The Hope of Refuge by Cindy Woodsmall Read Free Book Online

the Friday afternoon sun was beginning to dip behind the treetops.
    Last night’s rain had soaked her clothing, and now the insides of her thighs were raw. Her legs were so weak she kept tripping. She longed for a hot bath and a bed. But it didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon.
    Her thin, snug-around-the-waist sweater-shirt was still damp against her skin, but she’d managed to buy a couple of items that her daughter could change in to. After getting off the bus, she’d carried Lori for nearly a mile before spotting a run-down gas station that sold liquor and groceries and even had a rack with overpriced T-shirts, sweatshirts, and hoodies.
    The place didn’t have the feel of country life, as she’d imagined. It had a roughness about it that felt very familiar, one that matched New York City. A group of six men, all drunk, based on the number of beer cans and whiskey bottles strewn around them, sat on a porch across the road from the store, playing beat-up guitars and watching her every move.

    As she stepped into the store, the bell on the door jingled loudly and woke Lori. She wriggled to get down. When Cara released her, Lori scowled, stomping her feet. “I’m all wet! How’d I get all wet?” Her shrieks pierced the air as she threw herself onto the floor—hunger and exhaustion controlling her.
    The man behind the register looked from Lori to Cara, disgust written on his face. He appeared ready to throw them out. When Cara left the store with a small-adult hoodie and socks for Lori, along with bagels, milk, and toiletries, the men across the street had whistled, howled, and made rude comments. Thankfully not one of them budged from their spot on the porch. They were probably too smashed to stand up, which was good, because their mannerisms didn’t suggest good-natured catcalls. They were capable of malice. She saw the truth carved in their features, and she wasted no time getting herself and Lori out of sight. About a mile down the road, she found an old shed, and they stayed there last night.
    After a day of walking through Dry Lake, Lori’s feet had blisters. Cara didn’t know anything to do but take off her shoes and let her walk in her socks.
    Feeling lost and overwhelmed, Cara studied her surroundings. This was just like her—doing something with absolute hope, only to find that reality trumped it every single time. Like the blood flowing through her veins, anger circled round and round her insides. If having to uproot and travel like this wasn’t enough to make her lash out, the nicotine withdrawal made her a hundred times more irritable. But so far she’d kept her grumpiness tucked deep inside.

    The craving for a cigarette tormented her. Her addiction to smokes had started at fifteen, and unlike the rest of life, it came easy. The fact that she rarely paid to indulge in the habit had made getting hooked even easier. At work some of her regulars offered her a cigarette as she waited their tables. She’d slide it into her waitress pouch for later use. Almost nightly other customers left a half-empty pack by accident or as a tip. If she had four to five bucks to spend on a pack right now, she would. Of course the money for the cigarettes was only one of the issues. The other? Lori was with her, and she didn’t know her mother smoked. When Lori was young and asked about the smoky smell clinging to her mom, Cara had shrugged it off as the fault of waitressing in a place that allowed smoking. Her daughter hadn’t asked about the smell in years.
    “My feet still hurt,” Lori whined. “And look, I got blood on my socks.”
    “It’s from the blisters. Do you need me to carry you?”
    She shook her head. “But the pebbles on the road are hurting me, Mom.”
    “I know, sweetie. I’ll figure something out soon.”
    Lori held her hand and fell into silence again as they kept walking. At the bottom of the hill, another road intersected with this one. Should she go down it in search of Mast