Whispers of Refuge Box Set

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 30

Roger rubbed his thinning hair. Why had he let his wife talk him into this? What had he been thinking? With the house empty now, he had encouraged Juliette to spend some time on herself, to pursue some of the hobbies she had always put off when their daughter was little. She had often expressed interest in creating her own line of children’s picture books, and Roger even offered to turn the den into an artist’s studio. But she wanted something more. She needed people. People she could teach. People she could talk to. People she could nurture and watch grow. Roger couldn’t offer that, not out of thin air. And so here he was, on the outskirts of the hotel district. And what was he supposed to do — ask around to see if someone’s nameless sister was working behind any of the curtained windows?

Another reason he had been so reluctant to go along with Juliette’s plan was because he knew what it would do to their relationship. He was sure Juliette would deny it if he ever found the guts to bring it up, but her temperament changed each and every time he got back from the brothel, whether his visit had been a success or not. She held herself a little higher around him, resisted his advances with an abnormal coolness. And even though he’d never admit it out loud, Roger always needed a few days after his visits before he could just fall back into his regular marital routine.

With his hands in his pockets, he glowered at the puddles on the ground. What did Juliette expect would happen? A trapped girl would lean out of the window, waving a flag and shouting, “Rescue me! Rescue me!”? He had no business being out this late. He had work to do in the morning. Work he couldn’t complete if he spent his evenings prancing up and down the hotel district, hoping for some needy damsel to fall from the sky.

Roger glared at his watch. He had waited long enough. He turned toward home, hoping Juliette’s mid-life crisis wouldn’t translate into more sleepless nights in the hotel district. She really needed to find some other sort of diversion: yoga, Sudoku, anything. In the chilly autumn air, Roger toyed with the idea of buying her a puppy. Maybe that would satisfy her need to be useful and loved, at least for a little while. He blew on his hands to keep them warm. Would it even be worth trying to sleep once he got home? The orders at the office kept pouring in, and Roger was behind on paperwork. He wished Juliette tackled secretarial duties with the same zeal she bestowed on the desperate and downtrodden.

He thought about her behavior when the young man came to their home earlier that night. It was a perfect example of how Juliette’s passion was a nuisance at best and a danger at worst. If that refugee hadn’t come around with his sob story of his lost sister, she would have fallen asleep, her tummy full of hot chocolate, her conscience easy. And then Roger could have nabbed some sleep, too.

Sleep. He’d be lucky if he got three hours by morning. He wrapped his coat tight around his chest and strained against the wind. He was out of the main district now, where the street lights weren’t as close together. He turned once to glance over his shoulder and for a moment wished he wasn’t out here alone. A vague form stumbled across the street. He stopped beneath a street lamp and strained his eyes.

She dragged herself along in slow motion, a shadow in a short-fitting dress. She stumbled toward an alleyway. Roger studied his surroundings. The streets were deserted. If she had looked behind, if she had made any indication she noticed him, Roger would know it was a setup — a trap meant to lure compassionate foreigners. He would be wary, but he would at least check to make sure she was all right. A young girl alone on the streets on a night like this ... Roger thought about his daughter back in the States and shivered from the chill. He quickened his pace as he crossed the street.

***

Mee-Kyong collapsed in the dark passageway. She didn’t know how far she had walked, but she must be at least a kilometer or more away from the Round Robin by now. She slid herself to the ground, sucking in cold air through her teeth.

She had nothing, just Sun’s old torn dress. She had rushed so fast out of the building, she left the bundle of clothes behind. For the hundredth time or more, she recalled each feature of the murderer’s face. Jae. Sun called him Jae. Mee-Kyong wouldn’t forget. But now, she just needed rest. With goose bumps dancing up and down her arms, she hugged herself. She wouldn’t even try to lie down. Not tonight. The injury to her ribs was no worse than what she had experienced with Pang. In two or three days, the searing pain would turn to soreness. A week or so after that, and she would feel almost back to normal. At least she would be able to breathe again without feeling like she would pass out.

Her entire body begged for sleep, but whenever she closed her eyes, she saw those blood-stained sheets. She wished she could stop shivering — it only made the pain in her rib that much worse.

“Can I help you?”

Mee-Kyong jerked at the sound. The movement sent another wave of anguish racing up her side. She grimaced and did what she could to scoot away from the stranger. The man spoke with an accent. He was tall. Tall and well-dressed.

He reached a hand down to her. “Looks like you could use a more comfortable place to sleep.”

Mee-Kyong didn’t say anything. From a distant streetlamp, she made out the man’s Western features.

He bent down, frowning into her face. “You’re injured.” It wasn’t a question. “Come with me.” He wrapped one arm around her and placed his hand under her elbow before raising her to her feet. The pain stole her sight away for a second, and she felt her head droop forward with dizziness. Nearly unconscious from exhaustion, she was powerless to resist.

***

Juliette leaned back against her pillow and nibbled on some dark chocolate. She thought about what she might tell her more uppity church friends back home about the night she sent Roger off to the brothel. Imagining their painted, upturned eyebrows, she let out a soft laugh, although she doubted her husband would recognize the humor in the situation right now.

She hadn’t spent much time that day in prayer, so to make up for her neglect she went through all the names on her usual list. She didn’t want to focus on the Secret Seminary students, not this late at night. She would pray for them in the morning. First, she thought about Eve. The housekeeper had been much more subdued ever since the Sterns started talking in earnest about resuming work in the brothels. Was she thinking about the friends she left behind? After their initial conversation, Juliette tried every once in a while to ask again about her experiences in the hotel district, but Eve never answered more than a few words. Finally, Juliette gave up. Some things were too painful to relive through conversation. Juliette understood that much, at least.

She sighed and wondered what to say to Roger when he returned. He would be angry, no doubt. What had she been thinking, letting him go out alone? She shook her head. With enough luck and some extra prayer, maybe one day they would both remember tonight and laugh.

Juliette heard footsteps and only had a few seconds to tuck her chocolate bar behind her pillow before Roger came in. She put on a duly repentant pout and turned toward the door. She forgot all about her rehearsed apology when she saw his grin.

“Honey, put your chocolate away. I brought you a present.”

***

Her stomach warmed with the American’s tea, Mee-Kyong stretched out on the bed. The pink cotton sheets caressed her skin like a hot, velvety bath. She loosened her bandage a little and let out a small sigh.

She still wasn’t sure what she had gotten herself into. The well-dressed American had said very little to her as he led her, or sometimes even carried her, back to his house. A mansion, really. Inside, everything smelled of lemons and pine. At first, she assumed it was just an upscale version of the Round Robin, and she couldn’t understand why the proprietor would choose someone battered and torn, her youth already dried up. When she saw the American’s wife, Mee-Kyong knew this wasn’t like any brothel she had ever heard of. There were plenty of bedrooms, but most of them were empty from what she could tell. The woman hadn’t said much, but she kept looking at Mee-Kyong with a strange, self-satisfied smile. Mee-Kyong didn’t know what to expect when she woke up the next day. For now, she was content with a pillow, a blanket, and a bed. Everything else could sort itself out later.