Coldwater Revival: A Novel Read Online Free PDF

eyes. Less-gifted ladies in the community had shown signs of envy from time to time, drooling over sackcloth Mama had turned into flower gardens. Not quite on the scale of Jesus turning water into wine, but a miracle just the same—especially to inept stitchers like myself. Mama wasn’t stingy with her talent. She’d passed it on to her oldest daughters.
    Flynn Aarsgard had courted Holly for most of a year. In six weeks, when she turned eighteen, we anticipated he would propose to her.
    I liked Flynn. He never gawked at my leg, and I never laughed at his Norwegian accent.
    I glanced at Nathan, buried in a book at the kitchen table, and then I cringed when I heard the twins in a rear bedroom, flipping light switches.
    “Micah and Caleb … in here, right now,” Papa roared.
    Within seconds, two moppy heads popped around the parlor entrance, followed more slowly by the rest of their bodies.
    “Yes, Papa?” they said in unison.
    “What did I tell you about the light switches?”
    The twins lowered their heads and ambled to separate corners of the parlor. Facing the wall, they sat crossed-legged, backs to the room.
    My heart went out to them, though I dared not say a word. I knew exactly how they felt. In my days of hard-fought discipline, hadn’t I passed an inordinate amount of time sitting thusly? After a time, I raised my gaze above the pages of the book I pretended to read. Papa seemed quite pleased with the boys’ repentant behavior, but I wasn’t fooled for a minute. Papa didn’t recognize the secret code racing from one twin’s fingers to the other twin’s lowered eyes. Nor did he realize their head hanging stemmed from remorseless scheming, not regret. I smiled behind my book, wishing I’d had a co-conspirator during my corner-sitting days.

    Perhaps it was because they were childless, or because Micah’s and Caleb’s allure proved too compelling to resist. Whatever the cause, Mr. and Mrs. Peavy took to the twins something awful, their affectionate doting on my brothers more dominant than that of blood kin. Mrs. Peavy invited them to her house daily; bribing them with bubblegum, store-bought toys, and peppermint sticks. She asked Mama if they could spend the night, to which Mama explained they were too young for such outings. Mr. Peavy told them stories. Perching one of the boys atop his knee, he wrapped his arm around the other, reciting tales that captured their imaginations and rendered them spellbound. The boys gawked openly, eyes widening like a cellar door in a windstorm whenever Mr. Peavy’s bushy eyebrows rose up like the tufted horns of a great owl.
    This kidnapping of my brothers by the Peavys left me frustrated and angry, for I possessed no ransom worthy of securing their release.
    Mr. Peavy gave the boys a puppy, a furry ball of indistinct pedigree. We all fell under the puppy’s spell, but none harder than Micah and Caleb. They named him Whisper. I thought the name ironic since the twins never spoke below a shout. Whisper followed my brothers everywhere, and they followed Whisper everywhere.
    The puppy played with the boys, slept with the boys—even tried to eat with the boys. Micah and Caleb loved the puppy with every bit of their beings. At the time, I didn’t know that their strong attachment to Whisper would change the course of our lives for all time.
     

Six
    “Molly Marie Falin, quit spying on those two lovebirds and come cut the cakes.” Mama’s voice droned low as she tugged Molly from the parlor window.
    My gaze darted from my book to Mama. Cakes? Quick as a doe, I followed Molly’s heels to the kitchen, feeling my eyelids widen at the tribute set forth on our table. While I’d been tumbling with the twins at the creek this afternoon, Mama’s hands had not been idle. Apple strudel, cinnamon coffeecake, sweet potato and buttermilk pies, peach cobbler, and a chocolate layer cake filled our fanciest serving dishes. I couldn’t remember a time when Mama had baked with such