Debby Giusti - MIA - Missing In Atlanta

Jude followed them into the large kitchen. An industrial stove and oversize refrigerator took up the far wall. The center of the room was filled with a large metal table that appeared to double as a workstation. A lower shelf held mixing bowls and baking dishes.

A young African-American girl, early twenties, pretty with high cheekbones and a warm smile, entered the kitchen. “Brittany,” she shrieked, throwing her arms around the new arrival.

The two hugged, tears streaming down their cheeks. Sarah rubbed Brittany’s back as Keesha jabbered.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, girl. Where’ve you been? On the street? Honey child, there’s no reason to be doing that. Ms. Sarah, Bull and everyone here at the shelter, they want to help you.”

“Keesha, why don’t you take Brittany upstairs to the girls’ dorm and get her settled?” Sarah suggested. “Then you two come down to the chapel. There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge that I’ll stick in the oven so Brittany can eat after night prayer.”

The girls continued to chatter as they left the kitchen. Sarah glanced at Jude. “When was your last meal?”

“Breakfast at the mess hall this morning.”

“Bet that was tasty.”

His lips twitched. “Are you always so feisty?”

“Feisty?”

“That’s right. You act like a first sergeant ordering everyone around.”

She put her hands on her hips and tried not to smile. Pretty even when she was fussing at someone.

“So tell me, Jude, do first sergeants get to pull rank on captains?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why no, ma’am. They work together to get the job done.”

She pointed to the refrigerator. “Then grab the lasagna from the fridge while I turn on the oven.”

“Maybe I’ll have to demote you, ma’am.”

“Not a chance.” Sarah took the Pyrex dish from his hands and shoved it in the oven. “Should take about thirty minutes to heat up. You’re welcome to stay.”

“I appreciate the offer, but Bull said he’d drive me back to my truck.”

“After night prayer.” Bull stepped in from the cold. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on a peg by the door. “Why don’t you join us?”

Jude shook his head. “I really need to get on the road.”

“Of course you do.” Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall. “But it’s almost 10:00 p.m., and you’re exhausted. Maybe you should eat something and then go back to your motel.”

Jude pursed his lips. “Fact is I never got a room.”

“But you changed your clothes?” she said as she arranged plates and silverware on the table.

“In a public restroom. I guess the first thing I need is the closest motel.”

Bull snickered. “Jude, my man. Fleabag is not what you want. Why don’t you stay here?”

Sarah’s head flew up.

Bull held up his hands. “Now, Sarah, you know we’ve got extra bunks in the boys’ dorm, and I could use the help. No telling when that funding will come through for another overnight employee.”

He slapped Jude’s shoulder. “My advice, we get your truck, then you come back to the shelter. Nothin’ good happens on the street this hour of the night.”

Keesha peered into the kitchen. “Everyone’s in the chapel.”

“We’ll be right there.” Sarah glanced at Jude. “If you want to wash up, the boys’ latrine is downstairs.”

“Latrine?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Works with the first-sergeant persona.”

He followed her out of the kitchen and down a long hallway. Photos of teens lined the walls. Black, white, Asian, Latino, all of them smiling.

Sarah showed him the stairway to the boys’ dorm, then pointed down the hall. “The chapel is the third door on the right.”

Jude found the latrine, glad to wash the city grime from his hands. Retracing his steps, he stopped at the door Sarah had indicated.

Might as well check out the chapel. Anything—even prayer—would be better than sitting alone in the kitchen.

The sweet scent of candles filled the air as Jude stepped inside the small room. Three roughly hewn, wooden crosses hung on the wall behind a table that held a plant in an earthenware pot. Nearby a large leather-bound Bible lay open on a small stand.

Kids sat on the carpeted floor, heads down, legs crossed. Jude counted eight boys and five girls, who all looked like normal teens.

Sarah flipped on a CD player. A woman sang about forgiveness, redemption and the love of the Lord, repeating the syllables in a soothing cadence.

Jude hunkered down in the rear, away from the kids but with a clear view of Sarah, who clasped her hands, head bowed. Bull entered and took a spot on the opposite side of the room.

“Jesus forgave the sinner…” The plaintive song filled the small room and mixed with the wisps of smoke twisting from the candles.

Jude tilted his head back against the wall. Above him, a heater vent pumped tepid air that brushed his cheek and was as soothing as a woman’s touch.

His eyes drooped. He was back in the desert. An IED exploded. He jerked, caught himself. His eyes popped open.

Had anyone seen him doze off? He glanced at Sarah, still bent in prayer.

Did God listen to her?

His eyes flicked over the kids. Did God listen to any of them?

He stared at the two smaller crosses on the wall. Good thief, bad thief.

A story of forgiveness. Or so his father claimed. Ironic, really, but that was the issue, wasn’t it?

Would he ever be able to forgive his dad?

Jude shook himself, hoping to shove the thought into the darkness.

But the memory took hold like an obsession.

A stalled car, an oncoming train. They’d all escaped, until Jude’s mother ran back to get…

The heart-shaped money clip she’d hung on the visor. The only memento she had from her dad.

So why hadn’t his father reacted?

A lump clogged Jude’s throat.

The sound of screeching metal…his mother’s scream…

Jude tried to remember her face. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Wasn’t everyone tall to a six-year-old kid?

A heaviness settled over him. A sorrow for the little boy left behind. For a father whose grief twisted into an inability to relate to his young son. Worse than anything had been the self-righteousness. His dad believed that he walked with the Lord.

To a boy who felt isolated and alone, if his father walked with the Lord that was the last place Jude wanted to be.

He glanced at Sarah. Was her belief twisted, as well? Did she claim God was all loving when He allowed the sick perversions that forced so many kids to seek shelter from the reality of their lives?

Jude knew what it was like to have to escape. An ROTC scholarship to college had been his way out. He hadn’t looked back.

Now, seeing the kids in this room, he realized he’d been one of the lucky ones.

The song faded to silence. Then a small voice spoke. “Father, thank you for taking me from a place of pain and bringing me to a place of safety.”

A girl wept. Her sorrow cut through Jude. So young and so hurt.

“Thank you, Lord, for bringing Brittany back to us.” Keesha wrapped her arm around the teen with the woman’s body and the troubled eyes.

“Thank you for bringing Captain Walker to Hope House.” Jude’s head flew up at the sound of Sarah’s voice. “Help him find his friend.”

Evidently, Sarah believed in the power of prayer. Well, she could talk to the Lord all she wanted. Jude would count on his own ability to find Nicole.

He wanted to leave the stuffy room, the house on Rosemont and Sarah Montgomery with her questioning eyes and love of the Lord.

Jude rose and headed for the door. He didn’t need to be sucked into the hypocrisy of faith. He’d left all that behind when he turned his back on his father. He would leave it behind once again.