Eventually, the room darkened, and I climbed into bed, dreaming my now-standard nightmare of a horribly angry Jesus climbing out of his grave to track me down and torture me to death.
The hotel had a free continental breakfast for guests. I toasted a bagel and swiped some cream cheese on it. When I sat in the small restaurant, I saw Carrie Hargrave and waved to her. She smiled and nodded and selected a bran muffin and a croissant to bring over to me.
“Good to see you,” she said.
“You too.” I smiled at her. We’d only worked together a couple times in the past, but the experiences had been good. She was Time’s best interviewer.
Munching on my bagel, I asked, “Got your questions ready?”
She patted her purse. “You betcha.”
Carrie was in her early forties, I guessed, but she still kept her hair neatly pulled back into a tight pony. I imagined her doing the same thing back in high school and every day since.
I’m sure she planned her appearance to seem youthful and invigorating, putting her interview subjects at ease.
And her photographers.
“Do you believe her story?” she asked.
“Of course not. Do you?”
Carrie seemed to hesitate before replying. For a minute, I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me, but then she said, “I want to.”
“Really? The daughter of God?”
“I’ve always believed the Messiah would come one day. The Bible tells us that. Why not now?”
“You believe everything in the Bible?”
Carrie laughed and seemed to take some tension away with it. “Not everything, no. But enough.”
We finished eating in silence. It wasn’t that I was bothered by what she said, more that I just didn’t understand it, and wished I could. Wouldn’t it be nice to believe the whole universe was planned out in detail and that one of the rewards of believing was eternal life in one form or another?
When we left, I called a taxi and we both climbed in the back.
“Good luck,” I said.
“You too! Make people want to read my story!”
“I’ll sure do my best.”
We were to meet Erika Sabo at the movie theater where she’d be giving a sermon in a couple hours. It was one of those multiplexes that showed twelve movies in different rooms.
She was waiting by the popcorn machine when we walked in. We were still early enough that none of her parishioners had arrived. She smiled broadly when we came in and rushed over to greet us.
“Miss Hargrave, so nice to meet you.”
Carrie seemed to be tongue-tied, and I can’t say I blamed her. The young woman was shorter than I expected, younger-looking than I expected, but somehow way more captivating. Her eyes were like bright and unavoidable arrows.
Most of her hair was black and kinky, the way many black girls liked it. It reminded me immediately of a halo around her face.
There was a single blonde streak running from the middle of her part down her left side. It was the exact same color as Jesus’s hair.
“And of course, it’s a delight to meet you again, Mr. Abelman.”
“Again? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”
She locked eyes with me and for a moment didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.
I saw her. More importantly, I saw him.
This was the boy I’d murdered all those years ago.
It was impossible I could know that, but know it I did.
I couldn’t speak. In a split second, I felt like everything I’d ever known was wrong, and that the only thing that mattered was Erika Sabo. I wanted to kneel before her, but I felt light-headed and I knew if I tried, I’d faint.
Her smile widened farther, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.
“You recognize me, don’t you?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to talk.
Carrie finally broke the trance.
“You’ve met before?” She looked back and forth at me and Erika.
I took a deep breath and said, “Years ago. I hadn’t really put it together until now.”
The moment felt like it lasted forever, but then Erika said, “There’s a small office we can use for the interview and photos. Follow me.”
The room was decorated like it was used for kids’ birthday parties. There was a long table in the middle.
Erika apologized for the cramped quarters. “We’re moving into our own building next week. Seating for 800, lots of office space.”
Carrie and I got ourselves set up, and I started taking some initial photos as Carrie started her recorder.
Before she started, she asked, “Is it okay if I call you Erika, or would you prefer Miss Sabo?”
“We’re all friends here, so first names are perfect. Everyone I speak to in my sermons is on a first name basis with me.”
“How many people are you expecting today?”
She shrugged. “It’s growing every week. Last week we had about 150. Maybe 200 today? We use the largest room for the service, with an overflow set up in the room next to it. It’s amazing what you can do with technology today. The live feed shows on the screen in the overflow theater as if I was in both places at once.”
“You’ve only been preaching a short while.”
“I’m happy with the progress we’re making.”
The questions were softballs to get Carrie and Erika into the chat. I moved around the room, capturing photos from different angles. I’d pick the best of them later.
I tried to concentrate on what I was doing and not the turmoil wracking my brain.
I’d never believed in God or in Jesus Christ. But here was the same Jesus I’d killed two thousand years earlier. None of my science training would provide anything close to an explanation.
I checked the exposure on my camera while Carrie continued.
“What’s the subject of the sermon today?”
“I’ll be talking about the Book of Ruth. It’s one of my favorite books of the Bible. A love story of sorts. And a moral obligation that shows God wanting us all to welcome strangers with open arms. You never know what might happen.”
I interrupted. “I’m not familiar with that story.”
“Ruth is a Moabite who came to the promised land and was accepted by the Israelites. She was the great grandmother of David, the greatest of the Israelite kings. And he is my own very distant ancestor.”
Carrie looked up when she said that.
“How can you know that?”
“The Bible promises that the Messiah would be a descendent of David. If you’re dogged enough about following his children, and their children, well, you end up finding me.”
“You claim to be the daughter of God.”
“I know it’s hard for some to believe, but it’s true. I’m here to bring my father’s word to life.”
Carrie hesitated before asking her next question. “Why would God need that?”
“It’s more about why humanity needs it. God is patient and merciful. Sometimes, humanity forgets their history. Sometimes they forget who created them.”
“Most people think you’re a fraud.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I feel that I have a challenging life ahead of me.”
Once again Erika smiled broadly, as if this was an inside joke.
Then she added, “Winning one person at a time is nice, but it won’t work when there’s seven billion people on Earth. That’s why I need you guys, and that’s why I’m scheduled for an interview on The Tonight Show tomorrow. And that’s why Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and Snapchat and all the other social media platforms are so important. Things change at a ridiculous speed these days. I’m hopeful my word will affect a lot of people, for the better.”