Chapter 24

Zeke picked up the sacred book from the jersey-hide couch and pulled the exposed corner of an envelope from the gold leaf pages.

It was sealed and addressed to him. The handwriting looked weaker than he remembered, but it was his mother’s. Zeke swallowed the huge, dry lump from the back of his throat. He touched the ink that bore his name.

“Mom,” he croaked. His knees went weak, so he collapsed into the sofa.

He stared at her handwriting. How long had it been since he’d seen her cursive? How long ago had she written this? He held the precious envelope in his trembling hands and stared at the words, To: Zeke.

Gently, he eased the seal open and sucked in his lower lip. Rebellious tears escaped and trailed down his hot cheeks. He pulled out the paper and affectionately laid the envelope beside him on the couch. He unfolded the letter and blinked to clear his vision.

It was dated two weeks before she died. No wonder the handwriting appeared weak. He blinked again and strained to focus on the words.

My Dearest Precious Son, By now you must be a grown man and facing a difficult challenge. I know you can do this, Zeke. It is your destiny.

I learned of all this when I found out I was pregnant with you. You see, I had no idea I was pregnant. I was in the hospital because there was a problem with my liver. The doctors could not figure out what was wrong with me. I had Hepatitis symptoms but tested negative for the disease. They put me on powerful medications and kept me in the hospital for months.

Then one day a miracle happened. In an x-ray of my liver, your little black and white skeleton was on the films.

When I became pregnant, it accelerated the disease and put a consequential strain on my liver. It wasn’t your fault, you understand, it was the pregnancy itself. If it hadn’t been for you, I would not have known there was a problem. You helped me get the attention I needed for the condition I did not know I had. However, the doctors told me between the malfunction of my liver and the combinations of medicines they had been giving me, I should abort the fetus. Abort you. But I had seen your skeleton. I knew you in black and white form.

She had drawn a smiley face.

I prayed to God and I asked Him what I should do. His spirit spoke to me, Zeke, and He told me to keep the baby. So I told the doctors, “No way!” And then I prayed for you every day, every afternoon, every night. The doctors monitored your progress but they expected the worse. They said you would be blind and possibly deaf, too. Your internal organs would be malformed and it would be a miracle if you lived more than a few minutes after birth.

I told them they did not know my God. I put all my faith in Him, Zeke.

Your father and I were not married, as you know, but he was kind to me and concerned for you. Don’t judge him too harshly. He has his cross to bear and will deal with it in his own time.