Short Stories
Deirdre bit her lower lip nervously at the end of the hall during the commotion that reigned between the end of Sunday school and the beginning of the worship service.
Maddie stole up beside her, touched her shoulder and asked, “Why so pensive?”
“I was just thinking about the pastor’s judgment in wanting me to give my testimony before the baptism. You know how I tend to go on about things.”
“I have the feeling that’s precisely why he wants you to say something. The road that led you to Jesus was more difficult than most and sometimes it is good for people to see the journey a person has taken as well as the way they arrive in the Kingdom.”
“I know the pastor doesn’t want me to tell my story just for the shock value of it, since a lot of people in the church have already heard it to some degree. But don’t you think he’s taking a chance at upsetting some of the older folks?”
“There’s a calculated risk involved, but his discernment in these matters is usually on target. And as someone who had a very minor role in your story, I know it to be a story worth telling.”
“It’s been an interesting few months, hasn’t it?”
As Maddie clicked back and forth between windows comparing shipping rates for some supplies she needed to order, she was startled to see an unfamiliar figure standing in the doorway of the office she shared with the security guard.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“That’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to see someone I didn’t recognize without an escort. May I help you?”
The woman was perhaps a few years Maddie’s junior, but she looked quite a bit older. She was dressed in jeans and a pea coat and wore the look of anxious uncertainty that was common to women who were entering the City of Refuge building for the first time.
“I was kind of hoping. I’m just not sure if I qualify for your help.”
“Here, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?” Maddie asked and began the cumbersome task of getting to her feet.
“Don’t get up. I’ll get us both something. I’m Deirdre,” she said, slightly surprised by the seven or so months of pregnancy Maddie was hiding behind her desk. She took two Styrofoam cups from the dispenser next to the water cooler and began filling them.
“I’m Maddie. At City of Refuge we can give you temporary housing until you can get back on your feet, help you through the process of getting a restraining order if necessary and even accompany you to court since that course of action requires a face to face confrontation with the abusive party. Anyone who is placed in a position of needing to use legal recourse as a means of protection from a loved one needs all the emotional support they can get, and we are big on emotional support here.”
“That’s good to know, but my problems are with a business relationship rather than a loving one.”
“You’ll have to explain that to me.”
Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, a story came out in nervous chunks. Deirdre recounted neglect suffered at the hands of an apathetic mother and exploitation by more than one of her mother’s live-in boyfriends. She fled her circumstances as soon as she was able and eventually ended up in foster care for the final half of her teen years. Early relationships with males had been experiments in finding acceptance. Emotionally ill-equipped to handle such relationships with any degree of maturity, she drifted from one boyfriend to another until she viewed these affairs simply as means to an end, survival being the most noble end she could rationalize.
The last such relationship was with a man who viewed her as a means to an end, that end being a source of revenue. A master manipulator, he balanced kindness and abuse in such a way that she didn’t realize she had become another one of his girls until her dependence upon him had become so complete that she felt unable to flee the situation.
She paused in her narrative long enough to make sure Maddie understood just what she meant in referring to herself as one of Carlos’ “girls”. From that point on, the story she told was one of fear and alienation. Guilt and self-loathing were staples on this dark journey she had begun a year and a half ago. She entered into circumstances that only confirmed the low opinion she had of herself and had considered suicide as an exit strategy on more than one occasion.
“Even in the middle of hating myself I still hoped for something better. Though I feel like I’ve blown every opportunity to live a life free from my past, I still want something other than this.”
“In my book, abuse is abuse. We’ll see what we can do to help. You’ll have to share a room with someone, but I want you to make yourself at home here.”
Over the next few days, Deirdre took up the task of watching children for the moms who had to take job interviews. When Sarai returned to the City of Refuge facility with news that she had been hired, Deirdre took a measure of the right kind of pride in knowing that she had had a part in Sarai’s success in rebuilding a life for her kids.
She was a little surprised by the way helping out at the shelter improved how she viewed herself, and to that end put all her energy into helping women with paperwork, laundry, and childcare.
A week after arriving at City of Refuge, Deirdre greeted Marcus the security guard an hour before he was normally scheduled to begin his day. As it turned out Sarai and her two small children were taking up residence in an apartment on the other side of town and Marcus had volunteered to come early and help load her station wagon with the few boxes of things they’d brought from home and collected for the children from the food and clothing cupboards at the shelter.
“Good morning, Marcus.”
“ ‘Morning and thanks,” Marcus said and carried an armload through the door she was holding open.
As she began making coffee, a familiar sound out in the hall made every muscle in her body tense up. It was the “clack, clack/ clack, clack” of metal taps on the toe and heel of a pair of shoes, though Deirdre was reasonably sure the shoes in question were snake skin cowboy boots. They were the shoes Carlos wore when he wanted to make certain that people knew he was around.
“May I help you?” she heard Maddie ask in a less than friendly tone of voice.
Deirdre popped her head into the hall and said, “Maddie, don’t…”
“Yes, you’ve been very helpful. Thanks,” Carlos said and walked noisily to the end of the hall.
As Maddie followed, she quickly scrolled through her messaging templates and sent Marcus a <911 main hallway> text message. Still half the hallway away from the office, she heard the heated exchange taking place and several questions raced through her mind. Where was Marcus? How could she possibly deal with a violent six foot two man when she couldn’t even see her feet anymore? Was Deirdre all right?
“Just ask,” came the unexpected answer. It was nothing audible, but the words had come to mind so strongly that she knew their source. But ask what, she wondered.
As she stepped through the doorway, she saw Deirdre leaning on the desk with a cherry red mark on her right cheek and Carlos standing over her. It was then that she knew what she could ask and said aloud, “Anything.”
“You’re not very smart, are you…?” Carlos asked, his voice trailing off when he realized just how pregnant Maddie was. She hadn’t looked nearly so full term from halfway down the hall.
“I’m asking you in the name of Jesus to leave this facility,” Maddie said firmly and simply left it at that.
Carlos looked uncertain for a second, forced a laugh and said, “Wow, calling in the cavalry. I suppose I should be nervous.”
“That’s entirely up to you,” Maddie said as she stepped between Carlos and Deirdre.
Carlos gave Maddie an odd look, shook his head at the absurdity of this pregnant little woman calling in markers from on high and then stepping in as protector. He backed one step toward the door and said, “You know, I couldn’t believe it when Marla told me she saw you playing with some kids at this place. This isn’t over. Next time I’ll expect you to show me a little more respect.”
“There won’t be a next time. You’ve given us what we need to fast track a restraining order, so the next time you show your face there will be police involved from start to finish,” Maddie said, her boldness fueled by Marcus appearing in the doorway. “ Marcus, could you escort this gentleman out of the building?”
“Sure thing, Maddie,” Marcus said. He looked down at Carlos, firmly grasped him by the elbow and led him out of the office.
As Maddie dug in a drawer looking for the digital camera to document Deirdre’s injuries, Deirdre thought about the battle of wills that had just taken place and found herself looking around the room at where the walls met the ceiling.
“Do you have any idea what just happened? Carlos has a reputation for being very possessive of his girls and has a temper that just won’t quit.”
“And I have a savior who is infinitely more protective where his children are concerned than Carlos could ever be possessive.”
“But I know that Carlos doesn’t take that kind of thing seriously. The fact that he backed off is almost… miraculous.”
“He may not take any stock in it, but whatever might have been manipulating him certainly knew who I was talking about and recognized the authority of the name. If there was anything influencing his actions, those forces were held at bay long enough for Carlos’ conscience to be affected.”
As Maddie snapped photos and emailed the associated .jpg files to the caseworker she had lined up for Deirdre, she explained her long and abiding relationship with the carpenter from Nazareth who had turned the world on its ear. This ended up being the first of many such discussions, and as the dialogue continued, Maddie had every confidence that Deirdre would eventually find the peace she desired.
Twenty-five minutes into the service, Maddie shifted around in her seat and pushed her back against the bulkhead at the end of the pew. This move accomplished a number of things. First, it placed pressure on nerves in her back that relieved the sciatica in her left leg, which had become an issue mid way through the third trimester and had yet to let up. Then it gave her a clear view of Kyle gently shifting Constance from his left to right arm. He still treated her like she might break if he didn’t do everything just right and once he completed the maneuver, he carefully began vigorously working his left hand to chase away the pins and needles. Finally, and most importantly, it gave her the ability to gauge the reaction of the congregation while Deirdre gave her testimony.
As Deirdre told the gathering most of the same details she had shared that first day at the shelter, Maddie imagined she saw the swinging doors at the back of the sanctuary move slightly from the displacement of air that occurred when everyone gasped in unison at the various revelations. Undeterred by these reactions, she simply moved through the story like she was mowing the lawn.
As the story was told, Maddie noticed that the reaction to the details became less intense. Soon it was clear that people were hanging on her every word and they all wore expressions that bore not a hint of judgment. Maddie puzzled over their expressions for a bit and then realized what those looks were saying. She nudged Kyle and gestured for him to look behind them.
“I’ve never seen people listening so intently,” he whispered, evidently agreeing with his wife that Deirdre had drawn the congregation deep into her story.
“It’s recognition. They all see themselves in her and in her story. Maybe it’s like going to a wedding. The guests always end up revisiting their own, recalling where they started out and looking at how far they’ve come together as a couple,” Maddie said and refocused her attention as it sounded like Deirdre was reaching the end of her story.
“Like another woman a long time ago, I met a man not by a well but by a water cooler and discovered that living water tastes just as sweet out of a Styrofoam cup. And now,” Deirdre said like a shy little girl sharing a precious secret, “I can say that for the first time I can remember, there is real joy in my life.”
She shivered a bit as pastor Douglas asked some very pointed questions regarding her desire to be baptized. She answered from the heart, gripped the pastor’s hand and tried to think of an open grave as the water washed over her. The first few words the pastor spoke after she broke the surface were lost to her, but the Spurgeon quote he paraphrased after she pushed the wet hair away from her ears would stay with her forever.
“Jesus did not come to make bad people good or good people better, but to make dead people alive. ‘If anyone be in Christ, they are a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new!’”
As the sanctuary erupted into applause, a small amount of salt water mixed with the chlorinated water on Deirdre’s face.
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