The hood of Rosie’s cloak fell back, moonlight highlighting her pale features. “Owen.” His name came out in a jagged whisper, and she stumbled forward, crossing her arms in front of her, ready for him to clasp handcuffs over her hands.
Owen’s heart throbbed in his chest. Oh, Rosie. He closed the drapes so no one from outside could see them and lit the single lamp in the study.
She stood rooted in place, as if caught in a child’s game of freeze tag. As gently as he could, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away. Sighing, he pulled a chair to the front of the desk and gestured for her to sit. She did, sitting on the edge, ready to spring away. Instead of sitting behind the desk and frightening her even more, he placed another chair in front, where he could look into her eyes, and sat down next to her. He waited, hoping she would speak first.
When at last she spoke, her words surprised him. “I never should have trusted a dandelion. They never brought me luck before.”
Owen had no idea what she was talking about, so he ignored it. “I meant what I said earlier tonight. I’m willing to listen. What happens when we leave here depends a lot on what you do right now.” His heart ached. He wanted to help her, but she had to take the first step.
“Is there money in that safe?” Her head jerked toward the heavy box. “Or was that a lie, too?”
“There’s money there.” Owen felt slapped. “And what I said is not a lie.” He drew a deep breath. “I will admit that I asked Abbott to bring money home from the bank and to make sure all his servants knew about it. I promised to keep it safe. And so, I’m here tonight.”
“Did you know it was me all along?” Her head hung low in shame. How he longed to lift her up.
“I was pretty sure. You were the strongest link between the robberies and the people who were helped. San Antonio has been abuzz with our own Robin Hood, our Easter Angel.” He smiled. “Your heart was in the right place. But, Rosie…you just can’t go around taking things from people without their permission. Not even clothes destined for the church clothes closet.”
She slipped out of her chair onto her knees. “Oh, God, what have I done?” Tears slid down her face. Salty smears and pain-contorted lines marred her loveliness as she turned to Owen. “Go ahead and arrest me. I’m ready.”
His heart contracted. “I’m not going to arrest you. All the people involved want is for the robberies to stop. I have a different idea. Are you willing?”
“Yes. I’ve been asking God what I should do. I have a feeling your plan is going to lead me in the right direction.”
He outlined his alternative. “It will be difficult for you. Are you still willing?”
Peace eased the lines around Rosie’s face. “Yes.”
The original Easter crowd joined Rosie outside the apartment house on Sunday morning, along with several additional families. At her request, many of them wore the clothes she had distributed among the neighborhood. It was both a confession and a plea.
Owen, with the driver who worked for Mrs. Braum, arrived at the apartment house with two wagons. Every inch of floor space was taken as the horses lumbered in the direction of the church. As excited as ever, the children chattered and jumped up, standing by the rail to feel the wind whipping their hair and to lean out and try to touch the hands of someone in the other wagon. Rosie worried some might fall out, but their parents kept quiet, and she couldn’t bring herself to fuss at them. She’d have to trust their safety to God, something she had neglected too much in recent days.
As if sensing her mood, the people around her kept silent. Only Ma and Iris knew what lay ahead this morning, and they sat on either side of her, cushioning her against her fears.
Mrs. Braum and the pastor’s wife waited by the door to the church, walking forward to welcome them as everyone scrambled out of the wagon. “Freddy, why don’t you show the children where our class meets. And today we’ve started a class for the little ones. They’ll be going with Mrs. Martin.”
The pastor’s wife came forward. “Any children who are under five years old will be in my class.” She passed down the line and patted the head of the first toddler she met. “Come with me. We have some special things planned for you today.”
The child’s older sister clung to his hand. “He’s staying with me.”
Mrs. Martin took a step backward but recovered quickly. “I understand. Maybe next week he’d like to check out my class.” After a few minutes, two lines of children followed their teachers to the open spot on the lawn where they had started holding children’s Sunday school.
The adults went to the sanctuary, where one of the deacons taught the weekly Bible class. Soon only Owen remained to escort Iris, Rosie, and her ma. “Are you waiting to make sure I don’t run away?” Her laughter was only half genuine.
Owen shook his head. “I thought you could use a friend today. That is”—he gestured at the women on either side of Rosie—“another friend. Do you want to go on to class, or would you rather find a private spot?”
Rosie longed for a time of quiet and privacy, but she had invited her neighbors to church. What would they think if she didn’t attend Sunday school? She shook her head. “I’d better go to class. But I’ll sit at the back.” She made it through the next hour by rote. She answered when people talked to her, nodded her head when appropriate, and even introduced a few of her neighbors to people from the church.
The start of the worship service relieved her of social interaction, but she froze as the hymns were sung. The time for the pastoral prayer had arrived. Her stomach knotted so tightly she thought she might look like a bow, tied in the middle.
“Today we are doing something different during our prayer time. Miss Rosie Carson, who shared her remarkable story with us a few weeks ago, has asked to address our congregation again.”
Murmurs rippled across the sanctuary. Owen helped Rosie to her feet and walked with her to the first row. “Go ahead. I’m right here,” he whispered and nudged her forward.
Light slanted through the windows, crossing the patch of floor she must cross to reach the pastor’s side. Light and dark, freedom and imprisonment, acceptance and rejection…she had to walk those few short feet to reach her heart’s desire. She took one hesitant step forward then a second. Light shone full on her face when she turned to face the congregation, and she felt as though she stood in the presence of God.
The pastor had already heard Rosie’s confession. To the congregation, he said, “We all learned a lot from Miss Carson’s first testimony. I believe today will be equally powerful, if we listen with open hearts.” He nodded for Rosie to begin.
“A few weeks back, I bragged how God had reached down and saved and plucked me from the pit of crime I found myself in.” She looked at the floor then looked back up into the light. “The truth is, I’m the one the newspaper’s been calling the Easter Angel. The first time I ran into a problem, I turned back to my old ways.”
Tears fell down her face, but Rosie didn’t stop them. “It’s okay if you cry,” the pastor had said.
“I made excuses for myself. I thought I was helping the New Testament Church of San Antonio act more like the church I was reading about in Acts, where people who were rich sold things so everybody’s needs were met. I didn’t think anyone would even notice anything was gone.” Her eyes had adjusted to the light, and she searched for Mrs. Wilkerson. “Mrs. Wilkerson, I have to ask for your forgiveness. You invited me into your home and asked me to share my heart. And I repaid you by taking your things. Please forgive me.”
She and Owen had debated whether she should confess her plans to steal the money. They decided, no, she shouldn’t.
“All along, I read some verses that talked about leaving the corners of the harvest for the poor, and helping widows and orphans, and giving somebody your coat if they needed it. God was showing me all those other verses, too, the ones about not stealing and how Christians shouldn’t steal anymore. It’s even on God’s list of the biggest ten sins we can commit. I have asked for God’s forgiveness, and now I ask for yours.”
Not a page rustled in the silent sanctuary. The light obscured most faces in front of her, and she couldn’t tell how people were reacting.
“I know I was wrong to take those clothes. But before we wash them up and return them, I wanted to show you who I gave them to. Ma, will you help our neighbors up here?”
Each person wearing an article of clothing from the robbery formed a ragged line. They came forward and talked about the clothes they had received. Rosie heard rumblings in the congregation as the parade of clothes finished.
“We can’t give back the food, because we already ate it all. I’ll work for free until I pay back the cost. And if I need to work more for the clothes besides giving them back, I’ll do that, too.” Exhausted, Rosie pushed herself to the last thing she needed to say. “You have every reason not to trust me or want me in your church. But don’t blame my friends. Welcome them as you would welcome Jesus if He were here. And, I guess that’s all.” Her legs sagged as she took a step forward, and Owen rushed to her side. He walked with her to their seats on the back row.
When Rosie’s senses returned, she heard quiet sobbing around her and low voices in conversation.
Pastor Martin took his place behind the pulpit, head bowed, waiting for a full minute without speaking. When he lifted his head, he didn’t open the Bible but instead looked across his congregation. “God has opened a window for us at New Testament Church today. We can close the curtains of opportunity and continue to do everything the same way we’ve always done it. If we do, as God’s shepherd of this flock, I warn you, we will not see the blessings God wants to pour down on us.
“But if we forgive Miss Carson the wrong she has done—and she freely confesses her sin—and open the doors God has placed to our community, we will see unprecedented growth. New Testament growth.” He continued exhorting the church to love not only God with all their hearts but to love their neighbors as they loved themselves.
After the service, people flocked to Rosie. Many of them wished her well, even the lady she had stolen the clothes from. “Oh, Miss Carson, don’t worry about those clothes. In fact, I’m sure I have some more garments to give away. If I get them to you later, you’ll see about giving them to people who need them, won’t you?”
Rosie could barely find a voice. After what she’d done, what she’d confessed, they would still trust her with the clothes? She nodded.
“An excellent suggestion.” Mr. Abbott came last in the line. “Right in line with what the deacons are proposing. We just had a quick meeting”—he nodded at the men gathered behind him—“and we’re in complete agreement. We have been remiss in our care of the people at our doorstep. It took you to show us that. And we believe you are the best person to take charge of our outreach. Are you willing?”
They were handing Rosie her heart’s desire on a platter? But she had to say no. “As soon as I finish paying back what I stole, I gotta find work that pays. My ma’s only got me to support her. I can only work on something like that part of the time.”
Mr. Abbott blinked. “Miss Carson, we will pay you for your services. We’ll help you work things out with the people you hurt.”
Happiness welled up inside Rosie. “Then I say…yes!”
The last of the deacons filed out behind Mr. Abbott, leaving Ma, Iris, and Owen with Rosie. Ma winked at Iris. “Let’s go out into the sunshine and leave these two alone for a few minutes.”
“Owen—”
“Rosie—” They spoke simultaneously.
She broke into nervous laughter. “Well.”
“I told you God had things under control.” Owen’s grin could have filled all of Texas. “Remember the question I asked you that night by the river?”
When you said you want to court me? How could I forget? “Yes.”
“Do you have an answer for me now? I already asked your mother; that’s why she left us alone.”
“Will you ask me again?” she asked. Part tease, part a request for reassurance.
“I love you, Miss Rosie Carson. Will you allow me to court you, to shower you with my love, and marry me in due time?”
“Yes.” But Rosie wasn’t finished. “What about you, Ranger Cooper? Do you want to court a convicted thief, a sinner who returned to her old ways at the first opportunity?”
“Who is that?” Taking her hands in his, Owen looked straight through her. “The only woman I see here is a new creation in Christ, beloved of God and called to ministry. I am the one who is honored, if you will accept me.”
For answer, Rosie stood on tiptoe and leaned forward, audaciously inviting him to kiss her. “Yes.”
He brushed her lips with his. “Welcome home, angel.”