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Francine Rivers - The Last Sin Eater

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Francine Rivers The Last Sin Eater
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The Last Sin Eater
Francine Rivers
Acknowledgments

God has blessed me with a wonderful family and many friends who have been consistently supportive and encouraging. My husband, Rick; my agent, Jane Jordan Browne; and my editor, Karen Ball, have been heavily involved in seeing me through each project. Thank you for always being there.

Peggy Lynch: Thank you for listening to me and asking the hard questions that make me think more deeply.

Liz and Bill Higgs: Thank you for sending a box of resource materials!

Loveknotters: Thank you for listening, advising, sharing, and praying.

7 Author's Note
The sin eater was a person who was paid a feeorgiven food to take upon himself the moral trespasses of the deceased and their consequences in the afterlife. Sin eaters were common in the early nineteenth century in gland the Lowlands of Scotland, and the Welsh border district. This custom was carriedoverby immigrants to the Americas andpracticed inremote areas of the Appalachian

Mountains.

This is a purelyfictional story of one such person.

And Aaron shall cast lots upon the two goats; one lot for the Lord, and the other lot for the scapegoat. And Aaron shall bring the goat upon which the Lord's lot fell, and offer him for a sin offering. But the goat, on which the lot fell to be the scapegoat, shall be presented alive before the Lord, to make an atonement with him, and to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness.

LEVITCUS 16:8-10

"Iam the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

9 One
Great Smoky Mountains, mid-1850s

The first time I saw the sin eater was the night Granny Forbes was carried to her grave. I was very young and Granny my dearest companion and I was greatly troubled in my mind.

"Dunna look at the sin eater, Cadi," I'd been told

by my pa. " And no be asking why.

Being so grievously forewarned, I tried to obey. Mama said I was acurst with curiosity. Papa said it was pure cussed nosiness. Only Granny, with her tender spot for me, had understood.

Even the simplest queries were met withresistance . When you're older.... It's none of your business.... Why are you asking such a foolquestion? The summer before Granny died I had stopped asking questions of anyone. I reckoned if I were ever going to find answers, I'd have to go looking for myself.

Granny was the only one who seemed to understand my mind. She always said I had

10 Ian Forbes's questing spirit. He was my grandfather, and Granny said that spirit drove him across the sea. Then again, maybe that was not the whole truth because she said another time it was the Scotland clearances that did it.
Papa agreed about that, telling me Grandfather was driven off his land and herded onto a boat to America so sheep could have pasture. Or so he was told, though I could never make sense of it. How could animals have more value than men? As for Granny, she was the fourth daughter of a poor Welsh tinker and had no prospects. Coming to America wasn't a matter of choice. It was one of necessity. When she first come, she worked for a wealthy gentleman in a grand house in Charleston, tending the pretty, frail wife he had met, married, and brought over from Caerdydd.

It was the wife who took such a liking to Granny. As a Welshwoman herself, the young missus was longing for home. Granny was young then, seventeen to her recollection. Unfortunately, she didn't work for them long, as the lady died in childbirth and took her wee babe with her. The gentleman didn't have further need of a lady's maid - and what services he did want rendered Granny refused to provide. She'd never say

11 what they were, only that the man released her from her contract and left Granny to her own devices in the dead of winter.
Times were very hard. She took whatever work she could find to keep body and soul together and met my grandfather while doing so. She married Ian Forbes "despite his disposition." Never having met my grandfather, I couldn't judge her remark on his behalf, but I heard my uncles laughing once about his high temper. Uncle Robert said Grandfather stood on the front porch and shot at Papa, not once, but twice in quick succession. Fortunately, he had been drunk at the time and Papa quick on his feet, or I never would have been born.

Grandfather Forbes died of a winter long before I was born. A heavy storm had come, and he lost his way home. Where he had been, Granny didn't say. It was one of the things that frustrated me most, only hearing part of the story and not the whole. It was left to me to piece it all together and took years in the doing. Some of it is best not told.

When asked why she had married such a fierce man, Granny said, "He had eyes blue as a dusky sky, dearie. You have 'em, Cadi, my love, same as your papa does. And you've Ian's soul hunger, God help you."

12 Granny wasever saying things beyond my ken. "Papa says I take after you."
She rubbed her knuckles lightly against my cheek. "You do, well enow." Her smile had been sad. "Hopefully not in all ways." She would say no more on the subject. Seemed some questions didn't bear answering.

The morning she died, we were just sitting and looking out over the hollow. She had leaned back in her chair, rubbing her arm as though it was paining her. Mama was moving around inside the house. Granny drew in her breath with a grimace and then looked at me. "Give your mama time."

How four words could hurt. They brought to mind all that had been before and what had caused the wall between Mama and me. Some things can't be changed or undone.

Even at my young age, after a mere ten years of living, the future stretched bleakly out ahead of me. Resting my head against Granny's knee, I said nothing and took what solace I could in her sweet presence, not guessing that even that would soon be taken from me. And if I could go back now and change things so that I would not have lived through such a time of desolation, would I? No. For God had his hand upon me before I

13 knew who he was or even that he was.
In the last year I had learned tears did no good. Some pain is just too deep. Grief can't be dissolved like rain washing dust off a roof. Sorrow knows no washing away, no easing ... no end of time.

Granny laid her hand upon my head and began stroking me like I was one of the hounds that slept under our porch. I liked it. Some days I wished I was one of them hounds Papa loved so much. Mama never touched me anymore, nor Papa either. They didn't speak much to one another, and even less to me. Only my brother, Iwan, showed me affection, though not often. He had too much to do helping Papa with the farm. What little time he had left over was spent in mooning over Cluny Byrnes.

Granny was my only hope, and she was slipping away.

"I love you, my dear. You remember that when winter comes and everything seems cold and dead. It won't stay that way forever."

Winter had come upon Mama's heart last summer, and she was still a frozen wasteland where I was concerned.

"Spring beauties used to grow like a lavender blanket at Bearwallow. If I could wish for one thing, it would be for a bouquet of spring beauties."

14 Granny was ever saying the same thing: If I could wish for one thing... Her wishes kept me busy, not that I did not delight in them. She was too old to go far afield. Further I ever seen Granny walk was to Elda Kendric's house, she being our closest neighbor and near as old as Granny herself. Yet Granny's mind could travel across oceans and over mountains and valleys, and often did so for my sake. It was Granny who pointed me to forgotten paths and treasure haunts it would have taken me longer to discover on me own. It was for her pleasure I hunted hither and yon in our high mountains to collect her precious bits of memories. And it got me away from the house - and Mama's grief and rejection of me.
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