Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

F R A N C I N E R I V E R S
4
It was after dark when Mara opened the cabin door. Michael glanced up
from his reading but didn’t say anything. She stood there for a moment,
pale, strained, and covered with road dust. Mouth tight, she came in.
“I’ll wait for spring,” she said bitterly and dropped his empty canteen on
the table. She sank down on a stool as though every muscle in her body
hurt, but she remained too stubborn to seek the warmth of the fire.
From the look on her face, it was clear she was waiting for him to mock
her.
Michael got up and ladled stew from the iron pot. He took a biscuit from
the pan. Setting both before her, he smiled ruefully. A small frown flickered
across her brow as she glanced up.
Obviously famished, she ate. He poured her coffee. She sipped at it while
watching him fill a pan with hot water. When he leaned his elbow on the
mantle and looked at her, she lowered her head and went back to eating her
supper.
“Sit over here,” he said when she finished. She was so tired she could
hardly get up, but she did what he told her. He knelt and set the pan of
water at her feet and eased the shoes off.
All the way back, she had imagined him gloating and taunting, rubbing
her face in her own broken pride. Instead, he knelt before her and washed
her dirty, blistered feet. Throat burning, she looked down at his dark head
and struggled with the feelings rising in her. She waited for them to die
away, but they wouldn’t. They stayed and grew and made her hurt even
more.
His hands were so gentle. He took such care. When her feet were clean,
he kneaded her aching calves. He cast the dirty water outside and poured
more, setting the pan in her lap. He took her hands and washed them as
well. He kissed her stained, scratched palms and worked salve in. Then he
wrapped them with warm bandages.
And I hit him. I drew his blood…
Angel shrank back ashamed. When he raised his head, she looked into
his eyes. They were blue, like a clear spring sky. She had never really noticed
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