She Knows Her God

by Joy Ohagwu

  Letting out a long low breath, Julia hugged her arms around herself. If only it could work! If only she could hug her mom or her mom hug her again! “I pray you’re right.” The words slipped out in a whisper. “Or we could all get killed.”

  Mrs. Black laid a hand on her arm, loosening Julia’s tight grip on herself. “You’re wrong, sweetie. They’d need to get through Jesus first.” She pointed to Bishop. “Let us pray.”

  They bowed their heads. “Father in Heaven, we thank You for this hour. We thank You because nothing catches You by surprise. Nothing. And, in this moment, when we are prepared to make contact with Julia’s family, Father, please guide our words. Please fix our lips with the right words to convey the correct information. And, after the call, may we have succeeded in conveying the information, and may we—and Julia’s family members—stay safe. In Jesus’ mighty name, we pray, amen.”

  “Amen,” Julia and Bishop echoed.

  “I have a suggestion,” Bishop said. They both turned to him. “Why don’t we use my phone? Mrs. Black’s phone can be traced to this center. But I have no address on file. It’s a cheap phone I can toss. It’s safer.”

  Julia accepted Bishop’s phone. “Okay.” She typed her uncle’s number again, skeptical that he would still be at the station. Leaving a voicemail would be fine as far as she was concerned.

  “Hitting dial now,” she warned them. When they nodded, she pressed Dial, then gave the phone to Mrs. Black while her heart pounded furiously.

  This was either the smartest choice she’d made as an eighteen-year-old new adult or the one that would get her family killed. Lord Jesus, please don’t let this be a mistake. Please, God…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pray without ceasing, 1 Thessalonians 5:17

  * * *

  His phone rang on the morning of New Year’s Eve, and Gary jumped back to work. His partner had woken up, and he’d spoken with him when the hospital discharged him. The team working the case in the interim had received some information from Mexico. An American lady seeking missing persons there had met with a girl who gave her some clothing—the clothes Julia was last seen wearing. He shuddered and rubbed a hand over his throbbing forehead. He had been the last person to see Julia. The last to see her free.

  Shaking the image from his mind, he drove to the station. He made straight for the lab.

  “Good morning, guys.” Grateful the man heading the lab was also an early riser, he navigated past a rolling cart housing tools and gloves.

  “Gary.” The man tipped his head. “I should’ve known you’d be here first.”

  Gary slipped his hands into his pockets. “You should be grateful I didn’t pound down the doors.”

  “Your urgency did it for you. I went home pretty late yesterday, so you came on time. Come here and let me show you.”

  Someone stepped in behind Gary, so he turned. “Good morning, sir.”

  His boss patted his back. “Welcome back. Hope you’re ready to jump back into it?”

  “I didn’t get shot at again, so I guess that’s my yes.” Gary had slept in Marcy’s home the entire time, stayed by her bedside at the hospital for some days with police protection, and spent the rest of the time in prayer for his family.

  He’d also used the time to consider some advice Marcy once gave him—advice he hadn’t taken seriously. Like settling down, getting married, starting a family. Things he’d swept to the back burner suddenly became important. He needed someone close to share the burden of his plight, and a godly wife would make a difference. She would encourage him. Maybe make suggestions.

  So, he also prayed for God to grant him a godly wife. Someone who was the right person for him. Someone he could fulfill divine purpose with. He’d prayed it with his whole heart, ready to accept whomever God sent. Willing to accept them as his new family.

  He began preparing his mind and planning his life to allow for the woman God would send him as his wife. He didn’t realize the mind adjustment required to become a married couple. But Gary was sure that, if he didn’t take those steps in his mind now, when the right person showed up, he could miss them.

  He’d prayed for Julia the most, to his surprise. The burden to pray for her came on so strongly, he’d prayed almost a whole day. He’d cried when he’d nearly sank to the assumption that she was dead. He’d cried harder to God in prayer, pleading for Jesus to intervene, deliver her, and save her life. Half the words coming out of his mouth—borne by desperation—didn’t make sense to him. He barely remembered pieces of them. He’d grasped at a grace that had filled him and pleaded for his niece’s life, trusting God. Then he’d returned to praying for Marcy.

  He’d read the Word of God and appropriated it for his sick and missing family members. At the end of the week, he’d felt as though he’d run a spiritual marathon, a necessary one.

  He’d chuckled, recalling Marcy had told him to grow in prayer for the day he might need it. He didn’t know it would be now. He wouldn’t consider himself a prayer warrior just yet. Matter of fact, he learned he didn’t really pray, more like cried, and God accepted those tears as prayer. When peace had settled in his heart yesterday, he’d known his prayers were answered. The hard part began now—holding onto faith until there was physical manifestation—harder for him than for most people. And, not cussing people out. During the week, he’d still had a few days to go to meet his goal—365 days of no cussing. He’d started on Dec 31 the previous year, and it seemed impossible then. He’d prayed, and Marcy and Julia had laughed then. He stuck with it, knowing the words in his mind had to change for him to grow closer to the Savior he loved. If only Marcy was here! She’d be proud. “She is here, just in the hospital.” In the tradition of keeping his faith alive, he kept the faithful confession going.

  “What did you say?” His chief’s question drew him back to the present.

  “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t talking to you.” Gary turned as the lab supervisor claimed their attention with a cough. “You said you wanted to show me something?”

  “Yes, you called for me to come because you had a new development,” the chief concurred.

  “I did.” The lab supervisor waved them toward a screen and flicked it on. “I looked at the clothing from Mexico last night and didn’t see beyond the few blood stains at first.”

  Gary’s fist clenched again inside his pockets at the sight. God, please… He’d managed to work his faith to a level, and the blood on those clothes was challenging his progress. I walk by faith in God. I walk by faith in God.

  “Did you see anything else?” Gary tried to rush him along as his heart was pounding.

  “Yes. A shock actually.”

  Gary clenched his jaw as tight as his fists. He wouldn’t lose his faith. No. He would hang on.

  “It’s a small folded note pinned with a crooked needle inside the threading. I loosened the note off the pin holding it.”

  “A note?” The chief stepped closer.

  “What did it say?” His heart nearly bursting out of his chest, Gary scarcely resisted the urge to grab his colleague and shake the information from him.

  Silence trailed his question as the man flipped the image of the clothes to a rumpled note written with blue ink. Elbowing past the other two men, Gary strained toward it while the man read out loud. “It said ‘Alive’.”

  Gary’s mind was spinning. He pressed cold fingers to the throbbing in his head. Was it real? Did it mean what he thought it did? Could he believe it? Someone had likely smuggled Julia’s clothes to the world to let them know she was alive? He choked and sank into a chair. The chief patted his back. “Take a minute.”

  Gary inhaled and exhaled a few times. “Faith works.” He shut his eyes and let the word of the note chase the fear far, far away. “Faith in God works. Thank you to whoever sent that note.”

  “That’s the sad part,” the lab supervisor said. “He’s dead.”

  Gary gasped. “What? How?”

  “The girl with the clothes
said she saw an altercation between the man—the one who gave her the clothes and instructed her to hand it to anyone who could get it to Julia’s family—and their captor’s boss. She wasn’t sure. She said her Spanish wasn’t good, but she picked up a few words about giving him enough proof about a dead person. The main guy shot and killed the man before they left the United States. He’s dead.”

  Gary stared at the man, his mouth sliding open.

  Returning to Marcy’s place that evening, Gary couldn’t deny still being shaken by the news of the messenger’s demise. In his job, he’d learned nobody ever knew when their last moment would be.

  But… If the person who sent them a message was dead, how were they sure Julia was alive? He’d returned to the lab to inquire further, but was told the last time they checked, the girl who delivered the clothes was still in Mexico. That she’d been rescued from a human trafficking ship. But didn’t know what happened to Julia, who was separated from them in captivity. The clothes were all she had in her possession.

  He set a pan on the stove and cracked some eggs. His appetite had turned upside down. He now ate dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner—he didn’t care. Whatever was in the fridge, he ate. Or he ordered delivery. Whatever held his body, spirit, and soul together.

  While he beat the eggs, he wondered how he could find out more information. Maybe he could call Mexico even if he couldn’t see the girl face to face.

  But…would she be in any shape to have such a conversation? It would take her back to an unpleasant experience, so how sure was he that she could handle it?

  Groaning under his breath and trying not to cuss on the last day of the year, considering his commitment, he set a skillet on the stove and sprayed it with olive oil when it heated up. Making quick work of the fried eggs, he got some toast going, and soon, his coffee cup was ready. Once he’d served himself, he sat alone at the dining table and ate surrounded by Marcy’s mail he’d brought in with bills strewn on the table.

  By the time he finished eating, he made up his mind. He couldn’t just sit here. He couldn’t sleep. Not when he had no proof of whether Julia was alive.

  He set his dishes in the sink. Then, on second thought, he placed them in the dishwasher and got it running.

  He wanted—needed—to get proof of life for Julia. Somehow, in some way. He bowed his head. “Lord Jesus, my nerves are on edge. I have no proof that Julia is alive except this note from a dead man.” He swallowed hard when his voice broke. “I can’t put my hope on a note from a dead man. I’m not sure my faith can hold out much longer. Please show me something, give me proof of life for Julia. Please, God. You own the entire earth. You know where she is. Any credible information will help me not faint.” His voice grew small. “My own faith is cracking like melting ice. I don’t want to serve You with empty words. I want my worship to stay heartfelt. Please, do a miracle for me. Thank You, Lord Jesus.”

  He couldn’t speak anymore. Or else, his hope may crash through his words. Or the thin line he grasped with his whole heart. Gary left the house and armed the security.

  Giving the place one more glance, he determined not to return without some definitive answer—even if it meant getting on a plane to Mexico tomorrow—New Year’s Day. Julia was either dead or alive, and God helping him, Gary would find out the truth now. Until then, he was spending New Year’s Eve at the station till the answer showed up.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Now therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall say. Exodus 4:12

  * * *

  After initial conversations with clues and tips on how the call should go, Julia clenched her fists and tried not to hold her breath just as tightly while Mrs. Black held the phone and it rang. And rang. And Julia waited with bated breath. She’d put the phone on speaker so they could all hear.

  When she checked the time reflected on the phone, it was a half hour to midnight and to a new year. Who would be at the station now? Maybe it was better if no one answered. Sure enough, the phone rang and went to voicemail. A voicemail could be safer.

  “Hello, this is the voicemail box for…” A scuffle sounded in the background, and her uncle’s voice came on. “Hello? Who is this?”

  Her heart leapt in her chest, and she felt like reaching over but knew she’d be unable to speak. Mrs. Black must’ve seen the longing on her face and laid her fingers over her lips. Julia slumped back in her place, and her hair poured over her shoulder. Yes. She knew better.

  “I’m not sure if you remember me? From when,” Julia signaled her, and she said, “you’d said you were coming for dinner.”

  “What?” Her uncle sounded confused, as he should be.

  “You know, ‘Tell them to add my share to the dinner meal.’ You know?” While Mrs. Black shut her eyes, Julia saw her mutter what must be a prayer beneath her breath. She knew her uncle. He wouldn’t give a prank caller a minute. He’d cut the call. “Listen, it’s New Year’s Eve, and—”

  Her uncle gasped and cut Mrs. Black off. “Yes! The dinner. Oh, dear God.” She smiled to Mrs. Black, who pumped a fist in the air. He got the first clue. “Um, ahhhh…” He was struggling to find the right words to mask his speech too.

  Julia was so nervous and her hands fisted so tightly she was sure she might wound herself again. She raised a finger. Mrs. Black nodded.

  “The food was in the fridge.” One of the details she’d given her.

  “Yes, oh yes, it was.” Her uncle’s voice broke.

  “You can’t cry. Not over dinner,” Mrs. Black warned, so he could keep his emotions in check and not spark anyone’s interest.

  He sniffed and inhaled deeply, calming down. “Correct. Um, how do I know when the next meal will be?”

  Mrs. Black tapped a finger to the phone in apparent thought. “I wish I could say. It might not be for another few weeks. The ingredients are good though.”

  He paused. “Okay. How okay?”

  “Not fresh. Just… good.”

  He inhaled deeply again. “I’m guessing we can’t go grocery shopping, huh?” He tried to lighten his tone. “At all?”

  “At all. No grocery shopping. It could ruin the whole meal. I mean, everything.”

  “Got it.” Disappointment threaded his voice. “Is the meal there?”

  Julia gave a thumb’s up.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Black said.

  He whooshed out a rush of air. “Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m sure we can eat later.”

  “That we can do.” Mrs. Black reached over and squeezed Julia’s hand. “How is the preparer of the old dinner? The dinner you missed.”

  This time, he paused so long Julia frowned. “Good.”

  Mrs. Black’s hand slid away from Julia’s, a little frown creasing her brow. “How good?”

  Grateful for the woman’s intuition, Julia sat up straighter, barely keeping from reaching for the phone.

  “They are…” He gulped, obviously struggling with his answer. “They are not cooking this New Year’s Eve. You know how it can be.”

  Mrs. Black seemed to catch something that Julia didn’t. “Of course. Yes. Well, I’m going to let you talk to him to say happy New Year, and then we can let you go.”

  Bishop spoke with him for a few seconds before handing the phone back.

  “Will I get invited again to dinner?” her uncle asked.

  Mrs. Black glanced over at Julia, then let out a long breath. “It depends. I’ll try if you can go grocery shopping.”

  “Great. I’ll keep my phone open.” He waited as though thinking before saying, “This is the best gift you could’ve given me. Hope. Thank you. God bless you.”

  “You shouldn’t thank me so profusely. It’s just dinner.” Mrs. Black tried to tone things down.

  “Of course. It is. Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” A click ended the call, and without words, the three of them encircled in a hug, Julia leaning over, shoulder to shoulder to both.

  “Thank you, Mrs.
Black. You just made my day. Thank you too, Bishop. You’re like a little brother I never had. You guys are now family.” Mission accomplished. “Thank You, my Lord Jesus.” Her family knew she was alive.

  The clock struck another hour. This was a happy new year.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For it is the GOD Who commanded light to shine out of darkness, Who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of GOD in the face of JESUS CHRIST. 2 Corinthians 4:6

  * * *

  Asia watched intently on the screen as Ramirez’s tactical team breached the back entrance of the mansion where one of the girls she’d come to Mexico to search for was being kept, likely serving in slavery. Her heart broke, not knowing what condition she’d be in if they were able to locate her. Would they really help her bring one of the girls home? Her throat closed. Expectation and anxiety throbbed through her as she gripped the handles of her chair, focused on the images, and absorbed the tension in the air.

  In the week since her rescue, she’d assisted in sending the girl who was rescued from the ship—Cindy, her name was—back to the United States. The immigration paperwork had taken some time, as had verification of her identity. After that, they’d easily arranged the flight. Her family tearily called and thanked Asia and expressed their gratitude for her helping to rescue their daughter. Her emotions were in knots. She hadn’t set out to rescue this girl, but it had happened in the process of seeking others.

  And now the investigative team searching for Julia had received crucial information hidden in the clothing they’d shipped to them. She hadn’t asked for details yet as she’d focused on this raid. Today, New Year’s Eve, she couldn’t imagine a better way to end the year than trying to rescue another girl from captivity. Ramirez’s team had waited until dark before advancing. Officers in tactical gear moved on the screen as shadowy figures while the shoulder camera on one trembled with their stomping.