“Yes, it was. After Charleston, I went up north. First to Tennessee, then Ohio. I worked as a waitress mostly, because I couldn’t afford schooling.” Harmony had gotten good at skimping on the details when presenting herself to others. She needed to say just enough to get the job, to snag the rental, but never too much. That would only make them suspicious, make them turn her away. For all of Harmony’s misfortunes, she was still a decent person, but folks who hadn’t been in her shoes often missed that small, important point.

“So you were in Ohio until now?” Pastor Adam continued, pushing her along slowly as was his way.

“Gosh, no. I’ve been all over the place. Every time I lost my job for running my mouth, I’d pack up and move again. But I never found a place that felt more like home than Charleston.” She marveled at how her old accent had come back out in full force. In all her travels, she’d never lost her Southern accent but had often adapted it to fit her current region rather than her roots.

“What brings you back now?” The pastor’s questions kept coming, and they were beginning to wear Harmony out.

“This time I wasn’t just running away. I was running from something, too. Or rather someone.” She shouldn’t have said that. It was too much for anyone besides her to know.

The pastor didn’t gasp or suggest she call the police. He merely nodded and said, “But running all the same. Are you here for good now?”

“I can’t say for sure. It’s hard to put down roots when the very nature of your childhood is hopping from one house to the next. It doesn’t take long for my feet to start itching, wanting to journey somewhere new, see what else is out there.” Yes, it was easier to pretend she wanted this life, because that made it easier to accept.

“I hope you find a reason to stay,” the pastor confided. “And if you need any help, I’m happy to provide it. A home, a job, you tell me what you need, and I’ll find a way to deliver. With His help, of course.” He pointed to the ceiling and smiled.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “That means a lot.”

She almost asked if he knew of a room she might rent, but if the last two years had taught her anything, it was that she should depend on herself—and only herself—to get things done.

She’d prayed that Alan would never find her, that he wouldn’t hurt anyone else either, that she could find a way to belong and, like the pastor had said, a reason to stay and make her home in Charleston. She’d asked God to deliver her from the repercussions of her own mistakes, to once again set her free.

But she already felt the walls closing in, moving fast toward the Holy City, trapping her in the only kind of life she’d ever known and erasing any last vestige of hope.