A Shelter of Hope by Tracie Peterson

three-foot cross had been nailed to the right side of the front door. What in the world have I gotten myself into? The cross seemed to burn its image into her soul. Why won’t you just leave me alone? she questioned, glancing heavenward. Just leave me alone and let me be .

EIGHT
    SIMONE MANAGED TO ignore the cross as she entered the house. The warmth of the room immediately made her glad she’d come. It seemed like forever since she had stood in front of a fire—since she’d really been warm. Going to the hearth, Simone put her bundle of supplies on the floor and extended her hands toward the flames. How good it felt.
    “Simone has been traveling for nearly a fortnight,” Elias announced. “Her folks died and left her alone. She’s made her way down from the mountains and is headed to meet up with family in Laramie.”
    “A fortnight in the mountains? You must be near froze to the bone,” Gladys said, her voice registering disbelief. “Goodness, child. All alone in the wilderness.” She continued to chatter without taking a breath. “Imagine, and you just a wee thing! Well, thanks be to Jesus, you’re safe and sound now.”
    Simone could barely take it all in at once. Gladys’s continued statements, Elias’s gentle smile and tender actions. No one had ever cared whether she lived or died. Well, at least not since her mother had left her to fend for herself. Kindness seemed a foreign, almost uncomfortable condition to deal with.
    Simone glanced around to find Gladys bustling from one room to the next. She brought a rocking chair and two heavy quilts to where Simone stood. “You take off that old coat and wrap up in these.”
    Simone looked at the woman warily. She wanted to maintain her rock-hard wall of indifference, but the genuineness Gladys displayed softened her resolve. Not having bothered to rebutton her coat when she’d left the mercantile, Simone shrugged out of it and allowed Gladys to take it. Simone watched a moment while Gladys hung the coat on a peg by the door. It wasn’t that she believed the woman would steal the mangy thing, but she didn’t want it too far out of her sight.
    “Here now,” Gladys said, unfolding one of the quilts. “Let’s get you wrapped up good and warm, then I’ll finish fixing our dinner.”
    Simone reached out and took the blanket, surprised at the toasty warmth. “It feels like it’s been sitting in the sun all day,” she murmured and without thinking, smiled up at the woman.
    “I keep ’em in a stack by the kitchen stove. Never know when someone takes a chill and needs to be warmed up. Around here it’s mighty easy to freeze to death. You’re one blessed little gal to not have done so in the mountains. God is good to look after us in our hour of need.” She paused to look at Simone as if trying to figure out how the girl could have existed so long on her own. “Jesus is truly good,” she finally said, shaking her head.
    Simone said nothing. She pulled the quilt around her, then waited patiently while Gladys unfolded the second quilt and draped it over the first.
    “Now,” Gladys said, leading Simone to the rocker, “you just sit here and rest while I tend to dinner.”
    Something in her actions reminded Simone of her mother’s tenderness. Her mind had blocked out the loving memories for so long, and even thinking of them now caused an ache to grow deep within her.
    Simone didn’t argue. She felt terribly weak and horribly tired, and the added warmth and comfort of the Canton cabin produced an overwhelming desire to sleep. Unable to fight the feeling any longer, Simone closed her eyes and allowed the heat of the fire and blankets to penetrate her body. Even Garvey Davis’s wounded image wasn’t able to haunt her at that moment. Relaxing slowly, she let herself descend into nothingness.

    “Simone?” Elias Canton softly called her name. Simone jerked awake with a start.
    Blinking several times, as if doing so might help her remember her