Chapter One:
I am what I consider a rather mousy young woman. I grew up the daughter of strict Southern Baptists who constantly preached the sins of the flesh and the vanity of appearance. As a result, I was shy, introverted, had no friends – male or female – and kept pretty much to myself. Even as I grew into a teenager, I would suppress any feelings of self-worth and subject myself to the overpowering presence of my parents.
Needless to say, I was very lonely. My only acquaintances were from the Bible classes that were mandatory and, on the large they were not much different from me. Many saw their life mission as going out into the wider world to save souls.
In this, I was a misfit. For some reason, I had to believe there was more to life than this! I couldn't imagine living the life as a missionary especially when my parents advised me, at the age of 18, that they had picked out a suitable husband for me and we were to be wed in six months just before setting out on a mission to Angola. When Jacob was invited to dinner to meet his prospective bride, I thought I would be ill; he was at least twenty years my senior and a gaunt foul smelling creature.
I suffered through the dinner and then excused myself to go to my room, ostensibly to study my Bible and pray. I needed to get away from that terrible man. As I ran up the stairs and paused to listen at the top, I heard my parents and Jacob planning the wedding and the immediate departure on the mission. My God, I thought, what am I to do?
That night, I tossed and turned but couldn't sleep; I came to the realization around 2:00 am that my only hope was to escape from under my families control before it became worse. I bided my time for a couple of months, secreting away the few paltry dollars I made working in the mercantile store in our little town just off the main highway. Even though I could hear the noise of traffic on the freeway so close at night, it might as well as been a world away. I suppose, in fact, it was.
Finally, I made the choice one stormy night. As usual, after evening prayers, my family retired for the night by 9:30 pm. I waited for two hours until I was sure my parents were asleep and then slipped silently out the back door with my meager belongings stuffed in a pillow case (we never traveled so we had no suitcases) and $87 in my pocket. I left a note on the kitchen table simply saying goodbye and that I couldn't live this life any longer. I told them I loved them and would be in touch when I found my way.
The wind was brisk and tore at my thin coat as I made my way to the bustling highway. Since I knew nothing of the world, I simply started to walk in a randomly chosen direction along the side of the relatively quiet road. At this hour there was little traffic and they all whizzed by without a second glance at me.
After a few miles and two hours or so (I guessed) of walking, it started to rain and I was soon shivering with the cold as I became soaked o the skin. I looked for some shelter and saw an elm tree right beside the road so I crawled as close to the trunk as possible and under the sheltering branches.
Without realizing it, my body temperature started to fall and I fell into a deep sleep – partially from exhaustion but mostly as hypothermia started to take over. I felt the blackness overpowering and then everything went blank.
Chapter Two:
The overwhelming heat awoke me; my vision was blurred so it was as if my eyes were coated with some kind of film. However, I felt cocooned in warm blankets and couldn't move my arms or legs. I drifted in and out of consciousness several times until I heard quiet footfalls and then the settling of the mattress as someone sat beside me. I struggled to open my eyes only to hear a soft southern drawl "Easy, Cher" as a warm face cloth covered my eyes. "Try to rest some more; you had a close brush with death and need your rest" I drifted off again.
When I next regained consciousness, the room was quiet and only the light of the full moon through partially drawn sheer drapes lit my surroundings. I tried to rise only to collapse on the floor with a thud. Quickly, footsteps sounded in the hall outside my room and the door flew open to reveal the silhouette of a tall willowy creature haloed by the light behind.
"Cher" she said in a husky voice for it was surely a woman. "You shouldn't be trying to walk so soon. You are still very weak."
I managed to rasp out, my throat very, very dry. "Who are you? Where am I" I was very frightened!
"You are safe, Cher. My name is Tamara Thornhill and you are safe in my home"
"How...how long have I been here? And how did I get here" I questioned, more confused than ever.
"I'll answer the last question first. I was driving home in a huge storm and barely saw a sodden bundle of rags next to the old elm tree a few miles before I reached home. I almost didn't stop – it was the middle of the night". As she spoke, strong arms were lifting me back onto the comfort of the big soft bed and covering me with a warm comforter. "As to how long you have been here, well Cher, you have been tossing and turning in a near coma for almost two months now"
