Shades of Surrender Read Online Free PDF

dropped the pottery. Had the soldiers found her? She put a finger to her lips to warn her mother to stay still—which was wasted effort, since the fire had not thawed her mother’s frozen voice.
    Metras nodded his head toward the door. “Aren’t you going to answer it, girl?”
    Ruth set the basin on the small table and reluctantly went to the door. She slid the latch and slowly peeked outside. No shiny armor. No drawn swords. No one. She opened the door all the way. At her feet she found a basket of bread and cheese, a crock of wine, and a fresh tunic that looked to be her size exactly.
    “Well?” Metras asked.
    She quickly snatched the supplies and closed the door. “Someone brought us dinner.”
    “Who would do that?”
    Her first inclination was to think Caecilianus; then she remembered the look on his face when she’d refused him and knew better. “Maybe someone from the church.”
    “You mean one of those Christians?” Metras’s leathered face creased up worse than a rocky crag of limestone. “Why would they bring us food?”
    Back in the day when her family had extra, she’d proudly packed baskets and left them on doorsteps to surprise people in need. Never could she have imagined she would eventually be the one on the receiving end. “To help.”
    Over the next few days, there were several knocks at the door. Ruth’s heart skittered between hoping it was Caecilianus and praying it was not soldiers. As more gifts appeared, her curiosity got the better of her, and she forgot all about her fear and rushed to catch the delivery person at the slightest sound. But there was never any sign of who had gifted them with salted mullets, a jar of garum sauce, a round of goat cheese, and a basket bulging with fresh bread and soft blond dates. Who could have known of her need for clean bandages and an extra pot of the ointment the healer had prescribed on the exact day she was to switch Metras’s treatment from the honey mixture to the pig fat concoction?
    “Metras.” Ruth unwound the bandage on his left arm, careful not to yank it from the fresh pink skin. “What can you tell me about the day of the fire?”
    “Not much.” He cringed like she’d tugged too hard. “Smoke was already pouring from the window when I came to collect my rent money.” He shifted. “I could see your mother. I called to her to take my hand through the window, but she wouldn’t let go of that cat.” He licked his lips. “I remembered you kept a water pot by the door. I thought I could put the fire out myself, but when I opened the door, flames leaped out. I put my hands over my face and ran in, grabbed her, and got out fast as I could on this bum leg.”
    “You could have left my mother to burn.”
    He scowled. “Just because I need my rent money on time doesn’t mean I’m heartless.”
    An awkward pause in the conversation left Ruth unsure of what to say next.
    “You were more than fair with me about the rent, and you’ve been more than kind to not tell the soldiers about my mother.” She dabbed ointment over the shrinking blisters. “I think you’re very brave.”
    “I didn’t do anything so special.” His cheeks had bloomed red as his hands. “The real hero was that fellow who appeared out of nowhere and carried us out of there. Who was that?”
    “An old friend.”
    “Is he the one leaving all the gifts?”
    Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I pushed him away one time too many.”

8
    B Y THE LIGHT OF an oil lamp, Caecilianus massaged dye into the wool strands. The rich hue emerging did not change the shade of his grief. It had been almost a week since the fire and the mess he’d made of his friendship with Ruth. He never should have encouraged her to leave her mother unattended, and he never should have delayed her with his inability to let her go. She obviously did not feel the same way as he. She had made that clear when she refused his offer of a place to stay