Word Miracle Church

Ysabel Javier

The name does not ring a bell. I do not know who she is or what she is. All I know is that this girl truly has something against elites and is probably a member of one.

"Who is she?" I ask.

"The unspoken true heir of the RSC," Professor Diwa says gravely. "The news of the betrothal between the current heir and Rex de la Rama crushed her. In her heart, she knows that she alone deserves to inherit that fortune."

"But how can she be the heir?" I ask once more. "Isn't Emma Concepcion, my friend, the only true heir?"

"No, I think not," he says. "Though illegitimate, Ms. Javier has a greater claim as she is born first."

The facts ring in my head as if the church bells clang directly into my ear deafening me to something I cannot believe. I remember once more the argument Emma had with her sister. They both know that Emma is the only heir. Adopted children are not part of the companies' succession, and an illegitimate child could possibly change the game. If this girl is recognized by Mr. Concepcion, then she is certainly entitled to an inheritance. It seems to me that she is not willing to share. She wants the company as a whole. She will not be willing to break it into a corporation and create shares amongst people that have claimed. Rex was supposed to buy some shares from the RSC. Emma is entitled to it as a whole, but since this awkward situation came along, things will become unpredictable.

Then, there is one other thing that bothers me more. How can Professor Diwa know this before my friend and her sister do? How can a lowly university professor know the secrets of the elite before we can know? What makes a self-made professor a great book that knows the elites' secrets?

"How can you know?" I ask bluntly.

"Untold reasons," he answers shortly. "It pays to have a father who was once part of the elite but chose to live a life out in the country. You do not know me, Ms. Aguinaldo. Though you have spent four years at the university, no one truly knows who I am and what I have been through. I suggest you do not meddle with the business of the elite. The costs are far too great to be paid. Live a silent life and choose a different line of journalism. Have you ever thought about sports journalism? Maybe you can also try editorial writing. Do not meddle with economics and current events. I suggest that to you."

"You once taught that the truth matters more than anything," I say. "You once said that whatever happens, the truth should always prevail. Do not convince me to stay away from the truth to acquire what you need from her. Help me, and maybe, I can help you and tie everything together."

"No, I'm afraid that won't be necessary," he says. "You are right. I also seek the truth I cannot get from anyone but from Ms. Javier. You may be able to give the truth to me, Ms. Aguinaldo, but once I ask it of you, it would create more questions. A question creates more questions if it shall be answered. A lie needs to be supported by more lies. I will not try to convince you anymore, but I will live the rest of my life knowing that I, at least, tried to save you."

"Save me!" I spit. "I need the truth!"

"There is nothing more that can be said," he says. "God be with you, Rosanna. God be with you all."

And just like that, he rose from his seat and went his way out. There are too many people to suspect. There are too many people that will not tell the truth. This lady, Ysabel Javier, is the mafia queen and the root of all of these, but I do not know what he looks like. Professor Diwa is oddly connected with the sister of my friend, the declared heir and the lady that claims to be the true heir. My lawyer, Atty. Guevarra, is also one to suspect. He was quick to help us. It is no kind gesture. I know he wants something in return, though he claims that we share the common goal, I do not know what it is.

I do not even know what to do anymore. A few days past and I am released from the hospital. I need guidance. I am utterly lost. Ysabel never came back to threaten me again. It seems that my silence made her think that I have given up, but I am far from that. I need a way to begin tying these loose ends. I know for a fact that Ysabel killed Rex to prevent him from claiming anything from RSC. What about the others that have lingering claims? What about cousins? I know Emma must certainly have one. There must be one in a million that must want to claim the fortune if no one wants it.

It is Sunday. After I get out of the hospital, I decided to visit Emma's former church. She used to play in this very church as the principal pianist. I came too early for the mass. There is no one there except the few ministers that prepare early for the mass. As I walk in the middle of the aisle, I see the reflection of the stained glass windows each representing the Stations of the Cross.

I make a sign of the cross using the holy water. Suddenly, I am broken into tears. I am lost. I have nowhere to go. I need to solve this. I cannot take another story while I leave this lingering on. I need the truth. I need to bring justice to Rex when others will not. Somehow, the great statue of the crucified Jesus urges me to carry on and stand. He sees my pain and I can see the representation of the pain he felt on the cross.

I kneel on the kneeler and pray sincerely. I am not religious, as I said before. The closest I ever got to being pious is praying the five decades of the rosary. In this time of ruin, the Lord became my shoulder to cry on. This is how desperate I become. I wish it can be just like before. I wish I can just see Emma playing on that piano with a nun Eloisa by my side and a peaceful college life.

I end my prayer and sit back, but suddenly, I am shocked to find the priest sitting with me.

"Child, have I disturbed your prayers?" he asks.

"No, father," I answer kindly. "I actually did not notice that you were there."

"Ah, you were too deep in prayer," he observes. "That is good. In times of trouble, we need to have the greatest faith."

"I am lost," I say simply. "I need to bring justice when others would not. Everyone turned a blind eye to the truth and I feel that there is something more to it than just a simple crime. I know that there are many ties but I do not know what to do. Without my partner, I feel lost."

"The world is unfair," he says. "You cannot truly bring justice, but you can uncover the truth. You said your partner is gone. What happened?"

"He is in the ICU," I say. "An incident occurred that led him to stay there. We were uncovering the truth of a murder, but in the process of finding the truth, he was drugged and he had to stay there until he wakes up from a coma. I do not know what to do, father. I am lost."

"This is simply the Lord's test," he says. "He would not give you a problem you cannot solve. He wants to teach you to solve this on your own. Do not worry, child. Things will turn out fine in the end. The Lord tests the faith of the righteous to see if they will remain true to Him in the end. We should be thankful for the tests."

"Well, the Lord certainly thinks me as righteous then," I say bitterly. "I have another friend stuck at the hospital and a friend that has been led astray by drugs and addiction. Do you remember the former principal pianist, father?"

No doubt, I am currently talking with the head priest of the church. He must certainly remember Emma. She has been performing for six years until she became stuck at the hospital.

"Yes, child," he says kindly. "She was a kind-hearted girl, but a secretive one too. Her confessions make it seem that she had a hard life. How is she anyway? Why did she just suddenly disappear?"

"Father, she. . . is sick," I say hesitantly. "She is sick and she will never return again. The Lord will take her soon. Father, please pray for her."

"I will dedicate some masses to her," he says.

"Father, you have known her through her confessions," I observe. "I think you know her more than I do as a best friend to her. I know it in her heart that she keeps a secret lover. I believe so that knowing his identity and bringing him to her would make her last days peaceful. Father, what is his complete name?"

"Child, I am bound to the Seal of the Confessional," he says simply. "I cannot disclose anything she said about him. I cannot tell his name or anything. I'm sorry. I cannot tell you. But, if you wait and attend this mass, he might come. This is usually the time he attends the Sunday mass."

I waited until the mass begins. More and more people begin to flood the church. It is a church almost as big as a Cathedral. Well, that is just my perception. As the mass begins, I cannot help but not concentrate. As we sing the Kyrie Eleison, I cannot help but look around for men that I might know.

I see the man in front of me as only Professor Diwa. He commonly attends the Saturday mass that is why I am not shocked to see him here. What truly shocked me is the claim by Emma's sister that he is a fornicator. It is a grave sin based on the Ten Commandments. He is far too holy in my eyes to commit a mortal sin. By the row on my right, I see my lawyer, Atty. Guevarra. He did say that he will attend the church on Sunday. I just did not expect that it would be this one. Then, on the far back, I see Carlos, the economist we interviewed. He was the former church guitarist in his youth before he became an economist. Near the front is Emma's doctor, Dr. Orlando Sebastian. I did not expect that he would be here too. He should be in the hospital by now. I guess, it is not enough to be physically healthy. You need to be spiritually healthy too.

Of all the familiar men I see around here, there is one I suspect the most. He was the one who has been suspicious ever since he talked with me. He has something in his mind. I know that he has a plan and he is a silent player. I do wonder. . .

What made him tenth on his first?