Trust Read Online Free PDF

his daddy, Davey O’Reilly. Finn had no real memory of the father who’d died before he was two years old, and Angie found an unassailable solace in the romantic vision she’d created. No longer the awkward young guy she’d met, the self-taught handyman-carpenter who could recite reams of Irish poetry but struggled to read a newspaper, who worked hard but smoked way too much dope, Davey O’Reilly had become an heroic figure who could do anything, ‘the best man in the whole world’.
    ‘And he looked just like me, didn’t he?’ asked Finn.
    ‘That’s right. Your daddy had beautiful brown hair, just like you, and he had a lovely big smile like you do too. All the time when he was busy working on this house, making it nice, he was always smiling. ’Cause he was waiting for somebody special, wasn’t he?’ she prompted.
    ‘His princess!’ said Finn. ‘And then one day, he saw her, walking down the street.’
    She told again the beautiful fairytale of their meeting, of love at first sight. And it was true. Angie had never felt really loved till she met Davey, not in all those jangled years of drifting around Australia, Asia, Europe, trying to fill the emptiness inside her with drugs and lovers, and then more drugs, and more lovers. All those restless adventures; all those men she’d slept with, trading her body for a hit of smack, a bed for the night, a lift across a border – but most of all, for a few hours’ relief from the dreadful loneliness that was her most faithful companion.
    She was nearing the end of the story now. ‘And he said, “Angie, my princess, let’s get married”… and she said …’ She paused, to let Finn deliver the punchline.
    ‘ Yes! And then they had a bay-bee!’
    ‘That’s right!’ She cuddled him close. ‘And you were that baby, our own darling Finnie-boy.’ Her voice was sweet and warm. ‘And we were so happy, Mummy and Daddy and our little baby boy.’
    Finn sighed contentedly, and soon his breath acquired the level rhythms of sleep. Still Angie lay there looking up at the dim fluorescent constellation overhead, thinking about how the fairy story had ended. She’d thought she could stay clean forever, but she had fallen back – ‘Just a taste!’ – and dragged her Davey down too.
    She had heard Finn say to others what she’d taught him: My daddy died in a accident; he got elec-ta-cuted . Finn didn’t know that was a lie, so he wasn’t sinning. God knew the truth, God had always known the truth, but he’d forgiven her because she had come to him and opened her heart, accepting Jesus as her saviour. Almighty God, who kept watch over every fallen sparrow, had been watching over her, too, and waiting.
    Easing herself up from Finn’s bed, Angie kissed his sleeping cheek and drew the blanket up to cover him. The night had cooled. She wandered slowly down the hallway of the rambling, run-down house.
    In the lounge room, she turned the TV off and sorted through a pile of scratched CDs till she found one of Davey’s favourites: Harp of Erin . Looking at the picture of him on the wall, the dear little pencil sketch Susanna had made back when everything was hopeful, she saw it was hanging crooked, and the glass covered in dust. She took it down, wiped it tenderly with the sleeve of her cardigan, and hung it straight again. She and Davey had been so happy here; she would never give this place up.
    Settling on the couch, feet tucked up to one side, Angie gave herself to the yearning music. She’d thought she would never feel lonely again, once she found God and love at Faith Rise; yet, like a rat in winter creeping into a hole, the loneliness was creeping back, and it frightened her. Tears filled her eyes. Why doesn’t anyone want to stay here? To share this beautiful old house? All she wanted was to make it into a haven for other single mothers. They were always so pleased to move in, the tired, stressed women struggling to get by on the pension or crummy part-time