I rose, snatched my purse and clothes, and slipped into the bathroom. I let the water rinse the tears from my cheeks…but a few reached into my heart where they couldn’t be washed away.
* * *
After I got dressed, Tom shoved fifty dollars in my hand. “For a cab.”
I crammed the bills in my pocket. “Thanks.”
His blue eyes clouded. His hands cupped over mine. “I won’t be here after today, you know.”
I swallowed hard. The words “I know” barely eked from my mouth. My eyes swam in the bleak knowledge I’d never see him again.
He kissed me one last time, then peeled me from his arms.
“Goodbye, Jen.” His voice cracked again as he closed the door.
I stood on the stoop as fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks. More than the chipped, wooden front door of a dilapidated duplex separated us now. My gut and my heart both felt hollow to the core.
I pressed my face into the wind to dry my eyes and walked toward a drugstore’s sign on the corner of McCart and Westcreek. I pulled out my cell, phoned for a cab, then went inside.
Comfort food. That’s what I needed. I regressed into my childhood and bought a pint of chocolate milk and a package of graham crackers. The combination had always made a scraped knee feel better. A shredded heart, well, that was another matter entirely.
The cab arrived soon after I’d swallowed the last of the milk. I gave him the address, told him I wasn’t feeling well, and scrunched down into the back seat so he’d leave me alone and not chit-chat, as cabbies so often do. He obliged.
I half-closed my eyes and let the rumble of the tires drown out my sorrows. When the cab driver dropped me off, he told me the fare was $38.25. I handed him the whole fifty. He smiled and thanked me. I was glad to get rid of it. It smelled of Tom’s cologne.
I fumbled for the key to my apartment. Tom Cat rushed to me and made several S curves around my legs. At least one man in my life was faithful and true. He made no bones about what he wanted from me—a can of food and hours of petting. I agreed to his wants as we snuggled on my sofa and watched the noise on TV.
As my vacant eyes absorbed the sitcom, my mind pleaded to God. Was He really there and could He find them? Could He find me?
* * *
Finals were two days away and my brain would not focus. I felt as if I was in the vortex of a tornado. The facts of the past few days swirled around me, yet something barred them from touching me, hurting me. A strange calm beyond numbness acted like an antibiotic cream on my heart.
For two days, I shuffled through the motions of getting dressed, eating, going to pre-exam cram sessions, and coming home. I saw Becky as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. She waved at me and called out my name. I closed the door. Rude, I know, but I just didn’t want to chat. I vowed to call her back later.
Within two hours, the phone rang. I thought it would be her. But it wasn’t.
“Jen. It’s Jake. I had to call and check on you. Are you okay?”
I gave him a short laugh. “Did the Powers that Be tell you to call?”
He was silent.
Suddenly I felt ashamed. My voice began to quiver. “Oh, Jake, I’m sorry. Can we talk?”
“I have some time right now. Do you want to come here, or for me to go over there?”
“Is it Kosher for you to come here?” I wrapped the end of my shirttail around my finger. “I don’t think I feel up to—” My sentence ended in a stifled whimper.
“That’s okay. I’ll come to you.”
I gave him the address and the name of the apartments.
“I know that complex. I’ll be there in twenty. What’s the gate code?”
I rattled off the code and told him which unit was mine. Exactly twenty minutes later there was a rap on my door.
I flung it open with the sweetest smile I could muster. Then it faded. Two blue-lined, pink shadowed, narrow dark eyes peered into me.
“Where is he?”
I leaned against the door praying Jake’s steps would sound any second. “Who? My pastor? That’s who I’m expecting. You want to pray with him as well?”
She shoved the door open, yanking it from my hand. She pushed me against the wall of my vestibule and pointed a long claw at my nose. “Where’s Tom?”
“Oh, you mean Travis?”
She slapped me. “Don’t mess with me, witch. That love sick idiot sought you out.” She thrust past me and strutted down the hall in four-inch stilettos. “Still in your bed?”
I slammed my fist against the opened door. Heat pressed against my cheeks and my ears. “My Tom Cat is here.” I yelled from the foyer. “And he is the only Tom that shares my bed.”
She spun around, then looked to my right. Her scowl became a wicked leer.
I turned to see a black tie over a white shirt standing on my threshold, along with a hand clutching a Bible.
“Jen?”
I lowered my face in penitence. “Hi, Pastor Jake.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Excuse me.” Mae Lin brushed past us, but not before she shot silent Chinese curses into my eyes. She flew down my stairs in a huff. Her tight mini-shorts stretched across her backside, revealing the lower curves of her buttocks.
Jake raised an eyebrow and jerked his thumb. “Was that…?”
“Yep.”
He patted the Bible with his other hand. “Looks like I came just in time.” He took two steps then stopped. “May I enter?”
I folded against the door. “Oh, God, come in, yes.” Then my hand flew to my mouth.
Jake leaned into my ear. “It’s okay to invite Him in as well. If you didn’t, I would have.”
All the tension spurted from my mouth in a laugh. I motioned him into the living room. He chose the straight back chair at an angle to the couch. Pastoral protocol.
I responded with proper Southern hostess etiquette. “What can I get you? Water, a Coke?”
He crossed his leg. “Water. Thank you.” A mechanical bling sounded. “Excuse me, I must respond to this text.”
“Oh. Okay. A pastor’s work is never done, huh?”
He raised an eyebrow, got out his phone, and began to click away. I went into the kitchen. Through the pass-through I noticed him slip his phone back in his pocket and scan my apartment. He caught my glance and smiled. “Very nice. Cozy. You have a good eye for decorating.”
“Really, or is that the ‘make the member of your congregation feel comfortable 101’ response?” I handed him a glass of water.
He took a sip and gave me a wry smile. “Tell me. How did an intelligent girl like you get involved in all of this?”
I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. My jaw tightened to keep the storm from pressing in, but it engulfed me. Tears rushed down my cheeks. “My husband’s alive, Jake. And he’s trafficking teenage girls.”
Hearing the words out loud from my own lips made me shudder all over. The room twirled. My body ached as if ten elephants were sitting on me. I felt nauseous, and then weak all over. Suddenly a wail burst forth from deep in my gut. I flung myself at Jake’s feet, grabbed hold of his legs, and blubbered. “Dear God, help me. Help me.”
He crouched to stroke my hair and whispered a prayer.
After a while, I brushed my eyes and nose with my sleeve. His pant leg was soaked, poor man. He didn’t seem to mind. He reached down, gathered me to my feet, and eased me over to the couch.
“Time for me to get you water.” He raised my legs as I laid down and covered me with the afghan I kept draped over the sofa arm. I sank into my throw pillows and covered my eyes with my arm.
Jake came back and handed me a glass. I rose, took it from him, and mouthed a thank you. He pulled one of the dining room chairs over and sat facing me. “Take your time.”
I sighed the last weighty shudder off my chest and took a gulp of tap water.
Jake reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. He punched in a number with his thumb then raised it to his ear. “Mrs. E
dwards? I have a member of the flock in crisis. Cancel my other appointments for the day, okay?”
I darted to a sitting position as I sloshed the water. “Oh, please. Don’t do that.”
He hung up. “Already done. Don’t fret. It was just the financial committee. In fact…” His eyes twinkled as he took the glass from me. “I should thank you.”
I grabbed a throw pillow and drew it to my heart. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you.”
He looked at me. “Where are you now, Jen?”
I knew he didn’t mean my apartment. “In a silent storm whirling around me as if I am at sea. Every once in a while a wave slams into me. I don’t see it coming.”
The minister, too wise for his years, nodded and reached into his shirt pocket to pull out a folded piece of computer paper. “Perhaps that is why when I read this, I immediately thought of you and lifted you in prayer.”
I leaned forward and reached for it. “What is it?”
He eyed the paper then me. “This is from a lady named Marilyn who writes devotionals on the web. Do you know the story of Jesus walking on the water?”
I shrugged. “Sort of.”
“She writes that what is amazing to her is not the part where Jesus walked on the water toward His disciples and then calmed the storm.”
I scrunched my brows together. “No?”
Jake raised his focus from the paper and looked at me. He shifted his weight. “What she found incredible was Jesus chose to be with His disciples rather than waving His hand to still the storm from the mountain where He’d been praying—which He could have done.”
I shook my head, still not grasping his point.
He swallowed the rest of the water in his glass. “Jen. God has already come down to be with you in this storm. You just have to see Him, and like Peter, walk to Him.”
New tears filled my eyes. “Why would He do that for me?”
Pastor Jake lowered his eyes to the gold cross around my neck. “Don’t you know why?”
He left the paper beside me and excused himself to get another glass of water. I clutched the cross. A warmth spread across me. The sentimental gift from my parents suddenly became so much more than that. It was as if by touching it, peace shot into my soul.
Tom’s words echoed in my mind. “You have to find yourself before you can find them.” I jolted and snapped my fingers. “I get it!”
Jake came back into the room. “Good.”
I raised my back straight as a soldier’s. “I have to find God and go to Him. He’ll lead me to Marisol and Monica. I can be like Jesus and walk into their storm to calm them.”
“Whoa, Jen.” He raised his hand. “If that is His will. Don’t assume it is.”
I gave him a blank look. “But I feel such a strong connection.”
He sat in the chair and took a long sip. Then he lowered his glass to the carpet and peered deep into my eyes. “Do you know why you feel this connection?”
I pressed my lips together and turned to stare out the slider to the tree branches. The world outside was sunny. Mine was anything but that. “Yes, I do.” I returned my gaze to him. “It’s as if in my search to find them, God has found me again. I understand why they will resist me. I resisted God way too long. I was too scared to change. Just like them. It’s why I can reach them.”
The pastor’s face warmed.
I heard Tom’s advice in my head. Tell him everything. “There is more, Jake. I feel the connection because...” I took a deep breath and spit it out. “They have been with my husband as well. He forced them to. Marisol is carrying his child.”
Were ministers supposed to show surprise? Perhaps he couldn’t help it. Jake widened his eyes, then clicked his tongue. “Oh, Jen. I am so very sorry. Adultery is sited as legitimate grounds for divorce in the Bible, but I can’t counsel you to do that.”
I laughed. “Why would I? I’m a widow, right?” A giggle burst from my gut, then turned into sobs. I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose.
“But if he’s alive?”
I shook my head. “Only a few people know, and they aren’t likely to go to the cops and tell. The State of Texas says I am a widow. He’s dead to me, legally, and emotionally.”
He wrung his hands. “But is he morally? This is not your average theological scenario.”
“No? They didn’t include this in your seminary counseling courses?” My tone dripped onto the carpet, but he took no offense.
Jake ran his hands over his face and sighed. “Jen, I want you to promise me something here and now.”
I unwrapped the tissue from my fingers, and blew my nose again. “Okay.”
He moved forward in the chair to where our knees almost touched. I could smell the remnants of the breath mint he must have popped into his mouth on the way over. It touched my heart that he’d care enough to do that. Or maybe seminary taught them to do that as well. Commandment Number 12: Never be offensive to the flock.
He stared into my pupils. “I mean it.”
“Okay.” I wiggled to break his stare.
“Drop this whole thing. It is too much for you. Give it to God. Let Him handle it. You’ll sink in this storm, Jen, if you don’t cling to Him.”
I leaned back and shook my head. “How do I?”
Jake pressed the palms of his hands on to his knees. “Daily. Trust me. It’s the only way you can.”
* * *
The next day—sure I’d flunked my exams—I walked to my car feeling totally defeated. I wasn’t sure who I was or where I was supposed to go. My clothes no longer fit, but I had no idea where to buy new ones, or even what size I was.
I startled easily at every sound. Every Oriental girl or muscular Hispanic man I saw tripped my heart rate into overdrive. Everywhere I turned, I saw them staring at me—in cars with loud music blaring, on street corners, in restaurants.
After Jake’s visit, I’d dug my anti-anxiety pills out of the back of my bathroom drawer. There were five in the bottle. Today only one remained. And it was at home.
Jake left a text message for me to come to his office at 4:00 p.m. When I arrived, Mrs. Edwards was packing up for the day.
“Computer being nicer to you, Mrs. Edwards?”
She smiled. “Yes.” She placed her black patent leather purse onto her arm. “They’re waiting for you.”
“They?”
I tapped on the mahogany door jamb. There, Jake stood with a large muscular Hispanic man. I felt the blood in my face rush to my toes.
Jake extended his hand and motioned me inside. “Ah, Jen. This is Agent Gonzales with the FBI. You two should meet.”
I gave him an are-you-nuts look.
His mouth curved upwards. “Let him explain. He came to me asking if I’d pray with him over his job. You see, he is undercover trying to help get trafficked teens off the streets. He might be the answer to your prayers in finding Marisol and Monica.”
I laid my purse on the desk and slid into one of the green leather chairs. Agent Gonzales also sat, crossing his leg over his thigh. I stared into his eyes, trying to read him.
Jake settled in behind his desk. “Lemonade, anyone? The women’s group left a jug of it in the fridge.” He stood up.
I reached out my hand to him. “Don’t leave.”
Agent Gonzales warmed his smile. “I won’t bite, Mrs. Westlaw. I think I may be able to help you in your plight.”
I shot my pastor a look. “This agent knows of my plight, huh?”
Jake tented his fingers and nodded.
I raised my chin. “And what do you want in return?” If he thought I’d give him information about Tom, or Robert, he was dead wrong. I wanted Robert to stay buried, and Tom to stay free.
The two men exchanged glances. Jake shifted in his chair.
I flung an icy glare toward my minister who was supposed to keep confidences. “What have you told him?”
“I read the papers, ma’am,” the agent said in a flat, official tone. “I know who you are. You were
so adamant about getting the media to help you locate these trafficked girls you met while kidnapped in the desert, then suddenly became silent. Then, months later, you reappear on Christian radio and begin speaking at churches about trafficking. Then, you miss a speaking engagement and disappear from view again.” He leaned toward me. “I want to know why, Mrs. Westlaw. Who’s been putting pressure on you?”
I still stared at Jake. Was he yet another man who’d betrayed me? Could any of them be trusted? “My pastor told me not to pursue it. That I couldn’t handle it and to give it to God.”
My supposed confidante rocked back in his chair. I broke eye contact and slowly turned them to Agent Gonzales. The brass clock in the bookcase ticked off the seconds of silence.
“Good day, gentlemen.” I rose from the chair and reached for my purse.
Jake grabbed for my elbow across his executive desk, almost losing his footing. “Wait, Jen. Please…hear him out. He has risked as much as you coming here.”
“Perhaps more.” The man’s voice lowered. “If he knew, I’d blow four years of investigation and endanger my life.”
I turned to him. “If who knew?”
“The Anglo man who leads the cartel ring in the New Mexican desert. I believe his name is Roberto. I am also guessing you know all about him?”
My knees buckled beneath me as I slumped into the chair.
“How much do you know?” I croaked the question out. My heart thumped in my ears. Did they know about Tom? Had they captured him? Had I led them to him?
“We think Roberto is still alive, even though he faked his own death. He’s an asset gone rogue. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded but kept my focus on Jake. His expression remained blank, but his eyes beckoned me to trust.
Gonzales’s gaze darted to Jake’s face, and then back to mine. “Mrs. Westlaw?”
My finger shivered in anger as I pointed it at my pastor. “I trusted you. You broke the confidentiality rule. How could you?”
He raised both hands. “Jen. I didn’t. I only told him...”
I stomped my foot and screamed. “How dare you tell him anything!”
Hush in the Storm Page 26
