with nothing but yourself,” Reverend Henley said. “Leave all your clothes on the bench, and when you’re ready, go through the narrow door.” He reached out and placed his hand on the crown of Hannah’s head. “Be not afraid, for the Lord is with you.”
The Henleys exited through the side door. When they were gone, Hannah lifted her eyes to Mary Magdalene’s luminous face. She removed her blouse and skirt, her bra and panties, folding them and placing them on the bench one at a time, shivering in the cool air of the room. She felt numb and hollow, empty of everything except for a tiny spark of hope. She cupped her hands around it in her mind and followed Mary’s gaze upward, beyond the bounds of the painting. If this is what You ask of me, if this is the path back to You, I will take it.
She slipped off her shoes and walked to the door, the tiles cold against the soles of her bare feet. There was no handle. She laid her palm against the wood and pushed, but it resisted her puny effort. She leaned her whole body against the door, pushing with all her strength. It swung inward with a groan, and she stumbled, falling in and down.
” ‘N AKED CAME I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither’ “ The women spoke in unison, their eyes fixed on Hannah.
There were about seventy of them, standing on what looked like a choir riser. They were grouped by color: Reds on the bottom rows, Oranges in the middle and Yellows, who outnumbered the others, on top. The effect was surreal, like a box of crayons missing the cool part of the spectrum. Half the Reds were holding dolls, and one of this group, Hannah was startled to see, was not a Chrome. The girl’s white skin stood out starkly from that of the others.
Mrs. Henley stood in front of the riser, facing Hannah. To her relief, Reverend Henley wasn’t in the room.
“What is this woman?” Mrs. Henley said, pointing at Hannah.
“A sinner,” the women replied.
“How will she be saved?”
“By walking the straight path.”
“Who will walk with her?”
“We will.”
“Who will walk before her?”
“I will,” said a lone voice from the front row. A Red about ten years older than Hannah stepped off the riser and approached her, holding out a folded brown dress. “Put this on.” Hannah took it gratefully and pulled it over her head, fastening the buttons running up the bodice with clumsy fingers.
When Hannah was finished, Mrs. Henley said, “What does the path demand of us?”
“Penitence. Atonement. Truth. And humility,” the women answered.
A door to Hannah’s left was flung open and Reverend Henley strode into the room, pink-cheeked and ebullient. “Where does the path lead us?” he called out.
“To salvation.”
He looked at Hannah, spreading his hands wide in benediction. “ ‘My soul shall be joyful in my God; for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness’ “ He turned and addressed the women. “Walkers, let us pray.”
Hannah bowed her head along with the others, but she didn’t hear his words or the women’s rote responses. Her mind was fogged by weariness, her attention focused solely on keeping herself upright. The prayer continued for endless minutes. At last, Reverend Henley said amen and released them. Row by row, the women filed silently out of the room. Only Eve gave Hannah a parting glance. Whether it was one of sympathy or spite, she was too far away to tell.
The woman who’d given Hannah the dress stayed behind, along with the Henleys. “Hannah, this is Bridget,” Reverend Henley said. “Go with her, and she’ll show you the path.” He gestured at the door. Bridget turned obediently and walked toward it, but Hannah hung back, reluctant to leave the couple.
Mrs. Henley gave her a reassuring smile. “Go on, now.”
Hannah obeyed, following Bridget from the room, toward salvation.
U NSPEAKING, BRIDGET LED Hannah up two flights of
The Henleys exited through the side door. When they were gone, Hannah lifted her eyes to Mary Magdalene’s luminous face. She removed her blouse and skirt, her bra and panties, folding them and placing them on the bench one at a time, shivering in the cool air of the room. She felt numb and hollow, empty of everything except for a tiny spark of hope. She cupped her hands around it in her mind and followed Mary’s gaze upward, beyond the bounds of the painting. If this is what You ask of me, if this is the path back to You, I will take it.
She slipped off her shoes and walked to the door, the tiles cold against the soles of her bare feet. There was no handle. She laid her palm against the wood and pushed, but it resisted her puny effort. She leaned her whole body against the door, pushing with all her strength. It swung inward with a groan, and she stumbled, falling in and down.
” ‘N AKED CAME I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither’ “ The women spoke in unison, their eyes fixed on Hannah.
There were about seventy of them, standing on what looked like a choir riser. They were grouped by color: Reds on the bottom rows, Oranges in the middle and Yellows, who outnumbered the others, on top. The effect was surreal, like a box of crayons missing the cool part of the spectrum. Half the Reds were holding dolls, and one of this group, Hannah was startled to see, was not a Chrome. The girl’s white skin stood out starkly from that of the others.
Mrs. Henley stood in front of the riser, facing Hannah. To her relief, Reverend Henley wasn’t in the room.
“What is this woman?” Mrs. Henley said, pointing at Hannah.
“A sinner,” the women replied.
“How will she be saved?”
“By walking the straight path.”
“Who will walk with her?”
“We will.”
“Who will walk before her?”
“I will,” said a lone voice from the front row. A Red about ten years older than Hannah stepped off the riser and approached her, holding out a folded brown dress. “Put this on.” Hannah took it gratefully and pulled it over her head, fastening the buttons running up the bodice with clumsy fingers.
When Hannah was finished, Mrs. Henley said, “What does the path demand of us?”
“Penitence. Atonement. Truth. And humility,” the women answered.
A door to Hannah’s left was flung open and Reverend Henley strode into the room, pink-cheeked and ebullient. “Where does the path lead us?” he called out.
“To salvation.”
He looked at Hannah, spreading his hands wide in benediction. “ ‘My soul shall be joyful in my God; for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness’ “ He turned and addressed the women. “Walkers, let us pray.”
Hannah bowed her head along with the others, but she didn’t hear his words or the women’s rote responses. Her mind was fogged by weariness, her attention focused solely on keeping herself upright. The prayer continued for endless minutes. At last, Reverend Henley said amen and released them. Row by row, the women filed silently out of the room. Only Eve gave Hannah a parting glance. Whether it was one of sympathy or spite, she was too far away to tell.
The woman who’d given Hannah the dress stayed behind, along with the Henleys. “Hannah, this is Bridget,” Reverend Henley said. “Go with her, and she’ll show you the path.” He gestured at the door. Bridget turned obediently and walked toward it, but Hannah hung back, reluctant to leave the couple.
Mrs. Henley gave her a reassuring smile. “Go on, now.”
Hannah obeyed, following Bridget from the room, toward salvation.
U NSPEAKING, BRIDGET LED Hannah up two flights of
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