Prayers and Lies Read Online Free PDF Page B

sleeper sofa in the living room and blow out the kerosene lamp. It was quiet in the house then—quieter than it ever got at home in Indianapolis, where there were always street sounds outside.
    Still I waited, because I knew Mother was at her prayers now. I couldn’t see her in the dark, but I knew she was kneeling beside the sofa, her face buried in her hands, her lips moving silently as she talked to her God. She did this every morning and every night, and woe to the little girl who shouted or laughed or disturbed Mother’s conversations with the almighty Lord.
    At long last, I heard the creaking springs of the sleeper as Mother climbed into bed. And a while after that, I heard her gentle, regular breathing.
    Now there were only the sounds of sleep in the dark little cabin by the river. Tracy wheezed slightly beside me, Mother snored softly in the living room, Melinda and Nancy slept silently in the loft above. Now it was time to go, before I lost my nerve.
    I crept into the living room, fumbled for the key on the hook by the door, turned it in the lock, and slipped out onto the porch. I closed the door again, slid the key under a large rock by the steps, and then I was running down the dirt road, my bare feet slapping the ground, my heart pounding.
    The night sky was lit by a nearly full moon, but below lay a silent, palpable, living darkness. No streetlights shone along the river, no porch lights, no spotlights from car dealerships, no traffic lights. The moon was bright, but off the road on either side, the woods closed in darkly.
    I had never been out alone at night, and I slowed to a walk when I got past Uncle Hobie’s place. I felt brave and shivery and very alert, seeing the familiar houses locked up and dark. The air on my skin was cool and damp, and I stopped for a moment to enjoy the strange sensation of being alone in the night. Everyone I knew, everyone who knew me, was asleep. I felt like I might be the only person awake in the whole wide world.
    Down the river somewhere a dog barked, shaking me from my reverie. I had to get done what I needed to do and get home before I was missed.
    I ran along the road, swift and sure. I knew every bump and rock, where to stay on the dirt, where to run in the grass alongside. It took only a minute to reach Reana Mae’s house. It was dark like all the others. Bo, Bobby Lee’s big coonhound, lay sleeping on the porch. I worried briefly that he would bark at me if he woke, but he only sighed in his sleep as I passed. I knew Jolene kept Buttons, her little white muff of a poodle, inside at night, for which I was grateful. Buttons, I was sure, would have barked her fool head off.
    I slipped around to the back of the house and stopped at the top of the hill, undecided about how to go down. Usually, Reana Mae and I slid down to the bank below. I didn’t think I wanted to try that in the dark, in my white cotton nightgown. But I surely did not want to navigate those thirty-two uneven stone steps in the dark. I stood, frozen in indecision, my stomach clenching, my palms sweating.
    I sat down at the top of the hill, staring at the steps, those uneven steps. How could I do this in the dark, Lord? After all, I was only ten years old—much too young to do something like this. And yet, how could I not rescue Essie?
    Finally, I scooted slowly toward the edge of the first step, then bumped down on my bottom to the next. I would scoot down this way, one step at a time. And I wouldn’t look down at all, no matter what.
    One step after another, I bumped my way down. Halfway down, I stopped to say a quick prayer.
    Lord, just help me get down okay and get Essie out of the mud. That’s all, Lord, just that. If you’ll do that, Lord Jesus, I promise I’ll be good from now on. I won’t ever tell a lie again, and I won’t fight with Tracy, and I won’t try Mother’s patience. Only just get me down without falling .
    I waited for my heart to stop pounding so loud, then I slid to the