Through the Deep Waters by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page A

them. Dinah’s breakfast curdled in her stomach.
    “Are you staying for service, Dean?” Lyla asked.
    Dean shook his head, nearly dislodging his cap. He tugged it a little lower on his forehead. “Coming back here and sleeping during our break. Me an’ the other fellas stayed out too late last night. Missed our curfew.” He touched his finger to his lips, as if swearing the girls to secrecy, and waggled his brows. “But my, the party at the opera house was grand! I danced with at least a dozen girls.”
    Amelia nudged Dean with her elbow. “Stop yapping. We’ll miss the service altogether if we don’t get going.”
    “All right, all right.” Dean flicked the reins, and the horses strained against the rigging. In moments, they’d bumped across the railroad tracks and were heading through the center of town.
    Dinah’s side, pressed against the iron frame of the seat, ached. Even though Minnie sat on the edge of the seat rather than against the back, Dinah was wedged so tightly between the seat and Ruthie’s hip they might not be able to free themselves when they reached church. Why had she agreed to go, anyway? Curiosity, partly. But mostly some strange inner longing to discover for herself if what Ruthie had said about God loving her was true. An image of the beautiful church in Chicago filled her mind, and a little chill spread across her limbs despite the summer sun shining down. If God lived in such a place, and He loved her, could that mean she wasn’t as worthless as she’d always believed?
    Perspiration trickled from her temple down to her chin, but with her arm locked against Ruthie’s, she couldn’t reach up to wipe it away. So she turned herface toward the breeze and allowed the hot wind to dry the dribble of sweat. She kept her face angled outward until Dean drew the horses to a halt.
    Ruthie said in her cheery voice, “We’re here, Dinah. Let’s go!”
    Dinah turned to look, and if she hadn’t been wedged into the seat, she might have fallen out of the buggy in shock. This tiny white clapboard building with clear-paned windows and a set of slanting wooden risers climbing to the single door was a church? This was where God lived? She’d expected so much more.
    Dean had hopped out and was assisting the girls from the buggy. Other people, presumably coming to attend the service, walked across the sparse yard toward the porch. Ruthie waved to each of them, and as the girls alighted, they formed a little group and shook the road dust from their uniforms. But Dinah remained on the seat, staring at the sad-looking little building. Why had she allowed her hopes to grow so high? Of course any God who loved her wouldn’t reside in a fine, beautiful, towering building with bright-colored windows. He’d be in a ramshackle place. As ramshackle as her sorry life.
    “You coming out, Dinah?” Dean stood with his hand out, ready to help her.
    His reaching hand got tangled up with the remembrance of the outstretched hands on the beautiful window in Chicago, and even though she’d fully intended to return to the hotel, she found herself placing her palm in his.
    He helped her down, then hopped back onto the driver’s seat. “I’ll pick you girls up at eleven.” He brought down the reins, and the horses carried the buggy away.
    The four servers in their matching uniforms hurried to the church and went inside. Ruthie started to follow, but then she stopped and looked back at Dinah. She giggled, returned, and caught Dinah’s elbow. “Come on in. They won’t bite.”
    With Ruthie tugging at her arm, Dinah found the ability to move forward, but although her feet headed toward the church, inwardly she strained away. She’d hoped—so hoped—to find something of beauty here. Something bigger and better and purer than what she carried inside. Her gaze drifted tothe building’s roofline. There wasn’t even a cross to signify this was a church. Tears stung. How could anything of worth be housed within such