Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear The LORD and depart from evil. Proverbs 3:7
In the United States…
The woman stood there at eight o’clock every morning like clockwork. Her lips pressed tight. Face inches from the third-floor window with the upper part of the glass clear and the lower pane frosted. Her breath formed a cloud on the glass—even on rainy days—and heavy curtains would shade her form on other days. Usually, a man’s hand pressed against the glass from behind her moments later. Once she’d seen his side view, but not his face. It was like his eyes bored into the back of her head wanting to pry her thoughts out.
But her gaze waded into nothingness straight ahead—like she had escaped her body and was simply not there. It lasted only about a few minutes before the hand would pull away, she’d turn, and the curtain would be drawn closed.
It wasn’t the frequency with which it occurred that got seventeen-year-old Julia Freeman’s attention. It was the look in the woman’s eye. Like she was where she’d rather not be. She always wore red lipstick. Her hair always slickly pulled into a bun with the front curving part of her face. But the look in her eyes…was fiery.
The fire of pain.
The fire of lost chances.
The fire of hurt.
And the fire of vengeance.
Those honey-brown embers spoke volumes that her thinned lips never moved to say aloud.
And the words they’d never moved to say, the fire in those eyes, and the stillness of that form drew Julia Freeman from Silver Stone High School into Detective Gary Jeremiah Bancroft’s office this afternoon. It was Christmastime, and there were only a few days for school to vacate for the holidays. She’d gone to the mall with her best friend earlier, but her mind had stayed on the lady until she couldn’t bear it anymore. So Molly went home while Julia headed to the police station.
One way or another, she’d get the detective to check out that house and everyone living inside it, especially the woman. She hadn’t slept for days, and today, her nightmare would end with an answer. Of course, it could just be a couple having a tough time in their marriage. That was all.
Julia shifted in her seat and crossed her hands wondering whether her mom would get her new gloves. The past few years, gloves seemed to accompany her Christmas gifts, and it may be the same this year. Winter seemed to be late this year, so she wondered whether she’d need them. “How hard can it be? Detective, you can go there, knock on the door, ask about who lives there, get their names and ID, and be gone. Simple as that.”
He eyed her, and she could see him nearly saying aloud that she was too young. Instead, his shoulders fell. “It’s not that simple.” He leaned forward, equally looping his hands. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you.” He shook his head and scooted back, knocking over some file to the ground. Watching his face crunch as he struggled not to swear was almost funny—part of his 365 days of “not swearing challenge.” She’d seen him struggle twice today—when the coffee maker wouldn’t work as she entered and now. He said he was a Christian about a year and half ago. Julia realized he was serious then. She was starting to believe him. “I don’t have a warrant. And you could be mistaken, you know.”
She groaned. “So, you’re saying regular people show up at eight at their own window and glare at it for like three minutes, every day?” She pointed toward him, hoping he didn’t consider that as rude. “So, do you do that every day, at the same time? Stare through the window, with someone’s hand reaching over from behind you as though they were keeping you in place?”
He blinked hard. Then his gaze dropped to the file in front of him. “Listen, kiddo, you just have speculations, but I have a case to pursue this morning. A dead girl in a rough part of town. I suggest you get home now.” His voice grew cryptic at her lecture, and she gave herself an internal check. If he was willing to listen, she wouldn’t throw that advantage away.
Nevertheless, she pressed her point. “What if she’s in danger, huh? Would you wait until she’s dead, like that girl in the rough part of town?” His eyes drilled into hers until she knew she drove him to the very limit. But she had to get an answer, a commitment from him to do something. “Fine. Can you at least check them out online or something?”
“Deal. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” That cryptic tone again.
She stood on tiptoes—a blast of cool air hitting her cheeks from an open window like a mild rebuke—and kissed his cheek, leading him to gasp and growl. His beard was growing, and she couldn’t tell if he was too busy to shave or was growing it out. “If you did just that, Uncle Gary, I’d be the proudest niece.” She straightened, glad to have shown him she wasn’t so predictable after all.
Just because he’d been in the room when she was born didn’t mean she stayed small. She was growing into adulthood and wanted those in her family to see that and trust her questions as valid, even professional ones. “I’ll check again next week to see what you found out. Thanks a bunch!” Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket and stared at it. “It’s Mom,” she announced and walked to the corner, content to have gotten half a yes.
“Tell Marcy I said hi.” Uncle Gary picked up the file and strode over to speak to another cop while Julia and her mom spoke.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Why did I overhear Gary?”
“I’m at the police station.”
Her mom’s gasp echoed. “What did you do, child?”
“Nothing. Why did you think I must’ve done something wrong? You should have some faith in your own child.” Rude. She winced. “I’m sorry. I just felt you shouldn’t accuse me just because you heard I was in a police station.”
Her mom grew silent, then asked, “Why are you there?”
“For Uncle Gary to look into something. Nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t say much until her uncle dug a little deeper.
Her mom’s hiss sliced through the speakers. “I love you. And if you’re in trouble, you know you can talk to me, right?”
Julia thrust her free hand into her hoodie pouch and swallowed a groan. “I’d like to do without a lecture right now. I’m not in trouble.”
“Why do I sense you’re hiding something?” Her mom’s tone was cutting.
“Because you don’t trust me.” Just saying the words—tasting their truth—hurt. “I’m not every teenager like you compare me to. And everything you hear out there about some teenager is not true about me. Please.” Even while her temper rose, she tried to keep her voice even.
“Are you saying you just went to a police station out of the blue, and you want me to suspend logic and believe that?” The rising screech vibrated through the speaker. She could picture her mom’s hand flailing. “Did you crash someone’s car again? Is Gary covering it up for you?”
Clenching her fist inside the hoodie pocket, Julia moved toward the fern on the filing cabinet. “This is our problem. Mom, you don’t trust me, but you trust Uncle Gary. Why would you trust your brother and not your daughter?”
A sigh sailed through, and Julia held her breath, hoping her hurt traveled across the airwaves too. “You’re a teenager, and I know what I was like. At your age, nobody believes you. I did a lot I’m not proud of, and”—a small cough cut into her words—“you are so much like me without Christ that I struggle to believe you won’t make the mistakes I did.”
How could she think…? Julia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “If we’re being real, you barely know me. We live in the same house, but we barely talk without it becoming tough. I don’t know who you were when you were my age. You don’t talk about it. You just say you don’t want me to become the old you. When I don’t know her, how can I not be her?”
“Sometimes, when you don’t know, it’s best.” Defensive now, her mom’s voice came across hard, then softened. “We should talk. I’m making dinner, so when we finish eating tonight, I may tell you a few things. It might be hard for me, but maybe it’s time you learned some things.”
“But aren’t you going for the usher board meeting tonight? Isn’t tomorrow choir practice and the day after Bible study?” Julia pushed back the tears. She touched the lacy plant. She’d bought it for her uncle’s birthday. “You’d said we’d go through my college applications, and I did them all on my own.”
“Your college applications? Sorry, I forgot, and by the time I remembered, you’d done them. I think we worked double shifts at the pharmacy, and I was so tired that week. Maybe that’s why I forgot.”
It wasn’t the pharmacy. “You had the special program at church, too, and you came home in the wee hours for three days.” Julia choked on the pain of the disappointment she’d sealed in her heart then.
“We did. I’m sorry. If you called my attention, I would’ve taken a look.” Her mom’s voice sobered.
But the pain threatened to take over all of Julia’s heart. Every chance she’d attempted to engage her mom in her life had been ruined. She could strike up a closer relationship with this plant. “Mom, I’ve accepted that you have no time for me, so I had to take care of myself. You are always in church, praying and singing!”
“Sweetie…” What was that tone? Cajoling? Chastising? Whimpering? How would Julia know? She barely knew her mother. “You want me to pray. Don’t take it out on God or the church. I need them. The mom you have today wouldn’t exist if Jesus didn’t make me who I am.”
That was just it! She plucked the tip of one frond and crushed it beneath her fingertips. “I don’t know who you were. I just know the mom I wake up with every day who asks more about her brother than me!”
“You’ve always been an independent child. Moreover, the meeting for tonight was postponed. I can make time for you when you need me. What I can’t do for you, Jesus can. I am an imperfect parent—and you’re not a perfect child—but I’m doing the best I can. And, if you let Jesus into your heart, He’ll fill in the empty spaces I cannot. Julia—”
Her fingers twitched to clamp over her ears. “No! You wouldn’t make time for me even if you had all the time in the world. I waited for such a long time to see whether you’d notice that I wanted to spend time with you five Christmases ago. You only turned on Christmas songs and sang to them while I watched. I was shattered.”
A sharp inhale sucked air through the speakers. “Oh, I remember. You were so quiet. You didn’t say anything. I thought you were enjoying it. I didn’t know I’d hurt you.” Her mom sighed. “This isn’t the time to talk about this.”
“Sure, Mom.” Julia shook her head even knowing her mom couldn’t see it as her heart sank further. Didn’t matter. Her mom wouldn’t see her even if they were in the same room. Every conversation was like this—her mother speaking to someone she never bothered to see. “The time was always never. I can’t keep waiting to climb your list of priorities. Gary can stay at the top. I love him, but I can’t play second place to him in your heart anymore. I’ve got to go.”
“Julia…”
As her mom’s voice trailed off, Julia ended the call. Her mom was right. This was the wrong time and wrong place for this. Maybe she’d go home. Maybe Mom would make time this time. Or Julia might get disappointed yet again.
She eyed the fern that couldn’t answer her questions any more than her mom would—the plant that wouldn’t understand her or trust her any more than her mom did. Part of her wanted to knock it over, shatter the pot holding its roots so it would notice her. But nothing would make Mom pay attention to her.
Decisions assailed her as she strode toward the door, working to keep from bursting into tears. Then Gary shouted, “Your mom should add me to the dinner next weekend. I’ll be coming over.”
Julia paused, inhaled deeply, and tried for a calm voice. “Mom always puts out your share, even when you don’t say you’re coming. You’re forever her baby brother.” Glad he’d been too far to hear the exchange and eager to escape, she stepped out into the sunlight where piercing heat warred with the chill of winter, and suddenly, something rustled like a paper bag. Before she could turn, the bag pulled over her head.
The squeal of tires against the gravel reached her ears, trailed by the sound of a door being pushed open. Her uncle shouted her name from inside the station across the way, but he sounded farther still.
Strong hands gripped her arm, shoved her forward, and forced her feet to climb up into what must be a van. She screamed, “Uncle Gary! Help!”
A punch landed against her face, sparks flew from her eyes, and a needle pricked her arm. Before long, she blacked out.