Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

F R A N C I N E R I V E R S
She gave a bleak, humorless laugh. “You’ll have to bury me.”
His heart lightened. “All right,” he said. “We’ll baptize you.” Not just with
water but with the Spirit, if she would ever allow it. He kissed her hair and
held her. It was ironic how close he felt to her now, closer than he ever had
before. He stroked her hair back. “I learned a long time ago we’ve control of
little in this world, Amanda. It doesn’t belong to us. It’s out of our hands.
Like being born or being sold into prostitution at eight. All we can change is
the way we think and the way we live.”
She gave a shuddering sigh. “And you’ve made up your mind to keep me
with you for a while.”
“Not for a while. Permanently. I’m hoping you’ll make up your mind to
stay.” He caressed her skin tenderly. “Whatever anyone else has said and
done to you, it’s up to you now to make the decision. You can decide to trust
me.”
She searched his face uncertainly. “Just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that. One day at a time.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. Life had been too unbearable
the other way not to try Michael’s.
Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he kissed her mouth. Her lips softened
beneath his, and she clutched the front of his shirt. When he raised his
mouth from hers, she rested her cheek against his chest. He felt her body
relax completely into his.
Michael closed his eyes. Lord, forgive me. You said go to her, and I let pride
stand in my way. You said she needed me, and I didn’t believe. You said love her,
and I thought it would be easy. Help me. Open my heart and mind so that I will
love her as you have loved me.
The fire crackled softly, and a steady warmth built within Michael as he
held his young wife; and sometime within the space of a shuddering sigh,
he ceased thinking of her as Angel—the harlot he loved and who had
betrayed him—and saw her instead as the nameless child who had been
broken and was still lost.
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