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CALLING ALL BOOK CLUBS

Want to discuss MESSENGER with your friends? Consider choosing MESSENGER: A Novel in 16 Episodes as one of your book club selections. Liz Keller Whitehurst would be happy to join your book club gathering as a virtual guest to discuss all things MESSENGER, to ponder some of the questions included in each episode description and to answer any questions you may have. Schedule your meeting by emailing Liz at [email protected]. It’s free!

ALL GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END

Believe it or not, we are coming to the end of MESSENGER, with just a few episodes to go. But don’t worry. The podcast will remain up and available to catch up on any episodes you missed, to re-listen to episodes, and to share with friends. 

THIS ISN’T GOODBYE! 

Thank you so much for listening to MESSENGER. If you’d like to keep up with MESSENGER news and with Liz Keller Whitehurst’s future projects drop us a line at: [email protected]. This information will only be used for these updates. 

Credits/Contacts

• Author: Liz Keller Whitehurst: [email protected]
• For inquiries about MESSENGER or rights queries, 
  contact April Eberhardt: [email protected]
• Book editor: Annie Tucker: [email protected]
• Podcast design/social media: Brandon O’Neill: oneillcreativeco.com
• Photography: Joy Whitehurst: Instagram: @turquoisekoi
• Audio production and voice artist: Rachel Pater: richmondstoryhouse.org
• Original music and sound direction: Wells Hanley: [email protected]
• Recording and audio editing: Lance Koehler: minimumwagerecording.com
• Special thanks to Wilson, Joy, Audrey and April

Find Us Online 

• Website: messengerthenovel.com
• Facebook: facebook.com/messengerthenovel
• Instagram: instagram.com/messengerthenovel
• Twitter: twitter.com/messenger_novel

Questions to Ponder

1. What do you make of Alana’s dream? Have you ever had a dream that enlightened you, albeit in symbolic/dream images?
2. Why do you think Ed is so forgiving to Alana?
3. What does Messenger mean when she tells Ed, “You’re ready.”?

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Episode 15 Complete Text  📖 
(Click here to access the PDF)

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ALANA TAKES STOCK

The reporters soon lost interest and left Alana alone after a few days, when they figured she wasn’t going to say anything more about Messenger. For them, after the violence had played out, Rickie Brokoff was identified and charged, there was no story. It all added up to just another act of urban terrorism, violence committed by another young, angry fanatic. The authorities hadn’t revealed a direct connection between Alana’s website and the attack, but Alana knew in her bones the truth.          

            Messenger was gone. Each day, Alana prowled the streets, the doorways, stoops, storefronts, benches. Still hoping. She strained her eyes, longed for that dot of red. How many times had Alana walked these streets with Messenger, tried so hard to ask the right questions? To keep her talking about her messages? Where they came from? What they meant? 

            Alana scoured the Internet for traces of Messenger, for posts about any message from a strange angel. Nothing. She tried to check in every day with the Flower Lady, the lady with the Chihuahuas. Ostap. The Professor. She asked all the crusty kids outside the barbershop every day if they’d seen Messenger. Even the neighborhood cops, to see if they’d seen her or had any news. Jackie seemed to have disappeared again, too. Alana figured she was with Messenger, wherever that was. 

            Alana had considered all the people in the neighborhood her friends, too. But since the attack, a new awkwardness filled her whenever she was around them. Some, like Ostap, were very clear about their feelings. Whenever she saw him on the street, he wouldn’t acknowledge he knew her, wouldn’t speak, and walked right past her.

            The Flower Lady confronted her soon after Messenger disappeared from the hospital. “You have no idea what you’ve done! We all put our necks out for you, not just Messenger.”

            “How? Tell me!”

            “No, I’ve already said too much.” She turned away and stared into her buckets of flowers. 

            Ed’s kindness was the only exception. Ed! He should have been the most hostile, since he was probably closest to Messenger and knew all about Alana’s role in the attack. But, no. Alana would never forget how natural it had felt to fall into his arms when all those people had chased her from the hospital. 

            One morning, after he’d served her yet another free coffee, she said, “Hey, Ed. You know the other day, when all those reporters were after me?”                

            Ed filled a filter-lined coffee basket with freshly-ground coffee. “Yeah?”

            “Listen, thanks again for helping me. For locking them out.” 

            “No problem.”

            She studied him. “Why are you being so nice to me? You know everything I did.”

            “I’m always nice to you,” Ed said, focused on the basket. 

            “No. I’m serious. Everybody else around here’s giving me the cold shoulder, and who can blame them?” Her voice caught. “But not you.”

            Ed met her eyes and lingered there. “I have no right to judge,” was all he said.

            “What do you mean?”  

            Ed paused, then shook his head and turned away from her towards the coffeemaker.

            Alana gathered her things and left. That’s so Ed, she thought. Drop a cryptic remark and then refuse to explain. As she walked down First Avenue, Alana realized again how little she knew about Ed’s life or his past. He’d only reveal little tidbits here and there. But his response made her determined to learn more. 

            After another hour of fruitless searching, Alana returned to Ed’s. He was busy with the drink line, so she settled down on her stool, rubbed her eyes, fought her exhaustion. Messenger, where are you? she cried inside. She stubbornly held on to her dimming hope that if she worked and searched hard enough, she would find some clue, some way to make things right. Beyond her guilt, which she owned, Alana fought her old angry, hurt feelings which bubbled up unexpectedly and brought tears to her eyes. I guess I thought Messenger would try and find me. Or at least say good-bye. Or leave me a message after all our time together. It doesn’t look like she’s going to. What would I say to her if she were still here? What message would I give the Messenger?

            Alana dug her notebook out of her backpack and jotted this letter to Messenger.

Dear Messenger,

            I was so wrong. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you and posted the website. I’m sorry about Rickie. I’m sorry about all of it. I meant well. (Did I?) I’m just so very sorry.

            I know I probably drove you crazy, stalking you all over the neighborhood, asking questions, bothering your friends, demanding your time, taking you away from the job you had to do. I just want to say thank you for all you taught me. I still don’t understand most of it, but I see the world differently because of you. Though you’d never know it from the choices I made—from what I did.

            This may sound lame, but I do see it now. Believe me. You never gave me a message, like all those other people I interviewed. But that’s okay. Just knowing you was my Clinamen. It changed my life.

            Thank you.

            Love,

            Alana

            That night, Alana dreamed she was in a hotel. She stood in a long hall with rooms on either side of it, ugly green/brown carpeting on the floor. Way down the hall, a person turned a corner and walked towards her. Alana knew it was Messenger because of her slow, steady gait, even though she was very far away. Alana ran down the hall to meet her, but Messenger suddenly turned in the other direction and disappeared. It was one of those dreams where you can never get where you’re trying to go, no matter how hard or fast you run. The hall seemed to grow longer as Alana ran. “Messenger!” she cried. “Stop! Wait! Help me.”

            All she heard in response was Messenger’s giggles. Running down the hall on the ugly carpeting, Alana found feathers and pennies that fell out of Messenger’s clothes, like a trail of breadcrumbs. But even though Alana searched all the way down the immense hallway, as far as she could see, Messenger was gone.

GUILTY

The next morning, on her way in, Alana spied four or five feathers on the sidewalk, one red, the others gray and white, weird for the city. She found several pigeon feathers, too. And a penny on the subway steps and one on First Avenue, both heads up. They seemed to be signs, especially after the dream. She collected each one and put them carefully into her backpack. 

            Alana got coffee at Ed’s and sat at the end of the coffee bar before making her rounds to search. She knew she should head out but sat there instead and watched Ed wash dishes.

            When Ed looked up, she realized tears were dropping down her cheeks into her coffee.

            “Alana.” Ed stuck the blender pitcher into the draining rack and handed her a brown paper napkin.

            “Oh, Ed. I feel so lost without Messenger. I know you do, too.”

            Ed nodded. 

            Alana wiped her eyes. “If I could just tell her how sorry I am for what I did. Somehow make it right. I just feel so guilty.”

            Ed leaned his elbows on the bar and clasped his hands into a fist. “You want to know about guilty?” he asked. “Let me tell you about guilty.” 

            She braced herself while Ed paused, as if he had to force the words out. “How about feeling guilty because nothing’s more important to you than your next drink? I lost my job over it. I was a contractor until I fell off a roof. The only reason I didn’t break my neck was because I was so drunk. And young. I’d completely lost my way. I mentioned my ex-wife to you before. I lost her. Well, that wouldn’t have lasted anyway. We were just kids when we got married. High school sweethearts.”

            Alana interrupted. “Lots of marriages fail, Ed.”

            Ed kept his eyes down. “Not because of this. Let me finish. My wife was three months pregnant. The doctors had heard a heartbeat and everything. But she started bleeding in the night. The doc had told her to go to the hospital immediately if that ever happened. So,” he sighed, “she woke me up from the chair where I’d passed out. The TV on, blaring. I was still drunk. Very drunk. I knew I shouldn’t be driving, but this was an emergency. Well, I wrecked the car on the way to the hospital, rear-ended an SUV with a trailer hitch on the back. Caused the guy right behind me to plow into us. As drunk as I was, I’ll never forget the sound of that grinding metal. The whiplash on impact.” He looked straight at Alana. “My wife didn’t have her seatbelt on. She didn’t want to put any pressure on her stomach. So, she was thrown to the floor of the car. She lost the baby.”

            “Oh, no,” Alana gasped and covered her mouth. “What happened to you?” 

            “Nothing. Just bruises. Again, because I was so drunk.”

            “Did you have to go to jail?”  

            “I just barely missed jail time. I deserved it, but I had a good defender. No prior record. That was a long time ago and they were more lenient. I did lose my license for a year. Had to complete a lifetime of community service hours.” His voice was quiet. “My wife never got over losing the baby, never got over what I’d done.”

            “So sad,” Alana said. 

            “You haven’t heard the saddest part. I still didn’t stop drinking! Even with AA. Hours and hours of counseling. I tried and tried to stop, so many times. I was really a wreck. Until Messenger came into my life.”

            “Messenger?”

            “Yeah. That’s the project I mentioned. I told her everything—like I’ve just told you. Every day she’d come in and every day I knew she was going to ask me, ‘Ed?’ That’s all she ever said, but we both knew what she meant. I’d shake my head, ‘no.’ And I wouldn’t drink. I didn’t want to disappoint her. I’d visualize her eyes whenever I was tempted.”

            “How long since . . .”

            “One year, nine months, 10 days. But who’s counting?” He laughed.

            Alana took a deep breath. “Wow, Ed. I’m so sorry. Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me. But what are you going to do now that Messenger’s gone?”

            Ed gripped his fist. “Messenger might be gone from here. From us. But I know she’s somewhere. She’ll still know. She’ll still care.”

            Alana nodded. She covered his fist with her hand.

            “Things happen. Yes, you made mistakes. But, Alana, you didn’t mean to cause it, just like I didn’t . . .” He looked into her eyes and she saw her own pain there. “Terrible things can happen to people we love. We can wish every single day of our lives that we could take it back. But sometimes, you can’t.”

WHAT NOW?

Ed’s Starbucks was still Alana’s home base. She felt closer to Messenger sitting there on her usual stool than in her own apartment. Even though it had been weeks without word, without one lead, even when she had to face Messenger’s empty stool, Alana clung to her hope that it might be like before. That Messenger would come back.

            One morning, Ed told her, “Alana, it’s been a long time now.” He wiped the counter in front of her and handed her a cup. “I think she’s gone for good.”

            Alana’s spirits plummeted to her feet. If Ed had given up hope, should she? Alana unfocused her eyes and pondered Ed’s advice. “I won’t give up,” she finally told him. “I can’t.”

            His smile reminded Alana of her mom’s oncologist’s, but all he said was, “It’s hard. I understand.”

            Alana tried to drag herself out the door to make her rounds, but she couldn’t gather the energy. She sipped her coffee and watched Ed wipe down the clean counter one more time. 

            The next morning was cloudy and felt colder than the actual temperature. When Alana reached Ed’s, the drink line already flowed out the door and people filled all the stools at the long table along the windows. It was okay. She’d come back later. She began her rounds, turned down Fifth and slowed her pace. The cars parked solid down both sides, one side parallel, the other on an angle, blocked her view. When she got to the playground, she spied the lady with the Chihuahuas perched on her usual bench, a dog on each side. The lady wouldn’t make eye-contact as Alana approached, wouldn’t answer her questions (as usual), turned her back. But the dogs wagged their little rat tails and yipped. Alana figured they hoped she’d have a treat for them, like Messenger always did. They hadn’t forgotten. 

            Alana walked past them and settled on the farthest bench of the three, Messenger’s favorite. Today, after all this time, Alana realized she’d never once seen any kids play there. She felt the knot in her stomach that wouldn’t go away, no matter how deeply she breathed. She raised and lowered her shoulders, worked the kinks out, leaned against the bench’s hard, wooden back. She stared up and noticed small green buds forming on the tree’s branches, waving now, since the wind had picked up. Curled brown leaves from last fall blew towards her and street grit stung her eyes. She wrapped her green scarf tighter around her neck.

            A voice inside her advised, Alana, give up! Stop torturing yourself. Ed’s right. Messenger’s gone.

            Alana remembered how, even before she’d met Messenger, when she’d first seen Marty’s photo, a chill had shimmered through her. Then, a warmth, an excitement welled up. That same inner voice had whispered, This is it! You’ve been waiting for this your whole life. Your big break!

            Yeah, right. You really made a mess of everything. 

            Alana traced the circles in the cold, black wrought-iron bench arm with her finger, her cuticles chewed and picked to shreds the last few weeks. She knew Messenger would say that every single thing that had happened to her since they’d met was part of the whole—a much bigger whole. But Alana still had so many questions. Am I the crazy one after all? Was it something I needed to believe in, instead of a credible story? Messenger always said the messages came through her. From where or from whom? Alana had never understood. Messenger admitted she didn’t even know the answer to that question. So many strange happenings, so many unbelievable coincidences playing out in real time, in real people’s lives. It was real. All those people who posted had believed it. Could they all have been wrong? 

            Alana couldn’t explain all the strange things that had happened to her since she’d met Messenger, either. They just kept coming. But one thing Alana did know for sure—her blind ambition was dead. Yes, she’d had big dreams. For achievement. Fame, even. Also dead was her darker aim, her lame attempt to get her dad’s attention, to show him. To be noticed. To make him re-think the decisions he’d made long ago, when he’d left. 

            Now, after everything that had happened, it was all about Messenger. What was she to me? Alana wondered. A friend? A teacher? Ed said she was like a mother to us—and that was true. All that and more. Of course, she was just fun to hang out with. Something always happened when she was around. And hanging out with Messenger and all her friends had revealed a truth Alana had run from for a long time—how alone in the world she was. After Messenger came into her life, all that changed. 

            This bench beside the playground, the streets and shops around here, the same people they tended to see while sitting here or strolling together. Ed’s Starbucks, of course. The smells there, of freshly ground coffee, pastries warming in the toaster oven, even the clean smell of the soap in the restroom. Ed’s mopping-up solution in his bucket. This is where Alana belonged now, more than anywhere else on earth. 

            Mary would never understand. None of Alana’s old friends would. She herself wouldn’t have understood six months ago, that she’d find what she’d always wished for here. A home. All of these people in the neighborhood were her people now. She’d have to find a way to regain their confidence, to win them back. And, with Ed, maybe there was something more. Her heart warmed to think of him. But the center of it all—Messenger—was gone. What Alana wouldn’t give to see her face, to hear her voice, one last time.

            Alana remembered all the laughter. She’d never heard anybody laugh like Messenger did. She’d felt safe with her, like Messenger was a grown-up. Like she’d seen some things. Like she had something for Alana and they had a purpose to accomplish together. Although the whole time they’d worked on the project, she never once gave Alana a message. Alana gazed out across the street from their bench. How many times had they sat there together? She remembered the very last time, when Messenger had been upset and Alana hadn’t understood why. They’d sat closer than ever before and Alana had rested her head on Messenger’s. Alana thought about how, at the moment of her greatest frustration with Messenger and the project, she’d made herself let go. She’d realized if she wanted things to work with Messenger, she had to surrender, do things Messenger’s way. It had worked, for a time. Until Alana had ruined it. Maybe I should do that again, she thought. Stop trying so hard and just let go.

            A car horn jerked her back to the present. Alana finally noticed what had been parked at the curb, right in front of her all along. The green Mini-Cooper, license plate “CLINAMN.” Alana’s heart lifted and she jumped up. “Messenger!” she cried, hoping, praying to see her red cap, her amber eyes, to hear her laughter. She tore up and down the street, searched each face she passed, glanced back towards the benches, but they were all empty. 

YOU’RE READY

The coffee shop door flew open, and Ed looked up.

            “Messenger!” He ran around the bar, threw his arms around her and lifted her up. “You’re back! You’re all right!”

            “Ooooh-whee! That was quite a ride.” She laughed and hugged Ed back. “Yes, yes. See? I’m just fine.” 

            “Have you seen Alana? She feels terrible about what happened.”

            “I’m on my way to tell her goodbye.”

            Ed’s hopeful face fell. “You’re leaving?”

            She reached up and patted his cheek. “Uh-huh. I’m sorry but I don’t have much time. I’ve got a train to catch and a daughter to find.”

            “Oh. A daughter? You never told me.”

            “I know. And that was wrong. But,” she smiled and her whole face lit up. “I’m telling you now.” She settled herself on a bench at the bar.

            “I’m going to miss you.”

            I’ll miss you, too, Honey. Listen to me. Keep counting the days, and you’ll be fine. You’re fine now. You’ve got this.”

            “You’ve helped me so much,” Ed choked out. “Thank you,” he added simply.

            “No, Ed. You’re the one who did it all. I was just here to cheer you on. There’s more I want to say about Alana, though.” 

            Ed poured Messenger a coffee and took a sip of his own. “Alana? What?”

            Messenger just smiled at him, so broadly he had to smile right back.

            “What?” he repeated.

            “I want you to do something for me. She’s going to need you, Ed.”

            “But I can’t get involved with her or anybody else,” he said. He glanced around and lowered his voice so only Messenger could hear. “You know I haven’t been sober long enough.”

            Messenger spoke slowly and calmly. “It’s been almost two years. You can’t use that as an excuse.”

            “I guess,” Ed admitted. “But how can I help her, when every day is still a struggle?”

            “Nobody can help anybody else in the way you mean, Ed. Change them. Fix them. Nope. Never works. I’m not telling you anything you haven’t learned these last two years.”

            Ed sighed. “I know. It’s just hard . . .”

            “I’m only asking for two things. One: keep an open heart when it comes to her. Really be there for her. And two: understand that your own happiness, your freedom, is tied up with hers.”

            “Are you saying Alana and I have a future together?”

            “Well, I’m not saying you don’t. What I’m trying to tell you is EVERYBODY is tied up with you. We’re all working together. It’s not all about you, Ed. Don’t make that mistake.”

            "Of course. I know.”

            Messenger touched his arm. “Stand with her, whatever comes. Don’t shut down. Keep your heart open. Trust it. She’s going to need that from you. And, Honey, believe me. You’re ready. You’re more equipped this very minute than you give yourself credit for.” 

            “Really? You believe that?” 

            “Yes!” Messenger cheered. “I’ll believe it for you, if you can’t believe it yourself. You know the drill.”

            “Focus on today.”

            “Yes, that’s right.”

            “But what’s this all about? Why will she need me? Is something going to happen to her? Why—”

            “Just promise. Do that for me.”

            Ed shrugged. “Okay. I owe you that much, after all you’ve done for me. I guess I can pay it forward and be here for her.”

            “There you go! I don’t think you’ll mind it too much.” She winked, picked up her coffee, and rolled off the bench. “Besides, wake up! You’ve been doing it already this whole time. There’s no reason to be afraid! She feels the same way about you.”

            “What did she say?”

            “I don’t need words! When I look into her eyes when I catch her looking at you—that’s all I need to see. I feel the energy between you two.”

            Ed blushed.

            They both looked over to the window because Jackie had her nose against the glass and was tapping at them. She put her hands on her hips, then waved for Messenger to come out. “Jackie’s waiting for me. Got to go.” 

            “Is she going with you to find your daughter?”

            “Nope,” Messenger answered. “You’re going to be seeing lots more of her. Remember, Ed, what you just promised me. And don’t forget—you’ve already got everything you need.”

            Ed followed her to the door. She reached up and hugged him again. 

            “Wait,” he reached for his wallet. “Can I help you?”

            Messenger put her hand on his and shook her head. “No. Nothing. Just your promise.”

            “Okay. You got it.”

            Messenger calmed her heart and walked through the door, out of the coffee shop. Despite her resolve not to, she found herself turning back around. 

            Ed stood there, watched her go. He raised his hand.

            She nodded. Took it all in. Turned away. She struggled to put one foot in front of the other and not look back. 

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