River of Dust
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Оглавление
Virginia Pye. River of Dust
Отрывок из книги
Northwestern China
One
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Grace swayed as the sunset pulled her gaze toward it. She stared into that bloody ball and saw red in a Chinese chamber pot, red on her linen nightgown. Her knees gave way, but the Reverend kept her upright and held her tight to his side. Twice Mai Lin had come to her in the middle of the night when Grace had needed her most. The old woman had rubbed ointments and herbs into her skin, swinging incense to calm her. Grace had survived, although her two unborn babies had not, but the Reverend was correct. It had all been too much for even a sturdy Midwestern girl.
Grace gripped him now in hopes that his unwavering stance would stop the dizziness in her head and erase the streaks of red behind her shut eyelids. After a long moment, she came to her own rescue with a biblical truth: the thought of being made of her husband's rib seemed right. She opened her eyes and saw that he was Adam surveying his world. And she was but Eve, the lesser one, and grateful for it. She must hold on to that perspective at all costs, although other, perturbingly discordant notions had started to seep into her mind even here in this distant outpost.
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