come up with something, but the jailer on duty had refused her request to see him. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t Walt’s fiancée, and she certainly wasn’t his lawyer.
Poor Walt. He had to be scared to death in that jail. How could she even consider not telling the police about his alibi?
The iron bed squeaked again when she rolled on her side.
Charlotte groaned. “Hannah, you’re worse than Tessa.”
A soft snore came from the bed on the other side of Charlotte. At least Tessa could sleep through almost anything. Poor Charlotte could not.
Sharing this one room wasn’t easy, but at least they had a place to live. If she did tell the truth, where would they end up?
After tossing back the covers, Hannah climbed out of bed, grabbed her robe, and padded from the bedroom. She made her way to the kitchen and soon had milk warming on the stove. Warm milk flavored with vanilla, a bit of sugar, and a sprinkle of nutmeg had been her mother’s solution to bouts of insomnia. She’d always tell Hannah the best way to fight the monsters of the night was with warm milk and prayer.
As she waited for bubbles to form around the edges of the milk, she decided to apply the second half of her mother’s monster-fighting advice and again ask God for a solution to this dilemma, because this giant of a problem threatened to consume her.
She absently stirred the white liquid, her mind wandering in the middle of her prayer. What she needed was someone who knew how to fight this giant. She needed her own personal David—someonewho could find the right five stones and use only one to take the giant down.
Hannah opened the Hoosier cabinet door to locate the vanilla extract, and her eyes lit on a can of Hershey’s cocoa. She bit her lip. That would most certainly be a treat, but where had the cocoa powder come from? They hadn’t been able to afford those kinds of extras for months.
She lifted the nearly full can from the shelf, and the answer came to her. Lincoln. He’d sent it with the groceries.
Her stomach knotted. Was God pointing her to her giant fighter? No, it couldn’t be. Not him. She’d sworn to herself to never ask Lincoln for help. She’d flatly refused every offer he’d made. Could she now swallow her pride and ask the man who’d taken their home to save her friend?
She stirred cocoa powder into the milk and ladled the hot liquid into a china cup. One sip told her she’d forgotten the sugar.
Frowning, she spooned in two teaspoons of sugar. Sugar made the bitter cocoa easier to swallow, but what could possibly make swallowing the bitter pill of pride easier?
“Miss Gregory?” Lincoln stuffed a folder into his desk drawer and shoved the drawer closed before standing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She didn’t answer but stood before him dressed in a pretty, dark rust-colored dress with her lips pressed together. Her soft amber hair was swept upward. Her wide-brimmed hat, beribboned in plum, sported satin roses.
“I—” She started to speak and stopped, clutching her purse to her waist.
“You aren’t here to make another payment, are you? Because I thought we had that settled.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
Her honey-coated voice washed over him. If ever God had called someone to be a Hello Girl, it was Hannah Gregory. But if shewasn’t here to blister him for sending the groceries, why was she here, and why was she acting so hesitant to speak? Was she in some kind of trouble?
He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Why don’t you please have a seat?”
She shook her head and kept her voice low. “Is there anywhere else we could speak—in private?”
His heart began to beat faster, but he kept his voice calm. “Certainly.” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and directed her toward one of their meeting rooms. A walnut conference table stood sentry in the center of the room, surrounded by leather-covered chairs. After making certain he’d left the door ajar to
Poor Walt. He had to be scared to death in that jail. How could she even consider not telling the police about his alibi?
The iron bed squeaked again when she rolled on her side.
Charlotte groaned. “Hannah, you’re worse than Tessa.”
A soft snore came from the bed on the other side of Charlotte. At least Tessa could sleep through almost anything. Poor Charlotte could not.
Sharing this one room wasn’t easy, but at least they had a place to live. If she did tell the truth, where would they end up?
After tossing back the covers, Hannah climbed out of bed, grabbed her robe, and padded from the bedroom. She made her way to the kitchen and soon had milk warming on the stove. Warm milk flavored with vanilla, a bit of sugar, and a sprinkle of nutmeg had been her mother’s solution to bouts of insomnia. She’d always tell Hannah the best way to fight the monsters of the night was with warm milk and prayer.
As she waited for bubbles to form around the edges of the milk, she decided to apply the second half of her mother’s monster-fighting advice and again ask God for a solution to this dilemma, because this giant of a problem threatened to consume her.
She absently stirred the white liquid, her mind wandering in the middle of her prayer. What she needed was someone who knew how to fight this giant. She needed her own personal David—someonewho could find the right five stones and use only one to take the giant down.
Hannah opened the Hoosier cabinet door to locate the vanilla extract, and her eyes lit on a can of Hershey’s cocoa. She bit her lip. That would most certainly be a treat, but where had the cocoa powder come from? They hadn’t been able to afford those kinds of extras for months.
She lifted the nearly full can from the shelf, and the answer came to her. Lincoln. He’d sent it with the groceries.
Her stomach knotted. Was God pointing her to her giant fighter? No, it couldn’t be. Not him. She’d sworn to herself to never ask Lincoln for help. She’d flatly refused every offer he’d made. Could she now swallow her pride and ask the man who’d taken their home to save her friend?
She stirred cocoa powder into the milk and ladled the hot liquid into a china cup. One sip told her she’d forgotten the sugar.
Frowning, she spooned in two teaspoons of sugar. Sugar made the bitter cocoa easier to swallow, but what could possibly make swallowing the bitter pill of pride easier?
“Miss Gregory?” Lincoln stuffed a folder into his desk drawer and shoved the drawer closed before standing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She didn’t answer but stood before him dressed in a pretty, dark rust-colored dress with her lips pressed together. Her soft amber hair was swept upward. Her wide-brimmed hat, beribboned in plum, sported satin roses.
“I—” She started to speak and stopped, clutching her purse to her waist.
“You aren’t here to make another payment, are you? Because I thought we had that settled.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
Her honey-coated voice washed over him. If ever God had called someone to be a Hello Girl, it was Hannah Gregory. But if shewasn’t here to blister him for sending the groceries, why was she here, and why was she acting so hesitant to speak? Was she in some kind of trouble?
He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “Why don’t you please have a seat?”
She shook her head and kept her voice low. “Is there anywhere else we could speak—in private?”
His heart began to beat faster, but he kept his voice calm. “Certainly.” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and directed her toward one of their meeting rooms. A walnut conference table stood sentry in the center of the room, surrounded by leather-covered chairs. After making certain he’d left the door ajar to
Similar Books
