Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

R E D E E M I N G L O V E
beneath the blanket and thought longingly of Michael’s solid warmth beside
her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Was it only three days ago she
had danced for him in the moonlight? What did he think of her now? Did
he hate her? Did he curse her?
If she could cry, she might feel better, but she had no tears. She held herself
tightly, aching. Closing her eyes, she tried to see Michael’s face, but the
image wasn’t enough. She couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t feel his arms
around her.
Rising, she rummaged through her carpetbag to find his shirt. She lay
down on the bed again and pressed her face into the wool fabric Michael
had worn, breathing in the scent of his body.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered into the darkness, “the pain does make you
want to die.”
But a still, small voice inside her kept saying over and over again, Live.
Keep going. Don’t give up.
What was she going to do? She had a little gold left, but it wasn’t going
to last long. The stagecoach ride, lodgings, and the ferry ride had been more
expensive than she’d expected. The going rate for this foul little hotel was far
too dear. What gold she had left would keep her for another two or three
days at the most. After that, she would have to find a way to earn a living.
She slept finally. The night was filled with strange, disconcerting dreams.
She awakened several times, shaking violently. It was as though some malevolent
force were close by, waiting.
Angel packed her few possessions and left in the morning. She wandered
for hours through the streets of San Francisco. Portsmouth Square had
changed dramatically. The shanty in which she had lived was gone. So were
all the others, as well as the tents that had spread like a plague around the
plaza. Booths were now set up, giving the square the feel of a grand bazaar.
She browsed through goods from around the world.
There were several brothels, one with the elegant air of New Orleans. On
the outer edge of the square were thriving hostelries, saloons, and casinos.
The Parker House, Dennison’s Exchange, the Crescent City, and the Empire
now rose from the grime Angel remembered. On the southwest corner of
Clay Street was Brown’s City Hotel.
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