“There are flowers among the weeds; innocent among the guilty”
“There are flowers among the weeds; innocent among the guilty”To free the mind of one worry, one must introduce another.
It was an illogical supposition, but it was the only one Mattea could think of to relieve her mind of thoughts of him and his touch upon her body.
She had cooked for her mama upon her return, as promised. Concetta now dozed over embroidery haphazardly done with fingers grown knobby with age. Mattea felt certain she could bring out her sketches without fear of discovery.
One foot into her room and Mattea sank to her knees, moving so quickly she slid a bit, straight toward the guardaroba that held her meager selection of gowns. Most were plain and showed signs of wear. Those boasting some style—style long o
