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Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

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R E D E E M I N G L O V E

thoughts of her and how they had dreamed of coming to California and

building a place of their own. Losing her was what had driven him into the

gold country. Every time he thought about her, he felt the pain coming up

again.

Oh, Tessie. Why did you have to die?

His eyes burned and filled up against his will. He needed her so much.

He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. His life had lost meaning

when she died.

“Are you home for good?” Michael asked.

Afraid to trust his voice, Paul cleared his throat. “I don’t know yet,” he

admitted flatly. “I’m just played out.” He was too bone-weary to think about

what he was going to do tomorrow. “I wouldn’t have survived winter in the

mountains. I wasn’t even sure I could make it home.” Now that he was, he

felt the old ache again. Thank God, he could spend the winter with Michael.

He was looking forward to long hours of intelligent conversation. All the

men on the streams talked about was gold and women. Michael talked of

many things, big things that filled a man’s head and gave him hope.

He had headed for the streams to make his fortune the quick way.

Michael had gone with him but only stayed a few months. “This isn’t what I

want from life,” he said and tried to talk Paul into going back to the land.

Pride had made Paul stay. It was cold, disillusionment, and hunger that

brought him back. Not hunger for food or even riches, but a deeper hunger

of the spirit.

Michael put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home.” He

grinned. “There are fields to plant, brother, and the workers are few.”

Michael always made it easy. Paul smiled wryly. “Thanks.” He fell into

step beside him. “It wasn’t anything like I expected out there.”

“No pot at the end of the rainbow?”

“Not even a rainbow.” He was feeling better already. He would stay. Better

to break soil than your back. Better to muck out a stable than stand in freezing

water trying to find a few meager specks of gold in a rusting pan. The

quiet, dull farmer’s life was what he needed right now. The sameness and

routine of every day. Watching something grow from the earth, rather than

ripping something out of it.

168

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