Down from the Mountain by Elizabeth Fixmer Read Free Book Online

that she’s amused by how I’m reacting to all this.
    I hurry to catch up. “Did you hear that woman sing?” I blurt out.
    Mother Esther stops and turns on her heels. “She may sound beautiful to you, but that woman could be the devil in disguise wanting to tear you off the path.” I nod. I hadn’t thought of that.
    I almost trip when a guy scooting on a little board with wheels darts in front of me. “Sorry,” he yells out. I watch him fly down the hill we just climbed. He pushes off with the foot he has on the ground, and he’s off. It looks like more fun than anything I’ve ever done in my whole life!
    Rachel backs up and loops her arm around mine. “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t want to scrape you up off the sidewalk. Besides, we’re here.” She points to a sign on the next building: Beads Galore. Then she swings open the door, setting off a sweet jingle sound.

Five
    The store is wall-to-wall beads. Not just the plastic and ceramic beads I’m used to working with, but every kind and size you can imagine! There are itsy-bitsy beads called seed beads and others as big as a fist. I quickly see that they’re divided into sections depending on the substance. There are wooden beads, glass and clay beads, beads made from shells—even gemstones and crystals. And if that weren’t enough, there are drawers and drawers of gold and silver clasps, and even more drawers of spacers that you can put in between the beads to create something unique.
    I’m most drawn to the gemstones and pearls that hang in strands on the back wall and fill bunches of bins. Almost immediately I forget about Rachel and Esther altogether and head for the crystals and gems. They’re so pretty, they make me want to sing.
    I can’t help myself. I have to touch everything. All these stone beads in different sizes and colors. I run my hands over one of every kind, loving how the different textures feel on my fingers. Little signs tell me their names: jade, the color of our evergreen trees when the sun hits them just so. Rose quartz—some smooth with only a hint of color, others cut into shapes of hexagons and octagons, some even square. I like the ones shaped like teardrops. When I fan them out, they look like newly blossomed wildflowers in the spring. I begin to picture them in various combinations and lose myself in new ideas.
    The pearls tug at my heart for some reason. They come in several sizes. Some are labeled “natural” pearls and others say “freshwater.” I begin to weave a strand of freshwater pearls with similar-sized rose quartz. They’re beautiful together.
    “Have you looked at the prices of these precious stones?” Esther hisses in my ear when she discovers me. “We don’t have that kind of money, so put those back.” She lumbers off to another room of the expansive store.
    I look around for Rachel. She’s leaning over a drawer filled with clasps, spacers, and wire. When I get her attention, I motion for her to come over.
    “Can I help you?” someone asks from behind me. She’s a short teen wearing a white apron and a name tag that says Marcy . I pull in a sharp breath at the swath of purple hair that’s only on one side of her head because the other side is shaved.
    “Oh, no, um … I’m just looking.” A sudden chill pinpricks my body. A heathen is talking to me. God protect me from any evil influence . She starts to turn away.
    “Wait!” I say to the clerk a little too loudly. “I noticed that a lot of shoppers have those little boxes with fabric lining the bottom.”
    “Yes,” she says. “Those are the best tools to lay out jewelry ideas. I can get you one or two of those as well as a basket.” She returns smiling. “I’m Marcy, by the way.” She holds out a hand for me to shake, and I reluctantly take it. “You can get really creative in here. Have fun!” She looks my clothes up and down. “Ah retro,” she says, nodding her head approvingly. “Nice.”
    I have no idea what she’s