by Janette Oke
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Did they tell you—?”
“Yes, I believe they told me everything they know.”
She swallowed hard. “But did they tell you it’s all my fault?”
“No, Beth.” She could hear sorrow choking his voice. His hand touched her arm gently. “No, they didn’t. Because it’s not.”
“That’s what they all say, but it isn’t true. I know it. I should have stopped her—”
“I know your sister, Beth.” He leaned closer, whispering yet speaking with firm conviction. “Once Julie made up her mind, she wouldn’t likely listen to anyone else. And of course she had no inkling of what was going to happen.”
Beth finally raised her wet eyes to his, pleading, “Do you believe that? Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth.”
“Yes, Beth, I believe that. I certainly do.”
She let her head drop against his shoulder. His arms reached around her, one hand resting on the back of her head, holding her close. “Jarrick,” she sobbed, “I don’t know what to do. We’ve been stuck in here for days. I want to do something.”
“You’ve been doing all you can. In fact, the thing no one else can do as well as Julie’s family is the most important thing. You’re praying.”
Beth’s sobs shook her body.
“Don’t give up, Beth. God is watching—He knows where she is.”
“Oh, Father,” she whispered, “please let Jarrick be right.”
There was not enough seating in one of their hotel rooms for all the family and friends to gather. Father had arranged to use the hotel’s chapel. Jarrick followed Beth through the creaky elevator gates, down to the second floor, and into the simple room. Margret and John were already seated, his arm around his wife with her head resting against his shoulder.
She and Jarrick slipped into the row behind, and Beth laid a hand on Margret’s shoulder as they settled into their places. She wished Jarrick was able to draw her close against him in such a comforting manner, but it was enough for now just to have him beside her. Mr. and Mrs. Montclair and Victoria had joined them, as well as Lise and Emma and Monsieur Laurent.
Father rose at the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Well, most of you have already heard the latest information. But I want to know if you have any questions—and we also want to pray together. Does anyone have a question before we do that?”
“When is the train scheduled to arrive?” John’s voice came first.
“We believe it should be at the station within half an hour. We expect a call to tell us what happens, one way or another. Of course, we’re praying that the girls will be detained and information gathered from them quickly.”
Beth let out a shallow breath and turned her face to Jarrick’s. “They should separate them,” she whispered. “I think Penny might talk if Jannis isn’t around.”
Jarrick nodded. “You should tell him that.”
“Father?” She forced herself to speak out. “Father, is it possible to tell them—the authorities—that maybe Penny and Jannis should be separated immediately? I think if they’re kept together, they’ll gain strength from one another, be less cooperative.”
“The officers should be told that. Thank you, Beth.” He looked around the room. “Emile, would you please pass that along?” Monsieur Laurent stood immediately and departed.
Beth’s hands trembled in her lap. Her eyes closed, and she tried not to picture the scene, yet the faces were flitting back and forth behind her eyelids. First Penny and Jannis, then Julie. Please, God, let the two feel some compassion for Julie. Make them willing to disclose what they know. She felt a hand cover her own. The fingers tightened slightly, loosened, but continued to hold hers.
Mrs. Montclair spoke from the opposite side of the room. “Has anyone found evidence of the young man? We haven’t heard about him for quite a while.”
Father shook his head. “Not at this time. He seems to have slipped away.”
“My son—Edward, you know—wasn’t able to find a picture of him. He was clever enough not to allow himself to be photographed.”
“Yes, Edith, that appears to be true. So we do not have any news of his whereabouts at this point.”
“Were Jannis and Penny their real names?” Margret’s voice was almost too quiet to hear.
“We don’t know. The tickets were not purchased under those same names, but there’s no way to know which ones are correct—or how long they’ve been concealing their true identities.”
Is the story of Penny’s disgraceful given name a fabrication? Yet why would anyone make up such a lie? So that Julie would be empathetic, see the girls as victims? Then she remembered the fight she had overheard. “Father,” she spoke aloud, “when they thought they were alone, I overheard them call each other by those names.”
“That’s helpful, Beth. Thank you.”
Father waited another moment, his eyes scanning the small room. “If there are no further questions, I think we should pray now.”
A general stirring followed as they shifted positions together. From beside Beth, Jarrick leaned forward and bowed his head. She was grateful he did not release her hand. They earnestly cried out for mercy, for truth to prevail. Beth’s focus was on Nick. You know where he is, Lord. He can’t hide from You. Speak to his heart. Let him repent even now. Let the enormous weight of what he’s done overwhelm him—
Then the sound of a man clearing his throat at the back of the room brought their prayer time to a close. A hushed silence overtook them as a policeman strode to the front. He leaned forward to whisper in Father’s ear.
“It’s all right, Officer. We’re prepared to hear whatever you’ve discovered.”
The man cleared his throat again. “The women weren’t on the train,” he announced. “They probably never got aboard. It’s possible—and I think more ’an likely—they got off somewheres along the way, switched trains. Or met up with somebody else, somebody they planned to meet. But, anyways, they weren’t aboard.”
Beth closed her eyes and let her breath escape slowly. She felt Jarrick’s hand tighten again around her own. There were no tears. Perhaps the reservoir is too depleted, she thought.
“I would give almost anything for a walk.”
Jarrick sighed with her. “I’m sure you would. I suppose you’ve been cooped up here this whole time.” He added, “We can’t go outdoors, but surely there’s a balcony or a rooftop deck or something.”
Beth remembered that Victoria had been playing her violin on some type of patio. She cast a glance around the crowded hotel room and whispered, “We’ll be back soon.”
Mother lifted her eyebrows, but Father merely nodded his assent. Jarrick followed Beth out into the hall.
“I think there might be a patio on the roof,” she explained. “I hadn’t thought of it before. But surely we can find it.” Beth chose the stairs and began their upward journey, feeling relief already at being away from the stifling and somber atmosphere. The strain on her legs as they climbed was very welcome after so much inactivity. When they had passed three landings, Jarrick asked, “How are you, Beth? Really?”
She paused and turned toward him, hoping he was prepared for honesty. “I’m everything at once, I suppose. I’m angry and sad and frightened, and in far greater measure than I’ve ever felt before. But I’m trying to be strong—for my family. For Julie. I just feel so . . . so lost. So helpless.”
Jarrick motioned to the steps, and she sank down onto them. He took a seat beside her, stretching out his legs and leaning an elbow against the rail, the other on a step behind them. “I can’t even imagine. I wish there was something I could say, but—”
“There’s not,” she mouthed, shaking her head and hoping he understood.
“I can listen, Beth.” It was said with such gentleness she knew he was sincere.
“I don’t want to talk about it just now. It’s too, too much,” she managed. They sat in silence as several moments slip
ped away. At last she asked him, “How is it you could come, Jarrick? Your work? And the long distance . . . ?”
He smiled. “That’s kind of an amusing story, Beth. I spoke with Lester Carothers, the older man I meet with from the church. I told him what was happening. And I’ll never forget his response.”
Beth turned to watch Jarrick’s face as he continued, a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes. “Lester said, ‘I know ya think yer work’s important, son—and it is. But there’s plenty a’ men who can fill in for you. Leavin’ a job behind is like drawin’ a fist from a bucket a’ water. You don’t leave much of a hole. But a family—well, that’s altogether dif’rent. When you’re absent from the ones who need ya most, ya leave a hollow no one else can plug.’” Beth couldn’t help but smile at his portrayal of his friend’s accent.
“So I told my superiors that it was a family emergency, and I caught the first express train I could find heading in this direction.” He laughed. “I would’ve flown out with Edward, but the plane he managed to locate was only a two-seater—we figured it was best if one seat were left for the pilot.”
Her throat constricting with both laughter and tears, Beth leaned into his side. He’s including me in his family. He came to fill the crater-sized hollow of his absence. “Thank you,” she whispered. “He’s right. Mr. Carothers was right. I’m so glad you’re here, Jarrick.”
His arms encircled her. They sat in comfortable silence. At that moment, there was nowhere else she would have preferred to be than in a hot, dusty stairwell . . . with Jarrick.
Chapter
31
EDWARD DELIVERED THE REMAINDER of the photographs,” Mother said. “They’re in that box on the table if you would like to look at them.”
“No, thank you, Mother. Perhaps later.” Beth was all too aware that there would be pictures of Julie—of all of them together. Seeing their smiles, remembering their happy, shared experiences was simply too painful.
JW burst through the door, dragging his father by the hand, with Margret following closely behind. “Ga’mamah!” the boy called, “Papa comin’.”
“I see that, darling. I’m so glad.”
“We p’ayin’ wif cars.”
Beth understood John’s conflicted feelings as he somewhat sheepishly followed his bouncing son into the room—the joyous demeanor, totally unperturbed by the emotion hanging heavy over the room.
She ran a hand over the boy’s head. “It’s awfully good to see you so happy. You’re our little ray of sunshine.”
He looked up at her, puzzled. He tried, “Bah-juhr, Annie Bet. Papa here.”
“May I see your cars?” Jarrick slid off his chair to the floor. “Will you show them to me?”
The pudgy hands held up the pair of tiny vehicles. “See. Lellow and g’een.”
“You got it backwards, son.” John crouched down. “This is the yellow one. And this one is green.”
“’Kay,” he agreed easily, holding the cars up again to show them exactly as before. “Lellow—and g’een.”
Jarrick laughed. “Aren’t they nice? So new and bright. Can you show me how they work?”
Needing no more encouragement, the boy dropped to his belly on the floor and began pushing them over the carpet. “Brrrrr,” he sputtered.
Margret stopped at the box of photos for a moment, drawing one or two from the top of the stack. However, she soon abandoned them. Beth was certain she was feeling the same way about such reminiscing just yet. The only sound was JW playing with his father and Jarrick in the center of the room.
At last Beth surrendered to the thought of attempting another night’s fitful sleep. She gathered up her few belongings and moved toward the doorway. Jarrick hurried to fall in step beside her down the hall, hesitating as she unlocked the door to the room she now shared with Emma and Miss Bernard. She had moved out of her previous room so that Margret, John, and JW could have it. Jarrick had been assigned the extra bed in Monsieur Laurent’s room. She wondered how much longer they could all maintain harmony in such crowded conditions.
“I would have liked to have looked at the photographs,” he admitted slowly. “I understand you aren’t up to it yet, but maybe once Julie returns . . . maybe we can find some time for you to show them to me—to tell me all about your trip.”
“You still think she’s going to be found?”
“Of course I do.” His voice sounded confident, more confident than Beth could manage.
She slumped against the doorframe. “I can’t help imagining what’s happening to her. And even while I’m wishing the best, it seems unlikely that she won’t be . . . won’t be harmed by now.” Her lips trembled.
“You don’t know that, Beth. We need to hope for the best.” He reached toward her, but Beth turned away.
“It’s been four long days, Jarrick, and it feels even longer. It must be an eternity to poor Julie.” Her voice was strained, agony seeping around the edges of her words. “And they already have their money. If they were going to give her up, it would have happened already. I can figure out that much without anyone saying it aloud.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, letting more questions tumble out. “Tell me the truth, Jarrick. Why would they be keeping her? Is she already dead? What do they want with her?” She knew her voice had risen sharply by the end of her outburst.
She watched him tense with the gravity of her ragged emotion, his jaw contracting as he gathered his thoughts. What will he say? Will he address my questions honestly? Can I trust his answer?
“Beth . . .” He looked into her eyes. “I doubt they would have killed her. She’s more valuable to them alive.” Clearing his throat, he added, “They might keep her prisoner for their own purposes . . . or possibly sell her for further profit.”
“Sell her?” The words came without any breath behind them. “Sell her—a woman, a human being? Who would—could—do such a thing?”
“It’s slavery, Beth. It’s as old as civilization, I suppose.”
Beth felt her face contort at the thought. “It’s unspeakable.”
“Yes, it is.” He stepped closer, lowering his head. “What can I do, Beth? Just tell me what to do. I want to make it easier, and I’m afraid I’ve just added to your pain.”
She straightened and raised a hand, palm out. “No, it’s nothing you said. It’s not as if I haven’t been wondering—imagining—already.” She shifted away from Jarrick and felt the cold doorjamb against her back. “I need to be alone, Jarrick.” A gasp caught in her throat. “At the same time, I’m so afraid to be. Nothing seems right. Nothing helps.”
“You’re never alone,” he whispered. “I can’t be what you need right now, but God can. I’m praying for you, Beth. Almost every moment. For Julie too. But I’m thinking about you almost constantly. I know the shadow you’re walking through is taking you where I can’t follow. Only God is enough for you now.”
Nodding dumbly, Beth retreated inside. His eyes were clenched tightly as she closed the door, shut him out. The sorrow on his face burned itself into her memory. It was what she deserved—alone, comfortless—the accusing words whirling through her mind.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please punish me.” The familiar litany was all she could think to say. “Please spare Julie and let the consequences fall on me instead. I should have stopped her. Why didn’t I stop her? Do whatever You want to me, but please bring my sister home.” The world was truly evil. She understood that now. As evil as the tales in Melville’s story.
Beth burrowed under the covers without undressing and wept—utterly broken. At some point she became aware that Emma and Miss Bernard had entered the room. But she lay quiet, no acknowledgment of their presence.
Beth awoke to sounds in the hallway—footsteps and whispering as they passed by the door. She lay still, barely breathing in the darkness, tears trailing down her cheeks.
A glimmer of hope had begun to stir in her heart. She found herself reciting the familiar Psalm over and over again. “The Lord i
s my shepherd . . . the Lord is my shepherd . . .”
Jarrick is right. She had never quite understood it before, that no man, no person, could ever be enough. Only God could lead her through such pain, even the ultimate pain she dare not put into words.
“I shall not want . . . though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
“Oh, God, I’m so afraid. Make me trust You if You must. Help me know with all my heart that I don’t have to live in dread. I don’t have to give in to my worst fears.”
“For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”
“Father God, please do that for Julie. She’s the one in the enemies’ presence. Care for her there—as long as she’s forced to stay.”
“Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
“This is not the end, Father,” she whispered into her pillow. “Sustain us through all of it. We cannot possibly manage so great a burden without You. I know I cannot endure this alone. But please, please bring me to a place where I can praise You again. I know—I’m certain—that’s where this will lead, if I can only be faithful, trust You, not give up. You promised. Help me trust You through anything.”
Her darker prayers of recent days dogged at the edges of her mind. “You don’t hate Nick, do You, Lord? Or the girls. Their sin is not who You made them to be. I just don’t know how to feel about such hurtful people.” The face of Coal Valley’s Davie Grant returned. She remembered that she had prayed for him when she had read in Jarrick’s letter about his trial—had been relieved to remember that justice would ultimately be done . . . but that Jesus would be his Advocate, if only he would surrender to God’s mercy. Could this be true of Nick—of Penny and Jannis?
“You understand my anger, Father. But You’re not a God of hatred. Please forgive me. No matter what, I want to follow You with all my actions and all my heart. But I can’t do it without Your help. Please put Your love in my heart, Your desire for mercy over retribution.” Jarrick’s distraught face filled her mind. Her struggle with all the confusing emotions had caused her to turn from him as well—someone so important to her, someone so anxious to demonstrate grace.
