"It was God' will, my child." he murmured softly after the funeral. "You must learn to accept His will on faith and pray more than ever."
Then he had given her a prayer card with the "Our Father" printed elegantly on its back and a picture of the Lord Jesus on the front. She had seen the same picture before in a large frame in the prayer chapel with candles in front of it. It was the most beautiful Jesus she had ever seen with His long blond hair, understanding eyes, and gleaming white robe. His eyes seemed to follow her everywhere and were filled with boundless love and compassion. Father Gibbons had also given her a rosary that she discovered would glow in the dark dimly and comfortingly. Taylor looked at both frequently as she prayed and tried to sleep.
Her daddy changed after her mother died. He had always liked his 'shine, as he called it, but the like turned into love and the love turned into need. He began going to the local honky-tonks on week nights. He hired a rotund Mexican woman named Maria to baby sit her and that made it possible for him to go out nightly. Then he began staying away all week end. Then longer. Taylor supposed she should have missed him more but it is hard to miss someone you don't know. She would have missed her old father. At least she still had Duce to hug.
One evening her father came home after an extended absence with an intoxicated, frizzy haired woman in tow. "I got married again." he announced, slurring his words. The woman held up her left hand triumphantly to display the wedding ring on her finger. Taylor recognized it. The ring had been her mother's. Taylor had hoped her father had been saving it for her.
"This is your new mother." He gestured vaguely at the woman, "Her name is Brooke." He turned to Brooke then. "This is my kid, Taylor, that I told you about."
Brooke looked at Taylor with open distaste. "I don't like kids." Brooke said sullenly. "Not even my own brats that the state took. Took their support payments away from me too."
She noticed Duce as he came out from behind Taylor and tried a tentative sniff at her. She kicked unsteadily at the puppy. "I don't like mutts either." she said needlessly.
Brooke fired Maria as not needed and a drain on the vodka funds. Taylor's dad stayed home more for a bit, but things got worst. The only link between himself and Brooke was their mutual, powerful love of 'shine.
Brooke soon began to abuse the girl. Verbally at first, then the abuse escalated quickly into slaps; followed by punches that were always directed at the areas of Taylor's frail body concealed by her clothing.
She tried telling on Brooke to her father once. She showed him the welts from the wire hanger on her back but he just glanced at them and told her she "prolly had it coming." He warned her he would do worse if she turned into a tattletale.
She dared not tell Father Gibbons. If it were God's will that her blameless mother should die screaming incoherently, what would He do to a little girl who deserved beatings and was a tattletale too? But she could always confide in Jesus. Jesus loves little children. Everyone knows that.
Plus she had her prayer card and rosary. And Duce. Often at night, she would hug Duce close and gaze at the card longingly and whisper of her pain to His understanding eyes. She asked the sympathetic Jesus to please, please come for her. Once she imagined she saw a single tear escaped His eye and slowly ran down His cheek; but He never came. It might have been one of her own.
The day started out ominously. Brooke had awoken early with a vicious hang-over. She lurched about and discovered she was out of her opiates prescribed by an understanding, cash-only doctor for her "bad back". Then Brooke discovered her husband had taken the last of the extra-strength aspirin too and swilled it down with the last of their vodka. Now, he laid sprawled out and unmoving on their dingy bed.
Brooke had begun to curse at Taylor and Duce as soon as she saw them. That was usual, but her tone was not. It was low and menacing. It frightened Taylor and Duce and they could sense the danger in it too as she felt the puppy trembling in her arms.
Taylor heard the mail jeep arrive, pause then hurry off on its appointed rounds. Brooke heard it as well. The screen door of the kitchen slammed as she hurried out for the mail. It was the first of the month, after all.
When Brooke returned she was in a slightly better mood. She was clutching a familiar envelope that always contained a government disability check. For her bad back and all. There was a check cashing business just six blocks away. It was strategically nestled between a bail bond office and a liquor store.
Brooke didn't take time to dress up to go cash her check. Her need was in high gear. She retained her ratty house coat and fuzzy slippers. She paused at the door to glare at Taylor.
"Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone or you'll be sorry. Real sorry." she hissed. "And keep an eye on that dirty mutt of yours or he'll be dead." The door slammed behind her. Taylor knew these were not idle threats.
Brooke came back all too soon. She was clutching two fifths of vodka, one with a paper sack twisted around it and one with her hand firmly around its neck. It was down by one third already. Oddly, the liquor hadn't mellowed her mood. In fact, her mood had grown darker.
"Where's that drunken father of yours?" Brooke demanded of Taylor. "Is that piece of trash still passed out?" Brooke lurched to the bedroom and pushed open the door. Taylor's father was sprawled out just as he had been. He hadn't moved an inch. He didn't even appear to be breathing.
"Wake up, sleepy head." Brooke breathed out in a mocking tone. "Time to get your lazy arse up. Momma's got breakfast." The man didn't get up or even stir. Brooke cursed and moved to the fireplace. She snagged the poker. She began to poke him sharply in the ribs with it. He gave no response.
"He's passed out colder than a mackeral." Brooke murmured disgustedly. "Dead to the world." She suddenly smiled. "Guess I'll just have to drink these all alone."
Brooke returned to the kitchen and put the poker on the table so she could hoist the bottle with both hands. She sat and took a long, slow pull at it then she noticed Taylor looking at her with wary eyes. Duce was looking at the drunken woman warily too from across the room.
"What're you looking at, you nasty, little sl*t?" she demanded. Brooke glared at the girl then stood up suddenly and advanced on Taylor with her unoccupied palm already raised to strike. Duce knew what this meant and gave a low, warning growl. The woman was surprised at the intrusion and further enraged.
"So that stinkin' mutt has grown a pair, has he?" Brooke said, sneering. She put the bottle down carefully then picked up the poker. "I'll learn you not to growl at me, boy." She wobbled slowly towards the pair.
"Don't you hurt my Duce!" Taylor cried out desperately and ran to get between them but she was too late. The woman struck the puppy very hard twice across his back. He screamed once then collapsed. His body lay at an unnatural angle. Duce lay still with unpumped blood slowly seeping from the wounds.
Taylor rushed at Brooke, crying with grief and rage. She began to pummel at her with her fists. Brooke shoved her back then raised the poker again.
"You little tramp! You're a sl*t and you're going to be the same kind of whore your mother was." Brooke spat through clenched teeth. Her eyes were dark and deadly with maniacal hatred and vodka.
"My mother wasn't a whore. You're the whore and I hate you!" Taylor screamed. Brooke gasped and grasped the poker tighter. "I'll show you not to sass me, girl." She raised the poker slowly. "And I'll show you what hate is all about."
The first blow smashed into Taylor's jaw, shattering everything in its way. The second and third struck and entered her chest, the sharp log hooks tearing their way into her body. Taylor was thrown down to the floor and against the kitchen wall by the force of the blows.
She lay there dazed and hurt. She tried to breath but twin holes in her lungs let the air escape with a wheezing sound. She looked across at the dead puppy and could feel grief for him even through her pain.
Brooke was shuffling closer, raising the dripping poker high again. Taylor knew she was about to die.
"Now you're really gonna get it, sl*t." Brooke was within striking distance now and raised the poker very slowly to let Taylor see just what was coming. But what Taylor saw was the light.
The back yard outside the kitchen door grew brilliant with the light, even in the afternoon sun. It was a light like no other, intensely bright and yet not harsh. It grew then stabilized quickly. There was no sound at all, not even bugs or birds.
Brooke didn't appear to notice. She had raised the poker to her fullest height and paused, savoring the moment. She didn't notice the kitchen door opening of its own accord. Taylor did. Her eyes grew big with wonder. There stood Jesus.
He was just as the picture depicted Him except better. No picture painted by earthly hands could have captured His luminosity and the glow of pure love that emanated from Him. His wonderful eyes took in the scene with a single glance. His left arm raised and a beam of red light shot out and struck Brooke. She froze on the spot, poker still raised.
Taylor knew a fourth blow wouldn't be needed. She knew she was dying, just as Duce had died. Still she was filled with joy that she had been able to see Jesus, at least this once. Her vision faded in and out but she saw Him come to her. He extended His arm again and a narrow beam of blue light flashed out from a kind of silver bracelet He was wearing. He lowered his arm slowly, drawing the beam down her broken body. He looked at the bracelet, thought briefly, then touched some sort of decorations on it. A green light now appeared and He ran that over her as well.
The pain ceased so suddenly that Taylor was startled. It was gone completely. Her jaw was fixed too. The holes in her chest vanished as though they had never been. Even her clothes were spotless. Jesus extended His hands to her and helped her up. She felt better than healed. She felt magnificent. Overwhelmed. Except for the remaining pain in her heart for Duce.
She looked at her brave, dead puppy and waves of sorrow came over her. Jesus seemed to know. He turned towards the puppy and repeated the procedure with His bracelet. Suddenly, Duce bounded first to life and then into Taylor's outstretched arms. She laughed with delight as he frantically licked her face and gave her puppy hugs.
Taylor looked at Jesus and tried to express her gratitude but no words big or grand enough came to her. It didn't matter. He seemed to know her heart. There were sounds of distant sirens approaching. Someone had called the police. Jesus turned towards her and instantly His word formed in her mind without Him speaking them aloud.
"It is time to go." came the words softly. He extended His hand towards the girl and she cradled the exuberant pup under one arm then took His hand. They walked out of the door and she saw His chariot. It was hovering over the lawn with a shaft of holy, bright light extending down from its center. There were small round windows in the sides and Taylor could see figures within. Jesus had brought some angels with Him she decided.
The trio had almost reached the circle of light where it touched the ground when Jesus pointed His arm at the house. The red beam of light flashed out and into the kitchen. Suddenly Taylor could hear her step-mother's angry cursing.
"Where are you, you filthy, little whore? What's going on here?" Brooke's drunken voice bellowed. Taylor shrank back against Jesus and Duce shrank back against Taylor. Jesus put His hand on her shoulder reassuringly as the first police car screeched to a halt. Oddly, the police didn't seem to notice them or the chariot.
"The female will find it awkward to explain your blood and disappearance." The words had entered her mind directly again. Brooke staggered out of the door, poker still in hand, curses still pouring from her lips. "Drop the weapon!", an officer shouted at her drawing his pistol. His partner produced his pistol too and both aimed at Brooke.
Taylor turned away from the scene and wondered briefly about her father. "The male was not your father." Jesus answered her un-asked question. Jesus knew the issues of her heart. Jesus knew everything.
"Can I take my doggie?" Taylor asked Jesus hesitantly. Jesus smiled His Jesus smile. Then Taylor knew she needn't have asked. Of course Duce couldn't be left behind. It would be unthinkable. Her heart swelled out with gratitude and joy and thanked Jesus.
Taylor turned and took a final look at the shack. Brooke was on the ground. One officer was kneeling on her back as she continued to scream and curse. The other was applying hand cuffs.
Jesus bent and picked her up as she held Duce tight against her body. She leaned her head against His chest.
"Where are we going, Jesus?" Taylor asked. "Home." Jesus replied to her heart.
Jesus carried them into the light.