Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

F R A N C I N E R I V E R S
put it against the glass. The cold seeped into her palm and up her arm. She
pressed her forehead against the pane and listened to the drumming rain.
The sound of it made her remember the shack by the docks and her mother
smiling in death.
Oh, God, I’m suffocating. I’m dying.
She began to shake and let the curtain fall back into place. Maybe that
was the only way out. Death. If she were dead, no one could ever use her
again.
She sat on the bed and drew up her knees tightly against her chest.
Pressing her head against her knees, she rocked herself. Why did he have to
come to her? She had come to accept things the way they were. She had
been getting by. Why did he have to destroy her inner stillness? She
clenched her hands into fists. She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Michael
Hosea driving away in the rain.
She had the awful gut feeling she had just thrown her last chance away.
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