Divine

  Emma gritted her teeth. She was curious, almost desperate to know about Mary, what she'd been freed from, what led to her very public life now. If it meant keeping the voices at bay for a few days, so be it. And if sharing her story was what Mary lived for, well, then . . . "Okay. You have my word."

  You're a liar, Emma. You don't mean it. You're worth nothing. Tomorrow you can find a dealer and buy what you need and—

  "All right then, let's pray and then we can get started." Mary's voice fell a notch. "Every time I tell this story, God works a miracle. The same will be true for you, Emma." She placed her hand over her heart. "I can feel it."

  Emma didn't really hear the prayer, couldn't focus on the words coming from Mary's mouth. But as soon as she started praying, the voices stopped again. And once more the feeling filled the room, working its way through Emma's fingertips and skin, easing its way to the center of her soul.

  As the prayer ended, Mary looked up and took a deep breath. And in that instant, Emma suddenly knew what the feeling was—the sense she'd had from the moment she walked into the room. It was something she hadn't felt in four years, since she walked out on her mother and everything good about life. It was a feeling she never expected to feel again, foreign and welcome all at the same time.

  The feeling was hope.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  Contents - Prev / Next

  There was no way to tell her story without starting at the beginning, back in the days before even Mary was aware that the story had started. From that vantage point, the pieces fit together and made a tapestry, a picture that belonged to the women God brought into her life. The first part had less to do with Mary and more to do with Grandma Peggy.

  Peggy Madison, who was still closer to Mary than any other person, the only family she had.

  Even so, Mary wouldn't spend a long time talking about Grandma Peggy. Emma was edgy, her eyes flitting around the room, checking the door every few minutes. Mary gripped the arm of the sofa. Urgency filled her soul and pushed her to tell the story—all the sad and unbelievable details—as quickly as possible without losing Emma along the way. She stood and poured cups of water for both of them from the pitcher on her desk. She looked at Emma as she took her seat on the sofa. "Comfortable?"

  "Yes." Emma crossed her legs. She was still shaking, but she looked less likely to jump up and flee the building.

  "Okay." She handed one of the waters to Emma. "You know what happened when I was fifteen."

  "Yes, ma'am." Emma's cheeks got pink, and she looked at her feet for a moment. "I think everyone knows."

  Mary nodded and took a sip of water. As she did she felt a prayer drift through her soul. Let her hear me, Lord, and give me the words. "I want to tell you about my Grandma Peggy."

  Emma settled back in her chair some. "Is she still alive?"

  "Yes." Mary felt a flicker of pain. Grandma Peggy was sicker these days. Her doctor had said it wouldn't be long— a year, maybe two. "She's in a nursing home a few miles from here. We're very close."

  Regret colored Emma's eyes, and she opened her mouth as if she might say something. But then her lips came together again. Mary let it go. Whatever Emma was feeling, it would come up later after the young woman learned to trust her.

  "When I was a little girl, my Grandma Peggy lived in New York City. I stayed with her until I was three. That's when my mother, Jayne, took me away from Grandma's home, to live with her on the streets." Mary melted into the sofa and let the memories come. "One day when I was ten years old, my mother called Grandma Peggy from an alleyway. It had been months since she'd heard from us." She felt the past coming to life again. "We were behind some restaurant. I can still smell the fish rotting in the trash can near the pay phone."

  The story began to spill from her soul, and this time Mary didn't stop. . . .

  ***

  Mary's mother told Grandma Peggy that she'd stopped taking drugs and she wanted to get Mary enrolled in school. She was tired of living on the streets. Four hours later she and Mary walked through the door of Grandma Peggy's small flat in Queens.

  Grandma Peggy studied them. Mary guessed she and her mother were pretty worn-out looking, dirty from the streets, thin, and hungry. Her grandmother fed them as much as they could eat. They made small talk, but her grandma seemed worried about her mother the entire time.

  When they were finished eating, her grandma took her hand and led her to the pink bedroom, the only bedroom Mary had ever known as a child.

  The bedroom was like a wonderland to Mary after so many years on the streets. She made her way around the bed, marveling at the toys and photos,- then she pulled eight picture books from the shelf near the bed and brought them to Grandma Peggy.

  Grandma Peggy framed her small face and stooped so their noses were close together. "I missed you so much, honey." Her eyes shone with a love Mary hadn't understood then or for years afterward. Her voice was choked when she spoke again. "I thought about you every day."

  "Me too!" Mary gave her grandma a long hug. Then she grabbed three titles from the stack of books. "These are my favorite ones, Grandma. Can you read them, please?"

  "Of course. Want me to start with Dr. Seuss?"

  Mary clapped her hands. "Yes! The Cat in the Hat's my favoritist of all. One of the ladies at the mission has a Cat in the Hat shirt, and I always remember you reading me that story."

  Grandma Peggy pulled Mary close to her. "I wish I could read to you every day, sweetie." She took The Cat in the Hat, opened the front cover, and began to read.

  Two hours later they were still working through the books, when Mary pointed to the picture of herself next to the bed, the one taken when she was three. "Is that me, Grandma?"

  "Yes, honey. You're a very pretty girl,- you know that, Mary?"

  "That's what Mommy's friend says." Mary had been too young to know it might be strange that one of her mother's many male friends would make a fuss over her.

  Grandma Peggy picked up on it, though. "Mommy's friend? Which friend?"

  "Mr. Paul." That's when Mary had remembered. "I'm not supposed to talk about him."

  Her grandmother leaned in close and put her arm around Mary. "Did Mr. Paul hurt you?"

  "No." Mary's answer had been quick and adamant. She shook her head. "He never hurt me, Grandma. Never." It was true,- the man hadn't touched her. But the subject had been uncomfortable for Mary at such a young age. She squirmed away and scampered across the room. "Look, Grandma! My pink teddy bear!"

  Grandma Peggy closed the book on her lap and faced Mary. "Sweetie, you know Grandma loves you, right?"

  Mary felt her eyes grow big and sad. "Yes." She swallowed and looked down at the floor. "I think about that sometimes when I'm scared at night."

  "Really?" Tears spilled onto Grandma Peggy's cheeks.

  Mary nodded and studied her grandma's eyes. They were full of a light Mary never saw in anyone on the streets. "Mommy says we'll be here for a while but not forever. But know what?"

  "What?"

  "I wish I could live with you forever, Grandma." She felt something sad in her heart. "But Mommy says that's a bad thing to say. She says I belong to her, and if I live with you she'll never get a chance to be my mommy again."

  Anger colored Grandma Peggy's expression. She went to Mary and brushed her knuckles against Mary's cheek. "You know what I wish more than anything in the world?"

  "What?" Mary blinked, her voice soft.

  "The same thing you do. That you could live here forever. You and your mommy. Not just for a little while but for always."

  "But what if my mommy goes away again?" A hint of hope sounded in Mary's voice. "Sometimes when she leaves me for a few days it's lonely without her."

  Her grandmother looked surprised and worried. "Your mommy might go, but if I had it my way you would stay. I'd take care of you, and you'd never be cold or hungry or lonely again."

  Mary leaned forward and planted a wet kiss on Grandma Peggy's forehead. "T
hat would be my bestest dream in the whole world. Better than candy."

  "Yes, 'cause we'd be together always. Just the two of—"

  Suddenly there was a sound outside the door, and her grandma jumped. "Jayne?"

  Mary moved closer to her grandma. Outside the bedroom door no one said anything.

  Grandma Peggy went to the door, and as she did, Mary heard footsteps heading down the hallway. "Jayne . . . are you there?"

  Even as a little girl, Mary understood why her grandma looked scared. If her mother heard them talking, then she might take Mary away again and never come back.

  Mary had ordered her heartbeat to slow down. Calm, she told herself. Act calm. She watched as Grandma Peggy opened the door in time to catch the back of her mother as she walked past. "Jayne, didn't you hear me?"

  "What?" Her mother looked over her shoulder. "Oh, sorry." She smiled, but her eyes didn't really look happy. "Just looking for something in the other room."

  "Oh. Okay." Grandma Peggy pushed her hair out of her eyes. She motioned to the bedroom. "We're still reading if you want to join us."

  Her mother shook her head. "No, that's okay. I'll put some pasta on for dinner."

  Mary watched her mother turn and continue into the kitchen. Then Grandma Peggy shut the door and looked at her.

  Mary felt scared about what her mother would do next. "Is Mommy mad?"

  Grandma Peggy crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. "No, baby, Mommy's not mad. No one is." She took Mary's hand and ran her thumb along the top of it. "It's good that you told Grandma how you feel."

  Mary nodded, but she was distracted. She stood and wandered back to the bookcase. Then, from behind her, she heard her grandma take a loud breath. What happened next was something that had stayed with Mary every day since then.

  In a quiet, almost desperate voice, her grandmother began to pray. "Please, God, be with my Mary. I know Your grace is sufficient for me, for her, for all of us. But I believe with everything I am that You have good plans for my Mary. Keep her here so she can grow and learn and become everything You want for her. She's safe here, God. Please . . ."

  When she was done praying, Grandma Peggy came to her and ran her fingers through her little-girl hair. "I love you, Mary."

  Mary still felt scared. But she looked away from the books at her grandma's eyes.'"I love you too." She turned all the way around. "Were you talking to God?"

  "Yes." Her grandma sighed. "Sometimes I can feel Him holding me, hugging me."

  "Even when you can't see Him?" Mary was amazed.

  "Yes. And something else." She smiled. "Sometimes I can hear Him talking back to me. Know what I heard Him say today?"

  A warm happy feeling rose in Mary's heart. "What, Grandma?"

  "I heard Him say that you, sweet child, are going to bring glory to Him. He has a plan for you, Mary. No matter what happens, He has a plan."

  The words wrapped their arms around Mary and gave her a hope she'd never known. Hope and security. "Really?"

  Her grandma nodded and looked deep into her eyes. "Even when I'm not there to tell you, Mary, never give up. God is with you. Don't forget that."

  Mary had known in that moment that she never would forget it. She would remember her grandma's words if she lived to be one hundred.

  Later that night, after they had a quiet dinner, after her mother and grandmother whispered some words that convinced Mary there was trouble, and after she was already in her pretty pink bed, her grandma came to her again. In her hand she had a small red-beaded purse. It wasn't any bigger than a deck of cards, but right away Mary knew. This purse was very, very special.

  Grandma Peggy held it out to Mary. "My grandma gave this to me when I was a little girl." She pressed it into Mary's hands. "Now I'm giving it to you."

  A feeling like the wonder of a rainbow filled Mary's heart. She ran her fingers over the beads, her mouth open. "Thank you, Grandma."

  "Look inside." Grandma Peggy opened the little buttons at the top of the purse. Then she carefully pulled a slip of paper from inside. It was covered with words.

  Mary felt a moment of embarrassment. She was ten and she couldn't read. She swallowed. "Could you please tell me what it says?"

  "Of course." Grandma Peggy's voice was kind. She took the paper and opened it. "It's a Bible verse. '1 know the plans 1 have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" She paused. "It's from the book of Jeremiah."

  Mary wasn't sure what it was about those words, but they made her feel the way she'd felt earlier when Grandma had been praying for her. Every word felt sure and true. First her grandma had told her, and now the Bible said it. In that slice of time Mary became convinced that God really did have a plan for her life.

  Her grandma folded the piece of paper in half and tucked it back into the purse. "Whenever you're sad, just know that the truth is in here." She patted the little purse. "Okay?"

  "Okay." Mary held the purse against her heart. "I'll keep it for always."

  Grandma Peggy's eyes grew soft. "You're such a pretty girl. Remember what Grandma always tells you? Who made you so pretty?"

  Mary could feel her eyes glowing as her smile stretched across her face. "Jesus."

  "That's right, baby. Don't ever forget, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "And you're the nicest little girl, Mary." Grandma Peggy took hold of her hands. They shared one last hug. "Let's pray." They bowed their heads, and their eyebrows touched in the middle. "Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing Mary home." A sob caught in Grandma Peggy's chest, and for a few seconds she didn't speak. "Whatever tomorrow brings for Mary, keep her close to You, Lord. Let her life bring You glory always. In Jesus' name, amen."

  ***

  Mary stopped and drew a slow breath. "What happened next was the beginning of the real story—the one you and . . . well, the nation knows about."

  Emma had been listening intently, sometimes with tears in her eyes. "Your grandma loved you very much."

  "She did." Mary sniffed. Her throat was thick from the remembering. "She still does."

  Emma's chin quivered. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and she shook her head.

  Mary waited. If Emma wanted to say something, she would give her time.

  "It's just. . ." Emma swallowed hard. Her struggle was intense. "My mother and I . . . had something special like that before . . ." Her voice trailed off, and a pool of tears filled her eyes. She blinked, and the tears became little streams down the center of her cheeks. She shook her head again. "I'm not ready."

  Mary wanted to rush ahead, tell the young woman that God had a solution for her and that she could find restoration and healing if she turned to Him. But she stopped herself. Victims needed utmost safety, not a lecture. Besides, that was the point of telling her story. So she could illustrate the power of God in a way no one could refute.

  She sat back. It had been a while since she'd told her story, a year at least. "Anyway—" Mary kept her voice low, unthreatening—"my grandma tucked me in that night." She smiled as the memory returned. "I told her she was pretty too."

  Her grandma left the pink bedroom, and Mary fell asleep. But sometime in the middle of the night she felt someone grab her arm. She started to scream, but a hand came over her mouth. That's when she realized what was happening. Her mother was standing over her, whispering at her.

  "It's okay, Mary. Come on, wake up." She looked like she was trying to smile, but her expression was painful. "We're leaving."

  Mary felt a rush of fear. "No, Mama. Grandma doesn't want us to leave."

  "We'll come back." Her mother's answer was quick. "I promise. Mama just has to get some things figured out first."

  "But can't we—?"

  "Now, Mary!" Her mother's tone said she was in a hurry and also a little frightened. "We belong together, you and me. You're coming whether you want to or not."

  That had been the end of the discussion. Mary got dress
ed, and in just a few minutes she left with her mother. She never had a chance to grab her pink teddy bear or tell her grandma good-bye. In fact, she had time to take just one thing.

  The little red-beaded purse.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  Contents - Prev / Next

  Mary thought about stopping there, saving the rest of the story for other sessions, but Emma was waiting, wide-eyed. Mary stood and filled their water cups. As she did, a silent prayer filtered through her soul. God, should I keep going? Would it make things worse for Emma to hear the next part?

  This time there was no audible answer, no quiet resounding in her heart. But something came to mind all the same. Emma needed the truth. If she was ever going to be set free, she needed all the truth she could get. As long as she was willing to listen, Mary should be willing to tell her story.

  And she was.

  Mary handed one of the water cups to Emma. "Should I continue?"

  "Yes." Emma slid to the edge of her seat. "Where did the two of you go? After you left your Grandma Peggy's house?"

  "I remember the other details like they happened yesterday, but I'm not sure where we went. Somewhere on the streets of New York." Mary took a swallow of water. She'd been so young at the time. Her whole life would've been different if only her mother had let her stay with Grandma Peggy.

  She set her cup down and looked at Emma. "Right away my mother quit taking drugs, and after a few days the two of us moved in with a couple—Jimbo and Lou."

  Emma set her cup on the floor near her feet. She never broke eye contact. "They're the ones? The people the news talked about?"

  "Yes." Mary squinted against the glare of the past. "I remember one day in particular. About two weeks after we'd visited Grandma Peggy's house."

  ***

  Mary's mother had her by the hand, and the two of them were walking along one of the lesser traveled streets in Lower Manhattan, somewhere her mother called the Diamond District. Her mother was more talkative than usual.

  "We'll be fine, you and I." She gave Mary's hand a squeeze. "You smile real nice and we'll pull in thirty, forty dollars an hour today. That'll be enough for pizza and a carton of milk."