An Angel for Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad Read Free Book Online

of her finger.
    â€œOkay, Daddy?” Josh asked again, looking at his father. “It’s my turn to say grace.”
    Matthew nodded his permission. What was wrong with him? Even Josh was looking at him funny. Matthew was beginning to think he’d never held a woman’s hand before. Glory’s skin was softer than fine leather. She must use some kind of lotions on her hands because of her work in paints. That must be it. Just lotions. He cleared his throat. “Sure. Go ahead.”
    Josh bowed his head and carefully screwed his eyes closed. “Thank you, God, for this day and for this food and for our comp—” Josh stumbled “—comp-any. Amen.”
    â€œThank you, Josh,” Glory said when he looked up again. “I’m honored to be your company.”
    â€œIf there’s anything you need…” Matthew offered again.
    The only thing she needed, she thought later thatevening, was some more paint. The twins had been put to bed and she was sitting on the sofa reading her magazine and talking with Matthew as he sewed a button on Josh’s winter coat. The light from the two lamps made round circles on the ceiling and bathed Matthew in a yellow glow. She hated to tell the twins, but it was their father who looked like the angel. His chestnut hair waved and curled all over his head and down to his collar. Forceful cheekbones sloped down to a square chin. He was the most manly-looking man she’d seen in a long time. Not that, of course, she assured herself, there was anything personal in her admiration.
    â€œI best get the fire banked for the night,” Matthew said.
    â€œLet me do it,” Glory said as she set aside the magazine. “Rest your leg. Just tell me how and it won’t take a minute.”
    Matthew pulled himself up by holding on to the bookshelf and then put one crutch under his arm. “No need, I can do it.”
    â€œBut I’d like to help,” Glory protested as she rose. “You’re in no condition to be banking a fire.”
    â€œI’m fine,” Matthew said. “It takes more than a sprained knee to stop me.”
    Glory looked at him. A thin sheen of sweat was showing on his forehead and it was definitely not hot in the room. “You’ve got more pride than sense.”
    â€œPride?” Matthew said as he hobbled over to the woodstove. “It’s not pride. It’s learning to take care of yourself. I’ve learned not to rely on others. I can do whatever I need to do to take care of me and my boys.”
    â€œWithout help from anyone,” Glory said dryly. Relying on others was the key to trust. Trust in others. Trust in God.
    â€œWe don’t need any help,” Matthew said as he lifted the grate on the stove. “It’s best not to count on anyone else. I can do what needs doing.”
    â€œCan you?” Glory said softly as she watched Matthew reach down and pick up several pieces of wood. The fire wrapped golden shadows around his face. His frown burrowed itself farther into his forehead. She had no doubt Matthew could do everything that needed to be done in raising his sons—everything, that is, except teach them how to have faith. For how can you have faith in God if you can’t trust anyone, not even Him? No wonder the boys clung to the belief she was an angel. It would take an angel to bring healing to their little family.
    Â 
    The Bullet folded his socks and put them in an old duffel bag that was carefully nondescript. No logos. No fancy stripes. Just brown.
    â€œMy uncle…” the Bullet said as he added a sweater. “He’s sick. Spokane.”
    Millie nodded. She’d just come back from her job at Ruby’s Coffee Shop and sat on the edge of the bed with her back straight and her eyes carefully not looking at the socks. She always looked so fragile with her wispy blond hair and slender body.
    â€œI—ah—I’ll be back