Читать книгу Baby in His Arms - Линда Гуднайт, Линда Гуднайт - Страница 11

Prologue

Desperation drove her to it.

Even though the rocks behind the falls were slippery and wet, even though she shivered in her sweater and pulled the well-wrapped baby closer to her aching chest, she struggled along the ledge, clinging to the gleaming black rocks with one hand and to the baby with the other.

The crash and roar of river water filled the air, filled her head, filled her completely and terrifyingly. She must do this. She must. Whisper Falls was her last and only hope.

With water spraying relentlessly against her face and hair, she edged along the rock face. Thank God for the rock cleaves and ledges made by nature and humans, many perhaps as desperate as herself. People who’d climbed down the rocks to the ledge below and clung to the rock face like snails to somehow manage the difficult journey to that sacred spot behind the waterfall.

The roar grew louder. Tons of water cascaded in front of her, a white spray of fierce beauty. Her body trembled violently from cold and wet, fear and exhaustion as well as from the lonely, terrible suffering of solitary childbirth hours before.

“Please, God,” she whispered, “help me do this for my baby.”

She’d heard the tales of Whisper Falls. Tales of whispered prayers answered if the one in need had the courage to climb behind the falls and send a prayer on angel wings to God.

One more step and she’d be there. One step. Barely able to hold on because of the violent weakness in her knees, she slipped successfully behind the falls. Just that quick, she stepped into a place of tranquility and quiet as though the curtain of white water blocked the painful, bewildering world she’d fled.

She let out a long sigh of relief, eyes closed, resting the back of her head against the hard, cold rock for a moment. Mist drenched her face and clothes, but the baby rested warm and dry, protected by a vinyl tablecloth.

“Dear God,” she whispered.

She wasn’t sure how prayer worked or if there were rules. But she knew God was big and if anyone could help her, He could. He was likely the only one.

“I need your help, God. I don’t know where to go or what to do. Tell me what’s best for my baby.”

She waited, unsure, hearing nothing but the waterfall’s mighty rush. She didn’t know what she’d expected but not this loud silence.

“If you’re listening, God. If you even listen to someone like me, take care of my baby.”

The tears she’d held inside all through the grueling birth fell now and mixed with the swirling mist until her chilled face ran like a windowpane.

“I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for her. She didn’t do anything wrong. Please, God, send a family to love her.” Her voice choked. “Really love her. This is all I’ll ever ask of You.”

She gazed down at the tiny red face, memorizing the thatch of dark hair above the perfect nose and chin. Then she offered up the child, a living sacrifice for her mother’s sins. Her terrible, terrible sins.