The Beggar's Miracle by Joy Ross Davis is available now, exclusively on Amazon Kindle for ONLY $1.99
Read the beginning of the story here:
Bitty
Brown hid behind a stone pillar across the way from several large trash bins on
High Street in Dungarran, bare feet tucked under a tattered dress she’d been
given by the Sisters of Mercy Orphanage. She covered her head from the misting
rain with a piece of canvas she’d taken from the orphanage’s laundry room. One small rough hand gripped a worn bag she’d
pilfered from one of the other girls. Inside this bag, she kept a treasure, a
secret treasure she’d had since she was only four years old.
As
darkness descended upon the small town, Bitty stood and looked down High Street
to the right, then to the left. The shop keepers had turned off the lights,
locked the doors, and left for home, and just as she’d hoped, the streets were
now deserted as they were every Wednesday evening at six when people gathered
for services at the Dungarran Church of Ireland.
Bitty
had visited the church only two nights ago when Ireland’s cold winds cut
through her like daggers. She’d thought she might freeze to death outside under
her cardboard, and not wanting at that moment to die, she sought refuge in the
church. Fearing that she would be thrown out, she hid behind the last row of pews.
She sighed as she sat down, treasure in hand, on the thick rug. It felt so much
better on her bare feet than the icy streets. She’d been warm there.
She
decided that night to become a proper Christian someday.
But
then, the pastor came ‘round, a tall, good-looking young man wearing a black
robe.
Bitty
closed her eyes, curled herself into a tight ball, and waited for him to walk
past. She heard his footsteps coming nearer, an odd sound, as if one foot fell
a little lighter than the other.
Her
heart pounded.
Then
the footsteps stopped briefly.
Bitty
did not open her eyes for fear the pastor would be standing beside her. He’d
then toss her out, back on the streets.
She
sighed quietly as she heard him walk past and into the small rectory office.
When she heard the door close, she opened her blue eyes.
Draped over the pew
in front of her was a woman’s shawl. She hadn’t seen it when she’d first come
in, but now, the thick fringed wool, unattended, proved too much to resist. Bitty
picked it up carefully and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was small for
her age, terribly undersized, even now at nineteen, so the shawl covered her
from her shoulders to her feet. She rubbed her cold hands along the soft wool,
hugged the shawl tightly over her and let her head fall back. She closed her
eyes and tried to remember when she’d ever been this warm. Nothing came to
mind, so she made a sign of the cross in thanks, slid under the pew, and fell
fast asleep.
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