Contrary Devotion: Lost Children of the Prophet, #8

By Angelique Conger

He wants her.

She wants him.

Her parents won't consider it. 

Lisyl's forbidden beliefs in and her love for Jehovah, prevent her from being with Yadav. He only knows the cult gods, though he is no longer enamored of them.

The two young people desire to be together, but if Lisyl's family's beliefs are known in the ancient city of Nod, they could lose everything and be ejected from their home.

Yadav doesn't understand why the families are keeping them apart.

Lisyl struggles to find a way to tell him.

If you love family sagas, you will love Contrary Devotion, the next entry in the Lost Children of the Prophet series.

Buy it now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southwest of Zion Publishing
• Release date: Aug 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781946550255

Angelique Conger

Angelique Conger worked as a teacher in the years her children were growing. Writing about the earliest days of our earth, those days between the Garden of Eden and Noah’s flood, helps in her efforts to change the world. Many would consider her books Christian focused, and they are because they focus on events in the Bible. She writes of a people’s beliefs in Jehovah. However, though she’s read in much of the Bible and searched for more about these stories, there isn’t much there. Her imagination fills in the missing information, which is most of it. Angelique lives in Southern Nevada with her husband, turtles, and Lovebird. Her favorite times are visiting children and grandchildren. She loves mail and is happy to respond to your questions. Happy reading.

Book preview

Lioness Woman

The bright blue sky above them promised wondrous things as the little group in the carriage passed through the gate and onto the street. Anice wished her family would allow her to ride her horse to the market, as they allowed her brothers to ride. It was not to be. Not in Nod. As targets for robbers, abductors, and anyone else seeking easy coins, guards took care to guard young women of wealth who hid behind shrouds.

The family war with Pagag, the not-so-secret organization, still raged, although not as intently as it did during Anice’s years as an infant and young child. Wars with the Coos giants, followed by wars with others who desired the wealth of Nod, had dampened the battle between Pagag and the Red Guard, directed by her great-grandfather.

Anice sighed and stared out the window of the plain carriage she rode in with her sister, cousins, and aunt. Six of them rode in the carriage surrounded by brothers and other guardsmen dressed in red. She fingered the spots on her staff, worn shiny by her hours of practice. Few of the guardsmen could best her. She could protect herself.

With another soft sigh, Anice turned away from the window to the other young women in the carriage who cheerfully chatted together. Silk fabrics for a new dress might be enough to halt her dreams of riding with her brothers for a while. She didn’t want to wear the red of the guard. Anice wanted to wear her best blue riding dress on the back of her black charger, Beast. She wanted to smell the fresh air. She wanted to see and be seen.

I hope Korm has new fabrics for us to purchase, Anice’s favorite cousin, Deonna said. I’m in the mood for something light and airy. What do you want, Anice?

Deonna had been with Anice as long as she could remember. The two girls had skipped back and forth across the courtyard to visit as often as their mamas would allow. Deonna’s birth came not many weeks after her own. In those days, Deonna liked to play little girl games with her babies, while Anice wanted to be the protector. Not much had changed.

I want a blue silk, as blue as the sky is today. Do you think Korm will have a blue as bright as the sky? Anice said, staring out at the sky.

It would match the color of your eyes, her sister, Lisyl, said. How did you get such blue eyes and red in your hair like Auntie Daphne? All the rest of us have brown eyes and dark hair. Lisyl pulled on her hair and frowned.

Oh, Lisyl. Your hair is a beautiful dark brown, and your eyes are almost the same color. You are stunning, Deonna said. She ran her hands through Lisyl’s hair. And it feels like corn silk. Soft and beautiful.

Lucky you, Lisyl said with a sigh.

We are all beautiful, Auntie Ysabel said. Why do you think we have to wear the shroud on our heads, if not to cover our beauty? We must prevent Pagag from knowing who we are. They still want to take us into their brothels.

Anice stared at her auntie. Though only three years older than her, Ysabel had always acted much older. Perhaps she had aged in those early years of the war with Pagag.

What are you looking for, Lisyl? Anice asked.

Her sister turned to her with a smile. I think I want a green or an orange. I have to wait to see what Korm has. I like to be surprised.

The girls discussed the merits of surprise versus plans for much of the rest of the ride. Half of the young women believed it to be best to know in advance. That way I don’t have to wander through the shop ten times to find what I want, a cousin said.

Ysabel agreed with the other two in the carriage. Sometimes it is nice to be open to suggestions and new ideas.

Mama still struggles when she has to choose a fabric on her own. Papa usually suggests a color for her, Auntie Ysabel said. Choosing from among all those colors and textures is too much for her.

Grandmama Ziva struggles? One girl said with a squeal. I know where I got it from.

Don’t blame Grandmama Ziva, Lisyl said. You have never been able to choose if you have too many choices.

The girl ducked her head. Red colored her dark brown cheeks. I know.

The others in the carriage laughed. Soon everyone had joined in.

The carriage slowed. Anice glanced out the window again. We are almost there. I wish we didn’t have to wear these shrouds on our head. I want to tip my head up to the sky and soak in the sun.

Do that at home, Auntie Ysabel warned. Remember everyone, cover your hair and face and keep your staff ready. We will not be safe until we return home.

Anice grumbled under her breath as she checked to be sure the length of gray fabric covered her hair and crossed over her face, leaving only her eyes showing. The shroud didn’t give her much air to breathe, but it kept her from needing to fight off men from Pagag.

She looked around at her sisters. She thought of all these women as her sisters, though two were cousins and Ysabel an auntie. All shrouded themselves. Each held their staff loose in her hands, ready for a fight if necessary.

The carriage stopped. Anice stood, waiting for the footman to open the door. She clutched her staff tighter when he took longer than she expected. The door swung open and the man stood with his hand out, offering to help her step safely from the carriage.

Guardsmen on their horses surrounded the carriage, facing outward. Anice stepped away from the door to give the others space to step out. She set her staff in the ground, as if it were merely a walking stick, ready to spin and stab it.

Each of her sisters did the same as they stepped from the carriage. They stood in a loose circle, ready for a fight.

None came.

Korm opened the door to his fabric shop and welcomed the young women in. The men of the guard moved their horses aside enough that the women could pass between them and into the shop. Anice entered last, stopping a moment to pet her brother’s gray stallion.

Stay alert, she murmured.

Anice smiled at her brother’s salute. They would be safe in this shop. Of course, Korm’s shop had always been a safe haven for her mother, her aunties, and especially her grandmama. Korm’s daughter and Ziva had been friends since they were young girls, much like the young women entering the shop today.

Anice stood by the door, searching for danger. Two of the guardsmen entered behind her and took up positions near the door. She acknowledged their presence with a nod of her head and walked toward the selection of blue silks.

Yadav stood near the back of the fabric shop, beside the curtain separating the public area of the shop from the back. Women worked behind the curtains to turn the fabric into dresses for the shop’s patrons. Few patrons received invitations to enter the back area.

Yadav’s eyes focused on the woman who stood waiting at the door. She seemed ready to pounce, like the lioness he had seen at the cult god Lorca’s last festival. That lioness had pounced on an unsuspecting slave who had entered the cage to offer her food. The power of the lioness had drawn Yadav to her. This woman emanated a similar power. He watched her purposeful walk toward the side of the shop. This woman knew what she wanted.

He turned his gaze toward the other women who had entered with the woman who reminded him of the lioness, obviously all part of a family. These women were strong, though they hid it well under their shrouds. Each carried a sturdy staff. He recognized the staffs as weapons, not as simple tools to lean on as they walked.

Yadav remembered his grandfather telling him stories of the days when women walked through the market without weapons, and more importantly, without wearing the shrouds covering their heads and faces. Sometimes now, women would allow the shroud to slip from their faces and hair, revealing themselves. These women were not always beautiful, often pocked with scars from diseases or as round-faced as their bodies were round. Some women hid plain faces and drab hair. Others were beauties. He suspected the women in his shop were of the latter group — beauties.

Three had picked up rolls of silks and carried them to the table his father and grandfather used when cutting the desired length from the whole. More often, women would claim the entire roll, rather than allowing another to dress in a fabric like theirs.

These three stood, quietly visiting as they waited for the others to decide. His father, Win, followed one of the young women who wandered around the shop. Yadav could hear him making gentle suggestions. He carried three different colors of silks, waiting for a decision.

Grandfather Korm also followed a young woman as she ran her hands through the silks, trying to decide. No one assisted the lioness woman. Yadav swallowed before walking toward the small selection of blue silks where she stood.

May I help you find something? he asked.

The lioness woman turned toward him. Her eyes startled him. He expected the tawny yellow eyes of a lioness. He was wrong. This woman had startling blue eyes, the eyes of a bright cloudless sky.

Yes, please. The woman answered in a surprisingly mild, though musical voice, not at all like a lioness.

She is hiding her power. I know it is there. How may I be of service? Yadav asked with a bow.

I seek a blue silk.

Among these blue silks, you do not see what you want? he asked.

This is close, she said, holding up a blue. I am searching for a blue silk that matches the color of the sky today.

The color of the sky? I have not been outside to see the color of the sky. He moved to a window and pulled back the curtain and peeked upward toward the sky. I see why you desire such a color. It would match your eyes.

The woman’s cheeks took on a pink color. I have been told that. I love the color of the sky on cloudless days like today. Grandmama Ziva insisted we come for new silks to make our dresses for the coming Planting Festival.

Is your grandmother Ziva, daughter of Orak, wife of Crites?

You know of her? The woman turned to gaze on Yasav, her eyes glowing.

I have heard stories of her. I have been here when she came for fabric. She always struggles to find just the right fabric.

The woman barked a short laugh. That would be my Grandmama Ziva. She never can choose, like my cousin Camile. Both can never make a choice. Although I appear to have the same challenge, I know what I want. However, I don’t see it.

That blue is difficult to create. I may have a roll in the back. Please wait here while I search for it.

The woman allowed her shroud to drop from her face. She smiled. I would like that, please.

Yasav blinked back his desire to stand in awe of this woman’s beauty. He tipped his head and spun on his heel to hurry toward the back room.

His mother, Ettare, looked up. I thought you were helping those women who came to shop.

I am. Yadav strode toward the storeroom. She wants a specific blue silk, one not on our shelves. I think there is one like that back here.

He entered the storeroom and walked to the stack of silks recently delivered by a weaver. Yes. There was one in the sky-blue color, and it included a cloudy design in white, barely noticeable. He carefully lifted the other rolls of silk from above it and pulled it free. Tucking the roll of fabric under his arm, he set the others back and returned to the front of the shop.

Is this what you were looking for? he asked as he approached the lioness woman.

She had pulled her shroud up and tucked it in so it wouldn’t fall. Still, he saw a smile glitter in her eyes.

Yes. That is exactly what I seek. She ran her hand over the soft silk fabric, then lifted the end. Soft and cool, yet not so thin it exposes me. Look at the design, swirls and circles. Clouds! Beautiful. This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you for finding it for me.

The woman reached for the roll of fabric.

I will take it to the table for you, if you would like, Yadav said, wanting to stay with her a little longer. Do you have a seamstress who will do this fine silk the honor it deserves?

The woman stopped in front of him, almost causing him to stumble. No. We send it out to a woman we trust, but ...

You are uncertain she will give you what you want?

No. Her voice took on the petulance of a child. Our uncle used to create the most beautiful dresses, but he chose to leave Nod. Mama hasn’t found one as good as him since he left.

We have an excellent seamstress here. She would know how to make this fabric glow, like the woman within. Yadav stopped. He felt his cheeks redden. I am sorry. I am too forward.

The lioness woman turned. You are not too forward. Do you think she has time to make a dress for me before the Planting Festival? We are slow choosing our fabrics this year and I fear our usual seamstress will be overwhelmed. We have many women in our family.

You have more than this? Yadav felt his jaw drop and closed his mouth.

Oh yes, many more. We wanted an opportunity to escape the walls of our home. Grandmama Ziva, Mama, and all the rest have fabric brought to them to choose from. It is safer that way. We are taking a chance today.

Yadav remembered all the horsemen surrounding the shop. That is why your men prevent others from entering our shop?

The woman lifted a shoulder. Grandmama says it has always been this way. She has always been in danger when she leaves Casa Alegre. For us to travel now is even more dangerous. The battle with the secret organization continues. Taveon tells me we are headstrong to want to leave the safety of our home walls. I needed to feel free. My sisters agreed and joined me.

All these women are sisters? Yadav’s eyes widened.

The woman laughed, a tinkling musical sound. Not really. Two are my sisters, two are my cousins and sisters, and one is an auntie. We are like sisters.

Yadav breathed out more noisily than he expected.

The woman laughed again. You are not used to large families?

Most women come in one or two at a time. I don’t see so many beautiful women from one family. Yadav set the roll of fabric on the table. If you would like, I will bring our seamstress out to talk about the dress you would like from this beautiful fabric.

The lioness woman nodded. He could feel her gaze on his back as he walked through the stacks of fabric and flipped the curtain aside.

Anice watched the man wend his way between the stacks of fabric and swish the curtain aside. His muscles stood out beneath his shirt, though he did not wear it tight. She sighed. Though a nice man, she couldn’t dream of him. He didn’t follow Jehovah.

You like him, Lisyl whispered.

Anice lifted a shoulder. He found the fabric I wanted, and now he’s bringing me a seamstress.

But you like him, Lisyl pressed.

He is kind.

And ...

And nothing. I just met him. How can I like him? Anice turned to her sister. Besides, he doesn’t know Jehovah. And no, you know it is forbidden to share our beliefs.

Lisyl let out an explosive breath.

No. Anice lifted the edge of her roll of fabric, changing the subject. Look. Exactly what I wanted. What did you choose?

Lisyl sighed and held up her roll of violet silk, the pattern of lilacs subtly swirling in a darker thread. What do you think of this?

Anice fingered the soft fabric, then held it up beside her sister’s face. Beautiful. It is perfect for your coloring.

Where did you find that? Ysabel asked. It is beautiful.

Lisyl waved off to the side of the shop. Over there.

Ysabel followed Lisyl’s pointing hand and exclaimed. Oh, I see others like it. She scurried over to see if one there would suit her better than the one she held in her arms.

Did you get his name, at least? Lisyl asked as the tall man reappeared from behind the curtain.

No, Anice hissed. I am not that ... She paused, searching for the correct word.

Forward? Yes, you are. Lisyl whispered back, then turned to smile at the dark-eyed man.

The man pushed forward a woman who walked in front of him. This is our seamstress, Ona. She is among the best seamstresses in all of Nod.

Anice tucked her shroud up to cover her face. Though her sisters knew her face, this grandson of Korm did not need to see it. Her training to mask her identity prevented allowing even the trusted men of Korm’s shop to see her face.

Anice nodded to the seamstress. Do you think you can create a dress for me from this before the Planting Festival?

The seamstress touched the silk. Ah. Such beautiful fabric, she exclaimed. She glanced up into Anice’s eyes. This will highlight your eyes beautifully. What style do you prefer?

Anice spoke with her, discussing the length of dress and neckline.

I can have this ready for you in two days. Will that be soon enough? Ona asked.

Perfect. Will you need me to return for a fitting?

Perhaps. May I measure you to ensure it is the correct size? Ona pulled a long string with regular markings from her pocket.

Anice looked around. Here?

No. Come with me.

Anice followed Ona toward a curtain on the edge of the room. Please make a shroud of this fabric for me to wear, as well, she said to Ona as they walked through the fabrics.

Ona mumbled something under her breath, then said, Yes, Mistress. I will make a shroud for you.

I don’t like them either. I would rather have one made of this beautiful silk rather than wear this gray shroud.

True.

Ona flipped the curtain aside, revealing a small room lit by candles in front of shiny copper plates that radiated the light outward. The women stepped in and dropped the curtain, preventing others viewing Anice’s body as Ona measured her.

When Anice returned to the cutting table, Ysabel fished into her pocket to pay for the rolls of silks. Each woman had chosen exquisite fabrics. Beside Lisyl’s violet and Anice’s blue, lay a grass-green, pale yellow with darker sunflowers, a deep fuchsia with a light pink outline of lotuses, and an aqua silk with delicate geometric designs of a darker shade for Ysabel.

Does anyone else want to have Ona or one of the other seamstresses here make their dress? Anice asked.

Deonna and a sister spoke up, requesting that Ona sew their dresses, as well. The other young women chose to wait for the seamstress they always used.

If your dresses are not finished by next week, don’t blame me, Anice said.

Can you complete this many dresses that soon? Camile asked.

I can. I have women who will help me, Ona replied.

Would you make my dress, too? a cousin asked, holding up her roll of pale-yellow silk.

I would be happy to do that, Mistress. If you three would come with me. I need to measure you.

The three young women followed her to the measuring cubicle and disappeared inside.

The shopkeeper lifted his eyebrows as giggling emanated from the cubicle. Ysabel’s coins jingled as the young shopkeeper dropped them into his pocket. Lisyl wandered through the shop, viewing some fabrics she had not focused on earlier.

My sisters are happy, Anice offered as she lifted her shoulder, stirring the edge of her shroud.

I am Yadav, the young man said.

Anice smiled, knowing he would not see.

Will you be returning for a fitting? Yadav asked.

I expect we will need to. I haven’t yet met a seamstress who could make my dress without needing me to return for a fitting.

Ona is good. You will see, Yadav said. After one dress, few customers return for a fitting.

I look forward to that pleasure, Anice said. Can you have someone tell our carriage driver to bring the carriage to the front again?

I can have a boy do that. My nephews are here today. He will return to carry your purchases to your carriage, as well. Yadav walked to the curtain and disappeared behind it.

You didn’t give him your name? Auntie Ysabel asked with raised eyebrows.

No. I cannot be with him. He isn’t ...

Isn’t what?

Possible. You know why, she whispered.

Deonna left the cubicle and walked toward Anice and Ysabel.

No. Could he be? I have seen others ...

Others? Anice’s voice lifted.

Yes, others.

Tell me more, but not now, Anice whispered out of the side of her mouth.

Before the others reached them, Ysabel nudged Anice. He returns.

Anice turned and watched Yadav stride through the stacks of fabrics toward them.

I will, but ...

But? Even you? Anice whispered to her auntie.

You can share your name. Auntie Ysabel’s eyebrow lifted.

Your carriage should be in front by the time your sisters are ready, Yadav said.

Thank you, Yadav. I did not share my name. It was rude of me. I am Anice.

Anice. I like that, he said, staring into her eyes. Where will your family go to show off those magnificent Planting Festival dresses?

We never know before we arrive, Anice said.

Papa fears Pagag will interrupt our enjoyment of the service yet again if they know where we plan to go, Ysabel said.

I heard they caused a problem at the last festival, Yadav said.

They always do, Deonna said.

I think they send men to every temple, prepared to cause us problems, Anice added. It never fails.

It must be difficult for you, Yadav said. I hope you come to the temple of Nimm. I will watch for you.

You won’t see our faces, Anice said.

I will recognize your dresses. I sold you the fabric.

Yes, you did, Anice said, fingering her staff.

I would not... Our family has always honored yours.

The other young women stepped out of the measuring cubicle, giggling. Ona followed them. Come back in four days for your fittings.

We are busy in four days. Can we come back in three, or it will be five? Kaycie asked.

Come back in the afternoon of the third day. I will be certain they are ready for you, Ona said.

We will be here, the cousin said with a laugh.

Anice’s brother, Taveon, entered and the bell above the door tinkled. Your carriage is ready. Are you ready to leave?

The young women moved toward the door. Ysabel and Lisyl handed their rolls of fabric, wrapped in fabric to protect them, to the boy who appeared in front of them.

We are, Auntie Ysabel said.

We will be back in three days, Camile said.

Anice walked through the door last, turning to see Yadav’s eyes following her. He waved. She lifted a hand in salute.

Why Do We Pay?

Ona sniggered as she picked up the rolls of fabric and passed Yadav on her way back to the workroom. You think that wealthy woman will consider you as a mate? I don’t think it will happen.

What are you talking about? Yadav growled.

I saw the way you looked at the girl. You cannot even see her, yet you are smitten.

I don’t need to see ...

Ona jerked the curtain back and tramped into the workroom.

I don’t need to see her face to know I want to know her better, he said to himself. And I saw her face.

Yadav sighed. Ona’s derision hurt. He and his family had wealth. Their shop held many expensive fabrics, and they employed seamstresses to help their customers. No one could say he and his family were paupers. He shook his pocket, heavy now with the payment for the six rolls of fabric and for the creation of four dresses.

He glanced out the window to see the carriage and the Red Guard protectors ride away. It didn’t hurt to have others locked out for the time the daughters of Ziva strolled through the shop and made their purchases.

Ziva’s daughters and granddaughters are beautiful women, Korm said near Yadav’s shoulder.

He turned toward his grandfather with a sigh. They are beautiful women with good taste. Too bad we can’t see their faces.

Pagag continues to make our lives difficult.

Yadav stared around the shop filled with fabrics. Do I dream too high? Am I not enough for one of those women?

Korm touched his arm. I remember Ziva as the daughter of Orak, another businessman like me. She has always been kind to Tawna and honest with me. Her daughters and granddaughters continue to purchase from our shop.

I have heard stories of Ziva’s kindness. Am I good enough for one of her granddaughters? They have wealth and status. They have the protection of Tubal Cain. We have the wealth of this shop. We support those who create these fabrics. Do I have a chance with one of them?

You always have a chance, grandson. How will you manage that chance? Korm gazed into his eyes for several breaths. For now, we have new fabric at the back door. Can you help?

Yadav nodded and glanced toward the back. What would you have me do?

Supervise the boys as they carry it into the shop. Ensure that none of the rolls of fabric fall to the ground. We want no damage done to the beautiful fabric as the boys bring it in. I will help you examine them once they are all in the shop.

I can do that, grandfather. Yadav dipped his head toward his grandfather, then turned on his heel toward the back room.

A wagon driver stood by the back door, twisting a floppy hat in his hands. Yadav called for the boys to come help. As they gathered, he approached the driver.

We will soon be ready to accept your load. May I see it?

The driver shook his head. You may see it, as it is yours. You paid for the contents of my wagon.

Why the long face? Yadav asked.

My wagon bounced through one of the many holes in the road on the way here.

That is understandable. The roads are never in good repair. Yadav smiled at the driver, seeking to cheer him.

I thought the hole to be small and of no conseequence until I bounced through it.

And? How did that become a problem?

You will need to see. I did my best to keep the wagon upright and everything inside ...

Yadav strode out the door toward the wagon and its contents. The heavy canvas covering lay askew, ripped almost in half. The ends of fabric rolls jutted in all directions through the cover.

Yadav gasped. I thought you said it only bounced.

It turned my wagon over. It five men to set it upright again.

Did the rolls of fabric stay in the wagon?

The driver dragged his toe through the dirt. Some.

Yadav’s eyebrows lifted. Some? How many is some?

All were thrown from the wagon. Three of four landed on other rolls and did not touch the road or the dirt.

Three or four? Yadav fought to hold his voice in control.

Maybe five. The driver glanced up from the dirt at his feet to Yadav’s face, then immediately dropped his eyes.

One boy called to help empty the wagon, skidded to a stop next to Yadav. What happened?

Wagon turned over, the driver mumbled.

Bigger hole in the road than you expected? the boy whistled.

Grandfather asked me to be sure these were unloaded. Yadav rubbed the back of his neck. I don’t want to bother him, but I need his advice on this one. Go get him, Vien.

The youth spun around and raced into the shop. Even with the door closed, Yadav could hear his shout. Grandfather! Grandfather! We need you outside. You should see this!

Yadav felt the same quiver he saw run through the driver’s body and fought to maintain a neutral expression. He had not looked at the rolls yet and didn’t know how much damage the rolls of fabric had received. He wanted to run to the wagon and examine them. Instead, he stood, hands clasped behind his back, waiting for Korm to join them.

A low gasp warned Yadav of Korm’s presence on the loading dock. Yadav turned to see his grandfather slowly shake his head. What happened to my fabric?

The driver says he hit a hole in the road.

Big hole, Grandfather said.

It is a big hole. It tipped my wagon over, the driver said. I didn’t realize how deep it is. None of the other holes are as big.

I will petition the governor to repair that hole. Boys. Grandfather Korm lifted his voice so the young men could hear. Bring in those rolls so we can examine them. Set them on the big worktable in back.

You will take delivery of the load? the wagon driver asked. Are you certain?

I paid for it. Who should lose coins for an accident? The women who labor long hours over their looms? They delivered their work to the factor. Should I take coins from him? He delivered it to you. Would you have me take it from you?

I have no —

I know. You have a family and no way to pay for such an expensive accident. I will see how much we can still use. Go inside. I think there is a pot of soup cooking over the fire. Help yourself to some.

The driver shook his head and turned toward the building. Yadav jumped down the steps and helped move the wagon closer. He looked at each roll of silk, cotton, and linen as his brothers and cousins carried it past him. All were dusty. Some had torn edges. A few had ripped into the center of the roll. How could his grandfather be so generous?

Pulling the string back to her