Follow Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

through comprehension and comparison, she imagined that she was fully submerged in a bath of witch hazel, breathing through
     a straw. Somewhere in a corner of her mind she remembered to be wary, yet mostly she felt herself settling into a warm feeling
     of gratitude. She had a vague sense that this woman named Georgie was saving more than her life. She gave her the best smile
     she could muster to show her thanks.
    “You sure look worn out,” said Georgie. “Now don’t mind me, we’ll put you in dry clothes, slip your arm out of the sleeve
     like that. There, that’s a good girl. And here we go, you’ve got a hot spot there. I bet it smarts.”
    The hot spot was a boil deep inside Sally’s right breast, and Georgie was right, it smarted plenty.
    “Hey, Uncle,” Georgie called toward the kitchen, “fill a basin with the water off the stove, thanks, and leave it outside
     the door. Here you go, honey, slip this on. That’s a good girl. Maybe we could use… you know, Uncle Mason, if you don’t mind
     making a trip to Lawson’s to pick up a couple of things we’ll need, I’ll give a call ahead. And you, Stevie,” she said, motioning
     to a young boy standing in the doorway, “make yourself useful right now. Go find me some towels. Go on now, do as I say.”
    After she’d closed the door, Georgie draped a warm washcloth over Sally’s infected breast. She fell silent for a few minutes.
     Sally watched her face through the witch hazel cloud of her fever and decided that she had no cause to feel wary. Here was
     a woman she could trust, at least for now. It was a luxurious conclusion, and it gave Sally a sweet, dreamy contentment, as
     if she’d just been told that she’d come into a great deal of money.
    When the washcloth turned clammy, Georgie exchanged it with another one. She called her son to come into the room. A moment
     later a boy’s voice right next to Sally’s ear said, “Who’s she?”
    Sally blinked her eyes open.
    “Hello. Uncle Mason says you’re an angel.”
    “I’m Sally.”
    “Are you Sally Angel or Angel Sally? There’s a difference.”
    “What’s the difference?”
    “Oh, don’t bother with him,” said Georgie. “Stevie, wring this cloth out in the sink and bring me another clean one.”
    “No, wait a second.” Sally wanted to know the difference between Sally Angel and Angel Sally.
    “If you don’t know, I ain’t gonna tell you.”
    Sally corrected him: “I’m not.”
    “You’re not?”
    “You shouldn’t say,
I ain’t.
You should say,
I’m not.
”
    The woman named Georgie used this as evidence to prove to the boy she called Stevie that Sally was an angel. Angels knew everything,
     and soon she’d be teaching the boy all about the secrets of heaven. “But first we want to make her better.”
    If she was an angel, why was she sick? The boy addressed the question to his mother, but Sally answered. “Because I fell from
     heaven.”
    “Really?”
    “Right out of the blue sky.” As she said this, she gazed into the blue of the boy’s wide, staring eyes, a thick, creamy blue
     that she imagined would help to soften the impact of her fall. She understood that these strangers were offering her a place
     of refuge. Not another home — it was better than home. Stevie, Georgie, Uncle Mason. They were ready to provide her with the
     aid she needed to start over again so she could continue on her way.
    The little blue-eyed kid with a mop of thin, almost whitish hair, like an old man’s. Like Uncle Mason’s hair beneath his red
     cap. The kid and Uncle Mason led by Georgie, who looked too young to have such deep lines around her eyes — they were going
     to take care of her. She’d fallen from the sky, and they were going to make her better.
    “Go on, Stevie,” said his mother.
    “Thank you,” Sally said, and the boy nodded with a strange solemnity, as though until then he’d been testing her and now he
     was satisfied that she’d told him what he’d been