Chapter XXVI: The Earthened Jar
Liz arrives at school, her mind clouded with thoughts. As she steps into the hallway, she spots Wyn standing by the lockers, waving at her. But instead of greeting her friend like she usually would, Liz turns her gaze away and walks past without a word. She feels a weight on her chest, knowing that avoiding Wyn is unfair, but something inside her compels her to keep her distance.
Throughout the lessons, Wyn notices Liz’s odd behavior. Liz, usually engaged and talkative, remains unusually silent. She doesn't even glance in Wyn’s direction. When lunchtime arrives, Wyn hopes to get a chance to talk, but Liz leaves the classroom first, slipping through the door before Wyn can call out to her.
As Liz walks away, Wyn is left staring after her, a sense of familiarity washing over her. Her mind flashes back to last year when Bennett was still around.
Back then, it wasn’t uncommon for Liz to leave first, often bypassing her and Bennett without a second thought. Wyn recalls how Liz sometimes disappeared at lunch, leaving Bennett trailing behind. Even when they all had agreed to eat together, Liz would suddenly change plans and walk off.
One particular moment stands out in Wyn’s memory. Liz had walked past their usual eating spot—the corridor—where Wyn had been waiting, her tray in hand. Bennett had followed Liz’s path with his eyes and sighed.
“Why does she keep doing that?” Wyn had asked him.
Bennett had chuckled lightly, shaking his head.
“Liz is... complicated. But she has her reasons.”
“I don’t get it,” Wyn had admitted. “Sometimes she just avoids us, and now, she’s avoiding me again.”
Bennett had looked at her thoughtfully.
“Maybe she’s dealing with something personal. Liz isn’t the type to talk right away. She bottles things up.”
“Do you think it’s because of something she ordered online?” Wyn had asked, remembering how Liz often kept secrets about purchases.
Bennett had smiled knowingly.
“Could be. But also, Liz just needs space sometimes. Be patient with her, Wyn.”
That conversation lingers in Wyn’s mind as the flashback fades. She sighs, watching Liz disappear into the crowd.
Before she can ponder further, a voice calls out her name.
“Wyn! Liz! Come with me,” Brother Padilla instructs, appearing at the classroom door.
“I need you two to help organize the chapel.”
Wyn nods, and Liz hesitates before following. The two girls walk side by side in silence, the tension between them palpable. They arrive at the chapel and begin arranging the pews, dusting off the altar, and fixing the hymn books. The stillness of the holy place makes it harder for Liz to ignore Wyn’s presence.
Wyn, unable to hold back any longer, stops what she’s doing and turns to Liz.
“Is something bothering you?” she asks gently.
Liz freezes, unsure how to respond. She isn’t ready to talk about it, but Wyn’s concerned gaze reminds her of something Bennett once told her.
“If you have any problem, say it to the people you trust,” he had said. “And I say ‘people,’ not ‘a person,’ because we are your people, Liz. We care for you and listen to you. Cast your burdens, and you won’t have weights on your shoulders and chest.”
Those words break something inside Liz. She takes a deep breath, her grip on the hymn book tightening. Finally, she speaks.
“I had a dream,” she confesses. “A dream about St. Paul.”
Wyn’s eyes widen.
“St. Paul? The patron saint of our city?”
Liz nods.
“He showed me memories of Bennett. And then, he asked me, ‘What do thou seek?’”
Wyn listens intently as Liz recounts everything—the mysterious voice, the vision of St. Paul, and the cryptic clue Bennett gave her before she woke up.
“Up to the third of the old edifice I am there, though no one comes, around and care, I say not you I am talking of, but literally no one is permitted to walk on that edifice I speak of,” Liz recites, her voice tinged with emotion.
Wyn gasps slightly.
“That sounds like a riddle.”
Liz nods.
“I don’t know what it means yet, but I feel like I’m supposed to find out.”
Wyn processes the information before breaking into a small smile.
“Well, you’re not figuring it out alone. We’ll work on this together.”
For the first time that day, Liz feels a little lighter. The two continue their tasks, but this time, the air between them is no longer filled with silence—it’s filled with hope.
At Bantaoan, Liz's grandmother stands by the doorway, holding a small notebook as she gives final instructions to Dolores and Dominga.
"I’ll be heading to Ciudad Fernandina to handle some banking matters. While I’m gone, make sure the house is in order. Dolores, take care of the upstairs cleaning, and Dominga, focus on the living room. If you finish early, check the kitchen and pantry as well. Understood?"
Dolores and Dominga nod in unison.
"Yes, Mama. Don’t worry, we’ll handle everything," Dominga assures her.
Satisfied, Liz's grandmother grabs her purse and steps outside. She waves down a passing tricycle and climbs aboard, disappearing down the road toward the city.
Inside, Dolores starts with the bathroom, scrubbing the tiles and making sure the sink sparkles. Dominga takes a broom and begins sweeping the living room, clearing out the dust that has settled over the past few days. Once the bathroom is spotless, Dolores moves upstairs, stripping the beds and replacing the sheets, fluffing the pillows, and neatly folding any scattered clothes. Meanwhile, Dominga finds herself kneeling on the carpet, beating the dust out of it before moving on to wipe down the sofa.
Next to the living room, just beside the family altar, lies a pile of forgotten merchandise—packages from Liz’s online shopping spree last year. Among them, a neat box containing Bennett’s gifts to Liz rests untouched, safely packed away. Dominga sighs as she surveys the mess, deciding to sort through the items. As she dusts off an old purple folder decorated with small heart stickers, she notices how worn it looks.
"Dolores! Come down here for a second," Dominga calls out.
Dolores descends the stairs, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"What is it?"
Dominga hands her the folder.
"Look at this."
Dolores opens it carefully, and both women gasp. Inside, they find a handmade book, filled with carefully arranged photos, handwritten notes, and sentimental quotes. Each page tells a story—snapshots of Liz and Bennett through the years, their laughter, their moments of silence, their shared dreams. The handwriting, undoubtedly Bennett’s, adds a personal touch, reinforcing his love and dedication.
"Bennett made this," Dolores murmurs, turning a page where Liz’s smiling face is framed perfectly beside a note that reads,
"To the brightest light of my life."
Dominga smiles.
"He really adored her. Look at the effort he put into this."
Just then, Liz’s grandmother returns, stepping into the house. She notices them flipping through the pages, their expressions soft with nostalgia.
"What’s that you two are looking at?"
Dominga holds up the book.
"Look what we found among Liz’s things. It’s a memory book that Bennett made for her."
Liz’s grandmother’s expression changes from curiosity to sadness, then to warmth. She walks over, gently taking the book from them and flipping through the pages.
"He really is a special boy," she says quietly. "Liz was and is lucky to have him."
A silence settles among them as they reflect on the young man who once filled their home with his presence, his laughter, and his unwavering kindness.
Meanwhile, at school, Liz finishes her classes and dials her grandmother’s number. "Abuelita, can you pick me up? I’ll wait by the gate."
"Of course, I’m on my way, Hija." her grandmother responds before hanging up. She gets back to the highway to get a tricycle and heads to the school.
When they arrive home, Liz drops her bag near the sofa and stretches.
"I’m starving. What’s for dinner?"
Dolores chuckles.
"We figured you’d be hungry, so we made an early dinner. Sit down, and I’ll bring the food."
As they eat together, Dolores and Dominga exchange glances before Dolores finally asks,
"Liz, do you know where Bennett is?"
Liz halts mid-bite and looks up.
"I don’t know," she says flatly. "And in case you forgot, Bennett didn’t die—he disappeared. No one knows where he is."
An uneasy silence follows. Liz’s grandmother clears her throat, trying to ease the tension.
"We’re just hoping, dear. Hoping that wherever he is, he’s safe."
Liz doesn’t respond. She simply nods and continues eating. After dinner, she excuses herself and heads upstairs to prepare for bed. She brushes her teeth, then kneels by her bedside, clasping her hands in prayer.
"Lord, please watch over him. Please help me find him."
She kisses a framed picture of Bennett, whispering,
"I miss you."
Downstairs, Dolores and Dominga stand by the altar, lighting a candle. As the small flame flickers, they kneel side by side and begin reciting the rosary. Liz’s grandmother, passing by on her way upstairs, chuckles.
"Since when did you two become so devoted?"
Dominga playfully rolls her eyes.
"Since now. We’re praying for Bennett."
Liz’s grandmother watches them for a moment before nodding approvingly.
"That's so very nice of you two. He deserves all the prayers he can get."
Back in her room, Liz finishes writing in her notebook—the same notebook where she jots down all her thoughts and dreams about Bennett. Tonight, she writes,
"Another day without you, but I won’t lose hope. Wherever you are, I’ll find you."
Closing the notebook, she places it beside her pillow, takes one last glance at Bennett’s photo, and drifts off to sleep, hoping that her dreams will bring her another clue, another sign—another chance to bring him home.
In the quiet of the night, as the candle flickers downstairs and the wind gently rustles the curtains, Liz and her family silently hold onto faith, longing for the day Bennett’s whereabouts will finally be revealed.
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