Joshua Graham - Terminus

The female officer zipped open a bag, presumably containing first aid equipment.

“Looks dehydrated.”

Yuri sat up and gazed into her face with his best desperate look.

“Thank God you came!”

“I’m Chief Petty Officer Renard,” she said, then nodded to her partner. “This is Seaman Apprentice Grant. Sir, are you all right?”

“It was terrible. A huge storm—you would not believe how big! I hit head…” He rubbed the back of his skull where he’d gotten bumped. “My friend Jonas…he…” Yuri moaned as he touched his neck again. He didn’t have to pretend, the pain was real.

“Jonas?” Renard said, looking around.

“He was up here during storm.” Yuri stood up, very slowly.

“How long were you here?” Grant said.

“I don’t know. Last I remember, ship was going to sink!” Yuri peered over his shoulder and hollered, “Jonas!”

“Have you checked below?” Renard pointed to the cargo hold.

Yuri’s face went cold. “Of course.”

“Mind if we look?”

Dammit!

“Is slippery and dark. Come with me.” He led them down the steps, grabbed the flashlight on the counter and waved its beam around in a cursory scan.

“See? Not here.” He started back to the steps.

“We need to have a thorough look,” Renard said.

“I looked everywhere,” Yuri said. “I think Jonas maybe fell overboard during storm!”

“I think he could be down here, injured.” Grant pulled out his own flashlight. “Let’s make sure.”

Better create a diversion.

As the other two started off to search the hold, Yuri made a gurgling noise, started to convulse, then fell on the floor with a loud thud.

“He’s having a seizure,” Grant said.

Renard, who had walked off a little ways, rejoined them. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

She was holding the suitcase and not buying Yuri’s act.

“What’s inside, Sir?”

The suitcase was quite heavy with the key component he’d fully assemble with other parts in the States. Yuri opened one eye and glanced at it with concern.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s your friend…Jonas?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, maybe he fell overboard!”

Renard huffed and spun the suitcase’s combination cam lock.

“Or maybe you’re a murder suspect.”

“That’s crazy!” Yuri said.

“Save us all the time and trouble,” Renard said. “Open the case.”

“I HOPE THIS ISN’T AWKWARD FOR YOU.” Maria hugged her arms and leaned back into the chair.

“Awkward?” Jon shook his head. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone with a woman—I mean…” A burning heat washed over his face and ears. “ Now I’m feeling awkward. That came out completely wrong.”

“It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

He twisted the lid off the bottled water and took a sip.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

For a moment she seemed to search his eyes as though seeking any hint of insincerity, any sign that he might not be someone to whom she could entrust her secrets. Jon kept his smile in place as best he could. Better not look directly at her. His eyes swept the conference room from one end to the other. The inspirational posters that read FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE atop a scenic vista seemed to him, for the first time in his seven years here at True North, clichéd, over the top.

But Maria, it seemed, had pushed past her uncertainty.

“Before I start, I want to tell you—I’ve been listening to you speak for over a year now. Your messages always give me…hope.”

Her brown eyes, tinted with a smoky shadow and framed by fine eyebrows, gave her a look that was smoldering and at the same time innocent. The thought made him uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Ms. Guzman. That means a lot.”

“Maria, please.”

He smiled. “Carla told me you seemed distressed, Maria. Are you all right?”

Her smile vanished, replaced by a look that could break a heart of stone in two.

“Honestly, no. I’m a wreck.”

“Tell me about it.”

She pulled a Kleenex from the box in the middle of the table and dabbed her eyes.

“I know the Bible says we have to forgive those that trespass against us. But there are some things you just can’t forgive!” The bitterness in her eyes and voice disturbed him. And he could see that it was hurting her, cruelly, which disturbed him even more.

“Can you tell me what’s happened?” he said softly.

“It’s my brother.” Maria drew a deep breath and let it out. “He murdered my fiancé.”

In all his years of ministry, Jon had never come across such an issue. Infidelity, financial issues, personal conflicts, yes. But murder?

“Have you reported this to the police?”

She waved the idea off as if it were a gnat flying around her face.

“I can’t do that. In my family, there can never be justice. Only revenge.”

Jon leaned forward. “Are you in any danger, Maria?”

“No. At least, not yet.”

“Not yet? What—”

“Mister—I mean Reverend—Hartwell…Oh, can I just call you Jonathan?”

“Jon is fine.”

“Jon, is everything I tell you protected by that same thing with doctors and lawyers, what’s it called?”

“Privilege.”

“That’s it.”

“Of course. Strictly confidential. But if you’re likely to be a danger to yourself or others—”

“No. I just…I’m such a mess right now. I just need to talk things out. Is that okay?”

Jon kept his face neutral. It wasn’t easy. But as they talked he sensed more trust from Maria, found it unusually easy to connect with her. Perhaps it was Carla’s absence. Or the mutual connection they seemed to share—he could disapprove all he liked, but he couldn’t deny it. The way she looked up to him, so vulnerable, so in need of his help and grateful to receive it, so unlike Elaine who had to be in charge all the time.

“Maria, how are you feeling, right now?”

She looked down to her hands, folded and resting on the table. And shaking.

“I’m scared.”

“Of?”

“Myself.” She pushed a lock of hair from her face and hooked it behind her ear. “Lito is my big brother. He’s powerful, controlling. But I never, ever thought he’d do something like this.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. It must be awful.”

“He saw my one chance at happiness. My ticket out of the family business.”

“What is your family business?”

“None of yours.” She held a dead serious expression for a moment, then broke it with a smile. “I’m kidding. But still, it’s better I don’t tell you, though you can probably guess.”

Jon nodded his understanding. How sad. And how could he possibly help her? To relieve his dry throat, he took another sip of water.

“Lito won’t hurt me,” Maria said. “That’s not the problem. It’s me.”

“What exactly are you afraid of about yourself? Remember, it stays in this room.”

Her expression reminded him of a little girl seeking approval if not unconditional acceptance for who she was, no matter how bad.

“My emotions,” she said. “When my feelings are really strong I sometimes can’t control myself. It’s gotten me in trouble, but never anything too serious.”

“Nothing violent, I hope.”

“No, but…it’s not always the bad feelings, Jon.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Sometimes it’s the good ones.”

Ordinarily, Jon would have looked away from such intimate eye contact, no matter who initiated it.

But not this time.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m so angry at Lito. And I’m afraid if I don’t find a way to let go of this anger…” Now she looked embarrassed, ashamed. She lifted her handbag onto the table and unzipped the opening.