Tiffany lay crumpled. Her side ached. A Tiffany induced argument flared downstairs. On one of their weekly scams Tiffany became nervous. When she panicked, the cashier became suspicious. with a slight nod of her head, security began to cross the lobby. The men were forced to run- without the money. Tony's associates were furious. For over thirty minutes they yelled their disbelief. They really blamed Tony; and Tony blamed Tiffany. " I should have just kept smiling." Tiffany thought. She squeezed her eyes shut . No tears. She was sad, why couldn't she cry? She thought of sneaking out of the window to the neighbors below. But that may only increase her pain. And the neighbors would not help her anyway. They didn't understand her at all. Coughing and moaning her discomfort, she recalled their concerned faces. Many times they'd cornered her. Their own eyes and ears had heard and seen more than they could bare. They pleaded with her to escape. Secretly, the neighbors developed their own code of caring. In kindness, they offered to hide her, to pay her way home, and so forth. Desperately, they reached out to her. But each time Tiffany refused. Tony loved her. He could actually be sweet at times. He always apologized, and he always promised not to hurt her again. Eventually, the concerned faces of the neighbors sunk into confusion. The months ebbed into a year. The last police came only to pass Tiffany to speak to the crowd of neighbors. She heard him as he spoke. " I know all of you are trying to help, but she is not a minor. If she doesn't call us, there's nothing we can do."
Poor neighbors. Back then it was Tiffany who felt sorry for them.
Now an aching Tiffany closed her eyes. She heard the bedroom door creak open. She tried to feign comfort and deep slumber. It didn't work. "You all better now?" Tony stood, his tall frame looming in the doorway. Tiffany knew he really meant, ' Have you learned your lesson?' She quaked silently beneath the flat sheet. She chose her words carefully. " I'm still a little..." Across the room Tony's eyebrows raised. "Tired." She concluded. He pushed the door completely open. "Well, that's too bad cause somebody has to cook dinner" Tiffany knew the somebody was she. Carefully, she tried to rise from the bed. Immediately, pain slit her side. She gasped. "What now?" Tony's voice boomed as it usually did before a fight. ' I wish I could cry' Tiffany thought. ' Maybe then he would have pity on me.' "What would you like to eat?" she asked trying to mask her nausea and dizziness. Just then, it happened. Tiffany was thrust forward as her vomit shot across the floor. Helplessly, she heaved again. This time it flew across the room to splatter on Tony's moms handmade rug. Fury burned in Tony's face. He ran across the room towards her...
The strange voices awoke her. Tiffany's head throbbed. Her right eye stung. What happened? She saw the iv running from her left arm and panicked. Her heart raced. She tried to move her right hand to rub her face. Clang! The tight handcuff on her skinny wrist bear noisily against the rail of the hospital bed. She heard breathing. Tony?!
But the slow steps if an elderly man emerged instead. He stepped around the blue curtain in a crisp tan uniform. His gentle eyes rested on her. " The jig is up, young lady." Tiffany's heart lurched. The police! Every crime Tony insisted she would never be caught for piled into her memory at once. Immediately, she recalled every manipulative line he'd ever laid on her. "You won't get caught" he'd told her once to force her through a store window. " Why would I put the woman I love in danger?" He'd asked before urging her to drive for a late night robbery. "They won't put a pregnant lady in jail.",he'd told her when he taught her how to pickpocket. To ease her growing apprehension he'd told her " By the time they figure you're not pregnant, I'll have bailed you out!" Recalling all of this Tiffany finally found her voice. "Lie after lie!" She screamed. The sheriff was startled. He backed away from the bed. "That isn't love! Is it?" she asked him. Then again, "Is it? Is it?" repeatedly until the room was full of staff trying to calm her.
Tiffany had had it. She pulled at the handcuffs." Where is he? Where is he? " she demanded. Then, she felt a poke. Tiffany felt the cold medicine enter her body. She knew shed been sedated. She felt woozy. All of a sudden Tiffany had a moment of clarity. What was she doing? How would she get out of here? She couldn't go to jail! This wasn't her! This isn't who she was! How did it come to this?Tiffany remembered her mom. Her mother told her repeatedly to not 'bother with' Tony but an love stricken Tiffany had treated her mother coldly. Her mom did not have a man, how could she understand what she and Tony had? Now, too late, Tiffany wished she had listened. Her eyelids became very heavy. Tiffany began to breathe very deeply. Everything was becoming quiet again. The staff began to clear the room. Even the sheriff had gone. She heard his voice say sadly from the corridor, "I've been sheriff a long time in Rocky Ridge but I've never seen nothing like that before- Wonder what caused it..." Only one nurse remained standing at the foot of Tiffany's bed. Her head was pounding, her side and wrists hurt, but she saw a tear in the woman's eye." I need to call my mom." Tiffany told the nurse.
"Mom, can you pray for me?" There was a rustle at the other end, then the prayer. It was a touching prayer full of love, hope and a request for Gods Will to be done. Jean prayed that God would touch and ignite her daughters heart ultimately leading her to Him. Tiffany prayed as well. She said, "I can't turn back the clock, but if You get me out of this one, I will live right!" A heavy burden lifted from Tiffany's chest. She relaxed. She began to feel better. After a few seconds, she let the sedative lead her into a deep and peaceful slumber.
That was nine months ago. Nowadays, Tiffany's days were spent quite differently. Her old neighbors would be pleased. Another sunny day hugged the apple trees and land around her mothers home. The land was well kept by her mom, herself, and a few families from church. The air was sweet with the fragrance of cinnamon and sugar. Tiffany smiled at her mother through the kitchen doorway. Their time together was cherished by Tiffany. Together, they talked until late in the night. Friends from church or store owners would stop in from church and in moments through conversation, laughter good memories were born. The town seemed to see whom God made her mom into, and for the first time, Tiffany began to see it too. Jean looked out to her daughter in the doorway. She threw her head to the side. Tiffany knew what that meant. Giggling, she hurried in to hug her mom. They talked excitedly. Tiffany watched her mother. She could tell that she was happy. Then, she sighed and looked around the kitchen. Her mom sure was busy! Today was a church night. Her mother needed to pick more apples to take to the homeless on the outskirts of town. To save time, Tiffany decided to help her. She strolled through he large living room and out to the old fashioned porch. A cool breeze wafted over her. Beautiful. She thought. Life was good. - God is good!
As far back as she could remember Jean taught her of God. Church nights, Sunday school, church camp, and youth activities directed Tiffany's childhood. She didn't know how to appreciate it then, but now...Now Tiffany knew that's exactly how shed raise her own one day. The sun glinted across the tether on her ankle. As it did, Tiffany felt a flicker of regret. Unwillingly, her mind led her back to the holding cell, the court room, the two months in jail as she awaited the final ruling...Those memories were terrible. Tiffany shook her head. Forget that. She breathed a prayer of repentance to God. She was sorry that she wasted so much time on nothing, but she was alive! And tonight, she'd go to God like she should have from the beginning. ( See Acts 2:38 KJV)
The wicker basket was warm as she scooped it from beside the porch stairs. Barefoot, Tiffany began to walk across the grass. From the corner of her eye, Tiffany caught a glimpse of something. She shielded her eyes from the climbing sun. Was that? Tiffany squinted. It couldn't be! Her heart fluttered. She began to walk toward the figure. Someone was with him. She started to run. He had almost been her husband after all! And she still miss him- sometimes...She stared at the man with her ex. He seemed irritated.
Tiffany could see a little bit of an orange beneath his jacket and the hem of his jeans. The man spoke "But what if she won't work with us? What if she snitches?" Tiffany watched her ex sneer. "Don't worry about it" He said to his friend. " Its the perfect plan...Nobody will expect to find us here. And she's right down the road. They'll think she's always at her moms. She can make all of our runs and nobody will be the wiser." He finished confidently, "And as for her,..." He stared at Tiffany as she approached. "She'll do whatever I tell her to do."
Tiffany looked at her feet. The soft grass of her mother's property was long gone. She stood, barefoot on the hard gravel. The man and her ex were smiling wryly at her. She looked down the road they'd previously walked. She looked to the right. Next, to the left. She was literally standing at a fork in the road. Tiffany felt remorseful. A tear rolled down her cheek. She remembered the abandonment she felt in the hospital. She remembered the nightmare of the holding cell; the fear in the courtroom. Tiffany recalled the wonderful moments of praise she and her mother enjoyed. She clung to the memory of her peace. 'What am I doing?' She thought to herself. "LORD, please forgive me!' Her heart exclaimed. Love and peace began to flow over Tiffany. She opened her mouth and praised.. Tiffany lifted her feet carefully. As she backed away, she said joyfully to the two men "You guys should get saved. God loves you. He can turn your life around!" She made a mental note to send some tracts to the jail. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and happily jogged to retrieve the basket, to pick her mothers apples.
