The Greatest Gift

By Rachel Vanderwood

Michael had his life all figured out right down to the day he retired from his current profession. His past was far behind him and nearly long forgotten. He was satisfied to journey alone. The world was a chaotic place, and he faced enough trouble just trying to bring his clients safely to their destinations. He had no desire to involve himself in rising conflicts or choose between two very different sides. He was content to lead his life exactly the way he chose. That is until the day he met Kazmyne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890435637

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The Greatest Gift

Rachel Vanderwood

ISBN 979-8-89043-561-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89043-562-0 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-89043-563-7 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Rachel Vanderwood

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

About the Author

Chapter 1

When I was a kid, I remember my father telling me stories of the old world—stories about generations upon generations of civilizations lost to the chaos and conflict surrounding them because they failed to recognize the only answer that could save them. He explained to me then that the reason the old world was taken away and transformed into what it is now is to foster change in those most in need. It was an act of mercy. A sign of God's great love and hope that humanity would one day turn away from the primitive, self-serving, destructive behaviors that took them farther away from a godly existence and closer toward an eternity of emptiness and regret without ever coming to know his promise to give them eternal peace.

At the time, I couldn't imagine why so many had turned themselves away from God. I questioned if it was because he wasn't there on earth to be as direct an influence as he is now—kind of like a kid whose parents are present to provide strict guidance and discipline. The kind of parents that carry a commanding presence, enough of one that the kid knows better than to be defiant. Trust me, my parents taught me not to be at a very young age. Although I can't say that I didn't on occasion, get away without being caught where I wasn't supposed to be. But hey, no one is perfect. Isn't that the point? I was a good kid, and I had two of the most loving and devout parents anyone could ask for. I had no reason to complain.

Life was good for me then. We had a beautiful five-story house that my father built for us in the center of our settlement, and my parents were the leaders of our people. Our community was close. We were a family—or so it seemed on the surface. If there was conflict, I didn't know about it. I guess you could say I was sheltered from the ways of the world my parents didn't want me to see, at least not until I was old enough to understand them.

My parents, especially my father, were strict, but they had to be. Their calling was to teach, and my father often explained to me that in order for lessons to be heard, the people have to be willing to listen. And sometimes that meant he had to remind others of their place. Now, don't get me wrong, he wasn't the violent type. My father spoke of peace above all, but there were occasions when he had to rid our home of bad seeds—the kind that inspires the influence my father warned me against. I was never involved when his hand was forced to act, but it was always understood by our people not to cross him.

I admired my father. Like most of our people, I had a great respect for him. To me, he was my best friend. There was never a day that I wasn't right by his side. He taught me everything I needed to know about my faith and the living God who resided with his angels and his chosen at the Holy City. I believed my father when he told me that Christ died for us. That his ultimate sacrifice was given out of love for each one of us. I believed when he told me that Christ loved me and that one day, I would be blessed to be with him. My father told me that Christ's love was so great that he loved me even more than my very own parents. To understand his love is truly a gift. So you can imagine what a surprise it was to me when my parents left me alone one night after claiming that they were being called to go to him and remain with him at the Holy City. Their place was no longer in our home with our people or with me. They willingly abandoned me. I was just a kid. Just an eight-year-old kid. I didn't understand. Why would Christ call my parents to him and request that they leave me behind?

After they walked away, I sat alone in my room hoping that they had somehow made a mistake and I was meant to leave with them. I stayed awake for hours that night waiting for my parents to return to take me with them before I finally realized that they weren't coming back. The only reasonable solution in my mind at the time was to turn to the only other adults I thought I could trust—people my father had known for many years, even before our settlement became his own. But instead of guiding me and offering their support when I needed them the most, they abused me, they starved me, and they beat me. They demanded that I lead them to a treasure I never knew existed, mostly because it didn't. Not the kind of treasure they were looking for anyway.

The longer they searched without finding anything to satisfy their greed, the more resentful they grew toward me and the more violently they abused me. I represented my father, and he was no longer there to answer for himself or help them find what they were looking for. Before my father left me, it was always assumed that I would one day lead in his place, but I found myself no longer in the position to rely on that option. In my parents' absence, my home, the house I lived in since the day of my birth, was almost immediately taken over by one of his closest friends and his eldest son, who was nearly seventeen years my senior.

I had no means to defend myself against them. I had no weapons of my own then, and even if I did, I wouldn't have known how to use them. The only defense I did have was my intuitive sense. It was one of the only things my father left me with of himself aside from the color of his dark blond hair and steel blue eyes. I knew my life would be in danger if I stayed. So one night, not long after my parents left me to survive in this world without them, I packed what food and clothing I could find and escaped through the mountains that guarded our home. It broke my heart to have to leave, but I never looked back, even though I had no idea where I was going or where I would end up.

As young as I was, I always managed to find shelter when I needed it to keep me safe, food to satiate my hunger, and water to quench my thirst when I thought my body would give way to dehydration. I suppose you could say I was lucky that I managed to survive, especially considering some of the circumstances I found myself in. The world wasn't the peaceful, God-fearing place that I thought it was before I left my home. If my experiences taught me anything, I learned very quickly that the societies that had risen up since Christ's return bore many similarities to those my father spoke about in the stories, he used to tell me of the old world. The buildings may have been constructed differently, we may not have the same advancements in equipment and style of clothing, mostly due to a lack of available resources, but the same behaviors that led to the destruction of the old world were still present even now in the new one.

Throughout my search to find my place in the world, I met thousands of people and traveled through dozens, if not hundreds of settlements, but I never found one where I felt as though it was where I belonged. After a while, I came to the conclusion that maybe I was meant to be alone. My parents left me. I was forced to leave my home by men I once considered family. My search left me unable to find a new one, and it seemed that Christ didn't want me either. What other logical conclusion could I come up with?

The only thing that I did know for certain was that I was meant to survive. The world hadn't claimed me yet. Now I know some, well many, if I'm being completely honest, who if given my same circumstance would gladly take advantage of others to acquire what they needed, or desired to survive. I have been a witness to every kind of lewd criminal act one human being could commit against the other, from pickpocketing all the way to cold-blooded murder, and considering that most had a callous indifference to the parties who suffered, I struggled to find any who weren't more than willing to commit the very same acts again if given the opportunity, except for me. The only harmful acts I committed against someone else were in defense of my own life or that of someone else's who was too weak to survive on their own. Maybe it was because of the teachings my father ingrained in me when I was young, or the heart of compassion for others in need each of my parents passed on to me that led me to have the protective nature that I do. The very same nature that has led me to have built such a lucrative career for myself serving as a protector, a bodyguard for hire for those who would otherwise be stricken down and most likely not reach their destinations had I not been commissioned to take them there.

Of course, the opportunity for such a profession didn't present itself right away. To face the dangers in this world and be in the position to defend yourself let alone anyone else wouldn't have been possible for a kid, but as I grew older and I found myself in situations to defend against others who wanted to take the limited resources I had with me, I finally found my strength to succeed, and it certainly helped that my intuition warned me of compromising situations before I was left with no other means of escape. I have an ability to read people, and that has served beneficial to me on several occasions. I know who to trust, and I know who to stay clear of. I never got myself involved with anyone, not personally anyway, only professionally. When a contract ends, I part ways with my employer and travel on until I find the next. The world is a complicated place, and I wasn't interested in becoming a part of the chaos.

There always seemed to be some dispute no matter where I went. I shouldn't complain, it kept me in business, but there were some conflicts that I knew better than to get myself involved in. Not that I didn't understand the reasons behind them, simply because I was content in knowing that I had control over my life. I chose the assignments I was willing to accept. I had no close ties to anyone, only acquaintances. Nor did I pursue a relationship. Not that I didn't appreciate an attractive woman on occasion, I just didn't want the responsibility that came along with the commitment. That way I had no one else in my life to disappoint me, and I was intent on keeping it that way.

Besides, none of the new world's conflicts were to the degree of the wars my father explained in his stories. In comparison, those I was aware of could only be classified as small uprisings in various sects of the world, significant only enough that they were taken notice of by those chosen by the Holy City to act in defense of Christ's people—the Al-Lurie family—warriors rumored to have been ordained by Christ himself and trained by his angels to fight against any who stand against his will for peace. Although many have tried, no one has succeeded in a battle against them. The Al-Lurie family has a reputation that is unmatched by any other. If they are called to stop whatever criminal acts you are committing against the innocent, you might as well resolve to find someone else to torture, because you won't win. That is if you are fortunate enough to escape before they find you.

Because of the nature of their calling, the Al-Luries have attracted many enemies, but none who are strong enough to rise against them or dare to for that matter. There is only one family that has risen beyond the ranks of petty thefts and immoral acts committed against anyone other than who is known to be associated with them that presents enough of a threat to create a challenge for the Al-Luries, and they are the Meier family. Their very existence should be considered a plague on society. Their deep-seated depravity is motivated solely by their desire for material gain and control over anyone too weak to defend themselves against them. In a period of just ten years, the Meiers have grown to be in control of at least three dozen settlements, either directly by one of their own as the head or by influence to use as an allied force if the need arose. I heard rumors that the Meiers were planning an attack against the leader of the Al-Lurie family, but nothing official was ever declared or witnessed to substantiate what was being suggested.

Either way, it wasn't my place to get involved. I had my reasons not to. Some were personal, and some were simply because I didn't interfere with anything that didn't directly involve me. I knew enough to know where not to be and when. I never worried about a personal conflict with the Al-Luries, after all the type of people they stood in defense of were the same as me. The only difference was I worked alone. They knew of me, and I knew of them. That was the extent of our association.

The Meiers on the other hand, and those who chose to associate themselves with them, were the very kind of people I protected my clients against. But somehow, I still managed not to directly involve myself with their patriarch or his offspring. I had no desire to be anywhere near any one of them, mostly for my own personal reasons. Even though I have had many occasions to pass through one of their strongholds en route to a client's chosen destination, I have managed to negotiate my way out of harm for both me and the individual I have been commissioned to protect.

I was content with the life I was leading. I was content in knowing that I was free of any conflict that didn't concern me. Nowhere in my future did I ever imagine desiring any other life than the one I established for myself. I had it all planned out, even to the day that I retired from my current profession. But just like the night my parents left me at the request of the Holy City, I wasn't prepared for the change that was coming—a change that was destined to take place whether or not I was ready to accept it. From that moment on, my life was never going to be the same again, and it all started on the day that I met Kazmyne.

Chapter 2

I had just recently completed an assignment and was on my way to take a quick respite before moving on to negotiate the next when I found myself nearing Corlin Grove. In comparison to other settlements that I passed through on my travels, Corlin Grove was considered a small market town established in the center of a modest wooded area. The buildings were simple two-room single story structures scattered throughout about a half-mile radius, except of course for the main gathering place where every lowlife, bag snatcher, murderous outcast of society collected to barter the trinkets and treasures they stole in their pursuit of leading as corrupt of an existence as they possibly could. Inside the main building was the market and the place where most of these gems of society could be found. Of course, my purpose for frequenting the market in between jobs was much different than that of the miscreants who managed to crawl their way there to rid themselves of their stolen merchandise in hopes of walking away with a substantial enough profit until they find their next victim to torment. My intentions were solely driven by my desire to enjoy a good meal and the entertainment that never ceased to exist there.

I was familiar with most of the men and women who gathered there. Many led me to find new clients; after all, it was the innocent they robbed to collect what they brought with them to sell. During their transactions, most were eager to brag about the circumstances of their latest scores and how they came to be in possession of the items they sold. Luckily for me, I knew how to pay attention, and I learned a great deal about significant events and places I should be leery of traveling through and which ones I should make an appearance in. All I had to do was sit back and listen.

I usually never stay longer than the time it takes me to finish my meal. It gives me enough time to decipher which conversations I should pay most attention to and where I should start searching for my next job. So when I finally decided that I spent enough time to satiate my appetite and eagerness to learn the most recent secrets of neighboring settlements that had now made their way to the surface to be exposed, I got up, tossed my empty bowl, and began to walk toward the main door, but before I could draw any closer to my exit, something caught my attention—a young woman not much more than the age of twenty, sitting at a table three rows across from where I stood looking at her. She was strikingly beautiful. I couldn't keep my eyes away from studying each one of her defining features, especially her sky-blue eyes. They were mesmerizing. I may have inherited my father's blue eyes, but mine were not nearly as clear and bright as hers. Maybe it was because they stood out in stark contrast to her light olive–complected skin tone or to her soft long dark-as-night colored hair. Either way, she commanded attention without having to try. And as physically alluring as she was, her simple, knee-length earth tone colored dress hid the rest of her features leaving her figure to the imagination of the one fortunate enough to be allowed to admire her.

Now under normal circumstances, when I come across a woman at Corlin Grove Market as attractive as she was, I knew better than to engage in a conversation with her. Women who looked like her and who frequented places like this tended to be more cunning, more manipulative, and much more dangerous than the average run-of-the-mill criminal you encountered there. I learned my lesson young not to get involved—none were worth the price you were expected to pay, and I don't mean to only suggest financially. But there was just something about her that drew me to want to be closer to her. I hesitated at first. I watched her for a while. Fortunately for her, I did because there were plenty of others in this place who were equally as drawn to her beauty, and not just of her features. In her hand, she carried a purse of silver currency, and around her wrist, she wore a golden crucifix, which alone was enough to attract trouble. My father explained to me once that in the old world, gold wasn't as rare as is now. In our world, the origin of any gold that could be found came directly from the Holy City. I didn't know enough about her to suggest where she may have gotten the piece of jewelry, and unlike the others I observed to have taken notice of it, my curiosity wasn't driven by a desire to take it