Erabbing onto a chair to keep from falling, Charlisse slowly lowered herself into it and began breathing deeply, trying to settle her tattered nerves and stop the room from spinning. For the baby's sake, she must remain calm. She must put her trust in God. But what if Merrick truly believed she was dead? What if he did not search for her? No one knew where she was. Panic pierced her heart, and she placed a hand over her chest, and bowed her head. She tried to pray but could find no words to utter, save Why?
The creaking of a chair broke through her dismal thoughts. She had forgotten she was not alone. Eyes brimming with tears met hers.
"My name is Isabel." The woman wiped her face, sniffed, and tucked an auburn curl back into her bun.
Guilt showered Charlisse at her selfishness. "As I'm sure you heard, I'm Charlisse." Isabel's tear-streaked face carried a roundness around the edges. "Why, you poor dear. You are just a girl."