But GOD demonstrates HIS own Love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8
“You might be able to walk to see the fireworks.” Mrs. Black set a bowl of mixed fruit on top of the bed for Julia. “On crutches.”
“I was getting excited once I heard walk.” Once her tummy could handle food, Julia had fed like she was starved since Christmas. It had taken a few days on soup and bread to activate her appetite. Now that it was back to normal, she ate with all gusto, but now… to walk! She could feed on that concept with equal zest.
“You have one good leg, and I’d like you to keep it that way as we enter the New Year.” Mrs. Black drew back the curtains as Julia pulled the tray with the fruit bowl closer to herself. Sticking the fork into it, she forked some pineapple into her mouth, followed by a piece of diced mango, their juiciness tingling in her mouth.
“I want to start exercising the leg soon. I know the pharmacist said to take it easy, but…” She missed her mom. She couldn’t share that. New Year’s Eves were usually spent watching a movie after her mom returned from church. They’d toast marshmallows, and her mom would kiss her cheek and wish her a happy New Year. It seemed small, even insignificant. But now, without access to her mom, she longed for the slightest contact, the smallest sign of love from the mom she hadn’t appreciated. She ached to hold her one more time and tell her she loved her and appreciated her.
“Julia? Are you alright? Your plate is about to fall.” Mrs. Black reached out and caught the sliding tray, positioning it right.
“I’m sorry.” Julia set the fork down and swallowed hard, turning her face away. “I, um, I just need a minute.”
“Sweetie, you’ve had more than a minute. You’ve had some time, and I think we who have taken care of you need to know who you are, what you are doing here, and who your family is.” Mrs. Black cupped her face. “You know your family is worried right now. You need to get in touch with someone.” Her hand dropped, and a sigh followed. “I can get in touch on your behalf. Simply to let them know you’re alive. That alone will help them.”
Julia sucked in air so sharply it stung as it whistled past her teeth. “This is… hard.”
Tenderness softened Mrs. Black’s lips and rounded out her eyes. Then she let out a low whistle, drawing her chair close, then waving away Bishop as he tried to enter the room. She waited till his footsteps faded before she spoke. “I think you know by now that you can trust me. Don’t you?”
Warmth sluiced into Julia’s heart—gratitude to God and to this gift He’d sent her in the form of a very dear woman. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I don’t want to put you in danger.” She pointed at her leg. “Look at me. I can’t walk. Can’t run. I can barely sit up comfortably.” As her throat closed, she choked. “It can get dangerous telling you anything. Or contacting my family.”
“Let me get in touch with them for you.” Mrs. Black clasped her hand. “My husband and I didn’t have children of our own. But, if we did, I’d profusely thank anyone who let me know they were alive.” She squeezed Julia’s hand. “Your mom and dad deserve some peace of mind as we enter a new year. Give them that much. Please, sweetie. Trust me to take care of this for you. Will you?”
Outside the room, Abel’s and Susie’s voices were loud as they fought over something. Bishop intervened and shouted them both down. Sometimes, Julia felt like they’d formed their own small family with Bishop as their big brother. He certainly acted like it. She made a mental note to tell him he’d be a great leader—as long as he de-escalated his anger with the help of God.
In the meantime, their voices provided her a chance to think. “I’m sure it sounds like a good idea. I just don’t know if I should do it. I committed myself, and I’m not sure how making contact can compromise things.”
“I can make the information as subtle as possible. I’ve held down this place, and you haven’t seen the worst of the kids who have come through here. I can handle a tough conversation. Trust God if you can’t trust me.” Mrs. Black patted Julia’s hand, then rose. “I sense in my spirit that someone needs the assurance to know you’re alive at least.”
Julia’s resolve broke. She’d promised the man who’d spared her life that she wouldn’t go home. She’d assumed that meant not to make contact with home either. But, if someone else could subtly let her family know she was alive but couldn’t contact them, maybe that could help?
It made sense. As long as she didn’t speak. “Alright. You can contact them.” God, please let me be making the right choice! “But I can’t speak, and you can’t say my name.”
“Good. I’ll get my phone.” Mrs. Black disappeared and returned with Bishop in tow. “I was getting my phone, and I thought it would be even better if a man spoke to them instead. They wouldn’t be expecting that. So, Bishop will be the go-between. I’ll tell him what to say, and he’ll convey it.”
Gratitude sent a rush of heat to her eyes. Julia blinked it back. “You’re better than I thought.”
Mrs. Black chuckled. “Troubled kids will train you fast for you to catch up with their pranks. Right, Bishop?”
“I’ve changed. The old has passed away.” His eyes glinted. “That’s what I read in my Bible.”
Mrs. Black punched his shoulder. “Are you trying to play smart with me? Don’t even try it. Now, get on that call before I change my mind about your punishment for joining to plan secret foods and nearly burning the center down.”
“I didn’t join them to burn the food!”
“Hush. Let’s get on with the call.” Mrs. Black’s voice cut off his protest, and with a grin, he sank onto the foot of the bed, narrowly missing Julia’s foot.
“Watch my foot. If you want to swap places, I’ll gladly yield the bed to you and be up and about.”
“Shut up, you.” He growled.
“You two, get a grip. I want this call done before you bicker.” Mrs. Black took her cell phone and gave it to Julia. “Punch in the number but don’t hit dial yet.”
“Okay.” She took the phone. Then her fingers hovered over the black screen. “I think we should call my uncle. He may be a safer person than my mom if she’s being watched.”
“Alright. Please go ahead.”
Julia punched in her uncle’s cell phone number and changed her mind again. She deleted the number and dialed his number at the station. If he needed to trace the call, she wanted him to be able to. “Please make sure to let him know not to come looking for me. Nor to send cops to storm this place. It will put both him and us in danger. Please.”
“I’ll do that.” Mrs. Black paused as well. “I think I will start the call, then hand off to Bishop, and he’ll return the call to me.” A smile bunched up her full cheeks. “Like a regular New Year’s wish phone call from a long-lost friend who wanted to get in touch.”
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…