Amy looked around Marta’s empty room, her pulse beating erratically. Marta had taken her few belongings...except her Bible. The small Bible Daisy had given her at the shelter, that Amy knew she’d treasured, lay forgotten by the side of her bed. That more than anything told Amy exactly where Marta had gone. With her legs weakening beneath her, she sank onto the bed, hugging her arms around herself.
Following her gaze, Angus picked up the Bible and opened it at the page Marta had dog-eared.
At his sharp intake of breath, Amy looked up. “What is it? Did you find something? Did she leave a note?”
Angus shook his head. “She’s marked it at Psalm twenty-seven.” His voice was thick with emotion.
Their Psalm. But of course, Marta had read it out that day at the shelter. It had touched her as much as it touched them.
“She’s underlined bits. Look.” Angus held it out to her.
Amy took the Bible. Marta had underscored some of the lines in pencil. Running her fingers over the page, she read them aloud, her voice barely a whisper. “When the wicked advance against me to overpower me, it is my enemies and foes who shall stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me my heart will not fear, though war break out against me, even then I will be confident.” A tear splashed onto the page and it took a moment before she realised it was hers. “Poor Marta,” she said softly. “She’s been fighting battles this whole time and I never thought about it. We all assumed she was okay.”
“It’s not your fault,” Angus said firmly, taking her hand. “You were always there for her.”
“There’s always a chance that girls in that situation go back.” The house mother stood in the doorway, echoing what she’d told Angus the night before. “And as heartbreaking as it is, you can’t force her to leave again until she’s ready.”
“But we can’t just let her go!” Amy exclaimed. “What about Angel? Marta’s in danger if she’s gone back to that man, and that means Angel is, too.”
“I’ve contacted Social Services,” the house mother assured. “Even if she wants to change her mind about the adoption, it’s unlikely they’ll allow her to keep Angel if she’s gone back into an abusive situation. You should still be able to adopt the baby.”
“If we find her,” Angus said glumly.
Amy stared at them both as it dawned upon her that the adoption could be in jeopardy. Until then, she’d just wanted them both to be safe. “We have to find her,” she said firmly. “She’s in danger. Social Services could take days she might not have. And I don’t want to have to take Angel from her forcibly. We have to give her a chance.” She looked at Angus and their gazes met and held.
He gave a determined nod. “You’re right. Come on.” He extended his hand to her.
She rose to her feet, feeling stronger with her hand in his. They would do this together. “Do you have any idea where she might be? Does this Steve have an address?” she asked the house mother.
“I only know he lives somewhere in St. Albans,” she replied.
“Not far from the shelter,” Amy mused. “Even if Daisy doesn’t have an address, someone there might know.”
Angus nodded. “She may even have gone to the shelter,” he said hopefully, though they both knew the chances of her being with anyone other than Steve were slim.
They got into the car, and as Angus reversed out of the driveway, Amy prayed quietly. “Please, God, guide us to her,” she murmured under her breath. “Keep Marta and Angel safe.”
Angus reached over and squeezed her knee. “Keep praying, Ames.”
She prayed the whole way to the shelter, sometimes silently and sometimes aloud, while Angus kept his eyes resolutely on the road ahead. She’d brought Marta’s Bible with her in her bag, and every so often took it out and prayed aloud the lines that Marta had underlined.
She wondered briefly if they were doing the right thing. If Marta had made her decision to return to Steve, what could they do? She’d had her eighteenth birthday a few months ago, and for all intents and purposes was now an adult.
Had she run away because she didn’t want to give Angel to her and Angus? Perhaps it was nothing to do with Steve at all. But surely she would have told them? Amy turned her thoughts back to her prayers. If she let panic overtake her, she would go to pieces. She had to hold herself together and focus on finding Marta.
Let her be okay. Let her be safe, she prayed silently. They could sort things out with the adoption later.
When they arrived at the shelter several hours later, they sprinted inside. Sitting at reception, Daisy’s eyes widened. “Marta?”
“Yes. Have you seen her?” Hope flared inside Amy momentarily, but was soon crushed when Daisy shook her head. “She left Hope House before six this morning with her things. She’s been making secret phone calls...we think she’s gone back to Steve,” Amy said.
Daisy clasped her hands together and her face went white. “Dear Lord,” she whispered.
“Do you know where she might be?” Amy asked.
“I have a prior address for her. I assume it was where she lived with Steve. Whether or not he still lives there is anyone’s guess. I’ll go and get it.” Daisy sprinted to the office while Amy leaned against the counter.
Looking at Angus, her heart ached for him. Dark shadows hung heavily under his eyes and a weary expression filled his face. Underneath, she knew he was panicking even if he wasn’t displaying it through his actions.
“We’ll find her,” she said with more conviction that she felt.
Angus squeezed her hand.
Daisy came out of the office waving a piece of paper in the air.
Angus took it from her. “Thanks, Daisy. Let’s go, Amy.”
Amy gave her cousin a quick hug, promising to keep her updated, before following Angus outside. After they jumped into the car, he pulled away with the tyres screeching.
Amy pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling suddenly nauseous. Dear Lord, please let us be in time. A horrible premonition that something bad had happened flashed through her mind.
They pulled up outside a block of apartments that had seen better days. The walls were covered in graffiti and rock music boomed from one of the apartments. Somewhere, a dog barked incessantly. It wasn’t the type of neighbourhood you’d want your daughter to live in. They went inside and sprinted up the two flights of stairs to the number written on the paper Angus clutched in his hands. A musty smell of stale urine surrounded them.
Amy banged on the door, her breath stuck in her throat. Angus stepped in front of her, ensuring he was between her and whoever opened the door. Amy realised what a risky situation they were potentially putting themselves in.
It doesn’t matter. We have to find Marta.
There was no answer. Frustrated, she banged again.
Angus followed suit. “I don’t think there’s anyone here,” he said eventually, sounding deflated.
Amy’s shoulders fell.
“They might be out,” he said. “We could come back later.”
Feeling suddenly dizzy, Amy reached out a hand to steady herself as a wave of nausea swept over her.
“Amy!” Angus put an arm around her.
She stumbled, and for a moment her world went black. An image of Marta curled up in a ball, lying on the floor of a dirty kitchen moved through her mind like a motion picture. “She’s inside,” she said urgently, straightening as a surge of energy flowed through her. “She’s inside that apartment!”
“How do you know?” Angus’s brows drew together.
Reaching up, Amy placed her hands on his shoulders and gazed deeply into his eyes. “I have no idea, I just do. Would you believe me if I said God just told me?” She knew she sounded crazy, but Angus looked at her with complete trust.
“Yes. Should we phone the police?” He examined the door. “It doesn’t look all that sturdy.” Before Amy could stop him or answer, he’d reared back and kicked the door at the lock with all his might.
Amy jumped back but her heart leaped to her throat as the door flew open. “Marta!” she cried, running in behind Angus.
“Here!” he shouted. Amy followed him into the tiny kitchen and then screamed as she saw Marta exactly as she was in her vision. She lay on the floor in a ball, deathly white and still. Kneeling, Amy cradled Marta’s head as Angus whipped out his phone and rang for an ambulance.
“There’s a pulse, but it’s so faint,” she cried. A purple bruise spread across the side of Marta’s face. A discarded needle lay by her side.
Amy sobbed while holding Marta like a baby. Her gaze was drawn to the red marks in the crook of the girl’s arm. She stared at Angus in despair.
He stared back, his face frozen, then crouched down next to them. Together they silently prayed.
It only took a few minutes for the ambulance to arrive, but they were the longest minutes Amy had ever experienced. When she finally heard the sirens, she let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She watched helplessly as the paramedics put Marta onto a gurney and carried her downstairs into the ambulance. Wordlessly, she got back into the car with Angus and they followed the ambulance to the hospital.
Marta was rushed inside. They sat in the waiting room for what felt like an age before a female doctor came out to them, her face tight.
Amy’s insides flipped. “How is she? And the baby?”
“Are you relatives?” the doctor asked.
Amy and Angus exchanged glances. “We’re the baby’s adoptive parents,” Angus replied.
“How is she?” Amy asked, her heart thumping.
“She overdosed,” the doctor said matter-of-factly, “and given her condition, it could have caused damage to the baby. We’ve stabilised her but she hasn’t come around yet. We’re going to do an emergency caesarean.”
“So, the baby’s okay?” Amy asked hopefully, her heart pounding a crescendo.
The doctor grimaced. “There’s a heartbeat, but it’s faint and erratic. We need to operate immediately. Plus, it’s over a month early.”
“So, what does that mean?” Angus asked, his voice hoarse.
The doctor visibly swallowed. “It means there’s a strong chance the baby won’t survive.”