54
Rachel sat next to Martha at the kitchen table, her hands twisted in a handkerchief in her lap. She stared into her untouched cup of tea. A shawl draped over her shoulders provided a modicum of modesty over her torn dress and undergarments. Esther Phelps sat across from them, her glasses smudged, her large, work-worn hands resting on an open Bible. From the living room, the grandfather clock sounded the quarter hour.
Rachel stiffened at Martha’s attempt to embrace her. She turned her head away.
Several minutes passed. Rachel wanted to be alone, but she dared not face the emptiness of her room. The memory of Mark’s attack stabbed at her. Other scenes flashed through her mind—men wanting to be as rough, playing out some fantasy. Red Mary standing in the background, laughing, encouraging the men, her enforcer Scar joining in.
Esther cleared her throat. “It says here in the Psalms, ‘Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways—’”
Rachel’s head snapped up. “Really?” She spoke through clenched teeth, the sarcasm oozing like black tar. “I can’t see that Mark Carstairs encountered any angels on the way to my shop. And I’d say that evil came pretty close today.” A single tear leaked from her eye.
She turned to Martha. “Maybe Mark’s right. Maybe whoring is all I’m good for and this little . . . experiment of yours is a failure.” Bitterness and sarcasm made experiment sound like a curse.
Rachel rose from the table and rushed out the back door. Martha called her name, but she ignored it. She hesitated in the middle of the yard. Where to run to? She shucked off the shawl, hugged herself, headed for the barn.
Sunshine poked her head over the railing of her stall and whinnied. Rachel opened the gate and wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck, burying her face in the horse’s mane. Her body shook as sobs poured from her. Sunshine nickered gently and nuzzled her back.
A few minutes later, someone touched her shoulder. She turned and threw her arms around Martha, sinking into the warm tenderness of her embrace.