Read Online Through the Deep Waters by Kim Vogel Sawyer - Free Book Online Page A

back next week or I can’t work with you at all.” So Amos could be patient. His dream was worth waiting for.

    Dinah
    While Ruthie visited the outhouse, Dinah scrambled into her nightclothes and dove beneath the covers. The open window allowed in a breeze, but even so the room was stifling. The lightweight quilt might as well have been a stack of wool blankets. She’d rather lay uncovered on top of the cotton sheet. If she had a room to herself, that was exactly what she’d do. But sharing a room meant having someone—someone she hardly knew—see her in her nightgown. She couldn’t bring herself to let anyone, not even someone as harmless as Ruthie, see her dressed so scantily.
    After being issued uniforms from Mr. Irwin, she’d followed Ruthie and observed the cleanup practices Mr. Harvey required. The man was a stickler for cleanliness, much more so than Miss Flo. The beautifully decorated rooms reminded her of the one in the hotel where she’d met the gentleman, and she hadn’t wanted to enter them. But Ruthie had laughingly ushered her over the thresholds, teasing that she couldn’t very well clean from the hallway.
    As Ruthie demonstrated the required cleaning practices, she told Dinah about Mr. Harvey’s wife traveling all the way to Europe to purchase linens and furniture for the rooms. Listening to Ruthie blather on and on had helped chase away the ghosts haunting her mind. By the end of the day, she’d made a silent vow to forget the only other hotel she’d visited and concentrate on doing exactly what was needed to please Mr. Harvey.
    In addition to showing her the ropes, as Ruthie had put it, the outgoing chambermaid introduced her to the other staff members. Everyone—the cook, the kitchen helpers, the busboys, and the waitresses—welcomed her into the Clifton family, just as Ruthie said they would. Dinah swiped at a trickle of sweat easing along her temple as she tried to recall their names. If she was going to live and work with these people every day, she needed to be a part of them. But their easy acceptance, instead of pleasing her, left her on edge. She wished she could understand why.
    The doorknob rattled and Ruthie breezed into the room. Dinah had never met anyone who moved with such grace. Did the girl’s feet even touch the floor? And how could she be so cheerful at this hour after working all day? Ruthie hummed—Dinah had discovered if Ruthie wasn’t talking, she was humming—as she removed her dressing gown and hung it on a hook behind the door. She glided around the end of the bed, and Dinah expected her to extinguish the lamp and fall onto the mattress. Instead, she paused at her side of the bed and smiled at Dinah.
    “You’re tucked in already. Have you finished praying?”
    Dinah searched her memory. She recalled being instructed on how to dust, sweep, wash the pitchers and bowls, strip and remake beds, and fluff pillows. But she didn’t recall anything about praying. She shook her head.
    “Well, you’re welcome to join me if you like. God’s ears are capable of listening to two of us at once.” Ruthie dropped to her knees beside the bed. Only her head and shoulders showed above the high mattress. She pressed her folded hands beneath her chin and closed her eyes. “Dear God—”
    Clutching the covers to her chest, Dinah sat up and stared at the other girl. “What are you doing?”
    Ruthie’s eyes popped open. She looked as dumbfounded as Dinah felt. “I’m praying. I always pray before I go to bed. Don’t you?”
    Before going to bed, Dinah had always willed the noises from down below to stop so she could sleep. She shook her head.
    “Do you pray in the morning, then?”
    Dinah scowled. “I don’t pray.”
    Ruthie’s eyes flew wide. She gripped handfuls of the quilt as if she needed an anchor. “Not at all?”
    “No.”
    “But, Dinah, you have to talk to God every day.” Ruthie sounded so dismayed Dinah experienced a rush of guilt she didn’t understand.