A Heart Deceived by Michelle Griep

Author:Michelle Griep [Griep, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780781411011
Amazon: 0781411017
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2013-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

23

Miri eased shut the sanctuary door, pressing her back against the cool oak until her eyes adjusted to the indoor light. Thank You, Lord, for greased hinges and heads still bowed in prayer. She scooted down the aisle, aware that a few eyelids cracked open to see who dared enter so late. Surely peeking was as sinful as tardiness. The thought was salve to her bruised conscience. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d missed the service entirely—as she had breakfast. Spending hours well into the evening at Joe’s bedside had finally taken a toll. La, who was she fooling? She wouldn’t have slept anyway for clutching the heart stone Ethan had given her yesterday.

Entering the box pew, she stood next to Roland’s rigid body and bowed her head. Slowly her heart rate leveled as Bishop Fothergill droned on. And on. Did God enjoy hearing the man’s voice as much as the bishop enjoyed using it? She clenched her hands together—tight enough to cramp—a nominal penance for such an evil notion. Why did it never fail that her most wicked thoughts crept out in the holiest of places?

At last an “aaahhh-mehnn” rolled off the bishop’s tongue, and before they sat, she sneaked a sideways glance at Roland. Between her vigil in Joe’s room and the irregular hours Roland had been keeping, she’d not seen him in several days—not since his drinking spree. His dark hair was slicked back above a white collar, the scent of pomade and shaving tonic strong and peppery. When he met her gaze, his eyes looked clear, and the frown he gave her implied his usual condemnation. He appeared normal, though it felt odd to think of her brother as that.

Tension drained from her shoulders, and she sank onto the pew.

“Oh!” Pricks of pain dotted her backside, and she shot up, catching herself before regaining a complete stand. She pressed her lips tight to keep from drawing more attention than she’d already gained. Eyes burned into her back and her sides, and several heads turned from the pews in front. From his advantage in the lectern, the bishop glared down at her as if she’d recited the Lord’s Prayer backward.

Reaching behind, she cleared the bench, shoving aside sharp bits of metal, then sat as far as possible on the pew’s edge. As Fothergill resumed the Sunday reading, she palmed one of the objects, then opened her hand in her lap.

Beveled shaft, square head, sharp point … a horseshoe nail. Her brow crumpled in confusion. Why would there be a handful of those on her seat?

Roland leaned close to her, his breath hot in her ear.

“For want of a nail, the shoe was lost. For want of a shoe, the horse was lost. For want of a horse, the battle was lost.” His foot tapped in rhythm with the singsong verse. “We’ve lost, we’ve lost, we’ve lost.”

Miri stiffened and pulled away, all too aware that Roland’s antics had been noticed this time. Whispers passed around the sanctuary like an unholy wind.

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