by Sally Laity
“Methinks we’ve been had, Mary Theresa,” Nelson said evenly when the pair left without a backward glance, carrying their treats out to Jonathan’s car.
She had the same impression herself, but couldn’t express it as eloquently.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Mary shook her head.
“Me, neither. I could go for a soda, though. How about you?”
“Sure. Soda I like, too.” But she couldn’t help wishing she had her hands around her friend’s slender little neck. That girl had to be the rudest, most brazen, downright— She couldn’t even think of an English word to fit.
Flagging down the young waitress, Nelson placed their order, and she brought the drinks over almost immediately.
“Well,” he said after taking a long draught through his straw, “my sister appears to have finally decided to give good buddy Jon a tumble. It’s about time, really. She’s been mooning over her dead fiancé long enough.” A slow grin widened his mouth, and he raked fingers through his reddish-brown hair, leaving paths among the shiny strands. “Poor old Jon’s been carrying a torch for her since high school.”
“Good together they look,” Mary had to admit, smiling. Then she sensed Nelson’s gaze searching her face. There seemed to be some quality in his eyes she’d never noticed before. . .and she couldn’t afford to find out what it was. Neither could she afford to reveal her own feelings. That was the absolute last thing she needed right now. She lowered her eyelids and gave her full concentration to her soda. The time had come to make arrangements to move to Florida. She’d do it as soon as possible. Sooner.
But first things first. Tomorrow, when she saw Estelle at work, she would throttle her.
Nelson leaned closer. “How’s your drink?”
nineteen
Aware that Nelson had finished his soda, Mary Theresa quickly gulped hers down, then blotted her lips on the paper napkin.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded. “Thank you for buying me drink.”
“Anytime.” They rose, and he allowed her to precede him. Reaching around to push open the door, he then walked her to the car.
So wonderfully attentive. Too much so. She would remember this always.
Still, Mary couldn’t help her relief that the evening would soon end. She did appreciate its beauty, with the first stars appearing in the darkening sky, the mild summer breeze. It would provide precious memories to look back on someday, when she could bear to. For now, she would just pretend tonight was like any other, with her heading home from supper at Estelle’s. Yet how could she completely ignore the fact she was with Nelson, or the incredible peace which filled her heart? The peace, at least, was hers to keep. God loved and accepted her, exactly as she was, and He’d gifted her with an extra few sweet moments alone with Nelson. . .entirely un-planned and more than she’d dared to dream.
Neither spoke as they reached the car. Nelson handed her inside, closed the door, and went around to his side. He started the motor and pulled away from the curb. But he didn’t turn in the direction of her apartment.
Mary felt a twinge of panic and sent him a questioning look.
“Thought we might take a little drive,” he said. “Seems a shame to waste such a pretty night.”
Well, okay, I can do this, she assured herself. He is the one who gave me the Bible, knelt with me in prayer. I can trust him. And I will have another memory to cherish. A few moments more. The city did look lovely, with subdued lights here and there inside the tall buildings, a sprinkling of colored neon signs at gas stations and diners. She tried to concentrate on those things.
“Feel like walking a bit?” Nelson asked casually as they neared Central Park. “Just because I can drive now, doesn’t mean I want to revert to sitting around all the time.”
“Maybe a short walk,” she replied. “Work is tomorrow.”
“Sure, I understand. I’m a working man myself now.” He pulled into one of the main drives, found a spot to park, then got out and came around to assist her.
He couldn’t have chosen a more perfect night, Mary decided, inhaling the fragrant perfumes of the late summer plants as they strolled along one of the walkways. Black-purple fruit of the elderberry glistened from nearby lights, and she could easily imagine the glory of all the chrysanthemums in the sunshine. The whole world seemed brand-new, somehow, and she appreciated God’s handiwork in an entirely different way.
Just beyond a wooden footbridge, they came to an open pavilion, dim but illuminated by standing lights positioned around the grounds. They mounted the steps to the circular stage. Hands in his pockets, Nelson gazed over the well-kept greenery and shrubs surrounding them. “I used to come here pretty often. That is, my family did. For the outdoor concerts. People would bring chairs or blankets, and we’d sit and bask in the music of the big bands. It was great. Maybe they still give concerts, who knows?”
Mary leaned back against the railing, admiring the twinkling stars against a blue velvet sky as he talked. She loved the way Nelson’s voice sang across her heartstrings, and if he wanted to stand there forever and talk, she’d be content to listen that long.
A few moments of silence passed before he emitted a silent chuckle and turned to her. “You know, lately I was starting to think you were avoiding us. Or to be more precise, avoiding me.”
The fine hairs on her arms prickled, and the breeze suddenly felt chilly.
“Was I wrong?”
Mary could find no reason to hide the truth. He’d find out soon enough, anyway. She lowered her gaze and shook her head.
“So, which was it then? The family or me?”
“Both.”
He released a sudden rush of breath, and his shoulders flattened.
“But not for reason you think,” she elaborated.
“You mean, we didn’t do anything to offend you then.”
“No. Never. Very. . .loving is your family.” Too loving. I love all of you too much.
“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, Mary,” he said, a frown creasing his forehead. “If you’re happy around us, why would you feel you needed to avoid us?”
“Be–because too close I am getting.” She paused. “Away. I must go away. To Florida.”
“To visit someone?”
She shook her head. “To live. Soon. Before too hard it is.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he blurted sarcastically, raising a hand and letting it fall to his side. His droll tone indicated an attempt to lighten the moment. “I thought maybe you were uncomfortable being around my. . .injury. Women generally don’t flock around a guy like me, you might say.”
“The injury? No. To me this is not important,” she answered in all honesty. “A man like you many girls would want.”
“Would you?” He locked his gaze on hers.
Mary’s heart thudded to a stop. She had to look away.
He stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Because I might as well level with you, Mary Theresa. I lov—”
“No!” Mary gasped, pressing her fingertips to his lips. An inexpressible ache crushed her spirit, and her broken heart throbbed so, she wondered if he felt the pulse in her touch. Tears welled up inside, but she suppressed them by sheer force of will. She had to hold herself together a little while longer. She would have the rest of her life to cry. “You must not say that,” she whispered. “Not to me. Never to me.” She tried to ease out of his grip.
But Nelson only held tighter, confusion etching his finely honed features. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why shouldn’t I say that to the woman I want to marry?”
To marry. Mary had relinquished that dream long ago. It was far too late to consider something so utterly hopeless. Her head drooped in defeat. “Reasons are. . .too many.”
A ragged breath issued from him. “Name one.”
She searched his face in the subdued light, hating the pain she saw there, hating that she was the cause. . .and most of all, hating that if she did tell him her
reasons, she would inflict even more hurt. The crushing weight of the words she knew she would have to say to him almost suffocated her.
But it was the only sure way to make him understand.
Father, please give me the strength I need to do this. Mustering every ounce of fortitude she possessed, she steeled herself against the love for Nelson which had been growing inside her from the moment they’d met. She tugged herself forcefully from his grasp and turned away a little, to avoid having to witness the brutal blow she had no other choice but to administer. She would never be able to live with herself if she watched the effects of her confession. Just take me home, her heart begged. Let us leave now. Please. I cannot do this. I cannot.
But he stood there, feet planted, not moving. Waiting.
The rate of Mary’s heart intensified until it throbbed in her ears, each beat a death knoll to her relationship with Nelson Thomas. She could feel the pounding in her neck, could feel the heat rising to her face. It seemed a struggle even to breathe, to swallow. “Like others I am not,” she finally choked out. “Not like Estelle, not like woman you should marry.”
“What are you saying?” he probed.
A dark pain clutched her heart, filling her throat. How could she speak the words? How could she dredge up the horrific memories which could take years to banish completely from her thoughts and nightmares? Even as the battle raged within her, Mary chanced a tiny look—a last look—at the only man she had ever loved. The man who had led her to the Lord and helped her to trust again. This man of whom she was not worthy, could never be worthy.
How can I not tell him?
She drew a shuddering breath and plunged ahead, before her love for him could make her change her mind. “In Ravens-bruck, in death camp,” she heard herself whisper, “I was. . . comfort girl, for German officers. M–many officers. They—”
“Stop! Stop!” Nelson shrank back several inches, his head shaking in refusal, his jawline hardening. Mary sensed his eyes piercing her very soul.
Renewed loathing for herself and those faceless beasts in uniform flowed through Mary like vomit, withering her heart. It hadn’t been worth it, to survive. She should have refused. Fought. Let them gas her. Death would have been better than having to endure this.
A sound issued from the depths of Nelson’s being that was not human. A sound Mary Theresa had heard often during her confinement, from prisoners whose loved ones were tortured and murdered before their eyes. It would haunt her as long as she lived. On the edge of her vision, she saw his head sag into his hands, and his broad shoulders began to shake.
This time, he turned from her.
Her heart dropped within her with a sickening thud. Only the things she had survived before enabled her to live through his shuddering sobs. She blinked back the tears trembling on her eyelashes.
She’d known from the beginning that the two of them could never become involved. That when he went, so would his family. . .including Estelle. She should not have cultivated those friendships, yet she could not help herself. They had shown her the love she’d been so hungry for. And she’d needed it so.
“To tell you I did not want. You make me tell,” she lamented, knowing it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now. “I knew you would hate me. I. . .I am going now.”
He swung back, his face ravaged with tears. “Hate you?” he asked incredulously. “Hate you?”
Mary swallowed, trying to think of what could be worse, what degree of contempt lay beyond even hatred.
Nelson swiped the wetness from his face. And with the tenderest smile she had ever seen, he reached for her and drew her close, crushing her to his chest, rocking her in his strong arms. “I could never hate you, Mary Theresa,” he murmured husk-ily against her hair. “Never. I love you more than life itself. Those months at the death camp, those. . .terrible things you endured. . .none of that was your fault, your doing. It was all done to you. You had no choice. You were the victim. If I abhor anybody,” he grated, “it’s those animals that could do such deplorable, inexcusable, inhumane things to an angel like you. But I can only leave their ultimate judgment to God.”
Closing her eyes against an exquisite pain cinching itself around her heart, Mary still doubted the words she’d never dreamed she’d hear in her lifetime.
“Both of us were victims of war, my love,” he went on. “Things were done to us that we had no control over. But it’s time to let go of the past and forgive those who caused our suffering. Only then will our healing be complete.”
Mary had not prepared herself for this. She’d braced herself for his utter disgust, for his ultimate rejection. She’d expected Nelson to turn his back and walk out of her life forever. But, this! This was the unconditional kind of love Corrie ten Boom had spoken of. The kind of love God had for the people who repented of their sins and accepted His Son. “Y–you still love me? Even now?”
The realization completely shattered the floodgates behind her eyes.
With a strangled sob, Mary sought Nelson’s comfort, losing herself in those strong arms. Burying her face in his solid chest, she wept for the first time since she’d been taken into captivity. Great, huge sobs for herself, for her relatives, for the torment and shame of her past, for losses which could never be recovered.
On the fringes of her consciousness, she felt him scoop her up into his arms and cradle her there like a child. He eased down to the banister and sat stroking her back, her hair, making no move to stem the cleansing tide, as if he sensed her need to relinquish those hurtful memories once and for all.
Mary relaxed a little in his embrace, then a little more, drawing comfort and sustenance from that stalwart heart beating against her own. Slowly, gradually, the chains that had bound her for so long melted away. Her slowing tears took a new turn, becoming a wellspring of joy over the new life she had found in the Lord, with the Thomases, and best of all, with Nelson. No matter what the future held for them, it would never seem as hopeless as before. Because of him. Because of God.
At last, she fell silent.
Nelson continued to hold her closely, rocking her tenderly, his wordless solace infusing her with even more peace and hope. Then he gently set her to her feet and stood facing her. With the edge of his index finger, he raised her chin and looked deep into her soul. “My dearest Mary, don’t ever hang that lovely head again. You became a new creation earlier this evening. Old things are passed away, and all things are become new. God has erased your past and made you pure in His Son. He’s given you an inner beauty that radiates from your eyes and shines out at me whenever I look at you, a beauty even beyond your outward appearance.” His thumbs brushed away the last traces of tears from her face, and he smiled into her soul. “And I’m asking you to stay. Please. Don’t go away. Because if you’d deign to consider a guy with a bit of a limp, I’d be honored to have you for my wife.”
He still wanted her! Despite everything! Her lips curved into a tremulous smile. She tested her voice, surprised to hear it when it came out. “For a long time, I am loving you, Nelson. The honor is mine. I will stay.”
“I’m glad you said that,” he breathed, the circle of his arms tightening around her. “Oh, Mary, nothing in this world will ever hurt you again. This I promise with all my heart.” Lower-ing his head, he covered her lips with his, in a kiss that said far more than mere words ever could.
Mary snuggled closer as he deepened the kiss. Thank You, dear God, her heart sang, for teaching me forgiveness, for giving me love. Despite those old feelings of unworthiness, her past no longer mattered. The Lord had graciously given her far more than the desires of her heart, and she didn’t know how to begin expressing her praises.
“Come on, my angel,” Nelson crooned, hugging her to his side. “I know a few people who’re gonna want to hear about this. And on the way, we can start making some plans.”
And the two of them stepped out into the beautiful night.
epilogue
A few late-falling snowflakes dan
ced on the wind beneath a sky of clearest blue, adding even more frosty glory to a city blanketed in white. Peering out at the beauty from the lace curtains on Estelle’s bedroom windows, Mary could hardly speak. Everything looked so pure, so pristine. . .just the way she felt.
“Stand straight,” her friend coaxed, “or I’ll never get these pearl buttons fastened.”
Doing her bidding, Mary gazed down at the lovely bridal gown Mrs. Thomas had poured all her love into making. Of purest white satin, with long lacy sleeves and a bodice trimmed with seed pearls and sparkles, she felt like a princess.
Stunning in her own radiance, Rahel stepped close enough to give her a mute but fiercely emotional hug. “Kocham Ciebie, I love you,” she whispered, her deep brown eyes shining with moisture. Her long, dark hair and olive complexion glowed against a rich emerald gown with a complementing headpiece of satin and tulle. “Fortunate you are. Be happy.” Having come expressly to stand up for Mary, she was quickly forming an attachment to the rest of the family and would find it hard to return to her solitary life in Florida. . .if she could bring herself to leave at all.
“Now for your veil,” Estelle said, misty-eyed as she stood by in a gown identical to Rahel’s, her shining curls even more glorious next to the fabric’s deep color. Picking up the beaded Juliet cap and veil her mom had fashioned, she set it in place and pinned it to Mary’s hair, unfolding the blusher veil over her face.
Mom Thomas rapped on the door, then opened it to peek around, her cheeks pink against a deep wine-colored suit. “Oh, my pretty girls,” she murmured, all teary and flustered. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.” Crossing to them, she gave all three a hug, unconcerned about crushing the satin and taffeta creations she’d labored over. “Everything’s ready downstairs for our Christmas wedding. Let’s get your flowers.” She bustled to the florist’s box on Estelle’s bed to pass out bouquets of red carnations and white roses whose fragrance filled the room.
Estelle stood back to admire Mary, then gave her a hug, also. “Now you’ll be my real sister, you know. I’ve never been so happy.”