NotKindle.com ( No Worries ) . 100% FREE

and her hands were dusted with flour from whatever she had been baking. Her face, when she saw the boy, shifted from curiosity to deep, immediate concern. "Luke Johnson," she said, a smile spreading across her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here at this hour?" Luke stepped aside, revealing the small, shivering boy behind him. "Found him out by the forest, Sarah. Says his mama left him there. Sheriff told me to bring him here." Sarah Thomas's smile faded entirely, replaced by a look of profound sorrow. She knelt down, bringing herself to the boy's level, and looked into his pale blue eyes. He reminded her of a frightened rabbit, small and fragile, ready to bolt at the slightest sound. "Well, hello there, little one," she said softly. "My name's Sarah. What's your name?" The boy opened his mouth, but again, the word wouldn't come. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them back furiously. He didn't want to cry. He had promised his mother he would be brave. Sarah seemed to understand. She didn't push him. She just smiled gently and said, "That's alright. You don't have to tell me right now. You must be cold and hungry. Let's get you inside and get you something to eat. How does that sound?" The boy nodded slowly, and Sarah reached out her hand. He hesitated for a moment, then took it. Her hand was warm and strong, and for the first time in hours, he felt a flicker of something that might have been hope. Sarah led him inside, and Luke Johnson tipped his hat and disappeared back into the gathering dusk. The boy looked around the parsonage, taking in the modest furnishings, the worn but comfortable sofa, the bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. It was the most welcoming place he had ever seen. "Thomas!" Sarah called out. "Thomas, come here!" A moment later, a tall, dignified man appeared at the top of the stairs. He was perhaps fifty, with graying temples and a face that radiated wisdom and kindness. He wore a simple black suit with a white collar, and his eyes, dark and deep, held a gentle light. This was the Reverend Thomas White. "What is it, Sarah?" he asked, coming down the stairs. Then he saw the boy, and his expression shifted from curiosity to concern. "Well, who is this young man?" "We don't know yet," Sarah said. "Luke Johnson found him at the edge of the forest. He says his mother left him there. He won't speak." Reverend Thomas studied the boy carefully. He saw the hunger in his thin frame, the exhaustion in his eyes, the profound sense of loss that seemed to cling to him like a shroud. He saw, too, the color of his skin — pale and white in a town that was almost entirely black. He knew, instantly, that this was not going to be simple. But he also knew that his calling was to help the helpless, to shelter the homeless, to love the unloved. He had never turned away a soul in need, and he was not about to start now. "Well," he said, kneeling down in front of the boy. "It seems the Lord has sent you to us. And we are honored to welcome you." He extended his hand. "My name is Thomas. Reverend Thomas. And this is my wife, Sarah. You are safe here. You are welcome