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“It won’t.”
He reached up to touch her face where it was red and slightly swollen, but she jerked away from him, preferring the company of the broken women.
She dropped to the ground and allowed Carlos to chain her with the rest but refused to look at the door. She wouldn’t give Antonio the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence before he left.
“Goodbye, Charlie.”
She closed her eyes and prayed.
* * *
“She was here,” Will said when he caught up with Peter. “I’d say Antonio smuggled her in on a small charter plane.”
“What do we do now?”
“Find Antonio.”
“Got any bright ideas?”
“It’s a small town, but if we’re lucky, Antonio has business in the area. He’s got a connection to the airport, so maybe he has business connections as well. A rich man would stand out around here. Neither one of us speaks Spanish, so we’ll have to improvise.”
“Fantastic. I love improvising.”
“We’ll start at the nicest hotels in the nearest city and hope we get lucky.”
“Lucky’s not the word for it.”
“I’ve been praying since we left.”
“Good. Don’t stop.”
Chapter25
A solitary globehung from the ceiling offering a dim yellow pallor to the room.
Charlotte looked at each girl, but none of them would meet her eye, even after the door was closed.
She tried not to breathe too deeply. A bucket sat in the far corner, adding to the potent smell of the small room.
“Does anyone speak English?” she said. No one responded.
She’d taken a couple years of Spanish in high school, and when she’d travelled to Venezuela the first time, they’d memorized a few phrases.
“Me llamoCharlotte.No hablo español. Ustedes hablan inglés?”
But everyone in the room was either too scared or too numb to acknowledge her, so it wouldn’t have mattered if she was fluent. No one wanted to talk, and Antonio was right. She had no ten-year-old girl here to open the door and let her out.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself in a white room with Jesus sitting close, but no image could overpower her physical predicament. She’d lost her sister and Will and now her future.
A deep bitterness welled up inside of her, threatening to envelop her in its shadow, but she knew she’d break if she gave it room. She pulled back on her grief, tucking it deep inside in an attempt to feel nothing. No wonder these women were unresponsive. It was the only way to survive. She’d only been there a few minutes, and her sanity was already strained.
Various thoughts pushed for her attention, none of them good. Then Paul and Silas from the Bible came to mind. She could see them locked in a prison like she was, but probably worse.
They’d sung praises to God. Somehow they hadn’t been afraid. They were willing to suffer for Jesus. But she didn’t believe she was brave enough to do the same. It was close to impossible to find the strength to praise Jesus in a place like this. Any life that sprouted would be quickly doused by misery.
Then she remembered her dad. He had found the strength while he suffered from his illness. It was one of the things that had infuriated Maddy the most, that, through all his misery and pain, their dad had trusted in God until his last breath.
Remembering his faith gave her peace now. She pictured him in heaven without pain or sorrow. It gave her the strength to close her eyes and pray.
