Emma winced. She ran her fingers along the scars on her forearm. "I did that once."
"Anything to transfer the pain." Mary paused. "But the years I spent in juvenile detention added more layers to the hurt. I turned my back on God. I told Him I didn't believe in Him and that He wasn't real anymore. Some of the kids introduced me to cocaine, and I became crazy addicted to it, taking it every day, hiding it in my room and in my shoes. Without faith, well, anything was permissible for me. The affair with my math teacher. The way I acted around the boys ... so they could sneak me drugs. All of it made me feel powerful, like that was the way life was supposed to be lived."
Emma pulled one knee up, held it to her chest, and encouraged Mary to continue with her story.
"By then I had remembered my last name—Madison. And I tried to focus on my studies. As awful as my life had become, I still wanted to learn. I made a lot of poor choices over the next few years, but I could read and write and work my numbers. When I turned eighteen, they set me up in the state's work program and sent me to a place called the New Life Center."
"On 5th Street in Washington?" Emma looked surprised. "I've eaten there before."
"That's the place. They gave me a job filing papers in the office." Mary was quiet for a minute, thinking back to that time in her life when she'd met the man who changed her life forever. "That's where I met him."
"Who?"
"Nigel." Mary blinked and looked at Emma again. "Nigel Townsend."
Of all the people God used to show her Jesus, Nigel had the greatest impact on her. But she hadn't recognized any of that in the beginning. Because her first feelings for Nigel had nothing to do with Jesus or His power to save her. She wasn't interested in learning from Nigel.
She was in love with him.
* * *
Chapter 15
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Nigel was the first one to greet Mary the day she was dropped off by a social worker at the front door of the New Life Center in Washington, DC. He was a mountain of a man, maybe thirty years old, burly with tanned skin and a smile that lit the darkest corners of her soul. His green eyes glowed with warmth and kindness and love—a sort of love Mary had never imagined before.
He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.
"Hello, Mary." He sat at a desk just inside the front door. "We've been expecting you." He gestured to the hall beyond the desk. "Welcome to the New Life Center, the place where you'll find your freedom." He smiled at her. "You're going to love it here."
There was an accent in his voice, a musical sound to his words. Mary guessed that he was European. The way he talked made him sound both smart and kind. But that first day the shine in his eyes was too bright for Mary to look at.
She fidgeted with her bag and dropped her gaze to somewhere near her feet. "Hello." Without really looking up, she mumbled, "Where do I sleep?"
Nigel hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else. Instead he stood and walked past her. "Follow me."
Once she'd put away her things, Nigel led her back to the desk just inside the front door and explained her situation once more. Working at the center was one of the conditions of her release from the detention center. She could consider her penalty paid in full so long as she spent a year working at the center.
"You understand what we do here?" He took the chair opposite Mary's new desk.
Mary kept her eyes down. He took her breath away, but it was too soon to let him see that. "It's a mission. Food for street people, that sort of thing." She should know. "Clothes and canned food a few times a week, right?"
"Yes." Nothing about Nigel was rushed. He leaned forward over his knees and folded his hands. "But we're about more than food for the body, Mary. We have classes too."
"Classes?" Mary couldn't help but look up. No one had told her that the New Life Center had classes. "On math or history, you mean?"
"Not exactly. I teach classes on Christianity, on getting to know Jesus Christ."
His words frustrated her. "Oh—" her voice went flat— "church."
"Not that either." He sat back and laced his fingers behind his head,- his biceps bulged on either side of his face. "People who come to the center haven't been in a church in years. Maybe never. I teach people how to have a relationship with God, how to find the greatest love they'll ever know."
There it was.
The part that hit her square in the gut and stayed with her every day after that. The part about finding the greatest love ever. Nigel was the first man who had ever talked to her about finding that kind of love. From that moment on she could feel herself falling for him a little more all the time. Nigel Townsend—the man who would rescue her from her ugly past and make her future all sunshine and rainbows.
Mary began a routine, waking early, taking her spot at the desk. Most of the people who came and went from New Life Center were nice to her. "Hi, Mary," they'd say. Sometimes they'd smile. But most of them knew the truth about her.
She was the notorious Mary, the girl who'd been chained to a bed in the basement for five years. The girl who had tried to run and stolen a truck and been convicted of grand theft auto. Her life had been played and replayed for the whole world to stare at in horror.
There was no getting around it, no place where people hadn't heard the awful story. And it was awful,- she knew that by then. People had one of two reactions when they figured out who she was. Either they would feel sorry for her, or they'd look her up and down and wish they could have a piece of whatever action she might still be providing.
Nigel Townsend wasn't in either group.
Mary figured she'd work a week, then take the first ride she could get to New York City. She didn't really think Grandma Peggy was still waiting for her, but just in case, she would make her way there eventually. New York was home, so one way or another she'd find her way back.
But all that changed as she got to know Nigel. After fourteen days of working long tiresome hours at the center's front office, having very little money in her pocket, and sleeping on a cot in an oversized closet off the kitchen, the only reason Mary hadn't run was because of him.
Already she had Nigel figured out. He's one of those poor souls who still believes, she told herself. That had to be it. Nigel was the pastor in charge of the mission, so that meant he had her grandma's faith and the faith of Ted and Evelyn. It showed in his voice and his eyes and in the gentle way he had about him. Faith was everything to Nigel. But she would change that,- she would convince him that he didn't need God nearly as much as he needed her.
She grabbed a folder from a stack on the desk where she worked. It was mindless work—mostly filing papers—and it barely passed the day. But once in a while Nigel would check on her and give her one of his jumbo smiles. For the next hour her heart would sing.
She picked up another folder and filed it in the lower desk drawer. All her life she'd looked for love. Real love. She'd known it once, with her grandma and her mama. But the customers who had visited her in the basement hadn't loved her. Even the nice ones with the sweet words. Love certainly hadn't come her way while she was in juvenile detention.
Even though she no longer believed in God or the idea that He might have a plan for her life, hearing Nigel talk about the greatest love made her want to know everything about him, how he had gotten so tender and how come—at more then ten years older than her—he still believed in love the way she hadn't believed in it since she was a child.
This will he easy, Mary thought. I'll get him to my room, and we can show each other about love, and then I'll stay with Nigel Townsend for the rest of my life.
Her plan was a simple one, and she tried several times to get Nigel to go along with it. She would find him alone in his office. "Nigel, my room's so dark. Could you come sit with me until I fall asleep?"
"You don't need me, Mary." He would smile but never even get up from his desk. "God's already in your room. Talk to Him."
She'd leave, dejected, her cheeks
hot from rejection. Then she'd find another way to try again the next day. But Nigel was never interested. The only thing he wanted from her was her attendance at one of his classes. "Jesus wants to show you real love, Mary. Class starts at seven. I'll be looking for you."
Mary couldn't understand Nigel. No other man had ever turned down her advances. Back in juvenile detention, whenever she wanted to feel loved, she had only to suggest the idea to a fellow inmate or a deliveryman or even—two different times—to an instructor. They were always drawn by her, unable to say no. "You're a temptress, Mary Madison," one man told her. "No man could say no to your beauty."
It was a power Mary enjoyed, but it fell flat on Nigel. And since he wasn't interested in her, she wouldn't consider attending his classes.
Of course that wasn't what she told him. "I'm too tired," she'd say. Or "I'm not feeling good today."
But each time Nigel asked she was a little more interested. Maybe if she sat in his classroom, making eye contact with him the entire time, he would change his mind about her. Maybe he would be captivated by her the way nearly every other man had always been. Then he would see how good she was at loving, and he would be powerless to do anything but take her as his own. They would marry, and she would become one of those women she saw walking down the streets every now and then. A woman with a clean look and nice clothes and a handsome husband on her arm.
Yes, maybe she would go to one of his classes, and everything would change.
At the end of the day on her third Monday at the center, Mary looked at the clock. Five-twenty. Ten more minutes and she was done. Another folder and another, and then she heard someone outside the front-office door.
It swung open and there was Nigel, filling the doorway, taking her breath. "Mary . . . class starts at seven . . . upstairs."
She gave him a once-over and then found his eyes. "Okay." She angled her head, batting her eyelashes the way her mama used to when she wanted something from a man. "Maybe."
"Maybe, huh?" He crossed his arms and smiled at her. "That's better than no."
She pictured herself sitting in Nigel's classroom, trying to make eyes at him, trying to convince him to come to her room, all while he was talking about God. A sick feeling came over her, and she shrugged. "Or maybe not." She looked away, stood, and pushed her chair in. Nigel would never love her if she interrupted his precious class time.
Normally he would ask her to come to class and then be on his way. This time he stayed. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. "You don't need to be afraid."
"I'm not." A smile forced the corners of her mouth a little higher. Afraid? Was that why she couldn't stomach the thought of attending his class? A class on the greatest love of all? She smoothed the wrinkles out of her worn T-shirt. Again she couldn't look at his eyes. "It's just... I'm tired." She looked up for a moment. "So maybe, okay?"
"Mary . . ." Nigel's voice felt gentle on the rough edges of her heart. "I already know. A class on God's love scares you to death."
She stuck out her chin. Didn't he see how she felt about him? that her hesitation had nothing to do with God's love? It had to do with her own love—the love she felt for him. She steadied her nerves. "Maybe the idea bores me."
The tough-girl image was an act, but it was one she knew well. It helped cover up whatever she was really feeling inside. She straightened the papers on the desk and stepped out from behind it. Nigel didn't deserve her sarcasm. "I'm sorry." The conversation was making her feel even sicker.
"Love is waiting for you. God's love." This time Nigel's voice was a caress, but not the type of caress she was used to. Not the type she wanted from Nigel. Still it soothed something deep inside her.
"Ah, Nigel." She came to him where he stood in the doorway, and for the first time she let herself get absolutely lost in his eyes, those brilliant eyes so full of light and hope. "Don't you understand?" Her attraction toward him crystallized. What would it be like to meet the needs of a man like Nigel Townsend? "I don't want to love God." She took a step closer, her eyes locked on his. "I want to love you."
"No, Mary." His tone was kind, but it was stronger than cement. "That's not the love I'm talking about."
"Please, Nigel . . ." She lowered her voice, making it breathy, sensual. "Give up on the God part."
"I can't." He looked through the walls that surrounded her heart and into the last remaining tender places inside her. "God won't give up on you. I won't either."
She was only a few feet from him now, and a chill ran down her body. Maybe he did have feelings for her, deeper feelings. A man who wouldn't give up on her? Wasn't that the sort of love she'd been looking for all her life?
She took another step closer—almost touching now. This must be why she'd been brought to the New Life Center. So she could find love with the beautiful man standing before her. "Don't you need anything besides God?" She brushed her knuckles tenderly against his cheek. Forget the class. They could go to her room and she would show him the sort of love she understood. Maybe then he would stop talking about God. The idea danced in the daylight of the moment.
But he remained stone still, with no response to her touch. "Come to class." He drew back. "Then you'll understand real love."
"Teach me about love, and I'll teach you. We don't need a classroom or a Bible." She moved closer again and let her fingers skim lightly over his muscled arm. "1 know a better way."
Nigel took her hand gently from his arm and lowered it back to her side. "You're confused." He stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to show you. But love isn't what you've known." He smiled, and in his smile there wasn't even a hint of anything weak or compromising, no proof that he was attracted to her the way other men were. Instead he had the look of a father—the way she always imagined a father might look at her.
But she didn't want a father in Nigel.
The rejection stung the same as if he'd reached out and slapped her. She wasn't desirable to him, and in a rush the reasons were obvious. She was trash. Nigel would want a pure woman. In the glow of his light, Mary suddenly felt so dirty she wondered if she had an odor about her. She broke eye contact and stepped around him. "I'm going to my room."
As she walked past him she could feel Nigel turn toward her, hear his voice like a physical touch against her skin. "I'll be expecting you, Mary." He turned then, walked back to his office, and shut the door.
Mary took a step toward his office. What was he doing in there? Was he trembling the way she was? Was he regretting his decision not to follow her to her room? Maybe he was thinking about it, convincing himself that she was right.
She took quiet steps down the hallway until she reached his office. The other residents at the center were serving dinner in the cafeteria, so the hall was empty. She heard his voice, too soft to understand. Maybe he was talking out loud, telling himself he was a fool for turning her down.
"Please, Nigel ... I'm here waiting for you." She whispered the words to the closed door. Then she pressed her ear against it so she could hear what he was saying.
"Lord . . . she's a lost girl, barely more than a child . . ."
Something cold and steel-like shot through Mary's heart. He wasn't struggling with whether he should come to her. He was talking to his God. She forced herself to listen.
"She's longing for love the only way she understands it, Father. Through the power of eroticism and seduction."
Shame blew its hot breath on Mary's face. What a fool she'd made of herself. He had seen through her all the while, and the embarrassment almost sent her padding back to her room. But there was something intriguing about a man like Nigel talking to his God about her. It made her feel strangely important.
"She's beautiful, God. ... I know better than to spend time alone with her. Help her see me in a different light. Help her hear me about true love, Your love, Lord."
Mary wasn't sure how to feel. Nigel thought she was beautiful, and for that she found a moment of private rejoicing. But even so
, he had no interest in her. Not the way she'd hoped. She blinked back tears and kept listening.
"I see Mary's soul, the soul that lies gasping for breath so deep inside her." He paused, his voice more anxious than before. "Help me reach her, Lord. Help me know why You've brought her into my life." Another pause. "She is Your daughter, God, and she is so lost. I want to show her the truth.
Please . . . bring her to class tonight. Show me how I can reach her and help me . . . help me be wise."
Mary's heart sank. No, Nigel was never going to love her the way she loved him. She had been right before. He wanted only her attendance in his precious class. Nothing more. When Nigel fell in love, it would be with an untainted woman, someone who shared his faith. Someone like her was nothing more than a temptation to do evil.
Nigel was still praying. "God?" His voice became more of an anguished cry. "What do You want from me? Why Mary . . . why a temptress here at the mission? And how come I keep hearing You tell me that she's the one, the reason I'm here?"
Mary pressed her ear closer to the door. Nigel believed she was the reason he was here at the mission? The possibility gave her a sense of wonder and hope. Maybe something would work out between them after all.
Nigel sighed loud and long. "For now I will keep praying daily, my face to the ground. Until You show me what You're going to do in the life of Mary Madison. Thank You, Father, because You are faithful. All my answers will come to me . . . in Your time. In Jesus' name, amen."
Mary scurried away from the door and darted back down the hallway. She was out of sight when she heard Nigel's office door open, heard him step out and walk the opposite direction toward the room where dinner was being served.
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