The Other Side of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

to the teachers’ lounge. I’m sure they’d appreciate a treat.
    I put the boxes in the backseat and cover them with a blanket. I tell myself this is to keep them from sliding onto the floor, but I know it’s to prevent Rick from seeing them. Although I doubt he’ll be up this early.
    It feels so good to finally take a shower. And, as usual, I soap up and rinse off three times. I try to limit myself to three times, especially when I’m in a hurry like today. But sometimes, if I’m not paying attention or if I feel a desperate need for cleansing, I will stay in the shower until the hot water is all used up. And even then I won’t feel totally clean.
    I asked my sister about this once, back when we were teens and she was complaining about how long it took me to shower. “How many times do you soap up and rinse?”
    “How many
times?
” She looked at me as if I were from another planet. “What are you talking about, Ruth?”
    “Oh, nothing …”
    Since then I’ve learned to keep my personal hygiene habits tomyself. But still, I don’t understand how other people can jump in and out of the shower for just a few minutes and consider themselves clean. It just doesn’t make sense.
    To my relief, Rick is still sleeping soundly, snoring like a chain saw, as I tiptoe into our room and into the closet to retrieve some clean clothes. I pick a nice gray skirt, white blouse, navy sweater, and my good black pumps. A respectable outfit I often wear to church, but it seems appropriate for an important meeting as well.
    I don’t normally use any cosmetics, not since I heard Cynthia teaching at a women’s seminar a couple of years ago. She said that “according to Scripture, it’s sinful to use makeup.” Of course, Colleen said that was bunk. Well, not to Cynthia’s face. But I’m still not so sure, and when Lynette talked me into getting a department-store makeover with her last June before a cousin’s wedding, I actually caved and purchased some concealer and a few other things. I use them occasionally, like when Rick and I go out, which is very rare. I’d be tempted to put on a bit of concealer today since I’m really not looking my best, but images of sitting under bright fluorescent lights and Cynthia’s intense gaze are enough to intimidate me. Better to look old and frumpy than to be considered sinful.
    “Where you going, Mom?” Matthew asks when I come into the kitchen and find him making a sandwich as well as a mess. Why is it that something as simple as peanut butter and jelly can create such chaos in my kitchen?
    “A meeting.” I frown at the sticky countertop.
    “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up,” he says quickly, as if reading my thoughts. “It must be a church meeting.” He licks the knife.
    As I put the lid back on the peanut butter jar, I look away, fearful that he’ll slice his tongue in half. Why are children so careless?
    “Don’t have too much fun.” He chuckles.
    “Do you work today?” I reach for a paper towel and use it to wipe the greasy jar clean before I set it back in the cupboard.
    “Yeah. But not until noon.” He sits at the breakfast bar and begins to devour his sandwich, jelly dripping off the edges. “And I don’t get off until closing,” he says with a full mouth.
    “Did you ask your boss about Sundays?” We’ve been going round and round about how much church he’s been missing since he started this job.
    Matthew just shrugs. “He said if I wanna work, I gotta stick with the schedule.”
    I glance at the clock. “Well, I’d better go. Have a good day.”
    He tells me good-bye, and I head out to the minivan and the camouflaged pastries. And for some reason the sight of those pink boxes partially covered with a plaid wool blanket fills me with guilt, and it reminds me of the three-hundred-dollar check and the deep, dark hole I seem to be climbing into.

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    W e need revival!” Pastor Glenn pounds his fist on the table, causing the overloaded plate of