was a professor at Sacramento State University and the head of two departments—humanities and religious studies. She also sat on their board of advisors. At twenty-nine years old, she was one of the most accomplished professors they had. Elisabeth was also a genius, but she didn’t try to alienate anyone with her brilliance. She held two PhDs. The first was in linguistics, more specifically ancient biblical dialects and written languages, and her second was in world religious studies. Oh, and she had a minor in Jewish cultural studies coupled with another minor in physics.

  “Morning, friend,” I said cheerfully.

  Elisabeth was eating her toasted pizza bagel and glanced up at me to make eye contact as I came in; her light-green eyes looked lovely as ever framed within her long black lashes.

  She pointed to a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice she had already set out for me. Her mouth was full, so being the polite professional woman she was, she wouldn’t speak until her mouth was no longer otherwise engaged. Instead, she waved good morning and bobbed her head up once as if to say “Yo. What’s up?”

  “Oh, thanks, Liz,” I said as I glanced from her to my waiting breakfast.

  I dropped my jacket and backpack carelessly onto the floor next to the counter and walked to the cabinet to get Dexter his food. As soon as I set down his bowl, Dexter came trotting over and nearly pushed my hand out of the way to get to his breakfast. He started scarfing it up eagerly as if I hadn’t fed him in a week.

  “Geez, boy. Slow down. You’ll throw it back up at that speed.”

  I reached down and scratched his back, and he began to purr loudly as he chomped. His tail and ears twitched, telling me he was happy and enjoying his food as well as his morning back scratch.

  I washed my hands at the sink and then joined Elisabeth on the stool next to hers. I grabbed the milk and poured it in my bowl and started stirring the small wheat cereal and marshmallow moons and balloons around to let them each have an even dip in the milk.

  “How did you sleep last night?” I asked Liz casually as I picked out a marshmallow clover, moon, and rainbow from my cereal and smiled down at my bite.

  Did you hear anything last night woman?

  I was curious to hear her account of last night. Michael mentioned she’d have a blessed sleep and hadn’t heard me yelling out my anger and pain to God. Did that mean she slept through the night and wouldn’t have any sense of what had happened around her? Would she only know her dreams to be silent and blissful like mine had been later without any outside noise or commotion filtering in?

  “You know, Melanie, I slept well. I was out like a rock. I don’t think I even woke up to go to the bathroom until this morning,” she said with a content smile. Elisabeth took another bite of her bagel before taking a sip of her coffee. She was the coffee drinker. I was the juice drinker. Both of us would probably be willing to take it intravenously if needed.

  “Oh, that’s great. I slept pretty good, too.”

  “Yeah, it was like I was in a bubble all night. I was so comfort- able. You’d think it’d be hard to get up, but surprisingly it wasn’t. I popped right awake about half an hour ago and felt totally refreshed. I’d have loved to go for a run, but I had to find some slides for my lecture today, and I sort of have to be on time for class,” she added cheerfully.

  “Yeah, I can imagine how disappointed your students would be to have their teacher ditch. Real sad Professor Becker,” I mocked.

  “Ha. Ha,” she said sarcastically.

  I started in on another bite of cereal and smiled at the satisfying crunch between my teeth. We finished our breakfast in a companionable silence except for the munching sounds of Elisabeth, Dexter, and me. The sound was comforting—the sound of my home in the morning.

  I sighed and scooped out my last bite and gobbled it down. I picked up the bowl and drank the remaining milk. I felt the end of my bowl tip up and bump my nose. The last of the milk drib- bled down my chin.

  “Oh, man! Elisabeth!” I said, laughing.

  She jumped up and ran around the counter to the kitchen, her laugh mischievous.

  “You little brat,” I laughed again and wiped the milk off my chin with the napkin Elisabeth had so thoughtfully put next to my bowl.

  “Think my students don’t love me, do you?” Elisabeth snorted.

  I threw the napkin at her, and she dodged it easily. She turned her back on me and began to pour herself another cup of coffee.

  I was barely able to reach the wet towel draped over the faucet but I managed and chucked it as hard as I could at her back.

  Smack.

  “Ahh!” Elisabeth shrieked.

  The wet towel hit the floor with a juicy thud.

  “Oh, that is so wrong!” Elisabeth said, her booming laugh echoing off the tiles throughout the kitchen. Her eyes glittered with a joyous shine.

  “So is making me spill my milk down my chin,” I said with as much dramatized dignity as I could muster. I broke into a giggle, unable to maintain the facade of dignified indifference.

  Elisabeth joined me and grabbed a fresh towel from the drawer to mop at the back of her shirt.

  “Thank you so much, Melanie Olivia Bishop. Now I’ll have to change.” She stalked off with her chin high. Her sparkling eyes were pressed to the corners, looking at me wryly as she passed, a

  faint smile quirking the edges of her heart shaped mouth into a sign of bridled mischievousness. I could hear her begin to chuckle as she headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. No suit could ever keep her from being active. Oh, if her students could see her now.

  “Queen of the kitchen!” I called after her. We always tried to one up each other until someone surrendered. It was one of our many BFF ways to tease each other. And always out of fun. No real competition could be found in it.

  Dexter, who had bolted at the sound of the wet towel smacking Elisabeth, came cautiously back into the room. His low meow warned me of his presence so he wouldn’t become the next victim of our childish war. He glanced untrustingly around and then stalked forward in a crouch back toward his bowl and began hastily gobbling down the last remnants of his food, his ears pulled back to hear the slightest sound of continued warfare.

  “Don’t worry, little man, no more towel bombs,” I said soothingly.

  Dexter grumbled in response and a moment later had trotted off, his bowl immaculately licked clean of any signs food had ever occupied it.

  “I’m coming down,” Elisabeth called out. She dropped her head down over the rail and peered toward the kitchen from the center of the stairs. She was waving a white handkerchief in surrender. She had changed both her dress shirt and earrings so she’d match. The pale pink blouse matched nicely with the forest- green of her suit slacks.

  I burst out laughing again and gave her the all clear sign as I picked up our dirty dishes and headed around the counter to place them in the dishwasher after a quick rinse.

  She joined me in the kitchen again a moment later and set her briefcase and purse down on the stool next to her.

  “Melanie?” Elisabeth said my name with a slight apologetic tone. All the humor had drained from her voice.

  I looked up at her sudden change in mood. She stood there, tall and beautiful, her face slightly drained of the pink glow the laughter and joking around had flushed across her olive skin only moments ago.

  “Liz?” I answered back, waiting for her to say whatever it was that was troubling her.

  “I don’t want to sound paranoid or overly protective. And I don’t want you to feel in the slightest I don’t trust your judgment or common sense, but I have to say this for
your own good,” Elisabeth said with an air of authority she got when addressing an auditorium of students and colleagues.

  “What is it, Liz?” I asked again, feeling wary of the coming conversation. My own joy from the morning nonsense was quickly retreating, and I stiffened slightly with dread.

  “You may get angry and think I have no right to do this or even to say this, but I’ll risk your anger if it means you’ll stay safe, stay alive,” she cleared her throat and straightened up to her full height of five feet eleven inches. Her face was set, locked with a decisive expression I knew all too well. Yet I couldn’t recall when she had ever directed it at me.

  “Melanie,” she said again, her voice sure, “you are not to go anywhere except to school and work. You are not to leave this house when you are not required at either of those two places. You are not to go shopping, not even for cat food. I will get whatever you need for you, or I can go out with you. But you are never to go out alone until I can figure out what to do about Jill and her gang. I need you to wait for me, okay?” Her voice had lost all traces of delicacy and was solidly stern now.

  “Liz—”

  She held her hands up in a stop gesture. “This is not negotiable, Melanie!”

  “But—”

  “No! You need to listen to me and do as I say for once in your life, Mel! Whenever you leave this house, you need to look in every direction to see who might be around. Make a mental note of who is outside and what cars are nearby. Make sure you recognize everyone! If you don’t know who someone is or don’t recognize a vehicle, write down everything you can about their appearance in this, and we’ll review it later together.” She reached into her purse and handed me a little leather-bound notepad with a stubby pen slipped into the leather ring on the side.