Truth Unshaken by Kristina Hall

Author:Kristina Hall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: christian fiction, historical suspense, mafia, roaring twenties, mobsters, 1920s, The Moretti Trilogy, Kristina Hall
Publisher: Kristina Hall
Published: 2021-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

POTS CLANGED FROM THE kitchen. Ma’s and Carla’s laughter mingled. Sunshine poured through the open window and warmed his face.

Yet that warmth couldn’t truly touch him. Nothing could.

Take this from me, Lord. Let me live.

Because this—these endless days, these never-ending nights—wasn’t life. This room was his prison, the chair his shackles.

Why hadn’t the sniper’s bullet killed him instead of taking out Wilmont?

He slammed his fist to his dead leg. How could he wish to die? How could he despise the life God had given him?

He whispered a curse. If he’d spoken such a word as a boy, Ma would’ve washed his mouth out with soap and tanned his backside so he couldn’t sit for a week.

What had he become? What purpose did his life hold? Sure, he sat around making life miserable for others. Ma. Pa. Mae and Davis. Carla. Hazel.

Hazel. What kind of Christian man wouldn’t even forgive his own sister? He’d received her back from the dead, and he refused to speak a civil word to her. Another gift he’d despised. Yes, he’d spoken the words granting her forgiveness, but they’d meant nothing, had wasted the breath spent to utter them.

Yet she’d torn apart their family. She’d heaped yet another loss on him. And now, she’d come back acting as if she lived a new life, as if she weren’t the same girl who’d left those years ago.

But wasn’t she right?

And hadn’t he been forgiven so much? How could he refuse to forgive her? How could he go against God’s command?

He slammed his fist against his thigh yet again. He was nothing more than a wretch. An ungrateful wretch at that. He deserved the bullet that had ripped through him. He deserved the loss of his legs. He deserved this prison of a chair. And he deserved worse.

I can’t do it, Lord. You’ll have to give me strength to forgive her.

But did he even mean that prayer?

Footsteps creaked in the hall, and a tap came at the door. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Carla’s voice. After all, he’d asked her—through Ma—to come talk to him. Even though he’d avoided her since that wreck of an argument. She’d been only too happy to stay out of his way. Why would she want to be around him? He’d let her believe he cared, then yanked that hope away from her.

Better that he had. Better that she not see him for what he was—a miserable, ungrateful wretch.

But he still owed her an apology.

She knocked again. “Frank, may I come in?”

“Yes.” Of course, he had to sound like a disgruntled child who hadn’t gotten his way. Yet that’s what he was. An infant to be cared for. A baby who never matured or gained the desire to care for himself.

What woman could find that attractive?

She slipped into his room, leaving the door wide open, and sat in the chair beneath his window. The chair facing him.

Wisps of hair escaped the confines of her bun. Color brightened her cheeks, but she didn’t smile.

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