He’d tried calling Brice; he’d even tried calling the Fergusons, and then, finally, he’d tried Olivier and gotten an answer. But he was saddened that, as a result, the big boss got to spread the news instead of him.
Calico’s brother and sister-in-law had been found at last.
For some reason, they’d decided on a vacation, bummed that they’d lost a trail on the Fergusons. After that, fed up with their search, they figured if they toured part of the country, someone might hint at having seen them. They’d traveled five states and run out of money, so were taking odd jobs in a little town outside of Colorado Springs, Colorado.
When Mr. Jenkins’ boss at a gas station recognized him from one of the photos Justice had sent around the internet searching for them, it took less than an hour to confirm it was, indeed, the couple they were seeking.
They’d changed their names, ironically enough, in an attempt to not be recognized, and dyed their hair, but it was definitely Felix and Jasmine. They’d begun to tell people about an “odd, secret organization” that had kept them from loved ones, but as far as anyone knew, hadn’t mentioned HUVA directly as yet. So, at this very moment, Olivier was preparing to dispatch someone to pick them up and bring them back to their house in California, hoping they’d get the hint that they were in over their heads.
“You alright,” Izzie asked him once the meal was over and they were heading into the living room.
Kristof had waved off to lay down, and the Rutherfords had just left to go work on some sort of project or another at home; he hadn’t been listening enough to recall what it was.
“Yeah, doin’ alright. Just thinking. Work stuff, you know?”
His daughter nodded, and the beads at the ends of her braids jangled together at the movement, making him smile.
Paloma called everyone to attention, Bible in hand, and they settled into seats around the room, the boys both opting for the floor on either side of Izzie’s chair.
“I just wanted to begin our time of sharing tonight with the reading of Psalm one twenty two,” she said. “I’m going to read from the Amplified.”
A movement to his left distracted Justice a moment, but he kept listening to his friend.
““I was glad when they said to me, Let us go to the house of the Lord! Our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem!— Jerusalem, which is built as a city that is compacted together— To which the tribes go up, even the tribes of the Lord, as was decreed and as a testimony for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the Lord,”” she began, her voice gaining in confidence and excitement as she read.
““For there the thrones of judgment were set, the thrones of the house of David. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! May they prosper who love you [the Holy City]! May peace be within your walls and prosperity within your palaces! For my brethren and companions’ sake, I will now say, Peace be within you! For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek, inquire for, and require your good.””
She passed the Bible to her right, to Edward, and he flipped around a few moments, cleared his throat, and spoke: “And I’d like to read to you from Luke twelve, verses twenty two to thirty one,” he began. “For while in Israel, we might run into things that scare us, or that are unexpected, but Jesus tells us not to worry about it. “And [Jesus] said to His disciples, Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious and troubled [with cares] about your life, as to what you will [have to] eat; or about your body, as to what you will [have to] wear. For life is more than food, and the body [more] than clothes. Observe and consider the ravens; for they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn; and [yet] God feeds them. Of how much more worth are you than the birds! And which of you by being overly anxious and troubled with cares can add a cubit to his stature or a moment [unit] of time to his age [the length of his life]? If then you are not able to do such a little thing as that, why are you anxious and troubled with cares about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow.””
Edward paused long enough to sip his root beer, then continued in the otherwise silent room.
Justice pondered the lilies, as the image instructed, and wondered at how the God Who had made them was the same God that had sat enthroned before Him in that valley field, intoning words of love, wisdom, grace, and mercy toward his heart as he lay prostrate before Him.
““They neither [wearily] toil nor spin nor weave; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory (his splendor and magnificence) was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today, and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you, O you [people] of little faith? And you, do not seek [by meditating and reasoning to inquire into] what you are to eat and what you are to drink; nor be of anxious (troubled) mind [unsettled, excited, worried, and in suspense]; For all the pagan world is [greedily] seeking these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Only aim at and strive for and seek His kingdom, and all these things shall be supplied to you also.””
As Edward closed the Bible and set it down on the oak side table beside his recliner, Justice began to wonder if that Scripture wasn’t specifically meant for him.
Not so much in regard to Israel itself, but all the worrying he’d been doing over his work, over how and when to begin mentoring the young men in his life, about not spending enough quality time with his loved ones.
He worried so much sometimes, he wondered if he’d have a stroke, and then where would he be?
It had been so long since he’d seen his brother, Keith, that he sometimes wondered if his brother even remembered he existed. Which, of course, was ridiculous. He was the rock of Justice’s life growing up after their father died, and that was, indeed, of a stroke.
Justice had vowed, along with his brother, to never get so busy and so tuned out from the real world that they’d have those kinds of health issues, but now look at them? He was working fifty, sometimes seventy hours a week at times; his brother was off on an assignment in Jamaica because he was the only one equipped to handle a particularly difficult client situation, and had been there for over a year now.
When would they see each other again? Or would they?
Justice half-listened to the conversation around him as he let his thoughts drift back to the lilies, and to King Solomon; to the grassy fields of Heaven and his time before the triune thrones.
Was this why he’d been sent back? To learn not to worry? To come to the realization that he was doing a lot of good works, but they were from a place of worry instead of faith?
Sure, he had faith.
Not as much as he’d like, and not as strong as he’d like, but in his line of business, he’d always figured you had to be careful how much you trusted, how much you hoped, and how much you believed regarding other people. Had he turned God into a regular, everyday person in his head as a result?
Had God become less than God to him because of the way he trained his mind and heart for his job? And if so, how would he remedy it? Or was that the job of the Holy Spirit?
Behind him, he sensed more than heard a shuffling, and within moments, he noted Edward, Jason, Paloma, and Cherish all getting up quickly. He turned his head and saw Kristof Sage, arms against the wall, breathing heavily at the effort to walk on his own into the room.
He had almost made it the whole way, but apparently was in need of more help.
“I couldn’t… help… but over…hear what… you were… reading,” the man said, his raspy voice even more ragged with the heavy breathing. “I… think I need… to know… more.”
Justice smiled.
So, he wasn’t the only one here dealing with so many worries.
But why would he think he was? He wasn’t the one dying, and he wasn’t the one who had lost his wife and son. He wasn’t the one whose relationship with his mother had gone south in the eye of the media.
He couldn’t even imagine.
Standing to allow the man to take his seat on the cou
ch, Justice quickly offered to get him some water, which was turned down.
“Thank you, though,” came the reply, a little less worn sounding. “I just… need to catch… my breath… and learn.”
Forty Four
Meridian, Mississippi… June 20, 2025
“So, they’re really gone, then,” Mario asked Prudence and Amos as they walked toward the nearby McDonald’s to grab a bite to eat. “The Fergusons really got transferred that quickly?”
“Yeah, they left last night, about three in the morning,” Amos told him, stopping to retie one of his brilliant yellow shoes. “I’m not sure, but I thought I overheard someone say the Missouri branch is the next best shot for ‘em, considering Angus’s health. The other two are just too far into the country for quality healthcare.”
Mario nodded, waiting impatiently for the man to catch up to him and Prudence. Central West End, St. Louis might not be where he’d move, but he could envision Calico, Romeo, and Angus faring well, given the circumstances.
With the Children’s Hospital right there, they’d be close to anything they needed for Angus’ diabetes issues. And he was thankful that, somehow, by some miracle, the St. Louis crime rate had plummeted over the last ten years, making it possible to house a family more safely than ever before.
He had met the head guy there, Robert Villanueva, at the HUVA conference a couple of years prior. They had, in fact, had their conference right there in St. Louis, and while there, he attended something called a “Sip & Stroll,” which had become a local custom where you were able to check out various art galleries, carrying your wine along with you.
Mr. Villanueva seemed an upstanding and gracious fellow; he just wished there was some way that the Fergusons could have stayed here in Mississippi. He’d miss them, more than he’d like to admit.
His thoughts drifted back to the damage done to the upper rooms that the Fergusons and some of the HUVA staff had occupied, and he sighed as Amos caught up, giving him a weak smile.
For once, the pair wore something that didn’t clash: they wore matching yellow sneakers, jeans, and tee-shirts for the Hard Rock Café in LA. Prudence wore her hair in a single plait down her back, blue and yellow ribbons woven into it.
“All I know is I wish them well. I’m gonna miss that little guy, and Calico, too. I really healed some from what happened earlier in my life with their being here,” Prudence said, seemingly unaware that they had no idea what she was talking about. She hit the button for the crosswalk and they stopped to wait several moments before traffic slowed to a halt, and the little green man began to blink.
As they crossed through the parking lot of the golf course and into McDonald’s, Mario began to wonder what life would be like for the little family now that they were on the move again.
Surely, they had to be traumatized by now, but they had shown a strong front nearly the whole time they had been here, waiting for a new placement. One of the families from church had taken them in for a bit, and Mario wondered how the farewells had gone.
He wished they’d stopped in to say goodbye to him, but then again, he’d been off-shift, at home. They wouldn’t have known where he lived; that it was within twenty minutes of here on a good day, with fair traffic.
Mario pushed his way through the doors, holding the first set long enough for his companions to enter and a group of college-age young women to exit, then thanked Amos for holding the second door. Moving to stand in line behind Prudence, he allowed Amos to sidestep him, as they were likely ordering together, and waited his turn.
“What from your past,” he suddenly wanted to know.
Prudence turned toward him, looking him in the eye a moment, then down at her brilliant yellow shoes. “Um. I think this is not the place to say, but… it’s time you all know, anyhow. At the next meeting, I promise.”
Mario nodded, a bit frustrated.
If she wasn’t going to tell them for another two weeks, why say something now and have him wondering and worrying?
What was the big deal, and what did Angus have to do with it?
Forty Five
St. Louis, Missouri… June 23, 2025
“Welcome to Le Chateau Jean-Pierre,” Calico heard the man on the other side of the speaker telling them as their car pulled forward onto the little belt that would draw it inside the gated apartment community they were now to live in.
She took a deep breath as the belt underneath them made a whirring noise, and the car turned to the right, into the parking lot, where there were three spots remaining. Romeo pulled into the closest of them, and they got out of the car, making sure it was locked, as a short, squat, friendly-looking Hispanic gentleman stepped out the double doors of the building and headed toward them with a smile.
“I see you made it,” the man said as he approached them. “I am Robert Villanueva, and I am the lead for this HUVA collect,” he continued. “May I and my team assist you with your luggage?”
Calico observed the man, as well as the building behind him as Romeo explained they had no luggage. “Not really, anyway,” he continued. “When that twister hit, it took just about everything but the clothes on our backs, and so we’ve a suitcase to share for now, and I think I’ve got that.”
Le Chateau Jean-Pierre was an older-looking building, three storied and built to look like it had come out of the nineteenth century, though she knew from the information at the gate she’d read that it hadn’t been built until 2015. The “ancient” building was merely ten years old, and the man before them, clean-shaven. A pleasant-seeming man with dark curly hair salted with white and large almond-shaped deep brown eyes, and was going to be their guiding light for the time they stayed in St. Louis.
But after what happened in Seal Beach, and then in Meridian, how long would they be here?
Calico wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but chose to trust God for what was happening. She reminded herself to be thankful: they would have a roof over their heads, and they were near a hospital specializing in children’s illnesses.
“In that event,” Robert said, his voice softly accented and kind, “please, let me introduce you to the rest of the team,” he continued. “We are not as large here, given we have had less clients, but we are a family of our own making, if you know what I mean.”
Taking Angus’s hand in hers on one side, and Romeo’s on the other, they followed Mr. Villanueva through the doors and up a flight of stairs. Romeo carried their singular suitcase on the other side. Passing three doors to the left, they followed him into the fourth, the swirly-curly sign on it announcing it was the Eiffel Tower suite.
“This is not your room yet,” Mr. Villanueva assured them as he opened the door for them. “This is the headquarters of the St. Louis branch of the Hollywood Underground Victims Assistance, and where you will come if you need anything. We’re a bit less… formal around here than other branches, given that we all live here at the compound. A third here, in this building, and the other two-thirds in the cottages surrounding, at the back,” he explained as a group of five others nodded at them cordially.
Offering them seats, and then, something to drink, Robert Villanueva waved the others in the room over to meet them. Much to Calico’s delight, three of them were women, making for a balanced team.
Sipping on the lemonade he brought her, with Angus at her side, clinging to her just a little, she took mental notes of all she saw. The Eiffel Tower room, apparently, was named so for the large painting of it covering the wall between the sinks and the windows. The lamps and one table also resembled the tower, and the linens in the kitchenette area had a painting of them on it.
In the center of the table they were seated at was a replica of the tower itself, complete with cherry blossom trees that looked so real, Calico was tempted to touch it. She refrained, but barely.
“So, team,” Robert Villanueva said, clapping his hands, “this is our new family. And I, for one, am glad they were able to join us, in spite of their circumstances. As you know from
our briefing with Mr. Gerard,” he continued, his eyes on the people around them, “ Romeo and Calico Ferguson are former HUVA agents themselves, and so they understand better than most what it is to be on either side of this. Please, make them feel welcome.”
A smattering of applause left Calico in curious wonder for a few moments before Mr. Villanueva began the introductions.
“Elisabet McAndrews,” he said, pointing to a tall, angular blonde-haired woman with green oval glasses, “Jessica Davis-Murphree,” he said, pointing to a plump dark-haired woman with a twinkle in her large, deep blue eyes, “and my wife, Ursula Villanueva,” he said, pointing toward a small-boned but curvy woman with large green-grey eyes and dimples, hair long, black, and straight pulled into a ponytail. For a moment, Calico wondered if she weren’t both Mexican and African-American, but she let the thought go. “These are our womenfolk.”
Next, he pointed to a bear of a man with dark red-brown hair, a few days of stubble along his jaw, deep green eyes, a slightly prominent belly and thick shoulders leading to arms half as big around as Calico’s thighs. “This is Elisabet’s husband, Zebedee McAndrews, and over here,” he said, pointing toward a lanky black man with braids halfway down to his waist and a small mole to the right of his full lips, “ is Philip Murphree, husband to Jessica. And that, friends, is our team.”
Romeo moved to shake each of their hands, and Calico did as well, Angus continuing to avert his eyes. Once they’d introduced themselves one on one to each of the team members, she bent low to talk with her son.
“What’s going on, young man,” she asked him.
“I don’t feel good,” he said finally, causing her heart to speed up. “My tummy hurts, and I’m hungry, and also I have to go to the bathroom, and I wanna barf,” he told her, looking into her eyes with a pained expression.
All senses on alert, she nodded, trying to stay calm, and announced that, insurance having gone through or not, they needed to take a trip over to the children’s hospital, and quickly.
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