Echoes of Mercy: A Novel (52 page)

Authors: Kim Vogel Sawyer

BOOK: Echoes of Mercy: A Novel

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D
ISCUSSION
Q
UESTIONS

1. As an investigator, Caroline is sometimes put into a position of needing to hide the truth, but as a Christian, she found this necessity difficult. Have you ever been faced with an ethical dilemma in your workplace? How did you handle it?

2. Caroline stubbornly refused to enter the place that she viewed as the source of her childhood trauma. How did holding on to the pain of her past prevent her from truly living in freedom as an adult? How do we overcome the scars that hinder us?

3. Oliver didn’t believe God listened to prayer because his prayer for healing for Mr. Holcomb was denied. Kesia likened God’s “no” answer to the wise decision of a parent refusing a child something he shouldn’t have. Do you believe God knows best? Do you trust Him even when He denies you something you want deeply? How do we maintain our faith in the face of “no” answers?

4. Letta chose to run away rather than trust someone to help her, with disastrous results. Yet one good came of it—Lank discovered his abilities and a source of courage. Have you ever uncovered a positive result in the midst of an unwise decision? Have you seen it as happenstance or as God’s means of crafting something good from the ashes of our lives?

5. Both Gordon Hightower and Caroline had experienced difficult childhoods. Gordon chose to become a bully rather than be bullied; Caroline chose to help those who were hurting. Why did one strike out at others and one reach out to others? How are you using the painful parts of your past to weave something positive today?

6. When Caroline was frustrated by Dinsmore’s refusal to believe her story about Hightower, Noble advised her with these words: “Dear one, in this life we will encounter people … who follow their own pathway instead of the one deigned by God.… Instead of being angry with these men, we should pity them. They’re lost. They need our prayers.” Are there people in your circle of acquaintanceship who have chosen a pathway other than the one God would approve? Do you respond to them in anger or frustration, or do you lift them up in prayer? How can we find the compassion to pray for those who frustrate us?

7. Matthew 11:28 says, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” What burdens are you carrying? What steps will you take to release them into the arms of the One waiting to give you rest?

Chicago, Illinois, 1883
Dinah

Dinah Hubley curled her arms around the coal bucket, hunched her shoulders to make herself as small as possible, and then dashed for the kitchen. The odors of stale tobacco, unwashed bodies, and stout whiskey assaulted her nose. Each time she made this trek through the waiting room, she tried to hold her breath. The smell made her want to give back her meager lunch. But weaving between the haphazard arrangement of mismatched sofas and chairs, all draped with lounging men, took longer than her lungs could last. So she sucked air through her clenched teeth and did her best to make it through the room without being stopped.

No such luck. A man reached out from one of the overstuffed chairs and snaked his arm around her waist. Dinah released a shrill yelp as he tugged her backward across the armrest and into his lap. Lumps of coal spilled over the bucket’s rim and left black marks on the bodice of her faded calico dress. But she was worried about more than her only dress being soiled.

Keeping her grip on the bucket, she pushed against the man’s chest with her elbow. He held tight and laughed against her cheek. “Hey, what’s your hurry, darlin’? Stay here an’ let ol’ Max enjoy you for a bit.”

His foul breath made bile rise in her throat. She rasped, “Please let me go, mister. I have to get the coal to the cook.”

Max plucked the bucket from her arms and held it toward a lanky man who’d sauntered over. “Take the coal to the kitchen for this little gal, Jamie. Free her up for some time with me.”

Jamie took the bucket and set it aside. Then he caught Dinah’s arm and
gave such a yank she feared her arm would be wrenched from its socket. Max lost his grip, and to her great relief, her feet met the floor. She would have stumbled had Jamie not kept hold, and a thread of gratitude wove its way through her breast.

She regained her footing and offered the man a timid smile. “Th-thank you, mister.”

Jamie’s eyes glittered. Dinah knew that look. She tried to wriggle loose, but his fingers bit hard while his thumb rubbed up and down the tender flesh on the back of her arm. He leaned down, his whiskered face leering. “How about ya show me instead of tellin’ me. Gimme a kiss.” He puckered up.

Dinah crunched her eyes closed, her stomach churning in revulsion.

Then an intruding voice snapped, “Jamie Fenway, if you want to keep coming around here and making use of my girls, you’d better let loose of that one.” Relief sagged Dinah’s legs when she realized the proprietress of the Yellow Parrot had entered the room.

The man released Dinah with an insolent shove, sending her straight against Miss Flo’s ample front. Barrel-shaped and as strong as most men, the woman didn’t even flinch. Taking hold of Dinah’s upper arms, she set her upright, then turned her kohl-enhanced glare on Jamie and Max. “How many times do I have to tell you fellas ‘no free sampling’? Everything you want is waiting upstairs, but until you’ve paid, you keep your hands, your lips, and whatever else you might be tempted to use to yourself.”

The men waiting their turns with Miss Flo’s girls laughed uproariously. One of them wisecracked, “Besides, Jamie, that one you grabbed ain’t hardly worth stealin’ a pinch. If she was a striped bass, I’d throw her back!” More guffaws and sniggers rang.

Jamie’s eyes traveled up and down Dinah’s frame. “Even the smallest fish tastes plenty good when it’s fresh.”

Dinah hugged herself, wishing she could shrink away to nothing.

Miss Flo grabbed a handful of Dinah’s hair and gave a harsh yank. “What are you doing, carting coal through the waiting room, anyway? I don’t want that mess in my parlor.”

A few smudges of coal dust would hardly be noticed amid the years’ accumulation of tobacco stains and muddy prints on the worn carpet. But Dinah ducked her head and mumbled meekly, “I’m sorry, Miss Flo.”

“I know you’re sorry, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Miss Flo’s voice was as sharp as the teacher’s—the one who berated Dinah for wearing the same dress to school every day and checked her head for lice in front of the whole class. “We’ve got a back door to the kitchen. Why didn’t you use it?”

Dinah winced and stood as still as she could to keep her hair from being pulled from her scalp. “I couldn’t get in through the back. The door’s blocked.”

“By what?”

Miss Flo’s newest girl, Trudy, liked to meet one of the deputies on the back stoop. He was so tall, Trudy had to stand on the stoop for their lips to meet. The image of them pressed so tight together seared Dinah’s memory. But she wouldn’t tattle.

When Dinah didn’t answer, Miss Flo growled and released her hair with another vicious yank. “Get that coal out of here.”

Dinah bent over to grab the handle on the discarded bucket.

Miss Flo kicked her in the rear end, knocking her on her face. “And don’t let me see you traipsing through this room again. Next time I might not be around to stop the fellas from taking their pleasure from you.” She stepped over Dinah, the full layers of her bold yellow skirt rustling. “All right, fellas, how about some music while you wait?” Men cheered and whistled. Miss Flo, her smile wide, plopped onto the upright piano’s round stool and began thumping out a raucous tune. Drunken voices raised in song.

Dinah scrambled to her feet, grabbed the coal bucket, and raced from the room.