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

those things.”
    “She was very angry with me.”
    “But her anger didn’t stop her heart, Sparrow. She had a hard life before she came to live here. And she worked very hard taking care of me. And us.”
    “I should not have—” she searched for the words. “I think I made her work too hard.”
    Reverend Joseph laughed softly “Nonsense. She was happy. Oh, she may have grumbled a bit, but I know the woman she was when she showed up on my doorstep looking for work, and I know the woman she became over the years. She felt safe and protected here. We gave her a good home, Kassandra. A kind family. That’s all any woman really wants.”
    Kassandra looked around the cozy kitchen. Spotless as always, the only dishes piled on the counter were the stacks of teacups and saucers from the morning’s parade of visitors. Hidden in the bread box was half of Clara’s last loaf of bread, and in the center of the table where they sat was a little tray holding three jars of her good jam.
    “She always said this was her kitchen.”
    “And so it was. But now she is in the most beautiful house imaginable. Safe with God, and happier than she has ever been in her life. We can be sad at her passing, but she spent a lifetime here waiting to be with God. She’s probably sweeping the streets of gold right now, grumbling that the angels track in too much heavenly mud.”
    Now it was Kassandra’s turn to laugh, softly, and Reverend Joseph seemed to take her laughter as a great reward. She couldn’t rob that joy from him now. She didn’t want to drag his thoughts away from this celestial vision to the mire of what she and Ben had done in this very room—Clara’s kitchen. Instead, she brightened her smile and said, “Thank you, Reverend Joseph,” and stood to place a sweet kiss on the top of his head, where his thinning blond hair revealed a pink scalp.
    Before she could walk away, he grabbed her hand, stopping her by his side.
    “Can I ask one thing of you, Kassandra?”
    “Yes, sir,” she said, turning.
    “There’s an empty crate just outside on the back porch. Would you please take it into Clara’s room and pack up her things? I’ll take them to the funeral service and give them to her minister. I’m sure there are many needy people in his congregation who could make good use of them.”
    As it turned out, there wasn’t much for, Kassandra to pack. Two skirts, four blouses, half a dozen aprons, all laundered crisp and clean, even those she’d worn the day before. She’d taken the time to wash out her shirt and socks before lying down to die. One pair of shoes showed all the signs of her heavy step; a wooden-handled brush played host to springs of gray hair.
    There was a well-worn Bible on the small table beside the bed. Kassandra opened it, flipped through the pages now soft with years of touching, turning, but not reading. Clara had many tricks to hide her illiteracy, often making excuses for Kassandra to read aloud. What did she do with this book? Hold it? Look at the words scattered across the page? It seemed unfair, somehow, that Clara would have this book while Kassandra still didn’t have one of her own, reading from Reverend Joseph’s huge leather-bound volume in his library when it was time to have her daily Scripture lesson.
    She folded each item one by one and placed it carefully in the crate, thinking about all the trinkets that had already been given to Clara’s loved ones and hoping that these few items would be put to good use. That’s what Clara would have wanted; she was a generous soul in her own way. The Bible was laid on the top of the pile, surrounded by a nest of starched, clean aprons.
    An entire life packed in one small crate.
    She took the crate into the kitchen and set it on the table—Clara’s table—and was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. It was just after two in the afternoon, and the sleepless night and busy morning finally had the best of her. She was hungry, too, having only had