Dorothy Clark - Hosea's Bride

If Gelina had gotten away because of that talkative old fool in the vestibule… His foot brushed against something on the floor as he stepped into the pew. He glanced down—there was a church bulletin covering some woman’s purse.

Stupid woman! Tony drew his lips back in a sneer, sat down and reached for the purse. He froze as the old man that had followed him into the sanctuary stepped to the end of the pew and shook his head.

Tony threw the man an ugly look, then rose to his feet and again scanned the assemblage. There was no sign of Gelina. She wasn’t there—unless she was the one that circle of people up front were praying over.

He snickered at the thought, gave the purse a vicious, satisfying kick, then shoved past the old man and left the sanctuary.

Angela pulled the new, cream-colored turtleneck shirt over her head and glanced around the lovely bedroom. Two nights she had slept here. Two nights she had been safe from the terror that had threatened her every night since her mother and stepfather had forced her into prostitution to pay for their drug habits.

She broke off the thought, snipped the tag from her new, brown wool pants and pulled them on. That life was behind her now—if she could escape the city. Her stomach knotted. She had stayed hidden in this house yesterday, but she didn’t fool herself that Tony had given up the search. He couldn’t afford to let her get away.

Angela shivered, and sat down to lace on her new shoes. If only they would deliver her car, she could be gone before Tony woke up and hit the streets looking for her. She glanced toward the small alarm clock on the nightstand and her gaze skimmed across the Bible resting there. A frown creased her forehead. Should she ask God to help her escape? Would God do that?

Angela bit down on her lower lip, shot a quick look at the closed door, then shut her eyes. “God, if that pastor was right, and this is the sort of thing You do—would You please help me to escape Tony? I need to get out of town so I can start a new life. Thank You.”

Heat climbed into Angela’s cheeks. She must be crazy, asking God for help. She never asked anyone for help. It had been just her against the world for as long as she could remember.

She shrugged off the odd feeling, tucked in the turtleneck, fastened the belt of the slacks and reached for the matching plaid blazer. Her movement, reflected in the full-length mirror hanging on the open closet door, caught her attention. For a long moment she stared at the young, slender woman looking back at her.

Born again.

The phrase the young pastor had used popped into her mind. Angela smiled, then leaned forward and stared hard at her reflection. Her smile was different. There was less brittleness, less of an edge. And her eyes looked softer…warmer.

She stepped closer and lifted her hand to touch the young woman in the mirror. The reflected fingertips met hers and a sense of wonder filled her. It was really her. A new her.

“Hello, Angela.” The brown, heavily fringed eyes staring back at her from the mirror widened in surprise. Even her voice sounded different. It sounded…gentle. How had these things happened? She started at a soft rapping on the door.

“Miss Warren?”

“Just a moment.”

Angela slipped on the blazer, took one last awed look at her reflection and turned toward the door. Her gaze fell on the tube of bright-red lipstick sitting on top of the dresser among the crimson blush and other items of makeup. With one quick swipe of her hands she picked it all up and tossed it into the wastebasket. It landed on top of the gold purse, black-leather miniskirt, net stockings and other garish items of clothing covered with cutoff tresses of long, brassy-blond hair.

Angela brushed her hands together in satisfaction, turned her back on the wastebasket that held all that remained of Gelina, and opened the bedroom door.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker?”

“I just wanted to let you know your car has been delivered. It’s in the—” The woman stopped and stared.

“Surprised, Mrs. Parker?”

“Surprised? I’m astounded.” The elderly woman pursed her lips and made a slow circle around Angela. “My, my! I’ve seen transformations before, but this is…well…it’s astonishing.”

The woman laughed at her own reaction and reached up to touch one of the soft, silky wisps of brown hair framing Angela’s face. “I love your hair. That short style is perfect on you. And the color is wonderful.”

Angela smiled. “The credit is yours, Mrs. Parker. You picked it out.”

The woman laughed again. “That’s true. I did. But I only bought what you asked for.” She swept her gaze over Angela’s slender body and nodded in obvious satisfaction. “The clothes fit well.” She looked down at the suede pant boots. “Are the shoes all right?”

“They fit fine. Everything fits. I can’t thank you enough for going to all this trouble for me.”

Angela reached for the new brown leather purse on the dresser. “If you’ll let me know what I owe you for the room and the shopping…for arranging for your hair stylist to come, and all the rest of your help, I’ll pay—”

“Hush.” Angela glanced down at the hand Nora Parker placed on her arm. “It was no trouble, dear. It was a pleasure. I’m glad Pastor Barnes suggested me to the visiting pastor when he asked for people who would be willing to help you. There’s no charge.”

“But—”

Nora Parker smiled and shook her head.

Angela suddenly felt extremely awkward. What should she do? No one had ever done anything to help her without expecting payment.

“Would it make you feel better to pay, dear?”

Ah! Angela’s face tightened. She was back on familiar territory now. She knew this game. A sudden sense of disappointment filled her. She ignored it and nodded agreement. “Name your price, Mrs. Parker. I won’t quibble.” She reached into her purse for money. Nora Parker stayed her hand. She looked up and met the elderly woman’s gaze.

“If someday you meet a young woman in trouble…you help her in my name. That’s the payment I want, dear.”

Angela was so shocked, she barely felt the gentle squeeze the elderly woman gave her hand before she left the room.

Elaine Madison’s Home for Abused Women and Children. Angela copied the address out of the telephone book onto the stamped envelope, signed Nora Parker’s name to the card, then slipped it and the money orders she’d bought inside and dropped the envelope in the local mail slot on her way out of the post office. The first installment on her debt to Mrs. Parker had been paid. It would never be enough.

She hurried across the parking lot, unlocked her new car, then pulled the map she needed first from her travel bag and backed out of the parking place. When the light at the corner stopped traffic, she exited the parking lot onto Oakwood Boulevard and headed north.

What a beautiful morning! Beautiful, but chilly for early September. Angela pulled up behind a green van stopped for the red light at Trenton Street and leaned forward to adjust the heater. She would have to include a coat when she stopped to buy her new wardrobe. And maybe one of those fleece jackets she’d been seeing everywhere.

A long, black car rolled to a halt beside her.

Angela’s stomach contracted sharply. Tony! What was he doing on the streets before late afternoon? Bile surged into her throat. She knew the answer—he was hunting for her. She reached down and pushed the button that locked all the doors, then gripped the steering wheel with her trembling hands and stared straight ahead.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tony staring at her. He said something to the man driving the car. The driver turned his head to look at her and both men laughed. Angela’s heart gave a painful jolt. She stared at the back of the van ahead of her.

God, please—please! Make it move!

The light turned green. Angela let out her breath and moved ahead with the traffic. If only she could pass! But there was no chance; oncoming traffic blocked her on the left, and Tony’s car pinned her in on the right.

Her head began to throb. Suddenly, Tony’s car leaped ahead. She watched in utter amazement as it exited onto the Baker Street Bridge and headed back toward the main part of the city.

He hadn’t recognized her. Tony hadn’t recognized her! She was free. Angela sagged back against the seat, sobbing and laughing.

The flash of her exit sign sobered her. She took a deep breath, accelerated up the on-ramp and headed west toward her new life.

“Hello, the house!”

Angela smiled at the familiar call. “I’m in the library, Leigh.”

“Where else?” The sound of footsteps approached down the hallway. A shiny curtain of smooth red hair swung into Angela’s view as Leigh Roberts stuck her head around the door casing. “You don’t look ready to leave for the welcome dinner at church. How much longer will you be?”

Angela stopped typing and smiled at her best friend. “Give me ten more minutes.”

“That’s cutting it pretty close. I want to make a good impression on the new pastor, and so should you.” Leigh waggled her eyebrows. “He’s young and single, you know. And I hear he’s a hunk.”

Angela laughed. “I’m supposed to be the information expert. I swear, Leigh, if I had your sources I’d be a millionaire.”

“No doubt.” Leigh grinned, then gave an audible sniff. “What is that divine smell?”

“I’m experimenting with a new cinnamon syrup to pour on the apple pies they asked me to bake for the welcome dinner. Have a taste. I’ll be right along.” Angela waved her friend off to the kitchen and turned back to her computer.

“There he is.” Leigh’s green eyes widened. “Wow! He is a hunk.”

Laughing at her friend’s enthusiastic, under-her-breath comment, Angela turned to follow the direction of Leigh’s appreciative gaze and found herself looking straight into her past. It was so unexpected she could only stare as her past and present walked toward her in the form of their new, tall, blond pastor.

“Angela? What’s wrong?”

Leigh’s sudden grip on her arm broke the numbing paralysis of the shock. Angela shook her head. “Nothing.” She had to get out of there before he saw her! If she could reach the back door—

“Nothing?” Leigh stared at her friend. “You’re as white as that little lie you just told me.” She pulled a chair forward. “Sit down before you pass out. I’ll go get you some water, unless—” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Angela’s face. “Are you going to be ill? Do you need me to help you to the ladies’ room?”

The ladies’ room! She would be safe there until she could think what to do. Angela shot Leigh a look of gratitude and shook her head. “No, thanks. I can make it on my own. You stay here. I’ll—”

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet our new pastor.”

Too late! Angela’s stomach heaved. Lord, don’t let me be sick. She drew a long, deep breath, rose to her feet and turned around as Walter Foster, one of the elders of the church, continued his introduction.

“Pastor Stevens, this is Leigh Roberts and Angela Warren. They are in charge of special activities. If you need someone to come up with interesting ideas for outings, make unusual and beautiful decorations, or research a missionary project these are the women you call on.”

Hosea Stevens smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He reached for Leigh’s extended hand. “Do I address you as Miss or Mrs. Roberts? Or do you prefer Ms.?”