Seeking Refuge

by Alana Terry

  Five months had passed since she last saw Pastor Cho. He had spoken at her church three months before he left with Dad for the Middle East. But here was his son. Matthew didn’t look very much like his dad, but he talked like him. Instead of smiling and crying like she wanted to, she attempted Mom’s stoic look to hide the pounding in her heart.

  “My dad was in Iraq too,” Paul said. They were still going around the circle, and the mention of ‘Iraq’ brought Hadassah right back to the moment. “Alex Howell.”

  “You mean the prophet, Alex Howell?” Hadassah asked.

  “That’s him,” Paul replied sadly.

  She also remembered Alex Howell, who had come to her church three times a year when she was younger. Paul looked so much like his dad, and he had the same quiet demeanor.

  Hyun’s face looked more stolid than usual. “My mother, Sun Xi, was also taken hostage in Iraq. I was on the phone with her when her vehicle was surrounded. There are still no news reports about this attack and no answers from anyone in the State Department.”

  In the necessary but awkward silence following Hyun’s words, a mix of anxiousness and sorrow clung to the air Hadassah breathed. Maleek’s knees bounced up and down. Matthew, with both elbows on his knees, gripped his hair in his fists. Christina rubbed the end of her long braid against the palm of her hand and stared stoically at the wall. Priscilla fixed her gaze on the carpet and gripped the sides of her chair until her knuckles turned white. Scraping at the edges of her bandages, Hadassah chewed the side of her tongue and fought tears, each breath taking every ounce of strength in her.

  After a few minutes of silence, Mr. Cooper spoke again. “R.S.O has a mission beyond finding your family members, but I wanted to let you know we’ll be making this a priority. I have friends who are hunting down details on each one of your relatives. Let us pray.”

  After Aaron finished speaking, Hadassah had no desire to talk about it further. Not tonight. But she felt closer to everyone here after sharing like this. And her mind churned away theories connecting all the disappearances.

  Chapter 18: Paul

  CLOSING HIS BIBLE AND his eyes, Paul sank deep into prayer. Since the death of his mom and the disappearance of his dad, he felt like an orphan, and last night at the church reminded him of this. He drank in the promise from Jesus again, “I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you.”

  At least he had Matt as his partner for the week.

  As soon as he thought of Matt, he looked up and saw his friend walking through the doorway of the guys’ room.

  “Yo, dude, you’re gonna waste away if you keep skipping breakfast.” Matt chuckled as he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a sweater.

  Paul glanced down at his thick stomach line. “It’ll take skipping many more meals before anything like that happens. Is breakfast done?”

  “Scraped clean, dude. There might be an apple left, but I doubt it, since Adam and Dave are in the house.”

  “Did Mr. Cooper hand out the list for the day?”

  “Yup. We’re building a handicap ramp in the Mount Olivet community.”

  “Is that the new community with all the house churches?”

  “There are way too many house churches springing up to keep track of them. But Mr. Cooper gave some clear directions for building this ramp, so it won’t take all day.”

  MATT’S HAMMERING BEAT in time with Paul’s heavy thoughts about the disappearances.

  “So, whatcha think of the new recruits?” Matt asked, interrupting Paul’s heady processing.

  “Aye, they’re fine, I’d say.”

  Matt burst with laughter.

  “What?”

  “You. Yer still talking like an Irishman when you haven’t been there in how many years?” Matt’s attempt at a brogue was embarrassing.

  “Seven. But I spent half my life there.”

  “Okay, but ‘fine’ doesn’t tell me what you think about them.”

  “Who?”

  “You’re avoiding my question, bro. I know you’re a prophet like your dad.”

  “But I never use it for gossip.”

  “Fair enough. And a good rule to live by.”

  Paul looked up from his hammering. “You thinking of someone in particular?”

  “Hadassah.”

  “Pastor Michelman’s daughter? Sure, she’s cute as a button, but did you see her mom? She was terrifying. Chances are her daughter will end up the same.”

  “I know.” Matt grinned.

  “I didn’t know you liked that in a girl.”

  “To be terrified by a glance? I love a challenge.”

  “Don’t you remember what Mr. Cooper told us the other night? We’re not supposed to look at the girls if we want to stay with R.S.O.”

  “I know, dude. I ain’t gonna blow my only chance to find my dad and to work with R.S.O. because of a girl. But I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

  Paul looked up at his friend and grunted.

  “Yo, I’m serious about R.S.O., so don’t think I’ll blow it now.”

  “Then get those dreamy eyes out of your head.”

  As if the wood weighed no more than a few sheets of paper, Matt carted over three large slabs of plywood and laid them on the frame. “I got to meet Pastor Michelman before he left with my dad.”

  Glancing up and down the ramp, Paul pondered where he would begin nailing down the plywood first. Then he looked up at his friend. “Yeah, Pastor Michelman was a great speaker.”

  “Would you stop talking about them in past tense? They’re alive and I’m gonna find them: your dad, her dad, my dad, Hyun’s mom, Christina’s dad. And you’re gonna help me.”

  Paul picked up the nail gun and fired a few shots, securing one of the slabs to the frame. The air compressor kicked on and whirred louder than his thoughts, calming the thunder in his heart. He nailed the next slab to the frame, firing the gun over and over until the compressor’s whir lulled to silence. Thankfully, having the prophetic gift didn’t mean he saw the future clearly. Maybe Matthew was right. But hope wrestled with the fear that he really was an orphan. “Who do you think is responsible for all the disappearances?”

  “I take it you think it’s one person, too.”

  “Or some diabolical league. Nine days have passed and we still can’t convince a government official anywhere to take the disappearances seriously. This is America, where missing persons are supposed to matter. It’s like there’s this big cover-up.”

  “Careful, dude, you’re starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist.”

  “You mean I’m starting to sound like you?”

  Matt measured off the last piece of plywood. “Or Mr. Cooper. But is that so bad? Did you hear the news about the Prime Minister over in Jordan?”

  “You mean Fahd Afsal? No, what?”

  “He took power late yesterday after a plane crash killed the king and his family. You know he was the Minister of Aviation before his appointment as Prime Minister, right?”

  Paul almost doubled over, as if the news was a kick to his stomach.

  Matt grimaced and looked up at him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That it wasn’t an accident? My goodness, the one morning I skip reading CNN’s website.” He shook his head. “But do you really think this Prime Minister wielded so much power before this coup to have orchestrated the attacks in Iraq last week?”

  “He just killed his king, dude.”

  This time Paul grimaced, shut his eyes, then relaxed his fist. “Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m surprised Mr. Cooper didn’t tell everyone over breakfast.”

  “He didn’t tell everyone, but he did tell a few of us second years. And if you remember, you skipped breakfast, bro.”

  “But you think the kidnappings are linked to this Prime Minister?”

  “Who else?”

  “Iran. Syria. Russia. China. Libya. Need I go on?”

  “What about the pope?”

  Paul shook
his head. “Leo XIV? He’s been the pope, what, six months? And he’s not much older than we are; he never should have been chosen as pope. I think scheming of that scale might be beyond him.”

  Matt shrugged. “Or it might not. He rose to power awfully young, and through what scheming?”

  “Yeah, he does have a weaselly look to him.”

  Chapter 19: Jealousy

  WHEN SHE WOKE EARLY on Friday morning, Hadassah sat up in her makeshift bed and pulled her Bible into her lap. Everyone was still asleep, except for Christina, who had stepped out the door only a moment before. Hadassah stared at the cover of her Bible and whispered a prayer past the grogginess consuming her brain. It had been a long week. She desired more than ever to read and pray as much as possible before everyone woke.

  She opened her Bible and switched on the tiny book light, illuminating the first page she opened to. Psalm 119 stared at her, in all its long, majestic musings on the beauty of the law. Her eyes swirled, glancing at this longest chapter in the Bible. They came to focus on the next Psalm, 120, a short one she had hardly read before. She fixated on the second verse: “Save me, LORD, from lying lips and from deceitful tongues.” The writer of the Psalm probably had a different meaning in mind, but the lying lips she wanted salvation from were her own. It had taken all of her concentration this week to keep from lying, and she couldn’t keep it up. There has to be a better way. She focused her thoughts into a prayer. She would have skipped breakfast, except she didn’t know what to anticipate for the workday.

  During the rush for food, Hadassah sat at the far end of the common room staring at her plate of stewed apples and scrambled eggs while she ate. Both heart and mind lagged with exhaustion.

  “So, how many languages do you speak?”

  She looked up to see Matthew standing beside her. The pace of her heart suddenly quickened.

  “You looked so lonely all the way over here, I figured I’d finally come over and talk to you.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand to hide both her smile and her bite of food. “Hello.”

  Matthew used his foot to kick a chair into a spin and sat down with the back of it against his chest and his arms perched atop the metal frame. “I’ll get the boring stuff out of the way while you’re a captive audience. I only speak four languages, but I’m learning Arabic and Farsi. Paul, Zeke, Pedro, Maleek and I have been training with R.S.O. for a year, but I’ve known most of those dudes for forever. And I’ve known Mr. Cooper for years. He started training me before the idea of R.S.O. came about. Both my dad and my mom insisted. My family’s been friends with the Coopers for nine years, which is literally half my life. Okay, my boring life is all discussed. Your turn, yo.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of bagel. “I’m still eating.”

  “Alright, then. So, I heard you’ve been to Liberia. I went there with Mr. Cooper last August.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I know. I saw you in the market in Monrovia.”

  “I wish I’d seen you.”

  “Did you meet Andrew Blessing?”

  He cast his glance down at the carpet.

  In that awkward silence which followed, she wished she hadn’t have asked.

  He looked up again. “One more year till God releases us to bring His justice and freedom to people. Are you looking forward to it?” His sudden grin filled her with mirroring determination.

  Nodding in agreement, she swallowed her last bite before she should have. “I am. I feel at home working out there, not inside walls.” She smiled.

  “Hey, do you think we’ll ever be on assignment together?”

  She caught herself smiling and nodding, as if this was all she knew how to do.

  “And I might even be able to keep up with you out there, girl.”

  This time she gave a coy grin. “Oh, you think you’re that stealth?”

  He nudged her shoulder playfully with his elbow. “Yeah, you’re right, probably not.”

  She wanted the conversation to continue, but the van going to the prayer room was ready to leave.

  Hadassah and Christina spent half the day cleaning up the prayer room and healing rooms at NoCaHoP. Matthew consumed her daydreams, even the ones about rescuing Dad. For this reason she spent her afternoon break soaking in the presence of the Lord. This time alone with God refreshed her.

  She was falling in love with Yeshua. As she sat in the prayer room, she longed for His return more than she longed for anything. “Come, Yeshua,” she whispered until love for Him flooded her being. She couldn’t imagine a better gift than to love the Lord.

  On the way back to the house for their last night there, Mr. Cooper informed everyone that not many of them could look forward to a hot shower.

  “Too many are too grimy,” Mr. Cooper said. The largest group of recruits had cleaned in the low income housing neighborhood.

  “I don’t mind taking a warm shower,” Lisa said. “I mean, if it’s a burden on anyone to try to figure out who goes first.”

  Matthew nudged Lisa with his elbow. “It’s not a burden to me, dude.”

  Watching him joke around like this, a fascination for Matthew welled up in Hadassah’s heart. She was quite sure, after hearing the guidelines spelled out three times already, that boyfriend and girlfriend relationships between recruits were discouraged. But no one ever made her feel the way he did, none from her church in New York and certainly no one from high school. Hadassah wanted to know more about him than about anyone else she had ever met.

  Was Mrs. Cooper safe to talk to? Would the Coopers kick her out of the program? Management of emotion is the best way to deal with this. She could control fear while on assignments, why not this?

  All night, during a long, dark wrestling through prayer, she attempted this strategy of management. At least Matthew didn’t show any more interest in her.

  By 3:00am she had tossed and turned more than she could bear and quietly crept past all the sleeping, snoring, dreaming girls. Nightlights in the hallway helped her find the stairs in the huge house. Not a creak all the way down the hall nor on the stairs. She sighed. She wanted some time completely alone; the presence of people, either sleeping or awake, clouded her thinking.

  The flickering amber glow on the walls of the kitchen told her at least someone was still awake. She stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened. She didn’t want to disturb anyone—perhaps they sought solitude as well—but if no one stirred, she would blow out the candles. Not a sound. She made her way into the kitchen, stood over the two candles and inhaled deeply to blow them both out at once.

  “Don’t blow out the candles yet.” The urgent whisper was Christina’s voice.

  “I’m sorry.” Hadassah searched the darker part of the common room for her friend. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

  “I was getting ready to go to sleep.”

  “Yo, me too.” This second voice was Matthew’s. Hadassah felt her head and heart spin in opposite directions. The surge of jealousy she fought lingered like a silk scarf wrapped tight around her neck.

  “Tomorrow will be a long day.” Christina sighed. “I know I won’t be able to sleep in the van all the way to the Lighthouse.”

  “Mr. Cooper will be handing out eye masks to everyone so no one knows how to get back there if we bail out early,” Matthew said. “You’ll be able to sleep, girl.”

  “Oh, the things you contrive, Matt,” Christina whispered back.

  Matthew laughed one of his louder laughs, the kind that bounced off the walls so the whole room laughed with him, and his eyes trained on Hadassah in that dim light. He winked at her then looked back at Christina. “You think I’m joking? Well, just wait and see.”

  Christina chuckled. “You going to bed, Mr. Insomnia?” She placed a hand on his arm as she spoke.

  At this gesture of familiarity, Hadassah’s rising jealousy crawled across her skin like a scorpion.

  “Oy vey!” He winked at Hadassah a second time. “I suppose. If I can.
Who knows? I may get an hour or two yet.”

  “How about you?” Christina asked her.

  She peeled her gaze from Matthew, dreading the idea of looking straight at Christina. “I can’t sleep.” At least this was honest.

  “Are you anxious about tomorrow?”

  “Probably.” She couldn’t tell, under the mountain of other emotions, if this was the truth. What did she tell herself about emotional management?

  “I gotta find the guys’ room.” Matthew’s voice cracked and pitched as he spoke. “Good night, Hadassah.” His smile at her danced nervously across his face. “Yo, thanks for talking, Christina.” He turned and nearly crashed into an end table, playing off his misstep with a fluttering laugh.

  “Any time, Matt. Come on, Hadassah, let’s go upstairs.”

  “I will.” But she didn’t move. Not when Matthew left, nor when Christina blew out the candles, leaving Hadassah to rely on starlight and a sliver of a moon. She groped in the dark for a seat, but when she found the couch, she sat on the carpet instead and stared out the sliding glass doors upon a clear night sky. It reminded her of Liberia, except this sky wasn’t as clear with the city lights of Greensboro tingeing it orange.

  Christina placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  In her exhaustion, Hadassah merely groaned her response and scraped at the tips of her fingers.

  “Are you sick?”

  “I don’t know.” This blow to her heart felt like sickness. If she allowed herself she really could get sick.

  “Were you thinking about Africa again?”

  Can I say yes without lying? She looked up at the stars again. “Yeah.” She gave a little cough to clear her throat of the desire to stay silent. “I was remembering the night I spent in the tree waiting for my mom’s friend. The stars were different.”

  “I remember one night in Afghanistan when I got disconnected from my regiment and had to hole up in a tiny cave until dawn. It’s a frightening thing to be so lost and alone in a foreign country.”

  “It was beautiful at the same time.” Feelings of competition rose within her.