Read Online River's Edge by Marie Bostwick - Free Book Online

me with a smile, “each so unique and precious, no more alike than any two snowflakes and each one a miracle of creation, I just know that God exists and that He is good.”
    â€œIs it that easy for you?” I asked, surprised and genuinely interested. This was a brand of theology that bore no resemblance to the dull litany of saints, church history, and confusing theories that Frau Finkel, who was devout and insistent in her attempts to convert me, had recited to me.
    Reverend Muller tilted his head to one side and paused for a moment before answering. “Not quite so easy, at least not all the time, but a beautiful sky helps. It gives me faith that God is in heaven and things will turn out all right in the end.”
    I didn’t know how to answer him, or even if he expected me to. I looked at the sky again. It did look just exactly the same as it did at home. I felt a little better. I stood admiring the view for several moments before I remembered with dread that I couldn’t just stay there. It was almost lunchtime. At any moment Mrs. Muller would be calling me inside, where I would be forced to face an undoubtedly stony reception by the children.
    â€œElise,” said Reverend Muller, “I need to finish my sermon for Sunday, but it’s too noisy to work at home. Far too many battles going on outside the window of my study,” he commented with pretended seriousness. I couldn’t help but blush a little at his observation. “I have just decided I’m going to the church where I can finish my work in peace. Would you like to come with me? Maybe we’ll drive by the river on the way. Have you been down to the river yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, you’ve got to see the river! We won’t have time for a swim today, but you should see it. It’s just beautiful. Then we could stop off at the café for an egg cream. After that you could go to the library and check out some more books, or you could sit in the sanctuary and play the piano. Nobody’s there on a Tuesday, so you wouldn’t be disturbed.”
    I didn’t know exactly what an egg cream was, but my heart leapt at the thought of being able to play that beautiful piano again. Even so, I was hesitant to accept his invitation. “Wouldn’t I be bothering you?” I asked doubtfully. “You said you couldn’t work with so much noise going on.”
    He grinned. “Elise, listening to my children argue about foul balls is noise. Listening to you play ... Well,” he said, his tone softening slightly and his grin fading, “that is inspiration. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anything like it.
    â€œThis will probably be the best sermon I’ve ever written.” His eyes twinkled. “What do you say? Are you coming to town with me, or are you going to spend the rest of the day standing under this tree?”
    I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’d rather go with you, Reverend Muller.”
    â€œGood! I’ll get the keys to the car. “ He turned to go but stopped short as if remembering something. “Elise, you know, you might be with us for a while, and it seems awfully formal, calling us Reverend and Mrs. Muller. If you want, you could call us Papa and Mama, same as the other kids.”
    I hesitated for a moment, trying to imagine how Reverend Muller had looked when he was young, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, carrying a gun that could kill another young soldier, but I couldn’t conjure up the image. All I could see was a kind man with a kind face.
    â€œYes,” I said slowly. “I would like that. If you are sure you don’t mind.”
    â€œI don’t mind at all. In fact, I’m pleased,” he said, grinning as if he really was. “Now you wait here, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
    I watched him walk toward the house with his long, loping strides and made a mental note to ask him what a