Repeated splashing of her face with cold water had no effect on her puffy, bloodshot eyes or her sallow complexion. She buried her face into the soft towel and breathed in the scent of springfresh laundry detergent. Ach, if everything in life could be as utterly lovely as newly washed hand towels and daintily perfumed soaps. She pressed the towel to her eyes as another wave of despair washed over her. To despair is to turn your back on God, Mamma would say. No, true despair was when God turned His back on you. And God had truly abandoned her. She clung to the edge of a cliff with her frail faith, the whipping wind on the verge of blowing her into a black abyss. Her breath came in stutters and spasms, the effects of crying still hanging over her. After the devastating phone call, Shannon and then Maria had slipped into Kate’s room to give her comfort, but she had sent them away. It was impossible to share her pain with anyone, and Maria’s sympathetic reassurances only made things worse.
