The Four Winds

by Kristin Hannah

I see one-third of a nation ill-housed, ill-clad, ill-nourished.… The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little. —FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT

Although she hadn’t seen her parents for years, it turned out that a parent’s disapproval was a powerful, lingering voice that shaped and defined one’s self-image.

Sometimes Elsa felt lonelier when their lovemaking ended than she had been before it began.

Heartache had been a part of her life so long it had become as familiar as the color of her hair or the slight curve in her spine. Sometimes it was the lens through which she viewed her world and sometimes it was the blindfold she wore so she didn’t see. But it was always there.

“Passion is a thunderstorm, there and gone. It nourishes, sì, but it drowns, too.

They’d read a newspaper a few days ago, learned that April 14 had been dubbed Black Sunday. Apparently three hundred thousand tons of Great Plains topsoil had flown into the air that day. More soil than had been dug up to build the Panama Canal. The dirt had fallen to the ground as far away as Washington, D.C., which was probably why it made the news at all.

Elsa heard the message but didn’t care, and not caring felt good.

Elsa knew her daughter was eating a steady diet of outrage and sooner or later she would explode.

“My grandfather was a Texas Ranger. He used to tell me that courage was a lie. It was just fear that you ignored.”

It wasn’t the fear that mattered in life. It was the choices made when you were afraid. You were brave because of your fear, not in spite of it.