Mary awoke with a start and lay breathless. Her heart was pounding for joy. Who was that wonderful man who offered me the light of life? she wondered. Where was he, and where have I been?
The sun filled her room with brilliant light. Joyfully she stretched forth her hand—and then suddenly stopped. Where is the key? I thought I had the key! Her spirits sank when she realized it might have been a dream. She was still in her own bed, and she was still dehydrated, weak, and ill, but she thought, If that was a dream, it was the most remarkable dream I have ever had.
She lay still and considered her experience. What was hell like? Had she just experienced it? She shuddered. Would she still be in torment if that stranger had not shared the light of faith with her?
Faith! The word resounded in her mind. Was it faith that transported me from that horrible dark world back to this one? Was it faith that set me free?
Mary breathed deeply, rapture flooding her soul. It was good to be alive! Just as daylight banished shadow demons from this world, so faith had driven the darkness from her soul.
“It’s true,” Mary sighed. “I can find peace in Jesus. He does love me!” She felt like dancing.
Mary finally began to observe the world around her. Her room was a mess. She slowly turned her head and realized that she too was a mess. Her body still hurt, but she could see out of both eyes, and she was on the mend. She shivered and pulled the quilt over her emaciated frame.
I must look a fright, she thought in horror, and then she laughed. It was a genuine laugh that broke the silence. She laughed when she thought of someone finding her as a living skeleton. She could imagine the shock in their eyes.
Mary was chagrined: ladies should not think of such things. But even her reproof made her laugh.
Reality finally brought her down with a bump. She was weak, thirsty, hungry, and terribly unkempt. Another laugh welled up from within her and bubbled into the room.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” She laughed. “I want to be presentable! I do care whether I live or die!”
Summoning all her strength, Mary crawled to the edge of the bed in search of water. “Thank you!” she cried when she spied a bucket only two feet from the bed.
It was harder than she imagined, getting a drink. She could not reach the bucket, nor did she have a dipper in hand. Finally she eased her body to the floor and hung her head over the bucket, lapping water as a kitten might drink milk from a saucer.
Mary leaned against the bed and tried to get her bearings. “Good,” she said. The mirror was broken. She wouldn’t have to see what she looked like. Though she was famished, she knew that would have to wait. She was much too weak to navigate the steps downstairs, and she couldn’t risk anyone coming to the store and seeing her nearly naked. I hope they didn’t destroy what few clothes I brought with me, she thought.
She carefully dipped the corner of a quilt in the pail of water and began to wash her body. The more she washed, the more she remembered. Several men had carried Ed Turner out after she had attacked him, but others had pounced on her, beaten her, ripped her clothing, and raped her repeatedly.
Anger and shame boiled in her heart. That was days ago, she thought. I must put all that behind me, or I will lose the joy I had when I awoke this morning. Just because terrible things happened, they do not change the fact that Jesus loves me.
A quick wash and an attitude adjustment made her feel like a new person. “Now to get dressed,” she said. She noticed that her wardrobe had been scattered around the room. She was a bit upset to think that strangers had handled her “private things,” but that was in the past. “Let’s go on from here!” she sang out.
She was growing stronger by the minute, but she still did not trust her strength to stand on her feet. Crawling across the floor, she examined her dresses and chose a long blue frock with a white lace collar. Soon she was struggling with the difficult task of getting dressed without standing.
By midmorning, the room had changed considerably. Mary’s clothing was stacked neatly, and her personal belongings were stashed out of sight. Returning to the pail for refreshment, Mary discovered that the water was quite foul from her constant usage. She was anxious to find fresh water, but she wasn’t ready to walk to the public well, nor did she want to be seen by anyone in town. She wondered if people in town knew what had happened and if they would spurn her because of it.
She knew she shouldn’t care what people thought, but she did. Her heavenly Father had given her a new start. She was forgiven, so she should move forward.
The afternoon was growing hot when Mary decided to navigate the stairs. Her strength was returning, and the thought of food downstairs nearly drove her mad. She was able to walk across the room by grasping one piece of furniture and then another.
Stopping at her bedroom door, she caressed the wooden panels lovingly. Mary could still smell the lacquer and paint from her father’s workshop, and she whispered, “I’m sorry, Daddy! I didn’t mean to tarnish your good name.”
It was either remembering her father or the walk across the floor that suddenly drained her energy. She struggled to lift the latch and slip into the hallway. She was so exhausted by the time she reached the stairs that she had to sit down and scoot down the staircase one step at a time.
Fumbling into the kitchen, she found to her extreme joy a pail of clean water. It wasn’t fresh, but it was clear and wholesome in appearance. Her bread had molded, but by carefully tearing the green away, she found the rest quite palatable.
Mary set the table with what food and drink she could manage to prepare and collapsed in a chair. Bowing her head, she genuinely thanked her heavenly Father for His providence.
The afternoon gave way to evening, and then daylight faded entirely. Still Mary sat alone in the gloomy kitchen, planning her next move. Food and water had strengthened her, but she was reluctant to make the arduous climb to her bedroom.
She would not light a lamp or a fire. There was no reason to call attention to the house. Though she had thanked her heavenly Father for Jan several times through the day, she was not ready to encounter him tonight.
Anger flared deep within her as she thought of Jan’s use and abuse of her, but she did not want to go down the dark road of hatred again. Suddenly she froze. She heard the latch on the front door click and the hinges squeak as it opened.
She held her breath. Was it Jan? Suddenly a more terrifying thought came to her: was it Ed Turner’s friends again? Mary truly wanted to forgive those men, but the thought of seeing them tonight turned her resolve to putty.
A floorboard creaked. Mary hardly dared to breathe. Heavenly Father, she prayed silently, protect me!
“Miss Mary,” a voice whispered in the hallway.
Walley had called her that, but so had Jan. Oh, please, please let this be Walley, she prayed.
“Miss Mary,” the voice called again.
Mary grew more confident. “Is that you, Walley?” she called.
Movement in the hallway stopped.
Mary mustered all her courage and called, “Walley, I’m in the kitchen.” Even as she spoke, she wondered if she had made a mistake.
The floor creaked again, and Mary jumped when a small silhouette appeared in the doorway. “Walley,” she whispered, “is that you?”
“Miss Mary,” the lad cried, his voice nearly squeaking for joy. “You’re alive!”
Mary struggled from her chair, and Walley was at her side, hugging her with all his strength. “They said you were dead, and the sign on the door warned of plague,” Walley whispered.
Dead? Plague? A sign on the door? What is that all about? Mary wondered. Suddenly she recalled Jan’s parting words. He had threatened her with something, but she’d missed what it was. Had Jan tried to isolate her from help or from danger?
In her weakened condition, she sat back down. “Walley,” she confided, “I’m not dead, but I surely would have been before morning—but for the grace of our heavenly Father.”
Walley held her hand. His keen eyes searched hers, confusion written on his face.
Mary looked directly into the lad’s eyes. “I’ve given my heart to Jesus, Walley!”