The Blessed by Ann H. Gabhart Read Free Book Online Page B

so good at it for myself.” He looked back down toward the riverfront with some regret.
    Brother Asa’s smile faded but not his look of kindness as he said, “Why don’t we rest here in this spot of sun a moment before we continue on? The dampness of the morn is making my rheumatism act up and the gift of the sun’s warmth is the best healing power I know.” He sat down on the steps, and Isaac dropped down beside him as the riverfront began to stir to life and workers tromped past them on the steps with barely a glance.
    Isaac raised his face up toward the sun. If only the sun had broken through the fog a few moments earlier to give him his last wish, he might even now be floating in the river facedown. And if this little man hadn’t come along. Isaac tried to ignore his stomach’s anxious growling as he waited for the man to speak. To say what he might want from Isaac. There was always a price to pay for charity doled out. A chance to work would be best, but Isaac was guessing the man had in mind to do some preaching at him. If so, he could give ear to his sermon in exchange for the promise of food. It had been two days since he’d found anything to eat. Hunger was perching on his shoulder like a vulture patiently biding its time.
    The little man briskly rubbed his knees and elbows, so perhaps he’d spoken the truth of needing a rest. Then he took off his hat and balanced it on his lap as he peered straight into Isaac’s face. “Have you killed someone, my brother?” The man’s voice held no condemnation.
    Isaac didn’t turn from the man’s eyes as he answered the question with truth. “Not with gun or force, but there are some who lay the blame of a death on me.” Ella’s face floated before him and he dropped his eyes down to stare at his hands. The handkerchief still wrapped around his hand was stained with blood, but none looked to be fresh.
    “And do you put that blame there as well?” The man took hold of his hat and slid down to the step below Isaac so he could keep peering up into his face.
    “She’s dead and I live.”
    “And so you think you should stop living too? Take the heavenly Father’s will for your life into your own hands and cut your days short of those he has laid out for you?” The man glanced over his shoulder toward the river and then back at Isaac. His eyebrows glistened with the moisture of the morning mist.
    “I was hearing the invitation of the water,” Isaac admitted. “But I was too much a coward to answer it.”
    “Nay, my brother. It is living that oft takes courage. A cowardly man looks for what he imagines will be an easy escape from his troubles, but that man dooms himself to eternal punishment since how can he beg our Father’s forgiveness for such a sin once he is dead? Such a decision should be one that we wrestle with, as Jacob wrestled with the angel of the Lord when he was running from his sin. Dying is not meant to be easy. Not if it isn’t the Lord’s will.”
    Isaac turned his eyes away from the man back toward the river where the fog was nothing more than wisps of mist now as the sun won the morning battle. After a minute he said, “The thought of it seemed easy. Just jump in the river and don’t come up for air.”
    “Have you ever been witness to a man drowning?”
    The man’s voice wormed into his ears, bringing to mind things he had no wish to think on. He thought about standing up and walking away, but his empty stomach demanded he see the man’s words through.
    “I was on a riverboat once when the boilers blew. Men and women and children drowned that night. Those that weren’t killed in the explosion.” Isaac looked out past the little man toward the middle of the river. The water had been murky that day too. The day his father had died.
    “You must have been blown clear of the boat and had knowledge of staying afloat. Was that the way of it?” Brother Asa pushed on with his questions.
    “I was on deck. Everybody said I was lucky.