Read Through the Deep Waters Online
Authors: Kim Vogel Sawyer
Through the Deep Waters
Praise for
Through the Deep Waters
“Kim Vogel Sawyer paints a picture of redemption and forgiveness in not one but many lives in
Through the Deep Waters
. Just as weary travelers found comfort in Mr. Harvey’s hotels, readers will find comfort in this wrenching tale of one woman’s shameful past and one man’s struggle to look beyond her indiscretions and accept the woman she has become—a woman redeemed by grace. Ms. Sawyer’s historically accurate novels tug the strings of the heart while giving hope to those who feel unworthy.”
—P
AM
H
ILLMAN
, author of
Claiming Mariah
“Kim Vogel Sawyer’s careful attention to detail and heartfelt writing make her one of the industry’s favorites.”
—L
ORI
C
OPELAND
, author of
The Healer’s Touch
“Kim Vogel Sawyer has crafted an emotion-packed novel about two damaged souls whose faith and courage ultimately come shining through. Readers will root for Dinah and Amos to overcome the wounds of their troubled pasts in order to find love and hope for the future. With its vividly rendered settings and well-rounded characters, this lovely story is sure to please Ms. Sawyer’s many fans.”
—D
OROTHY
L
OVE
, author of
Carolina Gold
B
OOKS BY
K
IM
V
OGEL
S
AWYER
Echoes of Mercy
Just as I Am
The Grace That Leads Us Home
What Once Was Lost
THROUGH THE DEEP WATERS
PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS
12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version.
This book is a work of fiction that includes some historical characters and facts. Details that cannot be historically verified are products of the author’s imagination.
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-0-307-73129-6
eBook ISBN 978-0-307-73130-2
Copyright © 2014 by Kim Vogel Sawyer
Cover design by Kelly L. Howard; photography: girl by Kelly L. Howard; background by Danita Delimont
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company.
WATERBROOK and its deer colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sawyer, Kim Vogel.
Through the deep waters : a novel / Kim Vogel Sawyer.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-307-73129-6 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-307-73130-2 1. Single women—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3619.A97T47 2014
813’.6—dc23
2013045097
v3.1
For those who feel broken inside,
with prayers for you to discover healing
through the precious touch of Jesus
And he said unto her, Daughter,
be of good comfort:
thy faith hath made thee whole.
—L
UKE
8:48
Contents
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 made a dash 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 all the way 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 yelp as the man tugged her backward across the chair’s 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 something 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.” He nuzzled his nose into the nape of her neck, chortling. “I always did like gals with brown hair. Brings me to mind of a coon dog I had when I was a young start.”
His foul breath made bile rise in her throat. She rasped, “Let me go, mister, please? 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 near. “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. She didn’t lose her arm, but the drunken man in the chair lost his grip. 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. Shivers attacked her frame. 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 rolled and gorge filled her throat.
A voice intruded. “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. She took hold of Dinah’s upper arms, set her upright, then turned her kohl-enhanced glare on Jamie and Max. “How many times do I have to tell you no free sampling, fellas? Everything you want is waiting upstairs, but until you’ve paid, you keep your hands, your lips, and whatever else you think 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 on to 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 slit-eyed gaze 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 among 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 not even a piece of paper could come between them was seared into Dinah’s memory. But she wouldn’t tattle. It was bad enough she had to listen to the taunts in school and on the streets of town. She wouldn’t set herself up for belittling under the only roof she’d ever called home.
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 of 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 men 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. She darted straight to the coal box in the corner and leaned against the wall, panting. So close … Jamie’d come so close to claiming her lips. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers as Miss Flo’s warning screamed through her mind. The proprietress often screeched idle threats in Dinah’s direction, but this one was real. The older she got, the more likely it became that the men who flocked to the Yellow Parrot after sundown seven days a week would see her as more than Untamable Tori’s unfortunate accident.
The cook, a hulk of a man with a bald head and forearms the size of hams, glanced in Dinah’s direction. “You gonna dump that coal in the hopper or just stand there hugging the bucket?”