“We need to talk, Spencer,” a voice startled him from behind.
He turned to discover a man who looked to be of Arabic descent walking his way. The dark-skinned man with the curly brown hair smiled and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder.
“Sorry about the way I just shut everything down, but I had to step in before you died,” he said extending his hand, “Yeah, I know exactly what you’re thinking. I don’t look like the paintings or the characters you see in those stained glass windows.”
Spencer looked down at the hand being offered to him and then cautiously shook it.
“Forgive me if I seem stupid, but who are you?” Spencer asked.
The man smiled and nodded as though he expected the question.
“Jesus Christ,” he replied, “Lord, Messiah, Jeshua, or dozens of other names. You always called me Jesus or Lord though.”
Spencer grinned at the man who appeared a little too casual in his response.
“No, seriously. What’s going on?” he asked.
Jesus spread his arms out, reminding him of the frozen people all around him.
“No jokes here, my friend. I’m the one you just whispered to a moment ago. You asked me to keep an eye on the tunnel today. Thirty-three minutes before that, you prayed to me under the apple tree, asking me to help your Pop with his headaches. Two and a half hours ago you muttered a prayer of forgiveness over…”
Spencer fell to Jesus’ feet. Jesus sighed and then knelt to the man in front of him. He reached out and grabbed a hold of Spencer’s hands.
“I know you love me and respect me, Spencer. Now please stand up so we can talk,” he said, smiling as Spencer cautioned a fearful glance at him, “We need to discuss your prayer from several days ago.”
“I can’t stand in your presence,” Spencer said, dropping his face back to the dirt.
“You are mine, Spencer and I already took your sins from you. I may be your Lord, but I am also your friend. If you love me, you will talk to me as you always have – as a friend and a companion,” Jesus said, tugging him up from the tunnel floor.
“Sir…”
“As a friend,” Jesus reminded Spencer.
Spencer cautioned another glance at Jesus’ face and didn’t understand how he was supposed to talk to the Creator of the universe as a friend and an equal.
“The same way you did under the apple tree,” Jesus replied to the unspoken question.
This was the Creator in the flesh - the One who breathed life into Adam. The awesome…
“I know who I am and I’m glad that you honor me with your thoughts, but I need you to remember Isaiah. When I took his sin away with a coal from the altar, he spoke to me boldly. Your sin is gone, Spencer, so be my friend and say ‘here am I, send me’.”
Spencer finally smiled and nodded his head.
“Here am I, send me,” Spencer said.
“Good. Now, that statement is the reason I’m here. I wanted to get with you just before your death. I have…”
“I’m dying?” Spencer interrupted, “Oops, I’m sorry, Sir.”
“You are currently about seven seconds from your death. The tunnel around you will come crashing down,” he said, already hearing the unspoken question, “It will be immediate and there will be no pain. You would be meeting me in seven seconds anyway.”
Spencer stared in horror. Jesus nodded sadly”
“You stopped time, though. Couldn’t you just-”
“No,” Jesus replied, “I could, of course, but no. It would not be right for me to interfere in this situation as it will serve many purposes. Everyone dies someday, Spencer and today is your day. Your father will manage fine, so I need you to focus on what I have to say.”
“I’m still going to die today?” Spencer asked.
“What I have for you in heaven is much better than anything here, but…” Jesus said, “But we have the issue of that prayer of yours last Wednesday night. You prayed something that moved me, Spencer. I was truly astonished.”
Spencer shook his head, trying to recall what he might have said.
“You were angry at me for ignoring someone – or so you said,” Jesus stated with a smile.
Spencer’s eyes flew open wide, worried that he had offended the Almighty Creator of the universe. The Lord was talking about Francesca Bride – a woman who had stolen Spencer’s heart, though he never even met her.
It all started a year ago when he discovered a painting titled Broken Francie. The detailed portrait showed the face of a sad, yet surprisingly beautiful woman propped against a wrought iron gate. Armed with nothing more than the title of the painting and the name of the artist – Benjamin Wright, Spencer engaged on a journey to locate this woman.
The journey brought him through two libraries, a college classroom, and finally onto the doorstep of one Bonnie Marie Bride. Bonnie was the niece of Francesca Bride – the woman depicted in the painting. To hear it from Bonnie, Francesca was the saddest woman on the face of the earth. She gave up on love, life, and the Lord at an early age. By the time she was eighteen, she had become a God-hating full time prostitute on the streets of New York.
Benjamin Wright discovered her on a trip to New York and spent a week trying to win her heart. He knew she was a prostitute, but he wanted something else entirely. He did everything in his power short of buying her outright, but she pushed him away at every turn. Hurt and distraught, he had no other choice but to give up. In the end, he offered her twenty dollars to pose for a portrait. For money, she would do anything. Benjamin died four years later claiming that Broken Francie was his favorite work. Francesca would die many years later and even after all those years, she would die lonely, sad, and feeling despised by the world.
Now the Lord was angered with Spencer for screaming something in frustration last week.
“No, I’m not upset at all. I’ve always welcomed honesty from my friends – always,” Jesus said with a chuckle, “But you were absolutely, positively wrong. I never ignored her. Do you remember how you felt when you heard about the day Francesca told her brother that no one in the world loved her? Multiply that feeling a thousand-fold. I loved her, Spencer. Listen with your heart, Spencer and hear me – I loved her sincerely. I wanted that woman more than Benjamin Wright wanted her. I loved her as no one on this earth ever loved her. I pursued her as no one else on this earth ever pursued her.”
Spencer felt the tears prickle in his eyes as he saw the hurt in Jesus’ face.
“I loved her dearly, but every attempt failed miserably. She hated me, Spencer. I sent so many people, but not only were they shunned – she might as well have spat upon them. And you know what? Through it all – through all that sin and hatred of hers, I loved her passionately. I loved her, Spencer,” he said, “But ultimately I lost her. These people aren’t just numbers to me. I loved each and every one sincerely and wholeheartedly. I pursued each with the same passion you read about in Song of Songs.
“And sometimes I lose, Spencer. Your Savior fails because I have created friends with the freedom to choose. I love my friends dearly, but I want them to willingly love me in return. I fail and it hurts me because I want each and every one of them. I think my love was described best in Song of Songs 8:6 when it says ‘For love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned’.”
“I’m sorry if I belittled your pursuit of her,” Spencer said, “I was just so hurt by all those open doors that her niece spoke of. It just seemed like the opportunities were always there and if just someone could have said something to her.”
Jesus shook his head.
“She definitely did a lot of searching, but she slammed the door when someone almost touched her heart. She protected her heart so fiercely. But now I wonder about something…”
Spencer remembered the remainder
of that prayer on Wednesday. Jesus nodded his head as Spencer recalled his frustrated requests.
“You would consider something like that? That’s not something you’ve…” Spencer started to say.
“Something I’ve done before? I’m not limited to repeating things I’ve done in the Bible. And I’m not limited to ideas of my own. I can be inspired because I created man in my image – I can inspire you and you can inspire me,” he said, “You’ve inspired me, Spencer.”
Spencer looked around at the frozen people. These people were caught in various states of indifference. One man was flipping a coin. Another man was picking at his fingernail with a small knife. One was looking at the ceiling, unaware of the fact that in seven seconds, it would come crashing down.
“I’m here to say yes to your prayer, Spencer,” Jesus said, “But it may not be in the way that you had hoped.”
Spencer looked at Jesus, pondering the impossible. Jesus was telling him that he would send him back in time. Jesus was offering an answer to one of those unanswerable prayers.
“I’m not giving you Francesca Bride on a platter. I’m not even offering her to you during the high point of her beauty such as in the time of the portrait,” he said, “I still want Francesca Bride and I think you can succeed. If anyone could see her through my eyes, it would be you. It has been you.”
But at no point in her youth could she have been ugly, Spencer thought. He may be able to see her in loving eyes, but there would still be the worrisome issue of physical attraction.
“Do you think I created beauty by accident?” Jesus asked, apparently reading his mind, “Rachel and Rebecca were beautiful. Esther was beautiful. First I created man in my image and then I created a masterpiece in woman.”
“But how would I…”
“I trust you, but I promise it won’t be easy. At the worst point in her life, she was living in Manhattan prostituting herself out of her apartment. She was a thirty-nine year old, suicidal, jobless woman. She was an invisible streetwalker only seen by those who were searching for her type of services. She was on the verge of suicide and the alcohol only contributed further to it. The woman I offer wasn’t beautiful.”
He remembered all those statements from Bonnie Marie. Francesca had somehow convinced herself that she wasn’t a prostitute based solely on the fact that she “chose” her companions. Men simply took advantage of a woman in financial need and she allowed it to happen. When he heard this part of her story, he just wanted to transport back in time and rescue her – but how?
“I’ve been known to send angels before. Divine intervention still happens, but people don’t realize it sometimes. Hebrews 13:2 is clear on the fact that I’m still sending angels. But in spite of it all, I will not magically change someone’s heart. The heart is controlled strictly by the individual,” Jesus said, “But I don’t send people who have died and gone to heaven – which is where you are headed in 7 seconds.
“I don’t want to send an angel to Francesca Bride in 1895. I want to send you, Spencer. I want to send someone who loves her in spite of herself. What do you say?”
Spencer looked down at the floor. Jesus was right in his realization that Spencer envisioned the 1880’s Francesca Bride. That Francesca was definitely beautiful. Jesus was offering to send him to a broken version of Francesca. Jesus was literally answering a prayer that he muttered in childish frustration.
Didn’t you care, Lord – he had grumbled – Look at how broken she was then. If just you would have sent someone to her when she thought no one loved her. I could have told her all about you and then I would have loved her. I would have held her and protected her from all those abusive lovers. How can you let these things happen? She died alone in 1915 and she opened the door so many times. So many missed opportunities. Lord, she refused to lock her apartment, so she literally had an open door! Lord, if you ever see fit, I’ll go. Send me back to her worst moments and I’ll barge in myself!
Jesus smiled, watching that prayer twist in Spencer’s mind. Spencer looked up at the Lord and then nodded.
“Here am I, send me,” Spencer said.
The barn door suddenly opened, immediately shedding away the safety of the barn shadows. A man looked directly at them as though he had already known of their presence in the barn. Brooksie gasped, though Eddie was the only one to hear it.
“Mama said that if you’re gonna borrow the barn without askin’, you’ve gotta stay for breakfast. And she also said the wood is about to burn out in the stove, so if you want eggs, you’d better get a move on,” he said.
Eddie closed the book as he stared at the stranger. Upon closer examination, the sunlight had morphed the man into a kid of about fourteen or fifteen. He disappeared from the doorway as Brooksie turned to Eddie.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Apparently we’ve been invited to stay for breakfast,” he said, “And we need to get a move on.”
She covered her face with her hands as though she suddenly became aware of something.
“I’m wearing no makeup and I’m a disaster,” she grumbled.
“Who convinced you that you were ugly? You don’t need makeup, Brooksie,” he said.
“Says you.”
* * * *
“I don’t know how to thank you, ma’am,” Brooksie said, taking another bite of a sausage link.
“Well, for starters, you can tell me why two grown adults have to sleep in someone’s barn,” she said, filling the sink with sudsy water.
Brooksie looked over at Edward, but he didn’t seem to be willing to offer anything.
“I’m running from a bad man,” Brooksie said, “And Edward here was looking out for me.”
“Edward? I thought you said your name was Edmond.”
“It is, but don’t tell Brooksie,” he said, “I already tried and she called me a liar.”
“And Brooksie…” the lady said, pointing a spatula at her, “Now, you might look a lot like Louise Brooks, but I’d be willing to bet you’re another actress altogether.”
Her eyes widened, but the smile on the lady’s face set her mind at ease.
“Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me,” she replied, “I’m Betty, by the way and that’s my real name – not Elizabeth.”
Edward smiled at Brooksie as he continued to eat. She shrugged at him.
“And you can keep that book you found in the barn,” she said, pointing the spatula at the counter.
Edward had brought the gold-embossed book inside and placed it on the kitchen counter.
“It’s a good story but I never read a book twice. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” she stated.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality. You really don’t-” Brooksie began.
“So what made you run from him?” Betty asked, scrubbing the skillet in the sink.
Brooksie paused. She looked down at her plate and then shook her head.
“I had absolutely no say in my future – no control whatsoever. My agent scheduled me for things that I refused to be a part of,” she said, “And my refusal and self-respect meant nothing to him.”
Betty turned off the water and gaped at her.
“He didn’t,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth.
Edward looked at Betty in confusion and then glanced at Brooksie as she nodded.
“What am I missing? What did your agent do?” Eddie asked.
“I know exactly what he did. Look at her – she’s beautiful and she’s the biggest thing in Hollywood right now. Well, she was the biggest thing before she disappeared,” Betty said, “Did he feed you a line like – ‘they want a little more and you’ve got to provide it for your public’?”
“Did he want you to do a nude movie or pose nude?” Eddie asked.
Brooksie nodded.
“Well, I for one am very proud of you. The world needs to know that we don’t have to submit to their demands. You’re not a commodity to be bought or sold,” Betty said, “But isn’t
this agent also your fiancée?”
“I was never engaged to him, even though he believed it to be so. And if he believed it, so did the rest of the world,” she said while removing the ring from her finger, “He made me wear this for so long that I forgot I even had it.”
She tossed it onto the table.
“We could always hock this to pay for our trip to the Atlantic,” Eddie said, picking up the ring and examining the large diamond.
She grinned and caught his gaze across the table.
“You’re really going along with me?” she asked.
“You really thought I wouldn’t?” he asked.
“You’re killing me, Edward,” she said, shaking her head.
Her statement caused him a moment of pause. He set the ring down and looked at the lady across from him.
“How am I killing you?” he asked.
She exhaled loudly as she picked up another sausage link. She stared at it for a moment and shook her head again.
“I have a hate inside of me that needs to exist. It must! It rises up and tells me to detest all men because it’s not just Lowell that I hate,” she said, taking a bite and chewing it quickly, “Lowell wouldn’t have set me up for that photo shoot if… if men didn’t demand it - if the majority of the public didn’t want to see it. If there wasn’t a demand, there-”
“You don’t have to hate. No one has to hate and you definitely don’t need to hate others based on what someone else did to you,” Betty stated, “Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good – Romans 12:9. The Bible tells us it’s alright to hate evil. So it’s OK to hate Lowell’s actions, but don’t hate Lowell and definitely don’t hate Edmond. It’ll destroy you completely.”
Saving Brooksie Page 8
