Read Online Daughter of Joy by Kathleen Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

now appeared to be cooperating nicely. In the meantime, she thought with some relief, she and Beth were managing to have an actual conversation, as guarded and edgy as it might be. That, Abby decided, was a victory for the both of them.
    “Hopefully, though, ” she forged on, seeking some common ground, “you might be willing to help me with Old Bess. I imagine your papa will be very hungry after working all afternoon. I’d hate for him to go hungry just because of my inexperience.”
    For a long moment Beth eyed her, her gaze inscrutable. Then she looked down and began drawing imaginary pictures on the blueand white-checkered, cotton tablecloth. “If Papa went hungry, he wouldn’t be very pleased with you, would he?”
    Abby’s fledgling hope that they were beginning to make some headway vanished. “No, he wouldn’t be pleased with me, ” she answered, well aware she could be playing right into any plans the little girl might have to sabotage her. “But I don’t want that to happen. It wouldn’t be fair to your papa. He has enough on his mind, without coming home to a poorly cooked meal, messy house, and two squabbling females. I know I don’t intend to make his day any harder.”
    Beth nodded, never lifting her gaze from the table. “You would lose your job then, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes, Beth, that’s certainly a possibility.” Abby paused, waiting until the girl’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “Can’t you at least give me a chance?” she then asked. “Your papa seems willing to do so.”
    Angry tears sprang to Beth’s eyes. “My papa’s desperate. I’m not. Besides, your being here isn’t going to turn out any better than the others. Nobody wants to be around me for very long!”
    It took all Abby could do not to rise, hurry around the table, and take the girl into her arms. Ah, Lord, she thought, the poor child. How could anyone have been so cruel, or treated her so unfeelingly?
    Instead, though, sensing that Beth’s innate wariness and animosity would prevent any such overtures of comfort from being well received, Abby forced herself to remain where she was. “You can’t know that about me, Beth, ” she cried, not able to contain her frustration. “Why can’t you just give me a chance?”
    “Because I don’t want to, that’s why!” Beth’s little body began to tremble, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “You can’t make me, either!”
    Abby inhaled a steadying breath. This wasn’t the way, she told herself. No one as wounded as Beth appeared to be was ever won over solely by fine words and good intentions. Not Beth, or her father.
    Lord, she thought, what have you led me to, in leading me here?
    Abby sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s no sense belaboring this just now. Only time will prove the truth of my words.”
    “Hah!” Furiously, Beth swiped away her tears. “You don’t know me. You’ve no reason to care.”
    “No, I don’t yet know you, ” was Abby’s simple reply, “save as the beloved child of God that you are.”
    With a violence that startled Abby, the girl threw down her doll, flung back her chair, and jumped to her feet. “There you go again, trying to force your know-it-all ways on us.” She stomped her foot, her small body now quivering in anger. “Well, I still don’t like you, and I sure in tarnation don’t like your silly God. Just leave me alone. Do you hear me? Leave me alone!”
    With that, Beth turned and ran sobbing from the room, leaving Abby to sit alone in the kitchen. Finally she gave another great sigh, and buried her face in her hands. “Ah, Lord, ” she whispered, “what am I to do? You sent me here for a reason. How am I supposed to reach this child? I don’t know how to heal such pain, or even where to begin.”
    Charity suffereth long, and is kind.
    From somewhere deep in her heart, St. Paul’s beloved words filled Abby’s mind. Tears sprang to her eyes.
    “Thank you, Lord, ” she prayed, gratitude flooding