At Every Turn by Anne Mateer Read Free Book Online Page A

can be sure he’ll never hear about it from me.” Then he winked.
    Warmth stole over my neck and face. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” I think.
    He led me into the reception area before retreating back into his private office, shutting the door behind him. I leaned my shoulder into the wall and blew out a long breath.
    “Did you get what you came for?”
    I whirled around. A woman not much older than I stood beside the small desk. Had she been there when I’d arrived?
    “What I came for?” Then I noticed her hand extended between us. I shook it.
    “Lucinda Bywater. We go to the same church.” The woman’s voice turned shy, so different from the commanding question that had arrested my attention.
    “Oh. I recognize you.” And I did. Kind of.
    Her lips curved upward, but more in a wince than a smile. “I’m not often in services. The baby’s a bit fussy most days.”
    Baby. That’s where I’d seen her. Whisking a wailing infant from the church, walking it outside after the service had ended. The baby I often wished silent.
    She seated herself behind the desk.
    “Do you work here, Lucinda?”
    She nodded. “I’m so grateful Papa insisted I take a few courses in Indianapolis after high school. I learned how to run the typewriter and the telephone. I’d never have a job like this otherwise.”
    “But what about your baby?” I glanced behind the desk, expecting to see a pram with a napping child.
    “She stays with Aunt LuAnn—my little boy does, too—at least until the other children get home from school.”
    “Oh? How many children do you have?” Maybe she was older than I imagined.
    “Four total. Two girls in school, my boy who’s three this year, and the baby, Teresa.”
    “You and your husband must be proud of them.”
    Her eyes took on the look of reflected light, shiny and bright. “Billy was right proud of his children.”
    Was? I swallowed hard, wanting to ask but not wanting to at the same time. I prayed she read the question in my eyes.
    She glanced down, studying her clasped hands on the desk. “He was out chopping wood in January to make extra money to pay the doctor for the new baby. He took pneumonia. He was . . . gone in less than a week.”
    I wanted to throw my arms around her, tell her everything would be all right. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t all right. “How are you getting along?”
    She shrugged. “This is a good job as far as that goes.” Her gaze skittered to Mr. Morgan’s closed door before turning on me again. “But with the burial costs and the baby bills, I can’t seem to catch up.”
    I started to speak, but Lucinda’s chin lifted. “Just before he passed, Billy told me not to worry.” Her bottom lip trembled. She took a deep breath and seemed to find a real smile from someplace deep inside. “He told me God would make a way. And He will.”
    Lucinda would struggle to feed and clothe four children on a secretary’s salary, I imagined. I guessed Lucinda’s children didn’t have enough of anything. Like the African kids in the picture that now resided in my purse.
    But Lucinda stood in front of me, flesh and blood, her haggard face and shadowed eyes speaking more than her words. Could I relieve some of her burden? Wouldn’t that be right? A cup of cold water in His name?
    Peeking out the window, I spied my shiny Runabout waiting to whisk me to visit the next name on my list. But my heart wouldn’t let me leave. The sun glinted off the brass headlamp like a wink. My fingers moved of their own accord, unclasping my handbag and retrieving the fold of bills her boss had handed me just moments before.
    For the kingdom of God.
    For Africa.
    Or for Lucinda?
    Giving to her was still giving to the Lord’s work, I felt sure.
    “Here.” I shoved the bills into the palm of her hand, closing her fingers around them.
    “But I can’t—”
    “Yes you can. Pay off your debts and put a bit aside for when one of the children gets sick. And make sure to get some good