Chapter 20

Beth decided it might be best for Yvette to get closer to someone in addition to Joseph. She seemed to reject any attempt Mama made to be friends.

After the weeping, she thought Yvette might be making a breakthrough. Either that or becoming more dangerous. When Joseph traipsed after Yvette to sit beside the stream, Beth told Mama to let her follow this time.

Glancing back, she saw Jake and Mama holding both babies. Jake had agreed to let Beth go to Yvette on the condition that he was close to hand. And someone had to be ready to take the baby. As Jake's eyes met hers, he handed the baby behind him to Mama so she held both, then stepped outside the cabin. He leaned back against the wall between the door and the window and watched. But he didn't try to approach Yvette.

Beth smiled.

He crossed his arms and gave her a firm nod.

Then she went on down to the stream. Yvette sat farthest to the right, then Joseph, then Beth.

Yvette saw her and gave a startled wide-eyed look. A blue-eyed elk spotting danger.

Beth sat down beyond Joseph, and Yvette started to talk.

"When he hit me the last time, I fell down a flight of steps and my baby died inside me."

Joseph had told them what she said. She spoke of a cruel husband who abused her in every possible way. She also spoke of a father who was of the same temperament. She'd lived all her life under the brutal hands of the two men who were supposed to love and protect her.

"I went mad. Lucius said I did. I wept for that child for weeks, months. Lucius put up with it for a while because he said I deserved to be miserable. I deserved to weep for letting his son die."

"Did you see the baby?" Grief-stricken herself, Beth asked, "Was it a boy?"

Yvette jerked her head back, startled.

Beth remembered that Joseph said he never talked, just let her ramble and he'd listen to whatever words she said. Beth clamped her mouth shut, afraid her question would send Yvette back to her silent watchfulness.

Shaking her head, Yvette's eyes cleared more than Beth had ever seen them.

"No, there was no way to tell. I only..." Yvette glanced up at Joseph and blushed. "No way to tell. But Lucius said he was sure, so he must be right."

Yvette hugged herself in such a way that Beth wondered how long it had been since anyone else had hugged her. Had anyone ever taken her in their arms in kindness. What about her mama? Where were the folks who were supposed to care about her?

"The doctor came. He asked what happened, and Lucius told him I fell down the stairs. That's where I got my black eye, too. That wasn't the way I remembered it. Lucius hit me, but I might be wrong. I'm clumsy. I do fall down. Lucius said I should stand still and take the justifiable punishment he felt I deserved. It was me dodging his blows that made me fall."

Beth had ten more questions. She didn't ask any of them. Then Yvette turned toward the stream, stretched out her legs, and began to hum. That same off-key humming.

"What is that song?"

Joseph gave her a warning look, and Beth clamped her mouth shut again.

Yvette turned to Beth again, wild and frightened. "It's ... it's about God knowing I'm a sinner, I think. God has contempt for me. He hates me, and I can't blame Him. The words are gone. I just remember the tune only."

"God doesn't hate you, Yvette. He loves you."

She hummed again, maybe eight or ten notes. They were hard to hear because she hummed so quietly, yet they tickled something in Beth's brain.

"Can you remember any of the words, Yvette? Even a single one?"

Joseph didn't give Beth a warning glance this time. Joseph who was talented on the harmonica. He listened, leaning closer to Yvette.

The single line of music went around and around as if Yvette was stuck on one line.

Finally, Joseph, who hadn't spoken a word, said, "‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.'"

Yvette tilted her head as if she were listening keenly.

Joseph pulled his harmonica out of his pocket and began playing. Yvette had seen Joseph play for their church service on the little mouth organ. She'd always put aside her own humming to listen to Joseph's music. He played the song through twice. The third time, Beth sang the first verse:

"‘When I survey the wondrous cross

on which the Prince of glory died,

my richest gain I count but loss,

and pour contempt on all my pride.'"

The last line made Yvette's face light up. Beth hummed it again, replaying the words in her mind: and pour contempt on all my pride. "Yvette, there's nothing about that song that says God hates you. It's just the opposite."

"He has contempt for me." Yvette's eyes filled with tears. "Just as Papa did. Just as Lucius did. And Mama said men made the decisions, and it was a woman's lot to obey or be punished. So of course God hates me."

Joseph continued to play the song quietly while Yvette and Beth talked.

Beth pondered the song again, dwelling on the last verse—the victory-and-love verse. She sang, "‘Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.'"

Yvette's expression was fiery. Her eyes blazed with the words, but Beth wasn't sure if Yvette was ready to jump for joy or jump at Beth's throat.

"That hymn is about love, Yvette. It's about Jesus dying so we can live. It's about God sacrificing His Son so we can have everlasting life. That's how much God loves you. The line with the word contempt just means this earthy life is nothing without the love of God. And that love is right there for you, a gift from Him."

Yvette bit her top lip so hard that Beth was afraid she'd hurt herself, then finally she whispered, "God doesn't hold me in contempt? Lucius said He did."

Beth prayed desperately for the right words, for God to guide her. "God loves you. Your cruel husband convinced you that isn't true, but it is. Your husband was wrong. God forgives us everything and only wants to love us."

Yvette leapt to her feet and stood shaking until Beth wasn't sure how she stayed upright. Slowly Joseph, then Beth, rose.

Yvette took one step at a time, inching toward Joseph. He tucked his harmonica away and just waited. Beth approached Joseph from his left, and she looked for that knife.

As Yvette drew closer, she stretched out her hand. "He really loves me?"

Joseph whispered, "Yes, God loves you, and He has brought you here to this place where you can be safe from all the people who told you different. No one here will hurt you."

Yvette looked past Joseph to Beth, then her eyes slid to Jake, leaning against the cabin. To Mama with the two babies in her arms. She turned far enough to see Oscar by the door to the cave house. "C-can I touch you?" Her eyes beseeched Joseph.

He slowly extended his hand, palm down, and waited. He didn't touch her. Instead, he made his arm available if she wanted to touch him.

Yvette reached out and rested her open palm on the back of his hand. She then stretched out her other hand, watching Beth. "And you? Can I touch you?"

Beth did the same as Joseph. Reached out and waited.

"Yvette," Beth said quietly, "this is very much like what God does. He stays close. He invites us to reach out for Him. And if we will just turn and reach for Him, He'll come all the rest of the way to us. He doesn't ask us to be perfect. He doesn't expect that we have never sinned, never been bad. He just wants to love you and care for you."

Yvette reached out, her hand empty. If she could rest it on Beth's arm, her other hand touching Joseph, then she couldn't wield a knife.

With her hand quaking like an aspen in a windstorm, she settled it on Beth's wrist. The three of them formed a circle. They stood together, Beth still praying silently for the right words and for Yvette's broken heart to reach out just as her hand had, only for God.

"Can we g-go for a walk?" Yvette asked. "Can I put my arm through both of yours and we just walk for a while? I used to do that with gentlemen before I got married. No one hurt me when I did that."

"It would be my pleasure, Miss Yvette. You're the age my daughter would be, but she died long ago."

Yvette froze, her hand on top of Joseph's. Beth remembered how Yvette had seemed to believe she was married to Beth's father. It seemed Joseph was trying to be very clear that no such relationship existed between himself and Yvette.

Yvette smiled and nodded.

Every move Joseph made was slow and easy. Beth marveled at his wisdom and gentleness. She copied each move he made. He lowered his hand from below hers, then turned toward the far entrance of the canyon and crooked his elbow. Beth did the same.

Neither of them rushed. They waited until Yvette touched them. Without exploding.

The three of them set off on a walk past Jake, past the house. She heard Jake move behind them and knew he was watching. Then a quiet squawk told her Mama had come around the cabin with the babies.

The three of them proceeded as if she and Joseph were courtiers with a queen on their arms. She saw Oscar heading toward the cabin, watching his brother charm a madwoman. But it wasn't fear she saw on Oscar's face. It was hope.

The two strolled on. Yvette looked between her and Joseph now and then, silent but looking carefree and happy. And completely sane.

Then Beth heard a rumble that sounded like the canyon might collapse.