Read Online Speak Through the Wind by Allison Pittman - Free Book Online

resist her curiosity about this never-mentioned husband, Kassandra listened as Reverend Joseph counted bill after bill into what she imagined was an outstretched, shaking hand, until he had counted up an amount nearly twice what Kassandra imagined Clara’s salary to be. Then there was a loud admonishment not to spend the money on liquor, and a whispered promise, “No, sir,” before the door shut on the final visitor of the morning.
    “Kassandra?” Reverend Joseph’s voice called up the staircase. “Kassandra, darling, I know you are up there. Come down here, please.”
    Kassandra gingerly took the steps down into the kitchen where Reverend Joseph stood, his arms outstretched.
    “Come here,” he said, and his voice was full of such kindness that Kassandra felt pulled into his embrace, falling against him, her face buried in the dark wool of his vest. She hadn’t yet cried at Clara’s death, and even now tears wouldn’t come. Instead she wrapped her arms around the reverend’s thin body, felt his long arms fold themselves over her shoulders. This was the second time she’d stood in this kitchen, wrapped in the arms of a man, only this time instead of an insidious shameful panic lurking at the edges of her spirit, she felt only comfort and love and strength. She wanted to lift her head, look up into Reverend Joseph’s face, and tell him that she’d killed Clara—as much as if she’d gone into the room and ripped the failing heart right out of the woman’s breast.
    The silence was punctuated only by Reverend Joseph’s soothing murmurs until Kassandra, her face smashed against him, not fully aware that she was speaking aloud, said, “You are a good man, aren’t you?”
    “What did you say, darling?” Reverend Joseph said, pulling himself away to look down at Kassandra’s face.
    She looked up into those kind brown eyes, not nearly as far away as they used to be, and spoke with strength and conviction. “I said, you are a kind man. A good man.”
    Reverend Joseph chuckled a bit. “I try to be a good man, yes.”
    “You gave those people all of her things. And that man money …”
    “Well, now, Sparrow,” Reverend Joseph eased himself away and pulled out a chair, indicating that Kassandra should do the same. “I’m not sure if that was exactly the right thing to do, the money. Sometimes we take actions and hope that God will make something good come out of them. He can do that, you know, take any horrible event and turn it into a blessing.”
    “What if,” Kassandra said, studying the fabric of her skirt, “what if we do something bad? Can God make something good come of that?”
    “The Scriptures tell us that all things work together for good for those that love God. Now, my dear,” she felt his finger on her chin, lifting her face to look at him, “is there something you want to talk about?”
    “I—” killed her , she wanted desperately to say, but her courage failed her. “I am not always good.”
    “Of course you’re not.” He smiled that warm smile, and the sight of it brought such a load of guilt to her heart that she had to look away. Not down, but just past him, to the small wooden cross hanging on the wall.
    “None of us are good all of the time,” he continued. “God knows that. That’s why His forgiveness is part of His divine plan, so when we do sin—whether it is something big or small—we need not carry the weight of it on ourselves. Now, what do you need to tell me?”
    Kassandra didn’t answer right away, but pondered what Reverend Joseph had just said— big or small .
    “It isn’t your fault, you know.”
    His words jarred her out of her reverie, brought her eyes directly back to his own.
    “My fault?”
    “I know you and Clara were quarreling yesterday afternoon.”
    “How did you—”
    “You and Clara often quarreled. I know right now when you remember her, you are thinking of all the warm and loving times you shared. It’s natural and good to remember