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Atarah slipped out of the service, her breasts heavy with milk. She hoped to leave unnoticed before she dampened her dress, but wasn’t sure how to get to the basement where they’d taken the children.
Holding her arm across her chest, Atarah almost bumped into a brunette lingering in the hallway, pressed up against a wall.
“Would you be able to show me where the children are? I’m looking for my babies...”
The woman’s eyes widened as though surprised Atarah had seen her.
“Follow me,” she whispered, turning left at the end of the hallway, then walked down another hallway before turning left once again.
“This place is quite a maze,” Atarah observed.
The woman stopped dead in her tracks, turning abruptly to face Atarah. Placing a hand on each of Atarah’s upper arms, her eyes flashed as she whispered, “You’re Mark’s daughter, aren’t you? I saw you when you arrived... Please, speak to him on my behalf. I am desperate to know what became of my husband. He hasn’t been seen since...” The woman looked down but not before Atarah had seen a glimmer of unshed tears. “The children and I...we need Stephen. His name is Stephen Wallis and we haven’t seen or heard from him since the day we arrived.”
“I don’t understand...” Atarah frowned.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair, messing up her already messy-bun hairstyle.”
“There you are Claudine,” a burly man stepped forward, grasping the woman Atarah had been speaking to by her wrist, half-dragging the ashen featured woman back down the hall the way they’d come. “It’s time.”
“It’s time? What does that mean?”
Atarah’s questioning thoughts were interrupted as Sheila appeared around the corner, two howling infants in her arms.
“Thank you, Mom,” Atarah reached for her daughter first as she began unlacing her blouse with her free hand.
“You need to go back to the service,” Sheila gestured with her hand. “It’s disrespectful to leave. I was bringing you the babies...”
“I didn’t want to leak...” Atarah tried to explain, but her mother wasn’t listening, all but thrusting Zion into her daughter’s arms as she walked Atarah back to the service.
Terrell shifted seats, letting Atarah have his at the end of the row.
“Here, let me,” he smiled down at Zion as Atarah whispered her thanks, discreetly pushing open her top. Shiloh’s shrill cry quickly became a muffled whimper.
Terrell’s eyes drifted over her as he leaned forward, laying Zion against his mother’s chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “this is so embarrassing but mom insisted I can’t leave the service...”
“It’s okay,” Terrell’s voice was a husky whisper as he draped his arm over her shoulders, leaning forward so his broad chest gave her privacy from the others gathered.
“What’s happening?” Atarah was breathless as a tall man with wavy black hair approached the front of the room, grabbing Claudine’s wrist, “she looks terrified.”
Terrell didn’t reply for a moment, his fingers slowly caressing Atarah’s upper arm, looking down at the pulse fluttering in her throat. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good,” Terrell frowned as tears tumbled down Claudine’s ghostly-white cheeks.
As if on cue, Claudie was led from the room by the man still holding her arm, her eyes meeting Atarah’s before they disappeared from view.