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วันอังคารที่ 29 ตุลาคม พ.ศ. 2556

Pocketful of Pearls; Shelley Bates

POCKETFUL OF PEARLS
By Shelley Bates

Dinah Traynell is trapped. Raised in a toxic church, she is forced to surrender to her sociopathic pastor's every demand, even while mourning the loss of her father. Though she dreams of escape, this is the only world she's ever known.

When Dr.Matthew Nicholas appears on Dinah's doorstep in the dark of night, he's burdened with troubles of his own. He's left his university position, and has been traveling to escape the trauma of his old life. Now he's stranded and penniless, but he'd rather lend a helping hand on a stranger's ranch than go home.

Drawn to Dinah, Matthew is torn between his desire to help her and the fear of getting involved. And Dinah has her own struggle with issues of faith. But when an abandoned baby is unexpectedly dropped into their lives, they must learn to open up and trust one another, or they'll never break free of the past.



"I hope you know something about caring for babies." Matthew followed Dinah up the attic stairs, marveling at how quiet the house was with Tamsen asleep. They'd grabbed the opportunity to do some detective work and see what they could find in the way of baby clothes and equipment. "What I know could fit in the nipple on her bottle."

          "My knowledge is seventeen years old," Dinah confessed. She opened the attic door and stood to one side as he joined her. "A little girl's idea of looking after her sister is trying not to poke her with the diapperpins and sticking a bottle in her mouth when she'd hungry. There has to be more to it than that." She paused, surveying the room under the peaks of the roof by the light of the bare bulb overhead. "Good grief. Look at all this stuff. It's going to take all day to find anything in here."

                   That just for starters. Matthew didn't know how long the family had been on this place, but there were at least three generations' worth of belongings up here. A three-speed bicycle leaned against an art Deco-era chest of drawers. Boxes were stacked on top of boxes, all labeled Books. That might be interesting but definitely not at the moment. A number of lamps missing bulbs crowded the surface of a cedar chest, and across the back of the room, a clothesline sagged under the weight of what looked like fifty or sixty dresses. He narrowed his eyes.

          "Were those your mother's?"

          Dinah looked up from a box she'd opened labeled Dinah Baby. "Those are color. Women in my family haven't worn color in three generations. Those are probably Great-Grandmother Sarah's, from before she met the Shepherd. We're favored family because of her."

          "What does that mean?"

          "Well, when the original Shepherd came here, only two families would give him a place to stay or listen to the gospel he brought. So as the Elect grew, those original families were called the First Fruits of the harvest, or just favored families. We have Gathering in our home, and the men of the family are Elders, as it was in first days. Hey, look. Here are some sleepers of mine. And bibs and stuff."

          Still trying to work out the tenets of this odd religion, Matthew said, "But what if there are only girls in family? Such as this one, for instance."

          Dinah held up a crocheted, pale-aqua blanket with an old stain in the middle. "The McNeills-the other family-had girls, too. So when Madeleine married, her husband Owen Blanchard became Elder."

          "Rather like British primogeniture," he commented. "Property goes to the eldest son, or the son of the eldest daughter."

          "That's going to be a problem in my case." She didn't sound as if she cared much that a four-generations-old tradition was going to end with her.

           "No husband, no son? How unsporting of you."

          "No way." Her voice was hushed, and it sounded as though the words were being forced between her teeth. "Here's another box with Tamara's baby things. Have a look around and see if you can find a high chair. And a crib. She can't sleep in the car seat forever."

          That closed that subject. Matthew didn't press her. It was nothing to him whether or not this odd group got its elder or not. From what he'd seen, the sooner it atrophied and died out, the better, starting with its leadership.

          
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