Whispers of Refuge Box Set

CHAPTER 33-1

CHAPTER 33

“So your little protégé’s lessons are coming along nicely, I assume?” Roger yanked the blanket off the bed. If he couldn’t find his watch soon, he’d have to leave for work without it.

Juliette groped underneath the pillow. “Yeah. This week more than last. She seems to be picking things up pretty well.”

“I sense there’s a but there.” Roger got down on his hands and knees and rummaged through a small pile of dirty clothes.

“No, she’s doing really well. She can answer back just about anything I ask her now. And she’s even coming up with questions on her own, like she’s really engaging with the material.”

“That must be because she has such a good teacher.” Roger glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He should have been out the door at least fifteen minutes ago.

Juliette fumbled through the dresser drawers, scattering socks and underwear across the carpet. “I’m just excited. She seems like she’s really getting it.”

“Have you talked to her about being baptized yet?” Where was that watch? It’s not like Roger couldn’t make it through his work day without it; he just wanted to know what could have happened to it. He placed it on his end table every single night before bed.

“I mentioned baptism once. She didn’t respond right away, and I didn’t want to rush anything.”

Roger stood up and ran his hands over the top of his head. “You, not rushing anything? What’s happened here? It’s been a few weeks since you took her under your wings. Are you going through chocolate withdrawals from all that dieting?”

Juliette’s reflection in the dresser mirror smiled at him. Man, was she gorgeous. “I just don’t want to push anything on her too fast,” she confessed.

“Too fast? You guys are in there, what? Four, five hours each and every day?”

“It’s not like that. I just want to be careful, you know?”

“Baby Cakes, last time we had a batch of refugees come through our doors, you practically had them baptized before they finished their first meal, and you signed them all up for underground mission work before breakfast the next day. What’s going on?”

Juliette steadied herself on the dresser with both arms and frowned at his reflected image. Suddenly, he noticed the gray in her hair, the wrinkle in her brow, the telling signs of her age. “I don’t want to see her ...” Juliette’s throat constricted once. “I don’t want to worry about her. Like I do with the others.”

It took Roger only three paces to close the distance between him and his wife, but she was trembling by the time he arrived. Roger had been so busy at work, he hadn’t thought much about the Secret Seminary students. Sure, he hoped they were doing all right, but other than at his regular prayer times, he tried not to give them much thought. It was the best way he had found to deal with the uncertainties, the nagging doubts, the guilt that threatened to creep in if left unchecked. He had, after all, sent some of the finest young believers he knew to what could very well be their deaths.

Roger had learned to tune out his emotions. He prayed for the students and knew their destinies were in God’s hands, and God’s alone. Of course, he should have realized his wife could never reach that same degree of detachment. This was Juliette, the woman who choked up at sappy black-and-white romances. He patted her back, feeling pitifully inadequate to address the anxiety, the fear he knew his wife was shouldering alone.

“This isn’t the Secret Seminary anymore.” His whispered assurances sounded weak and formulaic, even to his own ears. “No one’s asking us to send Mee-Kyong anywhere."

***

* * * *

Eve could hear her employers rummaging in their room, but she didn’t make any move to get out of bed. It was too warm under the heavy quilt. She stretched her legs out and yawned. It had been another late night with Tiger, and she wasn’t looking forward to a full day of cooking, cleaning, and pretending to care about her mistress’s constant prattle. After eating two candy bars, Tiger had whined and moaned about not seeing her enough. Maybe now that Mrs. Stern was so caught up with her new brothel rescue, their visits could pick up again. She knew her relationship with Tiger wasn’t perfect, but their time together helped her forget certain other things.

“You should find a new job,” he suggested when she complained about how boring housekeeping was. He quizzed her again about the Americans, about the “students” who had lived with them until recently, about any cash or valuables her bosses kept around the house. “If you could only find out where all their money’s stored, we could run away and get married.”

They had both laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

***

* * * *

“I just can’t believe Mee-Kyong would do something like steal a watch.” Juliette pulled out the end table by Roger’s side of the bed and peered behind it again. He was wrong. The watch was around here somewhere. She was certain of it.

Roger rummaged through the shelves in the closet. “You can’t judge what somebody is or isn’t capable of after just a few weeks.”

Juliette banged her head when she straightened up. “I’m telling you, I’ve been spending hours with her every day, and she’s not the kind of person to steal something. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Then who else was it?” Roger dumped a pile of shirts on the bed. He probably wanted them ironed by evening, too. Juliette was glad his back was to her so he couldn’t see her roll her eyes. He continued assaulting the clothes in the closet. “Eve and Benjamin have both been here over a year. If they were the kind to steal, we would have figured it out by now.”

Juliette frowned. Everything had been going so perfectly. Mee-Kyong was learning every day, answering all of Juliette’s questions. She hadn’t complained once about the Scripture copying, a valuable but time-consuming spiritual discipline. She was a model houseguest and eager student. Roger was petty and prejudiced to accuse her of stealing. Juliette only had to make him realize that. “Just because she’s a w***e, that doesn’t make her a thief, does it?”

Roger hung up a shirt he was holding, taking time to straighten it out impeccably. “I’m not the one calling Mee-Kyong a w***e, am I?”

***