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| He Walks With You |
Marcus Falls, his childhood friend and the kind of guy who never gave up on people, started the car and glanced at him. “You good?”
Caleb didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where gray skies melted into gray land. “I’m here,” he said.
They pulled out of the lot and onto the highway. The car was quiet except for the low hum of tires against the road.
“Leah really believed, you know,” Caleb said after a while. “Said Jesus would meet her in the end. Said she saw angels a few nights before she passed. Like it meant something.”
“It did,” Marcus said softly.
Caleb shook his head. “I prayed. Hard. I fasted. I begged God. She still died.”
“I know,” Marcus replied. “But that doesn’t mean your prayers didn’t matter.”
Caleb looked away, jaw tight. “Feels like they got lost in the ceiling.”
An hour passed before they spotted a rest stop. Marcus pulled off without asking.
As they slowed to turn in, a man stood near the entrance with a hand-lettered cardboard sign that read: “Headed East.”
He looked about mid-fifties, beard graying, coat a little too thin for the weather. But there was something about him—steady, like the kind of person who wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere but always arrived on time.
Marcus looked at Caleb. “Should we…?”
Caleb sighed. “Sure. Why not?”
They pulled up, and the man leaned down to the window. “Afternoon, fellas.”
“You heading east?” Marcus asked.
“I am,” he said with a smile.
“Hop in.”
He climbed in the back. “Name’s Eli.”
“Marcus,” Marcus replied. “This is Caleb.”
“Pleasure,” Eli said, settling in.
For a while, no one talked. Caleb stared out the window, eyes tracing raindrops as they raced each other across the glass. But then Eli spoke.
“You both coming from something heavy.”
It wasn’t a question.
Caleb turned, surprised. “How’d you know?”
“I can always tell when someone’s spirit is walking slower than their body.”
Marcus chuckled. “We just left a funeral.”
Caleb added, “My sister. Leah. Thirty-four. Cancer. She was a fighter.”
“I’m sorry,” Eli said. “That kind of pain runs deep.”
“She believed God would heal her,” Caleb said. “Right up until the end. Me? I’m not sure what I believe anymore.”
“Loss has a way of shaking the ground,” Eli replied. “Even the firmest faith can feel like it’s slipping.”
“You sound like you’ve been there.”
Eli nodded. “I have.”
At the next rest stop, Marcus hopped out to grab coffee. Caleb stayed behind. Eli opened the door.
“Feel like stretching your legs?”
Caleb hesitated, then nodded. They walked to a wooden bench under a bare-limbed tree. The air smelled like damp earth and diesel fuel. It was quiet except for a few cars rolling in and out.
Eli sat. “I lost someone, too,” he said. “My wife. She had a quiet strength. Believed God would walk with her through anything.”
“What happened?” Caleb asked.
“She passed,” Eli said simply. “But her faith didn’t.”
Caleb ran a hand down his face. “It just hurts. Leah was my only sister. The only person who really saw me.”
“She still does.”
Caleb looked up, startled.
Eli smiled gently. “Faith like hers doesn’t disappear. It echoes.”
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Then Eli spoke again. “There were two men, once. Long ago. Walking the road home after losing everything they believed in. Grieving. Questioning.”
Caleb tilted his head. “Sounds familiar.”
“They were joined by a stranger,” Eli continued. “He didn’t give them answers. He just walked with them. Listened. Then reminded them of promises they had forgotten. In the end, they realized… they had been walking with the risen Savior the whole time.”
Caleb's eyes searched his. “You talking about the road to Emmaus?”
“I’m saying,” Eli said, “that resurrection isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Like footsteps beside you when you thought you were alone.”
Marcus returned, holding two steaming cups. “Got your usual, man.”
Caleb stood slowly, eyes still on Eli.
They returned to the car. Eli got in without a word, quietly settling back into his seat. His eyes were closed, resting, as the road stretched ahead.
Caleb turned forward, his thoughts a whirlwind of grief, questions, and something else—something unexplainable but oddly calming.
Ten minutes passed.
Caleb turned to speak.
“Hey, Eli—”
He froze.
The backseat was empty.
No door had opened. The car hadn’t stopped. Eli was just... gone.
Caleb’s heart pounded. “Marcus… stop the car.”
Marcus looked over. “What?”
“Stop the car!” Caleb said again.
Marcus pulled over to the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Caleb whipped around in his seat.
No one.
No trace.
No coat. No bag. Just a folded slip of paper lying on the seat where Eli had been.
Hands trembling, Caleb reached for it and unfolded it slowly.
His throat tightened.
The ache in his chest cracked, not from grief this time, but from wonder.
He stared out the windshield, eyes glistening. The road ahead still looked the same.
But now he knew… he wasn’t walking it alone.
He opened his backpack, pulled out Leah’s Bible—still marked with her underlines and prayers—and slid the note inside. Right between pages already highlighted in yellow.
He closed the Bible gently, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. The weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders seemed to lift, if only slightly. The words on the note felt like a warm embrace, a reminder that he was not alone in his pain.
Marcus glanced at him, concern etched in his features. "Caleb, what happened? Who was that guy? People don’t just disappear.”
Caleb shook his head slowly, still processing what had just occurred. “I... I don’t know.”
Marcus frowned. “How else can you explain it?”
Caleb looked back at the seat, then at the note still in his hand. “He said... he walks with you—even when you don't recognize Him.”
Marcus fell silent, letting the message sink in. After a moment, he started the car again and merged back onto the highway. “If I believed in angels, I’d call Eli one. But since I don’t, I’m not sure what to think or believe.”
Caleb leaned back in his seat, the note still clutched in his hand. The road stretched out endlessly before them, the rhythm of the highway soft beneath the wheels.
“I don’t either,” Caleb said quietly, the words catching in his throat. “But I think Leah… she sent him to remind me I’m not walking through this alone.”
Outside the window, a break in the clouds let a shaft of sunlight cut across the road ahead. Caleb didn’t say anything. He just held the Bible tighter and closed his eyes—letting the warmth remind him of the presence he could no longer deny.
He didn’t need answers. Just the reminder that he wasn’t alone.
