“But—” I scooted my chair back farther so I could stand. “There are lots of girls who were born in January and have red hair.” I took a few steps back as I tried to figure out a way to explain that it had to be someone else. “Lots of girls who are older than me. More mature. More ready and better prepared for something like this. I mean…” I pressed my back against the large mahogany bookshelf. “Surely this is just a misinterpretation and the chosen vessel is some other girl who did well in school and chose to stay chaste until marriage. I mean, the church has, like, two million members. I can’t be the only one who fits that description.”
Just because my dad was well known in the church, which had made me more familiar with the High Priest than a regular member of The Fold would, it didn’t have to mean it was me.
“I know,” he said, pain evident in his eyes. “I tried to tell the High Priest that it had to be some other girl. Someone older. Someone who wasn’t you.” He shrugged. “But then he showed me the revelation that had been written down in Samuel Williams’ own hand.” He went back to his desk and opened the second journal to another page. “And it somehow had your exact birthday written down—the day and year. It also described the chosen vessel as a pastor’s daughter who grew up in the same congregation as Samuel William’s descendant—the descendant who will also be part of the special ceremony.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, not knowing what he meant by that last part.
“The revelation doesn’t just mention you. One of Samuel’s descendants is also part of it—since he is the man who carries the bloodline of the High Priest.”
“The bloodline of the High Priest?” I shook my head, none of this making sense.
I leaned over the desk to look at the section my dad was pointing at. As I let my gaze travel over the section of Samuel’s revelation that was supposed to point directly at me, I saw exactly what he was talking about. It had my exact birthday, January seventh, written in old-fashioned handwriting, and went into even further detail, saying that the chosen vessel would be in her last year of school when the ceremony was to take place. And to further identify her, she would have a birthmark on the back of her left arm in the shape of a heart.
When my dad saw me checking the back of my arm for the birthmark we both knew was there, he nodded solemnly and said, “It isn’t a coincidence, Scarlett. You were destined for this special calling from before your birth.”
“But I just…” I sighed, feeling helpless as I stared the facts straight in the face.
My dad studied me carefully for a moment, possibly waiting for me to say more, but when I didn’t, he just nodded and gently turned the next page of the journal. Pointing at a paragraph in the middle of the page, he said, “This is the section that reveals the name of the man who will help with the ceremony.”
I narrowed my eyes and read the section.
And it shall come to pass that the seed of the Great High Priest will come through the loins of Jethro Alexander Williams—the eldest son of Samuel Williams, the great High Priest of the restoration. This descendant will share Jethro’s first two given names, his hair will be the color of honey with eyes as blue as the ocean waves. He will be born on the twenty-fourth day of August to goodly and righteous parents. When he is of age, he will be a student of the pastor in the heart of New York—a mighty warrior for our Lord. And together, he and the pastor’s daughter—the chosen maiden—will bring forth the leader of the last days.
So let it be written.
I frowned, my heart beating so fast and hard that I could feel it in my temples.
So this revelation was saying I was basically going to have to perform the ceremony with some guy I didn’t even know…?
My stomach curdled.I’m going to throw up.
This couldn’t be right. There was no way that this could actually be a real thing.
Like, didn’t Mary, the mother of Jehovah, have some sort of premonition that she would be used as the chosen vessel of Jehovah?
Or had it felt like this when the angel visited her?
And if this was a similar situation, was this ceremony my dad mentioned more like a spiritual sort of ceremony? One where I could still remain a virgin and not have to follow the laws of science in order to carry the Chosen One?
Could the seed of this baby somehow be miraculously planted in me or something? Jehovah and God would have the power to do something like that, right? Especially in the case of creating someone as special as the Chosen One.
Or maybe this ceremony looked a lot like IVF or artificial insemination, or something like that? Was that how it had happened with Mary? Or…
Surely I wouldn’t have to… I shook my head, not wanting to even think the word. Not wanting to think about the act.
I pinched my eyes shut.
Surely God doesn’t expect me to have marital relations with a guy I don’t know. A guy I don’t love or want to marry.
My mind whirled with all kinds of questions. But the one that came out of my mouth first was, “Do you know who this revelation is talking about? This descendant of Jethro Williams? Is it someone I know?”
Or was it a complete stranger?
Was it some older guy? Would it be similar to how Samuel Williams had been commanded to form his partnerships with girls twenty years younger than him?
My dad had had many associate pastors whom he’d taught through the years. Pastor Marcus—a man who was probably in his sixties now—had always paid extra special attention to me during his time in our congregation. Was it him?
Another wave of nausea passed over me.
