Angel Falling Softly - By Eugene Woodbury Page 0,69

from lack of air. Instinctually she grabbed at Milada’s forearm. She might as well have been grasping an iron rod.

The pupils in Milada’s pale eyes dilated, widening into ovals. Her lips parted, revealing the tips of the needle-sharp fangs behind her white incisors. Rachel felt the raw scream of anger coming. She tried again to push the hand away. Black splotches bloomed in the borders of her vision.

At the last moment Milada held back, her voice emerging in a strained shout, still loud in Rachel’s ears. “That man came from going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it. I was twelve years old. When did I fear God for naught? I did as I was told and did it well. Tell me, where are my fourteen-thousand sheep and my six-thousand camels and my seven sons and three daughters? Where?”

Milada’s voice broke. The ferocity in her countenance faded as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by a softer expression, hurt, almost, by what she had been driven to do. She walked away.

Rachel slid to the floor, gasping for breath, her limbs twitching, the blood pounding in her veins. Her hand went to her throat. Milada had not, she was sure, even bruised the skin. A storm of emotions kaleidoscoped through her mind. Rachel started to laugh and then to sob.

She pushed herself off the floor. When she got to the top of the stairs, Milada was sitting at the kitchen counter staring at a glass of red wine. She didn’t look up. Rachel steadied herself. She took a breath and let it out.

“You may have her.”

After all you can do. It would be impossible for her to do more or to offer more. Had Milada asked for her life in exchange, she would have laid her own body on the table. But Milada didn’t want her life.

Now Milada looked at her.

Rachel said, “Hannah asked for a child, and when she was blessed with a son took him to Eli to have and to raise as his own.”

Milada looked away. Bitterness filled her voice. “Therefore I have sworn unto the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be purged with sacrifice nor offering.”

“Please. Surely the Lord forgave Eli for the life he gave Samuel.”

“Do I look like a mother to you?” Milada smiled wryly and shook her head in disbelief. “Christians claim to believe in eternal life. So why are you so afraid of death, Rachel?”

The question rocked her back on her feet. Her heart reacted before her mind could respond, before her mouth could answer. Rachel clenched her hands and teeth but couldn’t restrain the tears coursing down her cheeks. The reason was so very simple, and yet she had never articulated it aloud before. “Because I’ll miss her when she’s gone. I’ll regret all that she could have been.” She drew a great sobbing breath. “I’m sorry, Milada. I shouldn’t have—” She turned toward the front door.

Milada came to her feet. “Rachel, stay. Don’t go home like this. Sit, have something to eat. I’ll order out.”

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have in the first place. It was my fault.” She took a deep breath and somehow managed to maintain her composure until she’d made it back to the car and driven the hundred yards up the street to her own driveway.

She sat numbly in the driver’s seat, staring through the windshield at the back of the dark garage. A few minutes ago Milada could have killed her. She wouldn’t have, Rachel was certain, but she could have. Rachel had come close to bodily injury before in her life. She could think of a dozen times as kids when one of Carl’s stupid stunts could have put them all six feet under. But she had never looked at death directly, stared into its eyes, and seen embodied there the raw power and will to extinguish life.

“Rachel?” said David. His voice brought her back to her senses.

He opened her driver’s-side door. As she climbed out, her limbs gave way. David reached out and caught her. The dam broke. She collapsed in a flood of tears. His arms encircled her, bearing her up, protecting her, promising her eternal refuge against the storm.

Rachel wept until she had cried herself out, and then she rested her head against his shoulder for a long time. “I just guess everything finally hit home,” she said, and he nodded. Many are the plans in a man’s heart,