But Daddy ran from a whole host of nightmares, only a few Kizzie knew about. His history was bathed in rejection and abandonment and growing up much too fast. On his good days, he was the best daddy. On his bad days? Dangerous.
Was God chasing her daddy? Would God catch him?
Her attention shifted to the sunlight filtering through the bedroom window. She didn't have to ask if God chased her. Now that she recalled her mama's words, the sense of someone on her heels made sense. He was after her.
And her heart kept running.
Running so hard because … well, why? Why would He want her? All she had to offer was a bunch of poor choices and a whole lot of regret.
And how would her life change if He caught her?
She turned toward the dresser and ran a hand over her mama's Bible, her fingers curling around the cover. The deed marked a placeholder somewhere near the middle. She searched the page. Isaiah? She looked closer. Her uncle's name was Isaiah!
Her attention fell on a bold number forty-three, and the very next words drew her nearer. She read them aloud. “‘But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob.’”
Who was Jacob? God had created her too.
“‘And he that formed thee, O Israel.’”
He'd formed her too. Her palm went to her stomach. Just like he'd formed little Charlie.
But the next words froze her in place. “‘Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.’”
A chill traveled up her arms, and she slammed the book closed.
Had God been listening to her thoughts only a few moments ago? Had He chased her all the way into this room to call her?
She looked over her shoulder.
Could He really want to redeemher?
A knock at the door sent Kizzie jumping away from her Bible as if God might very well come rising off the pages in some sort of spectral form.
The knock came again, so Kizzie left the room and slowly approached the door. Charles had cut a peephole in the front door with a little sliding bar to cover it and keep out the cold. Unlike the one-eyed peephole at Mrs. Cappy's store back home, he'd made it a little larger to give an easier look.
Surely God wouldn't just come to the front door, would He?
She almost laughed at the fool notion but still took her time sliding the bar over to peer outside.
“If you're tryin’ to hide from the world, girl,” came Nella's familiar voice, “you picked the wrong family to take on as neighbors.”
Kizzie's laugh bubbled out, and she opened the door to find Nella and the three children, with Nella holding a basket of goodies and a knowing look that would make Caroline McAdams proud.
“Boss greeted us in the yard and then skittered off after some squirrel.” Nella glanced around the house, a smile growing on her face. “Well, I'll be. Ain't this the prettiest place I ever did see.”
Kizzie laughed again, much needed. “You've been inside the Morgan house, and you think this one is prettier?”
Kizzie took the basket and moved to the kitchen.
“I ain't got no use for a castle.” Nella followed her, whistling in appreciation as her attention landed on the cookstove. “But this'll do for a family just fine.”
“There's an upstairs.” Kizzie gestured toward a little door near the kitchen that hid a narrow stairway behind it. “But I don't need that space right now, so I don't go up there.”
Nella stepped over and opened the door, peering up the darkened stairway. “It's good you got a door to close off the air and keep the heat down here. That's a good idea too.”
“Seems a lot of good ideas went into this house,” Ruth offered with a grin.
Nella dipped her chin and set the basket on the counter. “No wonder the Petersons ain't too keen to see it gone.”
