Free The Coming Storm by Tracie Peterson

like that,” Dianne said, mulling the words over. She could only have faith that Cole would return—it was the substance of her hope—the evidence of what she couldn’t see. Her faith in God was often like that. She could see His handiwork, but she couldn’t see Him face to face. That was where faith came in. She had faith that God existed—that He cared and listened.
    “Me too. I thought about my babies and about how much I want to have children. I thought about our years in captivity and how we used to hope for the day to come when we’d be free. That chapter also talks about how some of those folks—Abraham and Sarah, for example—died in faith, not even having received the promises. But they’d seen them down the road and were confident of them—confident of God’s ability to make them come to pass.” She paused for a moment, then spoke more softly.
    “I didn’t realize some of the sin I’d harbored in my heart.”
    Dianne looked at her in confusion. “You? I’ve never seen you be anything but loving and giving—always pointing others toward the Lord.”
    Faith shook her head. “But in my heart, I held bitterness. It was hard for me to take help from white folks. I figured I’d lived at the mercy of white folks all my life. I know Malachi felt the same way. You have no idea how hard it was for him to come here—to ask for help. But if we hadn’t, we would have died . . . and all for the sake of pride.”
    “I had no idea you felt that way.”
    Faith met her gaze, and the pain in her heart was evident in 8 her expression. “You don’t know what it’s like, so I can’t blame you. We used to dream of the day we could walk about free. We whispered about it at night, like white folks whisper about presents on Christmas morning. We prayed for freedom—for the chains of oppression to be broken. We prayed for prosperity and a chance to prove ourselves worthy of freedom.”
    Dianne held back from saying anything. Faith was absolutely right. She didn’t know what it was like.
    “When freedom came, no one wanted to be obligated to another white man or woman. We wanted to pick up and leave and be gone. Malachi and I decided to just hightail it out of the war and all that was around us. But we were the lucky ones. Most other black folk had no choice but to stay on where they were. Where would they go? How would they pay their way? Besides, many masters didn’t care about what Mr. Lincoln had to say. They didn’t figure to set anyone free.
    “We were lucky—blessed because the Union needed Malachi’s skills for shoeing and mending their wagons. They even tried to talk him into joining up for the war, but Malachi would have no part of that, and I was mighty glad. My master had given me a bit of money, so when we had enough, we were able to join up on the wagon train. But we were different than most.” She looked away again and this time her voice sounded sad.
    “We came to the promised land—or so we thought. But the promise was for everybody else. The gold was there for those who wanted to put in the back-breaking hours of labor, but then there were folks who stood by happy to steal it away from you once you had it. And of course, there were still the same old attitudes and prejudices. No one trusts a black man to be telling the truth about the gold he’s been robbed of. No one believes a black woman is capable of running a store counter.We sure can’t be hired to teach school, no matter how good we are at reading and writing.”
    “I’m truly sorry, Faith. I had no idea—just like you said,” Dianne felt deeply apologetic. She wished there were a way to wipe away the pain and misery they’d suffered.
    “I have to confess something to you, Dianne,” Faith continued. “I didn’t want to come here.”
    “But why? You know how much I care about you,” Dianne said, genuinely hurt that Faith should feel this way.
    “I know, but I didn’t want to be beholden to another white