Read Online At Every Turn by Anne Mateer - Free Book Online Page B

crowding the far edges of the cobblestone path. Residents dashed out of storefronts and houses, heedless of the rain, following behind the truck like the wide tail of an unwieldy kite.
    I joined the throng, my heart pounding with worry. Smoke billowed into the moist air, clouding my vision and sending spasms of coughs up my throat. I glanced at the clouds skittering across the heavens and prayed for a deluge instead of a drip. But the Lord didn’t oblige.
    Shouting sounded in the distance. Making my way through the crowd, I pushed forward into the smoky air, heedless of the sting in my nose and eyes. Finally I stood near the fire truck. Three men directed a flow of water toward towering flames reducing a house to cinders. And there in the yard stood Clarissa, arms circled around her sobbing sister.
    By the time the fire shrank to a smolder, the crowd had dispersed, as well. I stood by Clarissa, our faces smudged with soot, our clothing damp. She took charge, parceling out her nieces and nephews to hospitable neighbors, but her sister refused to abandon the charred remains.
    “All our savings went to buy that house. One wee roof of our own for shelter.”
    Clarissa soothed her sister as she would a small child. “There now. All your lads and lasses are well. Wood and nails can be replaced.”
    Flame-red hair framed the woman’s tear-streaked face as she shook her head. “Wood and nails cost money we don’t have. What will we do? What will we do?” She buried her face in the front of Clarissa’s dress. Only then did I spy tears snaking trails down Clarissa’s dirty cheeks.
    I stared at the purse hanging from my wrist and gnawed on the edge of my lip. Then my eyes met Clarissa’s over the top of her weeping sister’s head. Before I could think, I pressed my money—one hundred sixty-two dollars—into Clarissa’s sister’s hand, telling her to use it to replace their things, to begin saving for a new house.
    Before either of them could protest, I walked away. Without a look back, I climbed into my Runabout. Penniless. Again.
    My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as I bounced over the cobblestones and out onto the dirt road toward home. In spite of myself, I couldn’t be sorry for helping Clarissa’s sister and her family in their time of need. And just as the Lord had provided for them, He’d provide for His work in Africa. Grandmother believed it. So did I.
    But please, Lord, couldn’t You just provide it through me?

    Not often did I shed my dress for a pair of knickers when I went for a drive. But this day I did. Late that afternoon, I pulled heavy driving gloves over my fingers as I strode into the cool, dark garage. My hands shook with the need to be behind the wheel. My foot itched to work the gas pedal attached to the floor of the race car.
    An electric light flickered on the back wall of the garage, illuminating Webster’s legs sticking out from under the racing car.
    I nudged his foot with the toe of my tall riding boot. He scooted out, a cloud of dust arriving with him.
    “Are you busy?”
    He sat up and rested his hands on his bent knees as he surveyed my unusual costume. “More trouble?”
    My shoulders hitched up and then fell again. “I guess you could say that.”
    He hopped to his feet, brushed his hands against his legs. “Your father again?”
    I shook my head, noticing car parts strewn across the ground. “What’s all this?” I poked a metal shaft with the toe of my boot.
    “Tinkering a bit.” He patted the hood of the racing car in much the same way Father patted my cheek.
    “You can make it go faster?”
    “Maybe.” He looked me over once more. “You’re serious today, aren’t you?”
    I nodded.
    “So I guess your father told you.”
    “Told me?”
    He blinked, a kind of fear hovering over his face. Running a hand through his dark hair, he disappeared deeper into the garage, his back to me, his attention glued to his scattered tools and spare parts. I followed,