dying.
She began to shake and let the curtain fall back into place. Maybe that was the only way out. Death. If she were dead, no one could ever use her again.
She sat on the bed and drew up her knees tightly against her chest.
Pressing her head against her knees, she rocked herself. Why did he have to come to her? She had come to accept things the way they were. She had been getting by. Why did he have to destroy her inner stillness? She clenched her hands into fists. She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Michael Hosea driving away in the rain.
She had the awful gut feeling she had just thrown her last chance away.
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Redeem.05 7/31/07 11:18 AM Page 83
Five
Death is before me today. As a man longs to see his house when he has spent many years in captivity.
P A P Y R U S
F R O M
A N C I E N T
E G Y P T
The storm lasted for days. The rain streaked the glass like tears, washing the grit away and making watery images of the outside world. Angel worked and slept and looked out over the shanties, clapboard buildings, and sagging canvas tents lit by a thousand lanterns until dawn. No green anywhere. Just grays and browns.
Henri would be serving breakfast now, but she wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t feel like sitting with the others and listening to their squabbles and complaints.
The rain came harder and faster, and with it came memories. She used to play a game with her mother on rainy-day afternoons. Anytime it rained, it grew cold in the shanty, too cold for anyone who didn’t have to be there.
The men stayed away, warming themselves in a comfortable tavern, and Rab stayed with them. Mama would set Sarah in her lap and wrap the blanket around both of them. Sarah had grown to like storms because then she had Mama all to herself. They would watch the large drops on the glass pane touch and grow and finally slide down into a river on the frame. Mama talked to her about when she was a child. Just the happy things, the good times. Mama never spoke of being turned away by her father. She never spoke of Alex Stafford. But whenever she was quiet, Sarah knew Mama was 83
Redeem.05 7/31/07 11:18 AM Page 84
R
E
D
E
E
M
I
N
G
L
O
V
E
remembering and hurting all over again. Mama would hug her hard and rock her and hum. “Things will be different for you, darling,” she would say, and kiss her. “Things will be different for you. You’ll see.”
And Angel had seen.
She stopped thinking about the past. She let the curtain drop back in place and sat down at the small, lace-covered table. She stuffed the memories down again. Better the hollow nothingness than the pain.
Hosea won’t come back. Not this time. She closed her eyes tightly, her small hand a fist in her lap. Why did she think about him at all? “Come away with me and be my wife.” Sure, until he tired of her and gave her to someone else. Like Duke. Like Johnny. Life never changes.
She lay down on her bed and covered her face with a pale satin sheet.
She remembered the men sewing the shroud closed over her mother’s stiffly smiling face and felt empty inside. Whatever hope had once been inside her had drained away. There was nothing left to hold her together. She was cav-ing in.
“I’ll make it on my own,” she said into the silence around her, and could almost hear Duke laughing: “Sure you can, Angel. Just like last time.”
Someone knocked on her door, jerking her back from her dark memories. “Can I come in, Angel?”
Angel welcomed Lucky. She reminded her of Mama except Lucky drank to be happy. Mama drank to forget. Lucky wasn’t drunk right now, but she was holding a bottle and two glasses.
“You’ve been keeping to yourself lately,” Lucky said, sitting on the bed with her. “Are you all right? You’re not sick or anything, are you?”
“I’m fine,” Angel said.
“You didn’t have breakfast with us.” Lucky set the bottle and glasses on the side table.
“I wasn’t
She began to shake and let the curtain fall back into place. Maybe that was the only way out. Death. If she were dead, no one could ever use her again.
She sat on the bed and drew up her knees tightly against her chest.
Pressing her head against her knees, she rocked herself. Why did he have to come to her? She had come to accept things the way they were. She had been getting by. Why did he have to destroy her inner stillness? She clenched her hands into fists. She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Michael Hosea driving away in the rain.
She had the awful gut feeling she had just thrown her last chance away.
81
Redeem.04 7/31/07 11:16 AM Page 82
Redeem.05 7/31/07 11:18 AM Page 83
Five
Death is before me today. As a man longs to see his house when he has spent many years in captivity.
P A P Y R U S
F R O M
A N C I E N T
E G Y P T
The storm lasted for days. The rain streaked the glass like tears, washing the grit away and making watery images of the outside world. Angel worked and slept and looked out over the shanties, clapboard buildings, and sagging canvas tents lit by a thousand lanterns until dawn. No green anywhere. Just grays and browns.
Henri would be serving breakfast now, but she wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t feel like sitting with the others and listening to their squabbles and complaints.
The rain came harder and faster, and with it came memories. She used to play a game with her mother on rainy-day afternoons. Anytime it rained, it grew cold in the shanty, too cold for anyone who didn’t have to be there.
The men stayed away, warming themselves in a comfortable tavern, and Rab stayed with them. Mama would set Sarah in her lap and wrap the blanket around both of them. Sarah had grown to like storms because then she had Mama all to herself. They would watch the large drops on the glass pane touch and grow and finally slide down into a river on the frame. Mama talked to her about when she was a child. Just the happy things, the good times. Mama never spoke of being turned away by her father. She never spoke of Alex Stafford. But whenever she was quiet, Sarah knew Mama was 83
Redeem.05 7/31/07 11:18 AM Page 84
R
E
D
E
E
M
I
N
G
L
O
V
E
remembering and hurting all over again. Mama would hug her hard and rock her and hum. “Things will be different for you, darling,” she would say, and kiss her. “Things will be different for you. You’ll see.”
And Angel had seen.
She stopped thinking about the past. She let the curtain drop back in place and sat down at the small, lace-covered table. She stuffed the memories down again. Better the hollow nothingness than the pain.
Hosea won’t come back. Not this time. She closed her eyes tightly, her small hand a fist in her lap. Why did she think about him at all? “Come away with me and be my wife.” Sure, until he tired of her and gave her to someone else. Like Duke. Like Johnny. Life never changes.
She lay down on her bed and covered her face with a pale satin sheet.
She remembered the men sewing the shroud closed over her mother’s stiffly smiling face and felt empty inside. Whatever hope had once been inside her had drained away. There was nothing left to hold her together. She was cav-ing in.
“I’ll make it on my own,” she said into the silence around her, and could almost hear Duke laughing: “Sure you can, Angel. Just like last time.”
Someone knocked on her door, jerking her back from her dark memories. “Can I come in, Angel?”
Angel welcomed Lucky. She reminded her of Mama except Lucky drank to be happy. Mama drank to forget. Lucky wasn’t drunk right now, but she was holding a bottle and two glasses.
“You’ve been keeping to yourself lately,” Lucky said, sitting on the bed with her. “Are you all right? You’re not sick or anything, are you?”
“I’m fine,” Angel said.
“You didn’t have breakfast with us.” Lucky set the bottle and glasses on the side table.
“I wasn’t
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