Read Online A Shelter of Hope by Tracie Peterson - Free Book Online

she was forgotten—at least by the people of Uniontown. She could only cling to the possibility that no one knew of her father’s actions, and that even if they did, no one would attempt to strike up a bosom companionship with Garvey Davis. No one ever bothered to come to the cabin, and with any luck no one ever would. It might be months before anyone thought to wonder what had become of Davis and Simone.
    Reaching down to scoop up a handful of water, Simone grimaced at the thought of Davis. She again wondered how she could possibly live with the nightmarish images in her mind. She had condemned her father for murdering her mother and brother, and now she found herself no better. But maybe Davis isn’t dead , she reasoned with herself. Maybe the blow had only rendered him unconscious.
    She closed her eyes, shaking her head. It seemed foolish to hope that Garvey Davis was still alive. There had been too much blood. Even now she could see it pooling on the floor of the bedroom. She could still remember the stunned expression on his face. It even haunted her in her sleep, so that the past few nights she awoke screaming—fighting off invisible intruders. Shuddering uncontrollably, Simone forced the images from her mind. There had to be something better to dwell on.
    The sun peeked through the gray, and for a moment the rays seemed to touch Simone. Lifting her face to catch the warmth, she caught sight of the mountain range she’d gradually been making her way down. Her mind instantly went to the Psalms.
    “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.”
    The one hundred and twenty-first chapter of Psalms had been one of her mother’s favorites. Why she should remember such a thing at a time like this was beyond Simone. She wanted no part of remembering her mother or the God her mother had served. She wanted complete separation from anything that would remotely allow her to feel. Her heart was like stone, and Simone wanted it that way.
    Oh, her heart still possessed an element of fear; Simone thought fear to be a healthy thing, however. Fear kept you always searching—always looking over your shoulder. Fear kept you from becoming too comfortable. Comfort, Simone had learned, caused a cascading effect on the soul. Comfort inevitably stimulated pleasure, and pleasure brought about true happiness. And if a person were happy, they could also be made sad—and Simone wanted no part of that.
    But where is your well-being, Simone? an inaudible voice seemed to question.
    Simone went back to her bed of pine boughs and gathered up her things. I won’t give in to such thinking. I won’t believe the lies that my mind would tell me . But deep down, Simone knew that it was very possible that the words she had heard within her own soul might not be lies. She wanted them to be, because if they were, she could more easily stand back and point a finger at yet another way her upbringing had failed her.
    Her mother’s faith would have her believe that God spoke to a person’s heart in order to offer them guidance and comfort. But Simone refused that nonsense. She knew her mother had cherished the psalmist’s declaration that his help came from the Lord who made heaven and earth. The Psalms shared words of comfort, with clear examples of times when the author had faced adversity and loneliness and had turned to God for help.
    “But I won’t turn to God,” Simone declared, looking heavenward. “Because I don’t believe you really care. I don’t believe you even see me here, all alone. I don’t believe you’ve ever really seen me—otherwise, how could you have allowed me to suffer? How could you have left me alone with a man who would sell me to another?” Simone suddenly realized how her words very nearly sounded like a prayer. It startled her to realize she’d spoken the words aloud. Was she going mad?
    Again she gazed up at the mountain peaks. She thought of Naniko and a portion of an old Ute saying.