Divine (32 page)

She nodded. "In my old room, if that's okay."

"It is." He looked pale, sick about her. "I'll take you to the doctor first, get you checked out." He touched her chin. "Then we'll call your grandma."

She was about to say something about her grandma, how much she'd missed her, when the phone rang. They both stared at the receiver.

The look on Nigel's face must have mirrored her own. Was it someone calling about service times or information about a meal? It was almost midnight, too late for those kinds of calls. Or had Clayton found her?

Nigel waited two more rings,- then he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

Mary could hear the caller's voice at the other end of the line—a man's voice. "Yes, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm looking for a woman named Mary Madison. It's an emergency." The caller hesitated. "I believe she used to live at your center." Another pause. "Would you know where I can reach her?"

"No." Nigel's voice left no room for discussion. He stared straight at Mary and held his finger to his lips. "There's no one here by that name."

Fear took deep swipes at Mary. She leaned in to hear better.

"Okay." The caller didn't sound convinced, but the way he said the word left no doubt. It was Clayton Billings. He had left Mary in a hurry, mumbling something about a date with his wife. But he must've come back to check on her, to make sure she'd survived his attack. He cleared his throat. "If you see her, tell her . . . uh . . . tell her people are looking for her."

Then, without a name or further explanation, the man hung up.

Nigel returned the receiver and searched Mary's eyes. "I think it's him."

"It is." She looked down at her hands. "I'd know his voice anywhere."

"We need a new plan." He grabbed his keys from the top of the refrigerator. "I'll take you to the airport tonight. You can catch the next flight to New York and see a doctor once you meet up with your grandma."

Mary hesitated. What if Clayton came after her? What if he was on his way right now? "Let me take a cab." She
couldn't tolerate the idea of putting Nigel in danger. Not for a minute. "You need to be here."

"They won't miss me, not for a few hours." He still had his keys in his hand.

She took hold of his wrist. "I'd rather have you here." She could feel the sincerity in her expression. "Please, Nigel. I don't want to involve you in this."

"I'm already involved." Nigel gritted his teeth. "I go with you. No debate."

"I don't like it." Mary's mind raced. She couldn't put him in danger, no matter what.

"You don't have to like it. I'm not letting you leave here alone."

Mary exhaled slowly. "Okay." She didn't want to involve him, but he was too much a gentleman, too much a friend to give in to her. Maybe if she changed the subject. She glanced at the phone and then back at Nigel. "Would it be okay ... if I call my grandma first?"

Nigel's expression changed instantly. His eyes danced as he motioned for her to follow. "Let's go to my office. Her number's in my file."

Every minute counted,- Mary knew that. But now that she was free she couldn't wait to make the call. She took the chair behind Nigel's desk and found her grandma's number. It took a few seconds, but eventually a woman answered the phone.

"Hello?" Even glazed with the effects of sleep the voice sounded familiar.

It worked its way into Mary's heart and soul and made her feel like dancing. "Grandma?" The depth of her emotions caught her off guard. She put her hand to her throat and smoothed away the tightness. "Grandma . . . it's me, Mary."

"Mary?" Her voice made only the slightest sound. "My Mary?" She inhaled loud and sharp, and tears filled her words. "Mary ... I can't believe it's you! Are you okay?"

She thought about the phone call from Clayton. He was coming for her, no question. "I'm fine." Her eyes filled, and she brushed at them. Now that she knew the love of God, she was always crying. "I'm flying home today. Maybe you could meet me at the airport."

"Of course. Oh, Mary . . . I've prayed for this moment every day since I saw you last." Her voice snagged on a wave of sadness. "I'm so sorry . . . everything that's happened to you. I wanted to save you, but I didn't know how . . . didn't know where you were."

"I know, Grandma. I couldn't find you, and then I couldn't call. But I'm okay." She ran her hand over her swollen cheek. Her injuries would heal, and one day the other scars would fade too. A smile lifted her mouth. "I've found Jesus. You were right." She dug around her bag, pulled the little red purse from inside, and stared at the familiar words on the paper from inside the purse. "God does have great plans for me. I'll tell you all about it when we're together."

Her grandma sniffed. "Nigel was everything I couldn't be."

"Yes. He was." Mary closed her eyes, allowing herself to be filled the warmth of all she'd learned about the Lord that past month. She looked at Nigel. "I can feel the arms of Jesus around me all the time now."

"I'm so glad." Her grandma muffled a few sobs. "We'll be together soon."

"Yes." A light laugh made its way up from her heart. For the first time in days, Mary could envision a time in the not-too-distant future when laughter would be a regular part of her life. "Isn't that wonderful?"

On the other end of the phone, her grandma was getting over the shock of hearing from her. The tears were gone from her voice. "Mary ... I can't wait." She exhaled, a sigh of relief that spanned the years. "I've missed you so much, darling. So much."

"Me too." She looked at the clock on the wall. Clayton could be here by now if he was determined. She couldn't waste another moment. "I have to run, Grandma. I'll call you from the airport."

"Be careful, honey. I love you."

"I love you too."

The call ended and Mary imagined her grandmother, the sweet weathered face, the warm hands, the eyes that had always held hope and promise and God's love. It wouldn't be long now.

The sound of shattering glass interrupted her thoughts, and a piercing scream filled the hallways.

"Nigel, it's him!" Mary's voice was a panicked whisper. She took a step backward, away from the office door.

"You're safe here. I'll stay with you." Nigel held out his arm, protecting her.

But at that moment they heard the noise of running footsteps, and the cook huffed up to Nigel's door. "It's one of the girls, the heroin addict—she was sleepwalking or dreaming— something." His eyes were startled, frightened. "She broke through the window. Please, Nigel, come. She's out of control."

Mary felt herself relax. It wasn't Clayton. Of course not. He had only just called. It would take him another fifteen minutes to get in his car and reach the center. Fifteen at least. Her heartbeat found a normal rhythm.

Nigel looked from the cook to Mary and back. "Is she hurt?"

"Not bad, a few scratches. But she's calling for you." The cook shook his head. "No one can calm her down."

Mary touched Nigel's elbow. "Go on. Make sure she's okay."

He took a step toward the door and let his eyes find hers once more. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

She nodded and watched him leave. Already her heart was breaking. Because good-bye was only minutes away. She smiled, even as tears stung her eyes. "Be careful."

When Nigel was gone, Mary slipped her red purse back into the shopping bag with her other belongings. Then she looped the handle around her arm and realized something. She could spare herself a sad good-bye with Nigel, couldn't she? She could slip through the back door and call him from the airport. That way she wouldn't put him in any danger whatsoever.

A lump formed in her throat. She was going to miss Nigel, miss the way he prayed for her and looked out for her. The way he had shown her the love of Jesus. But it was time to go.

She went quietly to the kitchen door and scurried across the parking lot. She was a few yards from the alleyway, her heart pounding, when she saw the figures of two people ahead. Homeless people probably, spending the night near the center so they'd be first in line for a morning meal. But she couldn't be too careful. She didn't want to take any chances, not when she was this close to getting out of the city.

The night air was cool against her face as she turned around and slipped back into the building. No one would be out front. Nigel was still nowhere in sight, so she hurried down the hall and eased her way out the main door. The street was empty, except for a few cars at the other end of the block. In the far distance, a siren wailed and then grew faint.

She shivered and held her bag close.
Hurry,
she told herself.
Get a cab and get out of here.
She started to run, and then she slowed
down.
Don't be ridiculous. Your imagination's scaring you to death. Clayton isn't here. Just stay calm and find a cab. Jesus, help me find a cab.

She squinted and tried to make out the cars a hundred yards down the street. Cabs were usually everywhere, but it was past midnight. She might have to walk two blocks to Jefferson before she found one at this hour. She picked up her pace and turned a corner.

A block from the main street a hand suddenly shot out from the darkness of an alleyway and grabbed her from behind. He had his hand over her mouth before she could scream.

"Thought you'd run, did you?" The man wasn't someone she recognized. He was small and wiry.

No, this isn't happening.
Mary tried to scream, but the man's fingers were pressed hard against her lips.

The man laughed low and menacing. "Billings told me you were a knockout." The man gave her a slow once-over in the dim lamplight. "He didn't tell me you were this pretty, though."

She tried to jerk free, but he held her tighter. This couldn't be happening, not when she was so close to getting away. The man's fingers felt grimy against her face. They smelled of tobacco and dirty money.
God . . . please help me.

"I owe Billings a favor." He yanked her close against himself and sneered at her. "But 1 should have a little fun with you first."

From a few blocks away someone shouted. It wasn't loud enough to make out, but it startled the man. "Too bad." He chuckled. His ice-cold eyes drilled into her. "We're out of time."

Mary tried to buckle her knees, make herself fall to the ground. If she was loud enough, someone was bound to hear her. She squirmed, fighting against him with everything she had, and then—

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and put his face inches from hers. "Walk." He squeezed the word through clenched teeth. "Walk or I'll kill you right here."

As he dragged her along the empty sidewalk, all Mary could think was that she'd waited too long. Her grandmother was up by now, getting dressed and celebrating her phone call. She tried to pull herself from her captor, but every time he held on tighter.

"You don't mess with Billings, lady," he hissed near her ear. "You must've made him crazy mad. He wanted to finish you off himself."

At the next alley, the man pulled her into the deep darkness. "But he asked me to do it instead. Billings likes to keep his hands clean." He swore at her. "Did you really think you could get away from him?" He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against a brick wall.

Dark spots danced before her eyes.
No, God, this isn't happening.
She had to catch a flight, had to get to her grandma's flat.
God . . . please!
She struggled to keep her eyelids from closing.

"Too bad." He spat at the ground and grabbed a handful of her hair again. "I could of had a lot of fun with you." He held her hair tight. "Besides . . . Billings told me to make it quick."

Even half conscious, Mary felt something change inside her. An overwhelming sense of victory. Whatever happened from here on, she had Jesus and she had her freedom. And something else. She'd spared Nigel this nightmare. She lifted her chin. He was going to kill her, wasn't he?
God... what about my grandma?

I know the plans I have for you, precious daughter.

Peace washed over her.
Thank You, Jesus.
No matter what happened she believed the words: God had plans for her, and they were good plans. Here or in heaven. Whatever took place in this dark alley, it would all end well because God was good. She met the eyes of her assailant, forcing herself to stay conscious another moment longer. "It doesn't matter . . . what you do to—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the man aimed a gun at her middle and fired. The shot made almost no sound. Before she could move or scream or fully register what had happened, the bullet sliced through her. She could feel it ripping its way through her body, tearing into her flesh and bones and leaving a trail of fiery heat in its wake. The man was gone, and she felt herself slipping, melting down the side of the wall. With all her being she found the strength for one last word . . .

"God!"

The sound of His name echoed loudly in the alley, and suddenly Mary could see something taking shape just above her.

The scene was brilliant and bright and warm and welcoming. As the lines came into focus, she realized what she was seeing. Jesus ... at the right hand of the Father. He was smiling at her, holding out His arms. Welcoming her. The most wonderful feeling washed over her, filling her with a peace and love that made everything she'd ever felt pale in comparison.