Exposed: A Novel (31 page)

Chapter 76
Taylor

Allyson told me that her baby died before birth. I almost jumped out of the car. The thought of her loss being a door for me to be helped freaked me out. I didn’t want someone to suffer for my sake.

But she said, “No, no. You’re not.”

I got it. God didn’t drive by. Ally came back. She practically begged me to come with her. And when she offered money, I couldn’t say no. Not now. Not when I needed to care for Layla.

My body weakened. Dizziness spun my brain in circles. Kind of like the way it felt to crave Cola. I thought of Naomi to get my mind off the nausea. Then I thought of the moment I had at the beach. And it all made sense. The times I reached out to Daddy and asked for help. The dream I had about touching the feet at the end of a blazing white robe. It all clicked. After all the questioning, anger, hate, and horrible things I did—God chose to stop. He didn’t give up on porn stars. He gave me Ally and Jessie. Maybe if I realized sooner their baby wouldn’t have died.

Layla used my pinky finger as a pacifier. I watched Jessie and Ally. They held hands, wiped their eyes, sniffed. A cramp tightened my stomach again. A gush of liquid soaked my pants. I looked down. Nothing. I took my finger from Layla’s mouth and felt my thighs. Then I saw blood.

Ally looked back at me. “Are you okay?” She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned toward me. “You look pale.”

Layla’s face and Ally’s face blended together.

“Something’s wrong,” I tried to say, pointing toward the blood on the seat.

Then the world blurred. Ally’s words muffled. Jessie turned around. Another cramp. Another rush of something down my legs.

“I’m sorry . . . sorry . . . for messing up the car,” I said.

“The seat is nothing,” Ally said. “We’re going back to the hospital. Hang in there.” She leaned over the car seat. Her hand warmed mine. “I’m here.”

I closed my eyes and let her words find a home in my heart.

Chapter 77
Ally

I looked at Jessie. “I think she’s hemorrhaging.”

“Will she be okay?”

“If we get her back in time.”

The speedometer zoomed from fifty to eighty-five within a matter of seconds. Only a few seconds after that, red and blue lights flashed behind us. I looked at Jane. Her eyes rolled around her head. She didn’t have much time. It looked like a gallon of blood spread onto the seat, but I prayed it looked worse than it was.

“God,” I prayed aloud, holding Jessie’s hand. “Help.”

Jessie squeezed my hand and stopped at a red light. The cop got out of his car and jogged to our car, looked in the backseat, and knocked on Jessie’s window with his knuckle. Jessie pressed a button. The window opened.

“Officer, I know we’re speeding. We have an emergency.” Jessie pointed over his shoulder. “She just had a baby. Losing a lot of blood.”

“I know her,” the cop said. His words sounded more like a stoic apology. “I’ll get in front of you. You can follow me back.”

He jogged back to his car and pulled in front of us. He stuck his hand out the window and motioned for us to follow him. We sped behind him through every red light on Route 24 until we reached Upper Chesapeake. Jane’s eyelids lifted, she looked at Layla then back to me. “Please, take care of her if something happens.”

“You’ll be fine. We’re here now.”

“Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

I looked at Jessie, then Layla, then Jane. “I’ll try.”

“Promise.”

“I will make sure she’s taken care of. I promise.”

We hurried out of the car. Jessie ran inside to get a nurse or someone, anyone. I opened Jane’s door, stroked her hair, and told her over and over again she’d be okay. She seemed like such a child to me. I couldn’t believe how jealous and mean I had been toward her. “We’ll all get through this and be home soon.” But there was a lot of blood. Her blood.

Lisa ran out of the hospital, face flushed, glasses falling off her face. She yelled for a nurse to come quick. It felt like the lights on the cop car climbed inside of my head. Hectic, tense—her reaction worried me.

“You are Taylor’s sister?” Lisa asked.

“Taylor?” I said and moved out of the way.

“Come on, girl.” Lisa helped Jane into the wheelchair.

The nurse pushed her away. Fast.

Lisa looked at Layla. “Are you family?”

“No, but. . . .”

“I’m going to have to take Layla and keep her here. If something happens to Taylor.” She paused. “If something happens to her she will be in the State’s hands.” She looked at the hospital doors Taylor passed through. “I don’t know what relationship you two have or had, but she lost a lot of blood. This is serious.”

Lisa took the car seat with Layla in it. I wanted to stop her, to tell her it was Avelina’s car seat and I wanted it back. Jessie walked out of the hospital doors and over to us.

“Her name is Taylor?” I asked Lisa.

She nodded.

“Can I stay to make sure she’s okay?”

She nodded again. “I told you.”

“You told me?”

She smiled. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll park the car,” Jessie said.

I followed Lisa inside. No one seemed phased by the bloody girl who came back through those doors. No one except Lisa and me. Maybe women hemorrhaged a lot.

Lisa nodded to a row of chairs along the wall. “I’ll be back soon. Hopefully, with good news.” She walked away.

I sat down. The smell reminded me of Avelina. I wondered where they took her tiny body. Maybe she didn’t leave the hospital yet. Jessie walked through the door, his hair windblown and in his face. What a ride, I thought.

“I just want to make sure she’s okay,” I said. “I miss Avelina.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Me too.”

“She was a porn star.”

Jessie hugged me again, pulled back to look at my face, then hugged me again. It all made sense, as much as I didn’t want it to. I wanted to accept God’s plan, but I still missed my baby. And I missed my marriage before porn.

We sat down and waited. An eternity passed. The sunlight disappeared and the moon revealed its face. After the stars stared at us for almost an hour, Lisa came back.

“She asked for you.” She shook her head. “We don’t normally want people in there, but she’s got no one and I don’t think she should be alone. Seems like she’s had enough of that. And I can tell she’s really scared.”

Half unwilling, I nodded to Jessie and followed Lisa to a hospital room where people crowded around the bed.

I walked over to Jane, or Taylor, and held her hand. “I’m here.”

She looked up, barely, and whispered something I couldn’t understand through the oxygen mask. I leaned closer.

She tried again, “Whores . . . believe . . . sorry.”

Lisa touched my shoulder. “She may not make a lot of sense right now. Just talk to her like she does.”

But when I started to say something to her I noticed her chest stopped rising and falling. The flat line I saw on Avelina’s monitor came back. I squeezed Taylor’s hand and put my other hand over my mouth. Tears tripped over my nose and landed on my fingers. And when I looked down at the girl I once hated, I didn’t see a porn star. I saw a girl who seemed to have spent most of her life in the shadows and then died holding a strangers hand.

I sniffed and fell to my knees. Someone shoved me out of the way. Voices yelled. People scrambled. I ended up in the hallway, next to Lisa. My tears fell, hard, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Every few minutes, when I stopped crying enough to think, I prayed that God would bring her back to life. That the doctor would save her. Over and over I wanted to ask Him why. But I knew I didn’t need to know why.

I stood, cupped my face with my hands, and closed my eyes. Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned. Lisa’s face, wet like mine, reflected the lights from above us.

“You know what she said to me when I came in here?” Lisa took her glasses off and cleaned them on her shirt.

I shook my head.

“She said, ‘God kept trying to get me. When they stopped to help I knew He finally used someone to make me understand. I’m sorry. I don’t deserve God, but I want Him.’”

My hand fell to my mouth again. Lisa held out her arms. I fell into them, crying harder than I had in my life, even through all the pain I just went through. If I would had come to the hospital sooner, if Avelina would’ve made it, if we didn’t back up the car—if, if, if. . . .

I cried harder, finally understanding the weakness of if and the power of faith. After Lisa confirmed Taylor’s death, I walked back to Jessie. He held out his arms. I collapsed in them. And we cried together. A few minutes later, he led me out of the hospital. In the parking lot, next to our car, he pointed up.

“What?” I said, looking at the stars.

He pulled my chin to his. Our lips touched. And Orion watched as our salty lips kissed under another April sky.

As much as I wished I could’ve changed things—maybe have gotten induced early and made sure Avelina lived—the pain of her lifeless body entering this world brought me back to my love. Both of my loves. My God and my husband. The torture her death knifed into my heart held a purpose in the blade. The cut went deeper than the wounds Jessie gave me and showed me that no matter how hard I’d try, I’d never be able to fix things and make them the way I wanted them. I couldn’t bring Avelina back to life. I couldn’t change Jessie’s mistakes.

But I could change my reactions.

And Avelina made me do just that—on April 10—when she entered the world without a breath of our air ever meeting her lungs.

Avelina and Taylor gave me something I lacked for so long. Hope. I’d seen enough death the last few days to know that life was valuable. And I was prepared to make the most of it. To take the pain, the bruises, and the broken dreams and let God mold them into something well worth the pain.

Something beautiful.

Epilogue
Ally

Five years later, Jessie and I brought our little boy home for the first time. We had a quick, healthy, natural delivery. Mom greeted us as we walked through the door on an early February morning.

“Oh, look at him,” she said, touching his cheek. “He’s perfect.”

I looked around. “Where’s—”

“Sleeping,” Mom said. “Took me forever to get her to go to sleep. So excited to see her baby brother.” She touched the baby’s hair. “Your father called. He said he’ll come by tomorrow.”

The steps creaked. Her blonde hair glistened in the morning rays. My eyes lit up, so did my heart. I walked to her as fast as I could. She ran down the steps and into my arms.

“Is Kyle here, Mommy?” She peeked through the railing. “He’s here! He’s here!”

Layla ran to her baby brother. I turned to Jessie. He sniffed and smiled.

“Oh, Daddy,” Layla said, “He’s so tiny, so cute. Can I hold him?”

“Sure can, princess. Hop on the couch and I’ll bring him to you.”

Seeing Layla hold her little brother gave me butterflies. I thought of Taylor. I promised her. It wasn’t easy to adopt Layla. She ended up with foster parents. They wanted to adopt her, but then they got pregnant and decided they didn’t want her anymore. Sad, but it happens. I didn’t think we’d get her. But I’ll never forget the day we saw her again for the first time since her mommy died. She climbed on to Jessie’s lap, pointed to the trees on his shirt, and said, “Is a twees sheet.” A few tiring months later, Layla came home.

Every day after, I tucked Layla into bed and told her I loved her. And every time, I saw Taylor’s face and the brokenness behind her eyes as she took her last breath. I hoped Layla would meet her real mommy one day. Some nights I wondered how life changed so much. A porn star’s baby became my little girl. My Layla. And every night, from under her pink sheets, she called me Mommy.

Whenever I wondered how or why, I remembered Dad’s words.

Not everything in life has an instruction sheet. Sometimes God leads you where He wants you without telling you exactly how to get there.

And I guess, more than anything, Layla’s face, every day, reminded me that I was exactly where God wanted me to be. Her smile gave me hope. And every time I got up in the middle of the night to comfort her, I knew I didn’t need an instruction sheet. Faith meant following without asking so many questions. Believing that purpose lived in every blade. When I held Layla, faith wrapped around my heart and married a hope that could never die.

No matter how deep the wound.

MARY DEMUTH

Without you, I’d still be swimming in adverbs and adjectives. Without you,

I would consult a grammar book much more often. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have as much bread on my table. (How did you hear about

Tekeme Studios? Oh, you know, Mary DeMuth.) Mary, you are a blessing

in my life.
Exposed
was a finalist in the Genesis last year because of your

input. You knife my words with such grace. You encourage me when

I want to give up. I’m so thankful for you. Not just because you’re my

human grammar book, but because you are a beautiful soul, a soul I am

blessed to know. I love you, Mary! Thanks for being a walking example of

Jesus Christ! You shine with Him. Love that about you!

JENNI BURKE

You are the best agent in the world. So personable, so professional,

so loving, so real. You shine with the light of Jesus, even in your work

relationships. If I ever decide to keep writing you better be around. I’ll be

knocking on your door!

GINA HOLMES

Ms. Picky Pants, thanks for giving
Exposed
a chance. Thanks for your honesty, your love, your beauty. Although we haven’t met face-to-face as I’m

writing this, I absolutely adore you. I am blessed to have your endorsement, you best-selling author you.

JIM RUBART

You. Jim. James. Jimbo. Expert of all things related to rooms. You are a

hugely encouraging person. I remember that first conversation we had

with you. Your kind words have been in the back of my mind all throughout the writing of
Exposed
. And the little moments at ACFW last year

where you pushed me forward with your love. You are awesome. Love

ya. And I forgive you for leaving us in the dust when you visited for your

book tour. Just watch out. You never know what’s in the ROOM. :)

CHIP MACGREGOR

Thee hunter of all Jerry’s. Thank you for answering my 3,848,108 emails

over the last three years. I found your blog when I began this journey and

it has shaped me so much. But I have some advice for you . . . stop pretending like you know it all and get a real job! :) Thanks for everything MacGreg.

SANDRA BISHOP

Thank you for giving me your time, even without signing me on as your

author. Thank you for being real and signing authors who speak with authenticity. Thanks for believing in the heart of
Exposed
. You are so genuine and beautiful. I know every writer under your wing is truly blessed.

SHELLEY LUBBEN

Your presence in my life means more than you know. When I first discovered George’s porn addiction I was crushed to pieces. I thought I’d

never heal. Almost three years later, I sat down for lunch with a beautiful,

intelligent, passionate ex-porn star. I know, I know, the labels. :) But it’s

true. And here we are. On this road together. I love you, Shelley. You have

helped me with this book in ways no one else could have. But you are also

a significant reminder in my life of God’s amazing goodness and faithfulness. My reminder that there is so much beauty after rain.

SUSAN MEISSNER

Pegasooz, thank you for slicing my words with honesty and care. Thank

you for threatening to slap my character if she didn’t get in line. :) Your

honesty has taught me so much. I am so thankful that you were able to

look through
Exposed
and help shape my newbie-ness with love.

SUSIE SHELLENBERGER

Oh, Susie. What a blessing you are. From the good ‘ole
Brio
days until
Susie Mag
galore. You have believed in my writing since way before the birth

of
Exposed
. And you have believed in
Exposed
since day one. Thanks for

allowing me to write for your lovely magazine, and thanks for being such a

great friend and encouragement to me. I love you!

ALLEN ARNOLD

What a genuine soul. Thanks for taking the time to hear my heart last year and for talking with me about
Exposed
. Thanks for giving light to
More than Desire
. Without you, that blog wouldn’t be here. So many women write to me about how much they love the blog and I want to forward you all of their letters, because without your help and guidance the idea may have never come to life. You are a blessing. A real blessing. Not only to me, but to so many lives affected by porn. Thanks for being so compassionate. You are such an awesome person to be the VP of TN. So sweet. Thanks for everything!

DONNY PAULING

I wrote all of the scenes about porn and thought of you often. I thought of how much you aren’t like Andy. And I thought of how far you’ve come from producing porn to loving others through the love God has poured into you. I pray for you often. And I pray for all of the hearts that will be touched by your life and your story. You are a beautiful example of God’s love and grace. Thank you for being you.

D’ANN MATEER

I just love you. I so enjoyed our time at ACFW. And I’m so thankful for

your encouraging emails, not only about writing, but life and kids and

crazy stuff. You are a great friend. I wouldn’t trust many people with my

heart, but you are one of them. You are so careful and kind. I love that

about you. So beautiful. I am so, so honored to be your friend. And I am

ecstatic about your book deals! I can’t wait to hold those puppies in my

hands. Thanks for everything, D’Ann. You have blessed our family more

than you’ll ever know.

VICKY BOHLMAN

You shaped my writing before I even took writing seriously. You adored

my journal entries and gave me hope. You bought my book before any of

my friends or family. You are family to me. Thank you for believing in me

and
Exposed
. Thank you for being another mom in my life. Your wisdom,

prayers, and love are so needed in my life. Thank you. I love you!

VIOLA K. HOY

You have been gone from this world for five years now, but I think of

you every day. I never forget how much you believed in everything I did,

from coloring pictures to singing songs on your answering machine. You

wrote me letters and sent me stamps to write you back, but I selfishly used

them for my friends. I selfishly did a lot of things during those years, but

you selflessly loved me the entire time. You never stopped loving me. You

never stopped believing in me. And you never once had to mention the

name Jesus to me—you lived Him in my life. Thank you, Grandma Hoy . . . I miss you and love you more every day.

BARBARA RAYMOND

You always told me I’d write a book one day. It hasn’t been easy, but with

the help of all the people in this section I have been able to accomplish

it. Thank you for believing in me and calling me a “writer” long before I

ever called myself by that label. And thanks for encouraging me to keep

writing since my early years! I love you!

MY HUSBAND

Lover of my heart, you complete me. There isn’t a day that passes where I don’t thank God for you. What we went through wasn’t pretty, but where we are now is more beautiful than I ever thought our marriage could be. Waking up to you every morning is a blessing. Thank you for fighting for me. I am yours forever. And thank you for allowing me to “expose” our hearts by writing this book. You have shaped this book in so many ways, from the story to the name to the execution. Thank you. You . . . I love you Geebs.

MY JESUS

Jesus, there are no words, none, that give you the honor and credit you

deserve. This book . . . it is only here because of you. Thank you for

healing my marriage, for healing my heart, and for using me to bring

hope to other women suffering through the same fire of lust and betrayal.

You have taken brokenness and used it for good. You’ve shown me how

to live, how to love, and how to accept the fact that I will so often fail

at both. Your grace, your purpose, your dying heart on the cross—all