Jemimah sat in bed, listening to the sounds of the Turnbull family beginning their day’s activities, awkwardly reluctant to go through and join them.

She’d woken some time ago, feeling fragile and washed out. The dark hopelessness of the preceding weeks had finally been penetrated by gospel light, but the stark illumination of the ugliness of her heart left her painfully raw.

Despite feeling like an intruder, she’d borrowed Angie’s Bible from the shelf and read with an aching heart the last few chapters in each of the gospels about Christ’s crucifixion, Peter’s denial and restoration. Then, in tears, she had sought God again in prayer.

She knew she was forgiven in God - and most importantly justified by Christ’s own righteousness - but the bitter experience of discovering she was not the rock-solid Christian she’d thought herself to be cut deeply. It was shattering to have discovered that when God removed his protective hand to allow even the mildest trials, her faith had faltered.

The only way forward now was to go on following after God, trusting that He would continue to work in her to sanctify her -- after all, He’d always known what she truly was - but how could she face everyone else, knowing what she did now about herself?

What about Peter? How had he felt returning among God’s people? Somehow, by God’s grace, he’d even returned to being a leader of the flock -- given the special commission by Jesus to ‘feed my sheep’. How had Peter gone on after his very public failure in his faith?

Jemimah crumpled the damp tissue in her hand. Weighing heavily on her mind was the need to talk to Bailey and Marlene as soon as possible, to confess her sin and to encourage Bailey to continue speaking to his friends about God. But that would have to wait until the afternoon -- after her morning tea with Leanne.

Her whole motive in arranging the outing with Leanne was to be an encouragement to the younger girl, but what did she have to offer her? Why did she ever think she could be a spiritual leader to her, like the godly older women that had come alongside her in her teens? Not only that, now she didn’t even know how she could keep her commitment to take Leanne out.

She slumped back against the pillows, defeated by the day before it had even started. She’d been marooned at the Turnbull’s before, but never without even her handbag or a single set of clothes. Worse than all the practical problems, though, was her reluctance to face the Turnbulls themselves.

Last night she’d fallen asleep on the way home from town, and Michael had woken her only when they’d arrived. She hadn’t been aware of him ringing home to tell them he was bringing her, but he must have -- Nan had Angie’s bed already prepared for her, with warm flannelette pyjamas heated through from the electric blanket. Apart from a vague exchange of words with Angie, she hadn’t had to talk to anyone, Nan ushering her straight through to bed and sitting with her until she’d settled off.

Now she sat alone in Angie’s room with the weight of everything she’d told Michael on her heart, as well as the disquieting memory of having fallen apart completely when she’d told him. She remembered with dread how desperate she’d been to run -- away from him, away from everything - and how he’d held on to her.

Michael been wonderful, incredible, and when she’d gone to pieces he had looked after Beau, the rescue, everything -- and then looked after her as well. She owed him a massive amount of gratitude, for the spiritual as well as practical help, but while it was only right that he knew the truth about her spiritual state, she was also very sorry that he did.

The phone rang in the other end of the house, and indistinct voices carried on a cheerful conversation. Although she was not hungry, the aroma of toast smelled so very homely that it finally tempted Jemimah out of her self-imposed exile.

She tied the fluffy robe around the borrowed pyjamas, and made an ineffectual attempt to tidy her equally fluffy hair. Why was she even worrying about her pride anymore?

She shook her head at her reflection and quietly made her way down the hall. As she shyly drew open the door to the family room, she looked straight across at Michael where he stood on the far side of the kitchen bar, buttering toast and chatting with Nan.

His face immediately broke into a wide smile. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep alright?”

Jemimah nodded, feeling the heat coming into her cheeks. “Well, thank you.” And then, not being able to think of anything more to do or say, she sat down at the table. Almost immediately though, she realised they might assume she was waiting to be served breakfast, and she quickly stood up and started toward the kitchen.

“No, no -- go sit back down,” Nan met her before she made it to the kitchen. “What would you like? Cereal, or just some toast?”

Jemimah shook her head. “I was just going to get a glass of water ... I’m not really hungry.”

As she was speaking Michael had reached down a glass for her, and filled it from the ‘tank’ tap and now passed it across the bar to her. She smiled her thanks, and sat down on a stool at the bench opposite him.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that Beau is doing very well. Pretty much as Sergeant Beavan said -- he had x-rays last night and a cast put on and they were just keeping him in until this morning. Just a simple fracture -- should be right as rain once it heals.”

“Oh, good,” was all that Jemimah could manage as a new wave of guilt and self-recrimination hit. She’d been so taken up with thinking of herself this morning that she hadn’t even thought to ask after the poor little boy. She was every bit as bad as she’d said last night.

Jemimah glanced up at Michael and Nan then just as quickly looked back down at her glass. There was so much she ought to be saying to the both of them -- at the very least to thank them for everything they’d done the night before - but it seemed beyond her.

“So you’re finally up, now?” Angie’s voice came from the hallway door, and Jemimah turned to see her enter, also dressed in pyjamas and a robe with her hair wet from the shower. “After not getting to see you last night I thought you were going to spend all morning in bed as well.”

Jemimah picked up her glass and went over to the table and sat down in the chair beside the one Angie had just sat down in. “I’m sorry. How did things go with the social night last night?”

“Long and boring. If I’d known you weren’t going to come at all I’d have stayed home.”

“That’s hardly fair -- it’s not like Jemimah planned for one of her kids to go missing,” Michael chided his sister from the kitchen.

“I don’t know why you went and looked for him -- Jemimah could have asked me to help. I would have come.”

Jemimah dropped her head into her hands. Now she’d pit Michael and Angie against each other again. Even though she couldn’t have been more grateful to Michael for his help, it wasn’t like she’d asked him instead of Angie ... but she didn’t feel capable of trying to explain.

“Now don’t you two get started,” Nan intervened. “Why don’t you go and get dressed, Angie?”

“Well, I guess I can now that Jemimah’s up and I can go into my room.”

Under her hands, Jemimah closed her eyes, realising that Angie must have slept in Gabi’s room so Jemimah could have hers. Last night she’d been too befuddled to question it, and now she remembered the fuss she’d made when Nan had tried to put her in Michael’s room on a previous visit. Nan obviously remembered her saying she didn’t want to sleep in anyone’s room without them knowing ... which led to last night’s switch around, when she could so easily have slept in Gabi’s room and not put Angie out. But yet again, there was nothing she could say to not make things even worse.

She heard the hall door close behind Angie, and a moment later Jemimah felt Nan’s hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Angie,” Nan told her, and then Jemimah heard Michael’s chuckle from the kitchen.

“I think Jemimah must know by now not to take anything personally that Angie says before ten in the morning.”

Despite everything, Jemimah couldn’t help but smile at his comment. She’d had first-hand experience of that while Angie had been staying with her recently. She’d been a wonderful support -- but not first thing in the morning.

“Anyway, Jemimah, I’ve got you into the doctors’ at Narrabri for eleven o’clock this morning.”

Jemimah looked up at Michael in stunned shock.

“I’m sorry if I should have checked with you first -- but I knew if I didn’t ring first thing when they opened you mightn’t have been able to see anyone until next week. You don’t already have another doctor up here, do you?”

Jemimah shook her head, trying frantically to figure out how to deal with a doctor’s appointment on top of everything else. She couldn’t.

“Michael told me what you said about drinking from the creek a few weeks ago,” Nan added, “And I think he’s right about you probably having picked up something from the water. The sooner you have that sorted, the better.”

“And I also mentioned to the clinic nurse I was concerned that you’d been hypothermic last night, so they can make sure everything is okay with that, now.”

“What do you mean ... hypothermic?” Jemimah asked.

Michael leant forward on his arms on the kitchen bar. “You know how you were very cold last night? I think you went way beyond just cold to hypothermia, where it can become quite serious. It was affecting your functioning - your ability to speak, to walk, to think clearly.”

Jemimah looked down at the table in mortification. Her memory of a lot of last night was hazy, but it sounded as though she had acted far worse than she’d realised.

“I still think Sergeant Beavan missed the obvious,” Michael went on, “but you were probably in the same condition after the last night you spent wet and cold in the bush -- which might explain why he thought you were affected by drugs when he picked you up. I guess I can’t be too hard on him since I missed the obvious signs too, until you were probably quite dangerously cold. I’m still kicking myself for that.”

“At least you did all the right things once you did realise,” Nan said. “Got her warmed up, changed into dry clothes. All that sugary food and hot tea probably didn’t harm either.”

“Oh, no,” Jemimah put her hand to her mouth, the memory returning of Michael buying out the whole of the cake stall leftovers. “Michael, I am so sorry. I can’t believe I made you buy those cakes! That’s just awful! I don’t know what I was thinking ...”

Michael laughed, a beautiful resonant sound that somehow moderated the worst of her shame. “Don’t give it a thought -- I knew perfectly well you weren’t quite yourself. It was just a good excuse to indulge myself with a whole take-away patisserie.”

“Indulge yourself with what?” Angie demanded as she returned to the room.

“With an excess of chocolate, cream and sugar, dear sister. And I’m even prepared to share. Go and have a look in the fridge.”

Even Jemimah had to smile at Angie’s sudden animation as she crossed the room to the fridge.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed a moment later from the depths of the fridge. “It must be time for morning tea. Put the kettle on, Michael -- but don’t you dare put my milk in first. You’ll have some Jemimah?” Angie asked as she unloaded several plates of slices and cakes onto the table.

Jemimah looked at the nearest plate still with several pieces of a cherry-ripe style slice and felt the first flickerings of appetite.

“I’m sure it’s a terrible thing to have for breakfast, but I think I will, thank you.”

Michael grinned. “Good. I’ll make you a cuppa too. Milk in first.” He emphasised the last point to his sister, who merely rolled her eyes at him and applied herself to a crème puff.

When Michael brought Jemimah’s tea over a few minutes later, she said quietly, “Thank you for making the doctor’s appointment, Michael -- but I don’t know how I can manage it. My car is still at school ... and I think ... were my keys locked in my classroom?”

“Yes. But I’ve been onto Mrs Clark, and she’s been in contact with the cleaner who’s going to lend me her keys so we can get your bag out without having to break into anything.”

“Thank you.” Jemimah nodded slowly, still trying to work it all out. “But I’ve promised Leanne Anderson I’d take her out for morning tea at a café in Narrabri this morning, it’s her birthday tomorrow-”

“What? You’re going into Narrabri? How come you didn’t tell me?” Angie said around a mouth full of crème puff.

“We arranged it the weekend you were in Sydney--”

“You should be able to do both,” Michael said, sitting down with his own cup of tea and plate of cake. “I’m sure Leanne won’t mind waiting while you see the doctor and --”

“Leanne and I can have a look in the shops while you have your appointment--” Angie began.

Jemimah closed her eyes again. It all seemed tangled beyond reason. She saw the sense in going to the doctor, but this was meant to be a special occasion for Leanne. And Angie was already assuming she would come along, but Jemimah had wanted it to be a time just with her and Leanne, so they could talk ... the last thing she’d had in mind was for Leanne to feel like she was just a tag-a-long.

But that was far from her only problem ... she looked up in frustration.

“But I can’t go anywhere in Nan’s pyjamas!”

“You could wear what you wore home last night,” Michael suggested.

Jemimah’s mouth dropped open as she remembered the odd assortment of abandoned school uniforms. She looked up at him in horror, just in time to see him try to suppress a cheeky smile behind his hand.

Nan flicked him with a tea-towel. “Don’t torment the poor girl, Mikey.” She then turned to Jemimah, saying, “He’s already sorted that out. The Hart’s will put a spare key under your door mat so you can change on your way to get Leanne.”

“Thank you,” Jemimah murmured, but she still couldn’t make the logistics work. She had to get keys to her classroom, to get the keys to her car, then to home, then Leanne’s -- but she needed to get home to get changed first before she could get the keys to her classroom ...

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “I just can’t see that I will have time to do all the back and forwards to change and then get my keys and--”

“No, no - I’m going to get your keys,” Michael glanced at his watch and rose from the table. “My idea is that you forget about everything else except getting what you need from home and then taking Leanne to Narrabri. Hopefully by the time you get back, I should have your keys and you’ll be right to take your car home.”

He seemed to be omitting one major detail, Jemimah thought in confusion, and that was how she was going to get anywhere without her car. Before she could say anything, Angie leaned back in her chair and threw a challenging look at her brother, “Since we’ll have Leanne, too -- how about we take your car, Michael?”

He met Angie’s gaze directly for a few moments, then nodded. “That works.”

Jemimah began to feel something akin to claustrophobia as all the arrangements tightened like a net around her before she had any time to figure it out. It seemed to make sense, and yet ...

“But, Michael, I don’t want you to spend your day off chasing around for my keys ... and if we have your car...”

He smiled warmly. “It’s no problem at all. I’ve got to go into town anyway to meet Sergeant Beavan and the bloke who’s coming for the cattle. And it makes more sense for me to take Dad’s ute. Anyway, I’d better go and get organised.”

“And if we’re heading off to Narrabri I’m going to change into something else. You could have said something before I got dressed, Jemimah!” Angie rolled her eyes at Jemimah and went back to her room.

In the sudden vacuum following the exit of Michael and Angie, Jemimah looked across to Nan, who was still finishing her own cup of tea.

“Would you mind if I phoned Leanne -- and just check that the change of plans is okay with her?”

“Certainly, sweetheart,” Nan said. “Why don’t you take the phone through to the living room so you don’t get interrupted?”

Jemimah thanked her, and took up her suggestion of going through to the empty room. She sat down on the couch, trying to sort out her thoughts before calling. It wasn’t at all what she had planned with Leanne -- but it really couldn’t be helped. Apart from not wanting to offend Angie, realistically with her car keys locked up, she couldn’t do it all without her help.

Leanne wasn’t in the house when Jemimah rang, but Karen Anderson’s response relieved most of her qualms. She explained that after hearing about what had happened with Jemimah being out in the bush with Beau last night, Leanne had resigned herself to accepting their morning tea would not be going ahead -- and would be thrilled to hear it was. Karen would let her daughter know that Angie had offered to do the driving and keep Leanne company while Jemimah went to the doctors, and overall left Jemimah with the sense of one burden at least being removed from her shoulders.

She remained where she was for a few minutes after she hung up. Perhaps Angie coming along was God’s providence for something she’d never really been equipped for anyway? After what had happened over the last couple of weeks she no longer had any illusions that she’d be of any encouragement to Leanne.

But what about tomorrow -- and her testimony to the church? And what about Jarrah and Mitch? How could Jemimah stand up and say what a change God had made in her life when the truth was so very different? She may have the assurance that like Peter, she was forgiven and accepted by God’s grace, but she could hardly hold herself up as an example to emulate -- or any kind of advertisement for Christianity.

There was a noise at the archway at the far end of the room and Jemimah looked up, catching a glimpse of Pastor Turnbull as he closed the door of his study behind him.

Jemimah drew a deep breath, and called out to him. He smiled as he spotted her, and walked over to her.

“Hello there, Jemimah. How are you doing this morning?”

“All right, thank you,” she answered automatically, her mind still churning over her predicament.

He took a seat in the armchair beside the sofa.

“And how are you really doing?”

His repeated question made Jemimah look down guiltily. She shrugged. “Not so good.”

“How so?”

“I don’t think I should go ahead with my testimony tomorrow,” she said, but even as she spoke the words she wondered if it would be an even worse witness to Mitch and Jarrah to pull out. What kind of message would that send?

“And why is that?”

Jemimah swallowed. Before she could lose her courage, she told him everything she had told Michael -- about her bitterness to God, her lack of faith and her attempt to stop Bailey from telling Beau about God.

“And last night, seeing Beau reaching out to God like that -- knowing that I’d tried to keep him from hearing any more about God just to make things easier for myself,” Jemimah said, blinking back the tears.

“You have had a rough time of it these past few weeks, haven’t you?”

Jemimah shook her head, warding off his sympathy. “It’s not like it’s been real persecution or any real hardship like some people experience -- and I failed at even this least testing of my faith. I thought God was abandoning me, now I can see He was with me the whole time. There was something Michael said, about how sometimes God allows things to be hard, not to crush us -- which is how I felt - but so that we can grow in godliness. And I can see that now. But I should have trusted God anyway.”

“So you talked to Michael about this last night?”

“Yes,” she said, dropping her head into her hands as she remembered spilling out the whole sorry tale of her misery to him. “There was a lot of time while we were waiting with Beau.”

“And what did Michael think about what you told him?”

Jemimah didn’t answer straight away. Last night she’d thought he was only dismissing the gravity of her sin because she was so upset, but even this morning he’d continued to treat her with the same friendliness as ever.

“He thought I was being too hard on myself,” she admitted reluctantly, not wanting to play down the seriousness of her failings. “But he reminded me that even if my sin was as great as Peter’s in denying Jesus, that if there was forgiveness for Peter there certainly would be for me.”

“And do you believe that?”

Jemimah nodded. “Yes, yes I do. I know God’s mercy washes away my sin -- but I’m so ashamed of myself.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to give your testimony tomorrow?”

She nodded again, pulling a tissue from her pocket and pressing it to her eyes.

“But isn’t that what your testimony is, Jemimah? That you are a sinner relying on God’s mercy and forgiveness?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But I didn’t think I’d be in this state after being a Christian so long.”

“Do you think any Christian ever gets beyond being a sinner relying on God’s mercy and grace,” Pastor Turnbull challenged her gently. “Publicly professing your faith and joining the church is not something that waits until you’ve ‘arrived’ as a Christian -- none of us ever ‘arrive’ until we arrive at heaven -- but it’s the admission that you are a repentant sinner, saved by grace alone through faith in Christ. And that’s why joining a local church is so important, precisely because you are a sinner in need of grace. And the feeding and oversight and fellowship of the church is one of the vital means of grace which God gives to believers.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that. I just thought it wasn’t fair to put myself forward to join the church when I know what I’m really like.”

“Then you are just like the rest of us poor blighters -- called to serve God and love and encourage one another despite all our sins and weaknesses. Not only do I think you need the church, but the church needs you -- every member of the body plays an important part, no matter how weak or failing they feel that they are.”

Jemimah nodded. She knew it was true in principle, but it was one thing to accept the forbearance of God with her weaknesses, but another to accept it from other people. She’d never considered she had a whole lot to offer the church -- but now more than ever she felt more like a liability to the church than any kind of asset.

“And Jarrah and Mitch -- two of the young people I run with -- are planning to come. Jamie Hart asked them.”

“Well, good on Jamie. That will be great to have them along.”

“I feel like I’m hardly a good advertisement for Christianity at the moment.”

“But that’s Jesus’ job, isn’t it? Anyway, if you want to give people the idea that the Christian life is all sunshine and roses they’re going to find out for themselves that the reality is not what they signed up for. After all, as it says in Acts: ‘it is through much tribulation that we enter the kingdom of God’.”

Pastor Turnbull patted her shoulder as he stood up. “I know you’re feeling sorry for yourself, Jemimah -- Ah! I surprised you with that, did I? But I honestly don’t believe you have anything to gain in putting off joining the church until you’ve managed to make yourself feel better about yourself. It’s a downhill road from here, I’m afraid, because the more we learn of the holiness and perfection of God the worse we realise we are -- not better. If you really feel you’re not ready to go ahead tomorrow, that’s perfectly fine and we’ll postpone it, but if you’re tempted to put it off because you think you’re not good enough, then you’re listening to the wrong message. Our church is very glad to welcome you as part of our family, and to help each other along the journey -- not to expect that you’ve already arrived. Okay, lass?”

Jemimah nodded. “Thank you. And ... and I’m sorry for making such a big fuss over all this.”

“Not at all,” he said warmly, smiling down at her. “Now, I was on my way through to make a cup of tea for myself. Will you join me?”

Feeling as though a good portion of the burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Jemimah followed him to the kitchen. Just as Pastor Turnbull began to pour, the screen door slammed behind Michael as he came back inside.

“Huh! I swear you can hear the kettle boil from clear across country, son,” Pastor Turnbull said, getting down another cup for Michael.

“Oh, no -- don’t tempt me, Dad -- I’m already meant to be on my way into town.” Michael turned to Jemimah, pulling out his wallet. “I just realised with your handbag locked up in your classroom, you probably need some money to tide you over.”

His thoughtfulness and practical concern touched her heart with warmth, and she felt her cheeks colouring. She thanked him, but explained she kept spare money at home in case of emergencies, so she would be fine.

“Terrific,” he smiled warmly at her and looked back up to his dad. “Well, I’m off then.”

“See you when you get back, son.”

Michael opened the door and then turned back to Jemimah. “I hope everything goes well for you this morning, Jem. I’ll look forward to catching up with you this afternoon.”

Jem. The single syllable sang in her ears even as the screen door shut behind him. So that part of her hazy memories of last night had been real.

“He’s certainly bright this morning, isn’t he?” Pastor Turnbull mused, bringing their cups through to the table.

Sure that her very thoughts were written across her glowing face, Jemimah didn’t dare answer, and was relieved that Angie chose that very moment to bluster into the room.

“Are you having another cuppa, Jemimah? I thought you were worried about the time.”

Jemimah stood while quickly drinking her tea, grateful for the offered escape. “Yes, you’re right. We had better go.”

She thanked Pastor Turnbull for the tea and as she turned to the door she could have sworn she saw his eyes twinkle as if some private joke had passed between the two of them.