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Mary became convinced that God really did have a plan for her life.
    Her grandma folded the piece of paper in half and tucked it back into the purse. "Whenever you're sad, just know that the truth is in here." She patted the little purse. "Okay?"
    "Okay." Mary held the purse against her heart. "I'll keep it for always."
    Grandma Peggy's eyes grew soft. "You're such a pretty girl. Remember what Grandma always tells you? Who made you so pretty?"
    Mary could feel her eyes glowing as her smile stretched across her face. "Jesus."
    "That's right, baby. Don't ever forget, okay?"
    "Okay."
    "And you're the nicest little girl, Mary." Grandma Peggy took hold of her hands. They shared one last hug. "Let's pray." They bowed their heads, and their eyebrows touched in the middle. "Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing Mary home." A sob caught in Grandma Peggy's chest, and for a few seconds she didn't speak. "Whatever tomorrow brings for Mary, keep her close to You, Lord. Let her life bring You glory always. In Jesus' name, amen."
    ***
    Mary stopped and drew a slow breath. "What happened next was the beginning of the real story—the one you and . . . well, the nation knows about."
    Emma had been listening intently, sometimes with tears in her eyes. "Your grandma loved you very much."
    "She did." Mary sniffed. Her throat was thick from the remembering. "She still does."
    Emma's chin quivered. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and she shook her head.
    Mary waited. If Emma wanted to say something, she would give her time.
    "It's just. . ." Emma swallowed hard. Her struggle was intense. "My mother and I . . . had something special like that before . . ." Her voice trailed off, and a pool of tears filled her eyes. She blinked, and the tears became little streams down the center of her cheeks. She shook her head again. "I'm not ready."
    Mary wanted to rush ahead, tell the young woman that God had a solution for her and that she could find restoration and healing if she turned to Him. But she stopped herself. Victims needed utmost safety, not a lecture. Besides, that was the point of telling her story. So she could illustrate the power of God in a way no one could refute.
    She sat back. It had been a while since she'd told her story, a year at least. "Anyway—" Mary kept her voice low, unthreatening—"my grandma tucked me in that night." She smiled as the memory returned. "I told her she was pretty too."
    Her grandma left the pink bedroom, and Mary fell asleep. But sometime in the middle of the night she felt someone grab her arm. She started to scream, but a hand came over her mouth. That's when she realized what was happening. Her mother was standing over her, whispering at her.
    "It's okay, Mary. Come on, wake up." She looked like she was trying to smile, but her expression was painful. "We're leaving."
    Mary felt a rush of fear. "No, Mama. Grandma doesn't want us to leave."
    "We'll come back." Her mother's answer was quick. "I promise. Mama just has to get some things figured out first."
    "But can't we—?"
    "Now, Mary!" Her mother's tone said she was in a hurry and also a little frightened. "We belong together, you and me. You're coming whether you want to or not."
    That had been the end of the discussion. Mary got dressed, and in just a few minutes she left with her mother. She never had a chance to grab her pink teddy bear or tell her grandma good-bye. In fact, she had time to take just one thing.
    The little red-beaded purse.
     
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Chapter 4
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    Mary thought about stopping there, saving the rest of the story for other sessions, but Emma was waiting, wide-eyed. Mary stood and filled their water cups. As she did, a silent prayer filtered through her soul. God, should I keep going? Would it make things worse for Emma to hear the next part?
    This time there was no audible answer, no quiet resounding in her heart. But something came to mind all the same. Emma needed the truth. If she was ever going to be set