“Maybe she stepped into a closet. You know, to put the mop away.”
Mary Catherine started walking again, backward, and then turned around. Lexy was a ways ahead of them. “That’s so weird.” She gave Marcus a puzzled look. “She looked familiar, too.”
They reached the first checkpoint. None of them had been allowed to bring in phones or purses or anything else. Now they were checked again and Mary Catherine produced the letter. “This is a letter for our participant. From her mother.”
The prison guard took the letter, opened it, and read it. He shrugged. “Fine.” He nodded to Mary Catherine as he handed it back. “Put it in your pocket. Anyone asks you tell them Sikes said it was okay.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mary Catherine could only imagine what Lexy’s mother might’ve written to her. How she had gotten the letter to the orderly and how the orderly had known to get it to Mary Catherine made no sense at all.
When they reached Marcus’s Hummer back in the parking lot, Mary Catherine did what she’d wanted to do all day. She hugged Lexy for a long time. “I’m sorry. About all that.”
Lexy resisted the hug. “I didn’t know . . . my mama was gonna be there. Someone shoulda told me.”
“We didn’t know either.” Marcus stood on her other side. “I’m sorry, too. Today was brutal.”
“Yeah.” Lexy slid past them and climbed into the backseat of the SUV.
They were on the freeway before the girl spoke again. “What happened to the boy?” Her tone was softer than before. “The one Dwayne shot?”
“He’s still in the hospital.” Marcus looked in the rearview mirror. “He’s in bad shape. Everyone’s praying for him.”
Lexy started crying again. Mary Catherine could hear her. Even through her tears, she managed to speak. “Can . . . we pray for him? Right now? Please.”
“We can.” Mary Catherine turned around best she could in her seat.
“Father, we’ve asked You before, but now we come to You again with Lexy. Lord, please give Jalen a miracle. Please wake him up and by Your divine touch, would You please heal his brain? Let him talk to his mama again and let him live the way he did before. We know it’s a lot, God, but You can walk on water. You can calm the seas with a whisper.” Her voice was raw with emotion. “We believe You can do this. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Through her tears, Lexy managed two simple words. “Thank you.”
In the front seat, Mary Catherine doubted the girl was used to saying thank you. The Last Time In program was working, like the training promised. But Mary Catherine had wondered if anything would pierce the darkness that surrounded Lexy Jones.
Until now.
Mary Catherine waited until they were fifteen minutes from home before she pulled out the letter. “Your mama wrote you something. She had someone give it to me before we left.”
At first Lexy didn’t seem like she was going to let them know she cared. She didn’t respond for five minutes. Then she muttered, “What’s the letter say?”
“You can read it.”
“No.” Lexy hesitated. “How ’bout you read it? I’m not that good at letters.”
It occurred to Mary Catherine at the same time it must’ve occurred to Marcus. Lexy couldn’t read. At least not very many words. Otherwise she never would’ve wanted two people she still didn’t know well to read the letter from her mother.
Before Mary Catherine opened it, she looked back at Lexy. “Has your mother written you before?”
“Never.” She raised her chin. “I hafta hear it to believe it.”
“Okay.” Mary Catherine unfolded the piece of paper and started at the beginning. “Here it is. ‘Dear Lexy, this janitor lady is helping me write this to you.’ ” Mary Catherine felt her heart react. The cycle of drugs and violence and illiteracy felt almost hopeless. “ ‘I’m so sorry for today. That wasn’t me in there. It was me acting. All I wanted to do when I saw you was run up and take you in my arms.’ ” Mary Catherine blinked back tears. “ ‘The way I used to do when you were little.’ ”
Marcus put his hand on Mary Catherine’s shoulder, silently lending his support.
“Keep reading.” Lexy didn’t sound as hard as before. “Please.”
Mary Catherine worked to find her voice. “ ‘I made so many mistakes, Lexy. I never should’ve gotten involved with that man. I wouldn’t be here if I could’ve said no. Instead I’ve spent every day since they locked me up sitting here and missing you. I think about what you must look like and how big you must be getting. I think about you in school making better choices than me.’ ”
Tears ran down Mary Catherine’s cheeks. She wiped them before they could fall on the letter. “You’re with your grandma and I know she’s a God-fearing woman. So I believe you can find the right way, Lexy. The way I missed out on. The right way is with God, baby.’ ” Mary Catherine blinked so she could see. “ ‘I said I’d do the program today on one condition. If I could work with you. Because you see, baby, in those minutes even though I was yelling at you, I was near you. I could see your eyes and your face. The face I’ve missed so much.’ ”
Mary Catherine lowered the letter. She looked at Marcus and shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s too sad.”
Lexy leaned up as far as the seat belt would allow. “Is that all?”
Marcus gave her shoulder the slightest squeeze. He mouthed the words You can do it, neither of them wanting Lexy to know how difficult the moment was for Mary Catherine.
“No. There’s more.” She sniffed and lifted the letter again. “ ‘So please forgive me. I never wanted to yell at you. I wish I could see you every day, baby, but not in here. Not like this.’ ” Mary Catherine wiped her eyes again. “ ‘I keep a picture in my mind, Lexy. You and me when you were six years old. Kindergarten graduation. Grandma took our picture. All I want to do every day is go back to that time and do life over again. I’d learn how to be a better reader and writer, and I’d be there for you at nighttime, to read to you and teach you how to sound out words. I’d make sure you and I were safe, away from the gangs and shootings. And I’d spend every day showing you how much I love you.’ ”
From the backseat, Mary Catherine could hear Lexy sniffling.
She had to finish. She wiped her tears once more. “ ‘But, Lexy, baby, I can’t go back. We don’t get to do life over again. So, baby, please just know that everything today was an act. It wasn’t me. It was my way of keeping you out of here. And that’s the only way I have left to love you. My precious daughter. I just wish I could’ve hugged you before you left. I love you always. Every day. Even from here. Love, your mama.’ ”
If Mary Catherine hadn’t felt drained after the prison tour, she definitely felt it now. She folded the letter and handed it to Lexy. “I’m sorry. I wish you and your mama could’ve had this moment together. Away from everyone else.”
Lexy took the letter. “Thank you. For reading it.” She pressed the letter to her chest and looked out the window. Like she was seeing all the way back to the time when she was six years old. Her kindergarten graduation.
There was no room in the car for music or conversation. Not after that. Mary Catherine sank low in her seat and again Marcus reached out and took her hand. He’d been wonderful all day, attentive to her and Lexy, and always aware whenever the situation felt too intense. He had taken her hand or put his arm around her a number of times today.
She appreciated all of it. Especially now. He ran his thumb along her hand and kept driving. Mary Catherine thought about the woman’s letter, and the miracle it was that the janitor woman had found them before they left. Especially considering it was the only letter her mother had ever written to her.
All her life Mary Catherine had been aware of people less fortunate than her. While her parents dined at the country club, she would go with her youth group friends t
o serve dinner at the Nashville Rescue Mission. Her parents would vacation at Atlantis in the Bahamas, but when they started taking two or three trips there each year, Mary Catherine opted for mission trips to Africa and Guatemala instead.
Still, never in that time had she thought about this segment of life. The people behind bars. How desperate and defeating to wake up every day in those small cells. And then to know that the extent of your freedom involved the common space on the other side of the cold metal bars.
More than that, Mary Catherine had never thought about the families those prisoners had left behind. Yes, they all had done something to deserve punishment. Crimes against people and society. There was a reason they were in prison.
But what about Lexy? What had she done wrong? Her daddy was dead before her third birthday, and her mom was serving time before she stepped foot in first grade. No wonder the pattern of crime and punishment continued in the inner city. Kids had no one else to follow. Mary Catherine closed her eyes. Lord, please let this program work for Lexy. I’ll do everything I can—as long as I can. But we can’t do this without Your help.
They dropped Lexy off ten minutes later, and again Mary Catherine hugged her. “We’ll be back to pick you up on Tuesday at six.” She searched Lexy’s eyes. “Okay?”
“Okay.” For the first time since Mary Catherine had met the girl, she didn’t look defiant. She looked lost and broken. The letter from her mother was still clutched tight in her hand. “Maybe someday . . . you can read me the letter again.”
“I’d like that.”
Lexy walked inside without looking back.
“What a day.” Marcus held the car door open for Mary Catherine.
“So hard.” On the way back to her apartment, they didn’t say much. But once more Marcus held her hand. As if there was no way to get through a day like this without physical support. As she showered that night and turned in early, she thought about her heart. Something she hadn’t thought about all day. So what if she didn’t have much time left to make a difference? Her life mattered today. It had mattered for Lexy.
Right now that was enough.
JAG SAT NEAR Jalen’s hospital bed. It was Tuesday afternoon and they’d been keeping watch over the child for nearly three days straight. He was off his breathing tube, but he still hadn’t woken up. Today, though, something was different. Jag could sense a breakthrough.
Something about the aroma of prayer that had made its way to heaven. That had to be it. Orlon had told him and Aspyn before the mission began. Keep praying. Make sure everyone is praying.
There were times Jag wondered what people thought about prayer. Most humans didn’t understand it. They thought God was a genie, someone to beg favors off . . . or a Father to turn to when things went wrong.
But that wasn’t prayer at all.
Praying was simply talking to God. Of course, the Lord loved hearing from His people. Whether they were believers or not. When Marcus Dillinger asked his Twitter followers to pray, it started a tidal wave of sweet requests directed straight to heaven.
It wasn’t that a child like Jalen needed so many voices praying on his behalf. God heard the desperate prayer of a single voice in a dark room. But sometimes something happened that caused the world to sit up and take notice. A time when miracles could sway a generation to believe in God.
Miracles amidst tragedies.
And in that way, God would be glorified. Which wasn’t always easy for people on earth to see or understand.
“Do you feel it?” Jag looked at Aspyn. This mission had kept them busier than either of them had ever imagined. “Something’s happening with the boy.”
“Yes.” Aspyn held out her hands. “It’s God’s energy. It’s all around us.”
“It’ll be any moment now.” Jag hovered closer to the boy. “Come on, Jalen . . . Jesus, breathe life into him. Please, Jesus. We need You now. Here. Please.”
Aspyn was praying too, and there in the chair beside the bed, Shamika had never stopped praying. Even when she doubted, she kept seeking God’s help. Never stopped believing.
Suddenly the boy made the slightest coughing sound.
Jag could hear the celebration starting in heaven. The other angels cheering as they watched. “Come on. Wake up, boy.” Jag held his hands over the child’s heart. “We feel You working, God. Be glorified through Jalen.”
And with that the boy began to sputter. His mother was on her feet instantly. “Jalen! Jalen, it’s Mama. I’m here, baby. Wake up, Jalen.” She began to cry, her voice desperate to see another sign of life from her son.
Again Jalen coughed and his eyes began to blink. They didn’t open. It would take a few minutes. But he was coming to. That much was certain. “Nurse!” Shamika ran to the door and yelled into the hallway. “Please! Someone come here! My baby is waking up.”
The miracle was unfolding. Jag felt the sense of deep wonder and awe, the feeling that never grew old. When death was denied the last word.
If Jesus were standing here, He’d be crying. Jag was sure. This was the reason He’d died on the cross. So that what was dead might live again.
“Jalen! Baby, I’m here.” Shamika hurried back to her son’s bed and put her hand alongside his face. Her hands trembled, and her voice was unsteady with the weight of her emotion. She kissed her son’s cheek and took hold of his hand. “I’ve missed you so much, Jalen. Please . . . open your eyes, baby.” She whispered low near his cheek. “Come back to me, sweet boy. I want to see you smile again. God, please bring him back to me.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Jalen . . . Mama’s here!”
Again the boy tried to blink his eyes open, and this time his eyelids opened just a hint. Slowly his lips parted. He peered at Shamika. “Mama? I’m hungry!”
“Okay, baby. We’ll get you something to eat.” Then without hesitating, Shamika did what most humans forgot to do in a moment like this.
She fell to her knees. “Jesus, You did this! You gave me my boy back. Thank You, Lord. Thank You.” With words and tears she continued to give praise to Jesus, the One who had brought her son back to life, the One from whom all good things flowed.
Including this.
26
MARCUS WASN’T SURE WHAT he had expected from the first group meeting with the girls, but he had never imagined this. They met at six o’clock that Tuesday in a classroom at the police station—one of the requirements. Tyler and Sami sat with Alicia, the small blond girl, and Marcus and Mary Catherine sat with Lexy.
Just the six of them.
But the topics that had come up made Marcus glad for the training. On the surface the girls looked very young. Too young to be in trouble. But they were sadly wise beyond their years. Today’s focus was on the difference between love and abuse.
Since they were allowed to discuss God in the group meeting—as long as the participants were willing, and they were—Marcus started the meeting with God’s definition of love. He read it straight from 1 Corinthians 13 in his Bible.
“ ‘Love is patient; love is kind.’ ” Marcus looked up at the two girls. They seemed despondent. Like they weren’t listening at all. He kept reading. “ ‘Love isn’t envious, doesn’t boast, brag, or strut about. There’s no arrogance in love; it’s never rude, crude, or indecent—it’s not self-absorbed. Love isn’t easily upset.’ ”
Lexy was the first to roll her eyes. Marcus stopped reading and waited for her to speak. Finally she tossed her hands up. “Okay.” Hurt filled her tone. “You want to talk about ‘love isn’t rude’? Dwayne’s rude all the time.” She looked at Alicia at the other side of the table. “That’s how guys are, right?”
“Definitely.” The girl fidgeted, twisting her fingers together. Clearly uncomfortable. “Love always means someone’s angry.”
For the next half hour they talked about how for these girls love felt the exact opposite of
how it was described in the Bible. Lexy announced that last week Dwayne had threatened to kill her.
“See, Lexy?” Mary Catherine’s voice was kind. “That’s what we’re talking about today. Dwayne has harmed you emotionally and physically. That’s not love.”
Marcus loved watching Mary Catherine in this setting. It was like she was made for this role. She looked past Lexy’s exterior hardness and spoke to the girl’s heart. Now that their time together was winding down, both girls had opened up a little.
Lexy talked about the guys she’d had before Dwayne, and Alicia talked about her current boyfriend. Though Alicia’s crimes involved theft, her relationships had apparently been equally bad for her. Marcus’s heart hurt for the young girls. It would take more than ninety minutes to teach them that abuse was not the same as love.
But they had made more progress than Marcus dreamed.
It was like Officer Kent had told them at the first day of training. These kids were starving for someone to invest in them, to care enough to listen and give guidance. Sure, they’d throw up ten-foot walls at the beginning. They might do that at every meeting. But eventually they’d talk, and then there were only two rules for the volunteers.
Listen. And don’t act shocked.
Which was hard, Marcus had to admit. Where were the people who were supposed to care for these girls and cherish them? Because of neglect or lack of supervision or bad patterns, their lives had been destined for violence and abuse, crime and even prison.
Today’s meeting, though, proved there was hope. The girls were talking and they were listening. That was a better start than he had expected for their first gathering.
When the meeting was over, they took the girls to Dairy Queen. Part of the program was introducing normal moments, where the girls could be kids. Marcus couldn’t believe how easily the girls laughed and enjoyed themselves. A different environment changed everything.
They were about to leave when Mary Catherine’s phone rang. She stepped away to answer it and almost at the same time her eyes lit up. “He is! That’s amazing!” She put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “Shamika, I can’t believe that. Yes, I’ll tell them.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her smile filling her face. “It’s a miracle for sure.”