Woman of Grace Read Online Free PDF Page A

to look forward to on the morrow.”
    “What happened to Hu Yung? Did she, too, finally escape?”
    Hannah looked down. At the memories that had been so carefully stored in the deep recesses of her heart, tears swelled. “In a sense, yes, she did. Hu Yung fell in love with a young miner who promised to come back and marry her once he struck it rich. Some months later, though, she got word he’d died in an avalanche. After that all the hope seemed to drain from her. She soon took an overdose of morphine, killing herself.”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Ella touched Hannah’s arm. “She deserved better.”
    “Yes. Yes, she did.” Hannah brushed away the tears that had flooded her eyes. Hu Yung had deserved better. Better from life, and better from a friend. A true friend would’ve known the right thing to say and do to comfort her, to prevent her from taking her life. But she hadn’t, Hannah thought, the old, guilty sense of failure rising to engulf her anew.
    “She was sold into the brothels, too, you know. Not as early as I was,” Hannah hastened to add, forcing her morose thoughts back to the present, “but forced into it nonetheless. A Chinese man from San Francisco returned to his village in China, wooed and wed her, then brought her back to San Francisco, promising her a better life. One day, though, he informed her he would be going on a long trip, and asked if she’d sign an agreement to stay with a friend of his. Only as she was being dragged into a brothel did Hu Yung realize she’d signed her own bill of sale.”
    “How terrible.”
    “Yes,” was Hannah’s stark reply.
    She scanned the room. Her gaze snagged on Jackson, who sat near the window engrossed in play with Mary and Devlin Jr. Each time the three children built a tower of blocks, one immediately knocked it over to the accompaniment of much squealing and shouting from the others.
    Outside huge, fat flakes drifted past the frost-edged, glass panes. With each blustering gust, the wind sent the snow twirling in a wild, white, blinding dance. From time to time the house timbers rattled, and the wind shrieked high along the roof.
    It was a good day to stay inside, Hannah thought, safely snug and cozy warm from the heat radiating from the big kitchen cookstove. At times like this the old life, rife with bitter recollections, seemed far away. This room, alive with love, hope, and children’s laughter, was all that mattered.
    “Unlike poor Hu Yung,” Ella observed, meeting Hannah’s gaze with a wise one of her own, “you have so much to live for.” She shifted in bed, raising herself up. “I know Jackson makes you happy. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. But I’m not always so sure how happy you are being here, at Culdee Creek.”
    Bemused, Hannah turned to face her. “I don’t understand why you’d say that. If it weren’t for Abby and the life she’s given me here … well, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened to me and Jackson.”
    “I know you’re grateful to Abby, Hannah.” Ella’s gaze locked with hers. “It’s just that there always seems a tension in you, a tension …” She sighed. “A tension I particularly note whenever you and Devlin are together.”
    The blood drained from Hannah’s face. For a fleeting instant the room whirled before her. She felt sick, dizzy.
    She had dreaded this would happen someday. Dreaded the inevitable confrontation over her past involvement with Ella’s husband, even as she did her best to deny its existence. This was why she had yet to confront Devlin to iron things out between them. She supposed she had secretly, if foolishly, hoped the whole, horrible mess would just go away.
    “I reckon he doesn’t care for women like me,” she forced herself to reply, knowing Ella expected some sort of answer. “Some folk don’t think a fallen woman can ever reform.”
    “Perhaps,” her friend admitted. “But I think there’s more to it than