Redeeming Love

by Francine Rivers

“I have enough children by my wife. Legitimate children. I told you I didn’t want another.” “How can you say that? How can you not love your own flesh and blood?” “I told you how I felt from the beginning, but you wouldn’t listen. She should never have been born, Mae, but you insisted on having your own way.”

“I couldn’t do it. How could you expect me to kill my unborn child? Don’t you understand? It’s a mortal sin.”

“I’m going to tell you God’s truth, little girl. You listen good.” She took a long drink and swallowed down the tears and misery and let the bitterness and anger rise and flow. “All men want to do is use you. When you give them your heart, they tear it to shreds.”

“Come on now, Angel. I have things to teach you.” He lifted her and sat her on the big bed. “You can call me Duke, when you get your tongue back.” He took off his black silk coat. “Which you will. Shortly.” He smiled again as he removed his tie and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. And by morning, Sarah knew that Cleo had told her God’s truth about everything.

They drew lots for her favors, four ounces of gold, payable in advance to the Duchess, madam of the Palace, the tent brothel where she lived. Any comer could have Angel for one half hour. Her own meager percentage would be kept under lock and key and guarded by a woman-hating giant named Magowan. As for the rest—those sad unfortunates who lacked the price to sample her talents—they stood knee-deep in a sea of mud called Main Street, waiting for a chance glimpse of “the Angel.”

Within a fortnight, she saw clearly that she had one simple choice: go back to being a prostitute or be raped.

She gave them her body but not a particle more.

What did it matter? She had nothing left. She didn’t care. An even stronger force than the hatred that feasted on her was the weariness

Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart beat faster and faster as she came near. He willed her to look at him, but she didn’t. He let out his breath after she passed him, not even aware that he had been holding it. This one, beloved. Michael felt a rush of adrenaline mingled with joy. Lord. Lord!

He stood at the back of his wagon, staring after her. She caught at something deep inside him.

Lord? Did I misunderstand? I must’ve. This can’t be the one.

“Angel,” he said, trying her name on his tongue. Just testing. And he knew, even as he said it, his waiting was over. “Lord,” he said heavily. “Lord, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” But he knew he was going to marry that girl anyway.

The knock came and she rose to answer. Opening the door, she took in the man standing there. He was taller and older than most, and well-muscled. Other than that, she noticed nothing special about him. But she felt… what? An odd uneasiness. An increasing of her shakiness. Her nerves were jumping, almost out of control.

“What’s your pleasure, mister?” Her voice was low and soft and surprisingly cultured, but she was so direct, he was taken aback. She couldn’t have said anything to make him more acutely aware of what she did for her living, or of his own powerful physical attraction to her.

God, give me strength to resist her temptation.

Lord, I’d need a million years to reach this woman. Are you sure this is the one you meant for me?

“Michael Hosea,” he said. “I live in a valley southwest of here, and I’m not married, but I will be soon.” She frowned uneasily. It was the way he was looking at her. The intensity unnerved her. “What sort of name is Hosea?” His smile became wry. “Prophetic.” Was he making a joke at her expense? “Are you going to tell me my future?” “You’re going to marry me, and I’m going to take you out of here.”

“Come away with me and be my wife.”

“Come home with me,” he said softly. “Be my wife.”

In fact, he wasn’t like anyone she had ever known.

She found herself thinking about him at the oddest times and had to force herself to think of something else. When she succeeded, others roused him again.

This is the woman I have chosen for you.

And the next time he prayed for God to send him a woman to share his life, he would be a lot more specific about the kind he wanted.

She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Michael Hosea driving away in the rain. She had the awful gut feeling she had just thrown her last chance away.

She saw an empty buckboard in the street below and thought of Hosea. Why did she have to think of him now? What if I had gone with him? Would things have been any different?

“I’m a patient man.”

“Why did you come back?” “God sent me.”

“What about the other wifely duties?” Michael glanced back at her. “When it means something more to you than work, we’ll consummate the marriage.”