Ivory

He left her standing on the front steps. The wind swirled around her mockingly, slapping her face as if to say she should have known. It could have been a soft, spring rain, but it was not. It was hard and cruel. One should remember a rain like this from the growing up years with fondness, she thought quietly, when grace caused one to run outside with arms wide open and eyes seeking the heavens. But today was not that day, and that memory upset her. She did not want to think of that now. Her tears mingled with the drops, and she stood there, ragged and bleeding.

She had felt his presence the minute he walked into the room. She had tried to clean up a bit, to dust behind the couch and plump the velvet purple pillows on her bed. She had been wearing ivory lace and could hear the sound of Mozart whispering from the living room, up the hall and around the bend to where she stood beside the banister. She had waited a long time and felt now that she was finally ready to receive him.

To look at her one would have only known one word. Beauty. And yet she was not. She had a funny habit of counting the steps she walked and always having to end with her foot on the right. Her nails had seen better days, and her nervous laughter was learning how to be composed. And so she was not worried. For all of these habits she had stifled, and had been working at stopping for quite some time now. But her eyes were endless, and her heart bore the pain of pride. Yet she carried herself well, and many people would say as she walked past, "there goes that strange girl again… where do you think she goes?"

Today she had readied herself in spite of not wanting to seem too eager. She knew she was ready to meet him. She had been waiting for this time for years. Not only had she reached her standard of perfection, but she agreed with herself that surely he would see this too, and honor how much work she had put in. She had followed the rules for over five years now. Every night she had brushed her hair one hundred times, and she had taken strolls along the river to maintain her figure. She had learned to cook, and sew, and had broken the habit of dancing and looking in the mirror far too much. She had not even had a drink since that night at the pub with Luke. Yes, she thought to herself, yes… she was ready to meet him.

And so she wore her ivory dress, buttoned to her throat, and let her gloved hands glide over the banister as she walked down the steps to meet him. She reached the bottom and let her left foot find the floor, followed by the right. He had come through the door, and was now watching her as she moved toward him with perfect grace. "Come" was all he said, and she clasped his hand and he led her back through the way he had entered.

He guided her through the town, past the people on the side walk who mumbled something about "that strange girl" and then along the path that lead into the trees. Her heart beat so strongly in her chest… maybe he would accept her after all. Neither of them had yet to speak. He simply kept leading her into the trees.

"Why have you come?" The silence was broken by his voice carried on the breeze.

"Because I believe I am ready" She replied with confidence.

"Ready for what?" He had stopped and looked at her.

"For your grace" She fumbled for her handkerchief and dabbed at her brow. She must maintain her perfection, especially now with him in front of her. She must not forget how long and hard she had worked for this moment, for him to stand before her and her to tell him of how she was ready to receive what she had so longed for.

"Follow me…" He started leading her through the thickets and long branches. It was fairly obvious that they were no longer on the trail. The branches would slap him as he walked by and yet he would turn around and hold them back for her. She had wished she had not worn her black, polished shoes. They were simply unsuitable for a journey like this. Her hat kept getting caught on the overhanging branches. And she was not even going to get into the disarray of her dress.

"Take your hat off" he told her "and your shoes too. They are only slowing you down." She did what he said, but could not help but remember that these two things had cost her dearly. She had not tithed in order to afford such luxuries gifts… surely she had just been blessed?

They had been walking for almost a day, when suddenly he stopped and so she did as well. Before her was a brilliant grove, cast with the light of the sun filtering through the trees. The birds whispered together, as if they all shared a secret. She followed his gaze and was captured by a chapel set in the middle of the clearing. Gasping, she allowed herself to look past its broken shudders and flaking paint. The door stood open.

"Follow me" he told her, and she did.

Her feet were muddied, and her arms and legs were bruised, for it had been quite a journey. All she could think about was sitting down and sipping freshly squeezed lemonade. This man was turning out quite different than she had expected. They walked into the chapel, and she stopped short, for before her were people of all ages and colors, singing and dancing. This could not be the place she thought to herself. She did not travel all day to be shown this. No, absolutely not.

She looked around her. There was a woman in the corner, crying and lifting her face, a baby at her breast. And no father to be seen. She continued her watch. There was a man in the back with a gun and one leg; surely he had fought in the war she mused. Killer. She let her gaze wander over to the front of the church, where she saw a woman with frills and feathers and ankles! Surely he had taken her to the wrong place! What were all of these people doing here?

"Where are we?" she struggled to find the words to hide her disappointment. "I thought that this grace was for me." He looked down at her, softness in his eyes. Yet she continued, "I cannot be here with these people, surely you know this! I worked for my grace. I spent hours to be perfect for you! And there's the hooker from the pub at the front near your alter! And over there! Surely that man has killed at least one other!" She could not contain herself any longer, and the frustration of all her hard work and the journey of the day were beginning to take its toll.

"Follow me" he held her scratched hand.

"Why should I? What have you ever done for me?" Her eyes blazed, and she tried to pull her hand away.

"Please, just trust me" She looked away and allowed him to pull her to the side of the room. Even the smells were making her sick. Before her stood a broken mirror in which her reflection could not be denied. There stood a woman with no shoes, dirty feet, and wind strewn hair. Her hands were bloodied and her face was streaked with tears. She stifled every compulsion to not look at herself four times in order to cure the anxiety. Why was she here with all these people? And why did she look like them?

"You have traveled a day with me" he began "and yet you do not know me. I have led you and guided you along the path so that you may find me. But you are not ready. You have seen my people and you do not love them. You have been living near this place your whole life and have yet to enter it and befriend any one of them. I have given you a place to lay your head, and food on the table. And yet you do not share. I created you to dance. I created you to love. And yes, I created you with your habits and a yearning for freedom. Stop trying to change the uniqueness I gave you. But most importantly, before you can accept my grace, you must understand your need for it."

She tried to listen to what he told her, but could not, for the baby's crying was shrill in her ear. She could not get the image of her unkempt hair out of her mind. And to not be wearing shoes on this soiled floor was enough to make her want to run.

"I have to get out of here" she managed to choke. She left the chapel and stood on the front steps, as the spring rain began to trickle its way through the trees. She could not understand that she had worked for five years to become perfect and here he was rejecting her.

"I am not rejecting you" he said from behind. "I only want you to realize that we had to journey together for you to bleed. How else would you see what I showed you today?

He held out his hands but she would not take them, her own were bloodied and she did not want to make him filthy. He continued to hold out his hands. What did he want from her?

The rain continued to fall miserably upon her shoulders. He turned from her and began to walk back into the shack of the building. "You know where to find me" he said, and walked back inside.