Page 2 of Deliver Me

This time of year, everything smelled like honeysuckle, and she plucked a white blossom from the vine near the door. A quick twist at the end to separate the petals and a downward tug pulled the stamen out, bringing with it a single drop of clear nectar that danced sweetly across her tongue.

She let the screen door slam behind her, welcoming the ceiling fan’s cool air over her skin as she sat down at the kitchen table to flip through the mail.

Advertisements.

Bills.

A thank you card from a parishioner that was addressed to her father.

Her hand stilled on the last item, buried at the bottom of the pile. The envelope had her name on it, inscribed neatly in blue ink, the kind that reminded her of cheap Bic pens like the ones they use at the bank downtown because they knew everyone stole them.

Her stomach did a slow roll as she chewed nervously at the corner of her thumbnail. There was no return address but there was really only one thing this could be, and the person who wrote it might not be entirely friendly. None of the other women in the prayer group had gotten a response yet, so they were all unsure if their attempts to communicate had been welcomed by the recipients.

She ripped open the envelope and pulled out half a sheet of white legal paper that was ragged and uneven at the edges where it had been torn.

Mia,

Next time you write you should ask the warden to give your letter to someone else. I didn’t land in prison for tax fraud or stealing some old grandma's pension. Save your prayers for someone who deserves them.

I'm one of the dangerous ones.

Gabriel Myers

Chapter Two

The small church was one of Mia’s favorite places. The linoleum floor was cracked and peeling, and the faded yellow paint on the nursery walls needed to be redone soon, but it didn’t diminish the comfort she felt every time she walked through the doors. She had spent so much of her childhood in this building that it was like a second home.

Her mother had been a pastor’s wife and that came with responsibilities. She’d devoted her days to record keeping in the office, baking sweets in the kitchen to be delivered to elderly neighbors, and teaching Sunday school in the nursery as children sat on the floor and listened to fantastical tales of rainbow-colored coats and boats big enough to hold two of every animal in the whole world.

Mia had loved it all, but none of it had captured her heart like those stories. For a lost and frightened child, the promise of miracles and God’s love had been a profound revelation. She wanted nothing more than to make the same positive impact on the lives of others as her mother had made, and she intended to start right here with this same congregation. She always arrived early to set out desserts and help to set the room up for their Wednesday night meeting.

“Are we ready?”

Mia smiled and set a stack of paper cups on the table. Mrs. Mitchell was the head of the women’s Bible study group, a sweet white-haired lady in her late seventies that wore the thickest glasses Mia had ever seen. Firmly independent and spirited, she always smelled like nipped afternoon rum cake and old woman.

Mia adored her.

“That’s the last of it,” she said. “Everyone should be showing up any minute now.”

As she predicted, the room filled quickly as women talked and snacked on cookies and lemonade that Mia had made herself. There were young girls newly graduated from high school, some in college like herself, recent brides still flush with new love, tired moms with hastily wiped spit up stains, and women that were old enough to be grandmothers who liked to hand off advice to the rest of them.

There was a feeling of community, a connection that Mia was grateful for as talk moved quickly over the latest town news. There was a pregnancy, a death, an amicable divorce. Someone mentioned the often hoped for dream that they might someday get a Taco Bell in town, and Mia couldn’t help but smile.

They’d been hearing that rumor for five years and still had to drive all the way to Abilene for a late-night burrito.

Mrs. Mitchell let them ramble aimlessly for a few minutes before clearing her throat and standing up from her orange plastic chair to call the group to attention.

“We’ve got a lot to cover tonight,” she began. “We have the upcoming bake sale to raise money for the food pantry, the Fourth of July celebration that still needs volunteers to work the tables, and Ms. Durand has suggested that we might want to consider starting now to gather donations of school supplies for the kids when classes start back up in the fall.”

Almost everyone nodded and Mia knew her best friend’s newest project would also be a success. Lilly had joined the church when the girls had been in middle school. Back when Lilly’s family had recently moved from Louisiana, and she’d been dealing with a new school on top of middle school mean girl attitudes. It hadn’t been easy, especially for her in a small town like this one, but nothing had been able to wipe the smile off Lilly’s face and Mia had loved her immediately. Lilly had lost the braces in the years since, but she had maintained her round cheeked grin and determined attitude.

Mia shot her a quick, encouraging smile as Mrs. Mitchell continued.

“The first thing on the agenda, though, is to see if anyone has gotten a letter back from the prison? I got mine in the mail yesterday,” Mrs. Mitchell confirmed.

Across the circle from Mia, Mrs. Newberry sniffed indelicately. Middle-aged and still beautiful, she’d been a regular church volunteer since her youngest child had left for college the previous year. She’d been openly opposed to Lilly’s suggestion from the start, refusing to participate and quoting fire and brimstone to everyone who would listen at every meeting since.

“Felons will meet their justice at the hands of God,” she had insisted. “We must be vigilant and not allow these criminals to corrupt our hearts and minds. Their dark thoughts have the ability to let the devil into our lives.”

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