Divine by Karen Kingsbury

promise the same thing. That we'll stay long enough to hear her story. By the end—" the woman stepped back from the table with her empty plate—"you'll know everything you need to know about the power."
    Not for you, Emma. There won't be power for you. The power of God isn't wasted on trash. . . . The voice was there, but it was still (quieter than usual.
    Fifteen minutes later Emma was sitting across from Mary Madison once again. The confidence she'd felt earlier this morning faded. She needed a fix in the worst way. Maybe the voices were right,- maybe the power that helped Mary and the other women wouldn't work with her.
    "You're here." Mary smiled, but it didn't hide the loss in her eyes. "I told you the story would get harder."
    Emma shifted in her seat. Why was she here? How could Mary's story—an even worse part of the story than she'd already told—help either of them?
    Mary crossed one leg over the other. She was dressed casually today. Black jeans and a short-sleeve pullover. Even so, she was stunning. "Let go of your doubts, Emma."
    Mary's words took her breath away. How could she know? She was right every time. The voices had nothing to say in light of Mary's understanding of the situation. Emma sat back and nodded. "I'll try."
    ***
    Mary had been up most of the night praying for Emma. God had made it clear: the battle for Emma's heart and soul was one of the fiercest Mary had encountered yet. She was up against some of the same bondage and horrors that Mary herself had gone through years earlier. There was hope for Emma, of course, but she needed to keep coming to the sessions.
    When Emma walked in that morning, Mary had whispered a prayer of thanks. They still had much of her story to work through before Mary could introduce a solution for Emma. Otherwise Emma would never understand.
    She took a deep breath and let herself drift back. "Jimbo let me out of the basement only a few times every month. Otherwise I stayed downstairs."
    Emma squirmed. "I couldn't stop hugging my babies yesterday." She studied her hands, shame etched into the corners of her eyes, her mouth. She looked up. "They could've wound up like you, but they didn't. I'll never stop being thankful."
    "I'm glad." Mary angled her head. "My mama didn't know about the dangers, I guess. She wouldn't listen to my Grandma Peggy, and no one else told her." She hesitated. "Anyway, Jimbo kept making special visits to me, and once in a while one of his favorite customers would come down."
    ***
    The nightmares started before summer was over that first year. It would take Mary hours to fall asleep, and as soon as she did, she would have the most terrifying dreams.
    In one of them, she was locked in a cage near a deep, fast-moving river. Her mother spotted her and screamed her name. Then she came running toward her. "I'll help you, baby! I'm coming!" She held out her hand, and in it was a key. The key to the cage.
    But just as her mother was about to reach her, Jimbo appeared and pushed the cage into the river. "That'll teach you to try to break free!" He laughed at her, and the sound of it hid the sound of her mother's voice.
    "Mama! Help me . . ."
    But the cage began to sink. Water rushed in through the bars, swirling higher and higher until it covered her face. With every second that passed, the cage sank deeper. Finally, when Mary couldn't hold her breath another moment, she gasped and water filled her lungs. She shook and kicked the bars and tried to scream, but it was too late.
    The instant before death took her, she would wake and bolt up straight in bed, gasping for air.
    Another dream had her running from Jimbo and the other men, running for her life. They would be chasing her with knives and guns, shouting at her to stop. But still she ran, terrified, her heart bursting in her chest. Finally . . . finally she would see Grandma Peggy's house. She could feel the men behind her—ten steps, maybe fifteen.
    "Grandma, help!" She threw open the door, but