In Broken Places Read Online Free PDF Page B

Besides, if we leave you alone, you’re likely to sleep the day away, and that’s just begging for jet lag to beat you. Nope, we’re going to get you through your first day in style, Shelby Davis. It’s the least we can do for important people like you!”
    I observed the countryside as we drove the last miles to the beginning of my new life. The towns were small, some no larger than villages, and it seemed there wasn’t a straight road to be found in them. We curled down main streets that wove along streams and tree lines, crowded at times by too-close homes in various shapes and sizes that made the roads and sidewalks appear impossibly narrow.
    I loved the gentle slope of hills, the rhythmic lines of vineyards, and the surprising contrast of ancient and modern. Some barns looked centuries old and on the verge of collapse, but they were often flanked by homes so avant-garde in design and color that the two seemed to belong on separate planets. There were small Gasthaus restaurants everywhere, and I longed to stop at one and try my first German meal in a courtyard under a canopy of rustling vines. But Bev and Gus had different plans for us, and we rushedtoward Kandern in a blur of speeding traffic and overlapping narratives to arrive at their home just in time for lunch.
    Shayla woke with difficulty from her too-brief nap, clinging to my neck as I pulled her from the backseat and whining weakly every time I tried to put her down. Bev ushered me into their home and directly to an armchair, where I collapsed with Shayla, grateful for the high armrests that helped me support her weight. Though Shay’s eyes were half-open, her mind was clearly still on pause, so I was content to sit there with her in my arms, listening to the Johnsons as they scurried around the kitchen in preparation for our meal. A few minutes later, while a whistling Gus took an electric knife to the pot roast, Bev joined me in the other room.
    “Remind me how long you’ve had her?” Her eyes were compassionate as she watched me trying to balance Shayla and the before-lunch drink she had brought me.
    “Six months,” I said to Bev, amazed at how permanent such a recent situation already felt.
    She smiled and absentmindedly used her dishcloth to polish the silverware she was laying on the table. “What an amazing story you two share,” she said, her Southern accent melodious and sweet. “And what a miraculous thing that you’ve chosen this place to start your lives together.”
    “Only because of you, Bev.”
    “Are you kidding? When Gus asked me how I’d feel about watching Shayla while you’re teaching, it’s like God said, ‘There you go, Bev. There you go. You wanted to feel useful, and here’s your chance.’ I tell you, Shelby, the hardest part of this missionary thing is being away from my kids and my grandbaby. Shayla here, bless her little toes, is going to make it all a lot more bearable for me.”
    “And for me. This single-mom routine is more complicated than I realized.”
    “You’ll figure it out. There are tricks we moms develop that make life a lot easier.”
    “Like always carrying a Disney Band-Aid in my purse?”
    “And never mentioning what’s for dessert before she’s finished eating the rest of her meal. That’s another winner.” Bev shook her head in amazement. “A new mom—in a new country. There’s only so much ‘new’ a person can handle before it becomes a tad overwhelming.”
    “I passed that point about six months ago.” I laughed. “And now I’m adding a new job and a new language to the mix. You think I might be overdoing it a bit?”
    Bev chuckled. “And you haven’t seen the last of it. The students at this school are—how shall I put it?—unique.”
    “I figured they would be, with missionary parents and international backgrounds.”
    “Actually, in most ways, they’re not that different from American teens. They get in the same kind of trouble, believe me. But they’ve dealt with a