Read Online Hope Springs - 05 - Wedding Cake by Lynne Hinton - Free Book Online
Authors: Lynne Hinton
Tags: Fiction, General, Reference, Contemporary Women, Christian fiction, Religious, Christian, Weddings, Female friendship, north carolina, Church membership
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and looked around for the keys to the van.
“What kind of sign?” Charlotte asked, seeing the keys on the edge of her desk. She picked them up and was getting ready to toss them to Maria.
“The kind that says,
Peligro! Ese hombre no es para ti!
”
Charlotte shook her head and pitched the keys to Maria. She was able to translate this because she had heard it from her friend a hundred times. It was the same thing Maria told every woman to say to herself once she was discharged from St. Mary’s and was thinking about dating again too soon. She had told Lois this only a few days earlier.
“Danger ahead! That man is not for you!”
Cheese Pennies
2 cups grated cheddar cheese
1 stick margarine
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
1¼ teaspoons red pepper
Cream cheese and margarine. Mix flour, salt, and pepper. Add to cheese and mix well. Roll in sticks. Wrap in waxed paper. Chill 30 minutes. Slice thin. Bake 15 minutes at 350 degrees. Place on crackers.
—Iris T.
Chapter Seven
C harlotte was in the kitchen, helping Iris toss a salad, when Donovan arrived with Carla. She saw the headlights of the patrol car as they pulled into the driveway. She put down the knife she was using to slice tomatoes and wiped her hands on the front of her pants. “Can you finish fixing supper?” she asked Iris.
“Of course,” Iris replied. “You go on and conduct your business, Sister Charlotte.”
Charlotte smiled. “Maria will be back soon with Martha and Denise and the children. So you all go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for us. I sort of doubt our new resident will be dining with us anyway.”
Iris glanced toward the clock. It was just before six. “Yes, Sister,” she responded, and then went back to her food preparation.
Charlotte took in a deep breath. Receiving new clients was always hard for her. The endless line of abused and broken women, the scared and brutalized children clutching the backs of their mother’s legs, thefear and the unnecessary shame, it was all so overwhelming to the executive director. The arrivals were always the hardest part.
Charlotte had been a parish minister before taking this job, and she had seen some heartbreaking things in that position. She had sat at deathbeds and been in emergency waiting rooms to hear of horrible wrecks and unsuspected illnesses. She had visited prisons and been in homes where sorrow was a regular guest. She had dealt with anger and sadness and grief as heavy as clouds. She had fought battles and lost wars and been so dog-tired that she would sometimes stand in the pulpit without a word of comfort or kindness. But nothing in that line of work ever prepared her for the depth of the pain and agony and the level of desperation she experienced at St. Mary’s.
Every woman was unique. Every woman had a story that was unique. And yet the fundamentals were always the same. The woman had left an abusive relationship. She had nothing but what she was wearing or what she could carry. She had no idea of what she was going to do beyond run for her safety and get out of her relationship. After that was when the women and their stories diverged. After those basic facts, the women and how they handled their situations were as different and as unpredictable as storms in winter.
Some of the women made it, finding new housing, finding new employment, being able to make a real break from their abusers and their abusive lives. They were the success stories. They were the ones Charlotte spoke of when she gave her report at the board of directors’ meetings. They were the ones she recited to herself over and over, and especially when she found herself feeling defeated and despairing. The success stories were what kept her going, and kept her at St. Mary’s.
Many of the women, on the other hand, didn’t make it. A lot ofthe women went back to their former lives, simply unable to imagine any other way of life for themselves. They went back into the arms of their tormentors and back into a
“What kind of sign?” Charlotte asked, seeing the keys on the edge of her desk. She picked them up and was getting ready to toss them to Maria.
“The kind that says,
Peligro! Ese hombre no es para ti!
”
Charlotte shook her head and pitched the keys to Maria. She was able to translate this because she had heard it from her friend a hundred times. It was the same thing Maria told every woman to say to herself once she was discharged from St. Mary’s and was thinking about dating again too soon. She had told Lois this only a few days earlier.
“Danger ahead! That man is not for you!”
Cheese Pennies
2 cups grated cheddar cheese
1 stick margarine
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
1¼ teaspoons red pepper
Cream cheese and margarine. Mix flour, salt, and pepper. Add to cheese and mix well. Roll in sticks. Wrap in waxed paper. Chill 30 minutes. Slice thin. Bake 15 minutes at 350 degrees. Place on crackers.
—Iris T.
Chapter Seven
C harlotte was in the kitchen, helping Iris toss a salad, when Donovan arrived with Carla. She saw the headlights of the patrol car as they pulled into the driveway. She put down the knife she was using to slice tomatoes and wiped her hands on the front of her pants. “Can you finish fixing supper?” she asked Iris.
“Of course,” Iris replied. “You go on and conduct your business, Sister Charlotte.”
Charlotte smiled. “Maria will be back soon with Martha and Denise and the children. So you all go ahead and eat. Don’t wait for us. I sort of doubt our new resident will be dining with us anyway.”
Iris glanced toward the clock. It was just before six. “Yes, Sister,” she responded, and then went back to her food preparation.
Charlotte took in a deep breath. Receiving new clients was always hard for her. The endless line of abused and broken women, the scared and brutalized children clutching the backs of their mother’s legs, thefear and the unnecessary shame, it was all so overwhelming to the executive director. The arrivals were always the hardest part.
Charlotte had been a parish minister before taking this job, and she had seen some heartbreaking things in that position. She had sat at deathbeds and been in emergency waiting rooms to hear of horrible wrecks and unsuspected illnesses. She had visited prisons and been in homes where sorrow was a regular guest. She had dealt with anger and sadness and grief as heavy as clouds. She had fought battles and lost wars and been so dog-tired that she would sometimes stand in the pulpit without a word of comfort or kindness. But nothing in that line of work ever prepared her for the depth of the pain and agony and the level of desperation she experienced at St. Mary’s.
Every woman was unique. Every woman had a story that was unique. And yet the fundamentals were always the same. The woman had left an abusive relationship. She had nothing but what she was wearing or what she could carry. She had no idea of what she was going to do beyond run for her safety and get out of her relationship. After that was when the women and their stories diverged. After those basic facts, the women and how they handled their situations were as different and as unpredictable as storms in winter.
Some of the women made it, finding new housing, finding new employment, being able to make a real break from their abusers and their abusive lives. They were the success stories. They were the ones Charlotte spoke of when she gave her report at the board of directors’ meetings. They were the ones she recited to herself over and over, and especially when she found herself feeling defeated and despairing. The success stories were what kept her going, and kept her at St. Mary’s.
Many of the women, on the other hand, didn’t make it. A lot ofthe women went back to their former lives, simply unable to imagine any other way of life for themselves. They went back into the arms of their tormentors and back into a
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