“No. I just…I’m such a mess right now. I just need to talk things out. Is that okay?”
Jon kept his face neutral. It wasn’t easy. But as they talked he sensed more trust from Maria, found it unusually easy to connect with her. Perhaps it was Carla’s absence. Or the mutual connection they seemed to share—he could disapprove all he liked, but he couldn’t deny it. The way she looked up to him, so vulnerable, so in need of his help and grateful to receive it, so unlike Elaine who had to be in charge all the time.
“Maria, how are you feeling, right now?”
She looked down to her hands, folded and resting on the table. And shaking.
“I’m scared.”
“Of?”
“Myself.” She pushed a lock of hair from her face and hooked it behind her ear. “Lito is my big brother. He’s powerful, controlling. But I never, ever thought he’d do something like this.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. It must be awful.”
“He saw my one chance at happiness. My ticket out of the family business.”
“What is your family business?”
“None of yours.” She held a dead serious expression for a moment, then broke it with a smile. “I’m kidding. But still, it’s better I don’t tell you, though you can probably guess.”
Jon nodded his understanding. How sad. And how could he possibly help her? To relieve his dry throat, he took another sip of water.
“Lito won’t hurt me,” Maria said. “That’s not the problem. It’s me.”
“What exactly are you afraid of about yourself? Remember, it stays in this room.”
Her expression reminded him of a little girl seeking approval if not unconditional acceptance for who she was, no matter how bad.
“My emotions,” she said. “When my feelings are really strong I sometimes can’t control myself. It’s gotten me in trouble, but never anything too serious.”
“Nothing violent, I hope.”
“No, but…it’s not always the bad feelings, Jon.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Sometimes it’s the good ones.”
Ordinarily, Jon would have looked away from such intimate eye contact, no matter who initiated it.
But not this time.
“Tell me more.”
“I’m so angry at Lito. And I’m afraid if I don’t find a way to let go of this anger…” Now she looked embarrassed, ashamed. She lifted her handbag onto the table and unzipped the opening.
A gun. He suppressed a gasp
“Why, Maria?”
“Don’t worry, I only brought it for protection.”
“You sure? You did say revenge.”
“I’m not planning on killing anyone.” She zipped the bag shut and put it back on her lap. “But I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t get my thoughts and feelings under control. Sometimes I get all worked up—and then, who knows? Can you help?”
What he should do right now is to call the police and have them deal with her. But that would violate privilege. And if he was going to help, he needed to know more, needed more time with her.
“I can offer you some advice, read you some scripture, pray for you. But I think you need to get some good professional counseling. And seriously consider getting the authorities involved. If you ever want to get out of this life of…Well, you’ll need protection, right?”
The trust in her eyes was unmistakable, the absurd plea that he save her from Lito, her family, herself.
“I don’t know, Jon. Could you just…pray for me?”
“By all means.” He bowed his head. But just before he began, he felt warm fingers wrap around his hands, which tingled with an electric thrill he could feel head to toe. Jon opened his eyes. His heart beat so hard he feared she might hear it. He could hear it. “I think…this is probably not the best idea, Ms. Guzman.” He stood up.
“But Jon—”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
“Let what happen?”
He walked to the door and opened it. Poor Maria, she came looking for help from a man of God in the most desperate of circumstances, and what did he do? Commit adultery in his heart with her.
“I can’t apologize enough. If you call back in the morning, I’ll have Carla refer you to someone from our female pastoral staff.”
“But I don’t want them, I want you.” At least she stood up, but the hurt in her expression was clear.
“I’m afraid I can’t go any further. Please.” He stood holding the door open, trying to ignore the subtle whispers in his mind.
You haven’t done anything wrong….
You deserve to be treated well, respected, adored…
No one would have to know….
Maria took his hand in hers. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You haven’t. I just get, I don’t know…nervous around beautiful women.”
That seemed to ease the hurt a little. She looked down to the floor.
“Guess I’ll be going now.”
Jon pulled out his business card and a pen and jotted down a number.
“This is my cell phone. If you’re in any kind of danger…” He handed it to her and she slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans.
“What time is it?”
He glanced at his watch. “Getting late—half past eleven. Let me walk you to your car. It’s dark out.”
A single lamp lit the parking area like a jaundiced eye observing them as they reached Maria’s car. She unlocked it, Jon held the door open for her.
“You’re such a gentleman.”
“Is that what it’s called?”
She got in and put the key in the ignition. But from the sound of it, the battery was dead or close to it.
“Oh, no.” Maria let out a frustrated sigh.
“May I?”
She stepped out and let him give it a try. Nothing but a weak clicking sound. He got out.
“I’m afraid it’s dead.”
“Must have left the lights on.”
“I wish I had jumper cables.” Jon looked at his watch. 11:40 PM. If he called a towing company, he’d have to wait here with her until they showed up. “Look, why don’t I give you a ride, then in the morning I’ll have someone bring you here and get your car started again.” He handed her the key.
“You sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Not at all.”
She opened her trunk and pulled out a small suitcase on wheels. He pointed to his car on the other side of the lot.
“I’m parked over there.”
Standing next to him, she peered over to the far side of the parking lot, dark except for the few overhead lamps. For a few seconds neither of them said a word. Jon could hear nothing but crickets chirping and Maria’s breathing.
CRACK!
Maria let out a yelp and ran right into Jon’s arms.
“Get down!” He pulled her to the ground.
What he thought had been the shooter was actually an ancient pickup truck rumbling, pumping country music through its speakers. Growing up in a tough Baltimore neighborhood in the eighties had trained Jon to react to anything that sounded like a gunshot. No doubt it was the same for Maria.
“Probably a backfire,” he said.
“Really?” Maria’s body, still pressed against his, was shaking uncontrollably. “Sounded like a gunshot to me.”
Without thinking, Jon moved the hair out of her eyes, brushing her cheeks with his fingertips in the process. She looked up at him with gratitude—which she expressed by touching his face.
It took Jon a minute to recover his perspective. But in some ways it was too late.
She knew.
He knew.
“Let’s get you back.” They started for his car.