Plain Fear: Forgiven: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

trying to block Brydon, but Samuel looked right through him. “Run, Samuel! Get out of here!”
    Samuel dipped his head downward and rubbed his temples. “Tell Julie I was here. I’ll be back next week. I come every Wednesday. You know, to check out books.”
    “Hey, Remiel!” Jacob yelled across the room at the angel. “He can’t hear me! Do something! You can appear in front of Brydon, can’t you? I’ve seen that when I was…well, before. So, come on, do it.”
    “I have no stake in this fight. No authorization to—”
    “You can’t think for yourself? Come on, time is running out here.”
    The angel turned his head, looking not at Jacob or Samuel or Brydon, as if he didn’t care what was happening in this room, as if he was looking somewhere else, and then he said, “There is someone who might help.”

Chapter Five
    Naomi Wagler stared out her bedroom window at the full moon beaming down on the Pennsylvania farmland like a proud papa smiling with pride at his youngest child. But would God be so proud of her? She doubted it.
    The weak moonlight created deep shadows. She sat on top of the quilt over her single mattress with her legs tucked against her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. In spite of the cool, spring weather, the room she had once shared with her sister felt warm and stuffy. She scrambled across the bed, unlatched the lock, and raised the window to allow in the breeze that teetered between winter and spring.
    The path below led away from her parents’ house, toward the road. It was only two miles to her sister Grace’s new home, but it might have been two hundred for how isolated and far away her sister seemed. Earlier today, Grace had come over to help clean the house for Sunday services, which would be held at the Waglers’ farmhouse. Traditionally, church services rotated every two weeks between families in the district, and tomorrow, folks would be arriving early to set up the benches. Naomi would help her mother finish preparations and prepare the noon meal. It was always enjoyable, as many women from the district came to help, making the drudgery of hard work light with their many hands and cheerful conversation.
    But the day of cleaning had impacted her in an unexpected way. She pressed her cheek to the soft fabric of her nightdress stretched over her knees and felt the hot sting of tears. Breathing in the scent of sun-warmed cotton, she could hear one of her mother’s typical sayings: don’t put a question mark where God puts a period.
    She blinked back the tears. Was she questioning God? Her emotions felt like an unformed blob, not a solid question, but maybe they were. Had God put a solid barrier in front of her dream? She wasn’t sure. Not yet anyway. And yet the emotion she’d felt all day bubbled up and threatened to spill over but she squeezed her eyes closed.
    It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his com passions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
    Oh come, morning! Bring the mercies of the Lord , her heart cried. Mulling the scripture verse, she wondered if morning would ever come. Even when it did, would God’s mercies cover her?
    She struck a match and lit a candle on the bedside table. Warm candlelight flickered through the room, pushing the shadows of doubt and envy further away. She reached for a tiny notebook and ink pen she kept on the table. Her fingers slid into position as if the pen were an extension of her hand…or heart. The tip of the pen hovered over the paper as God’s spirit once hovered over the face of the waters …like a shadow.
    She saw her own shadow darkening the wall and straightened her back, watching her shadow shift and change. Then she relaxed her shoulders and allowed them to curl forward as pen touched paper.
    My shadow sees
    What I cannot
    My mirror image
    My soul pleas.
    Mother always said faith gave courage to face today and billowing expectations for the future. So why