Courting Emma (Little Hickman Creek Series #3) (38 page)

"I plotted how I'd march into Guttersnipe's, drag him away
from whichever barroom girl he was coned up to, and I'd haul
him out to the middle of the street where we'd be in plain view.
I wanted everyone to watch while I did the act."

His words chilled her blood, and she couldn't help but
look at him again. His gaze had rested on something straight
ahead.

"But God had His hand on nie in the form of Reverend
Miller," he continued. "As soon as he heard about the ordeal,
he rode out to my place. He found me in the sorriest state I'd ever been in." He looked only a little sheepish. "By the time
he arrived, I'd already torn the inside of our house to smithereens, ripped pictures off the walls, shredded my pa's clothing,
broke dishes, ripped curtains off the windows, broke furniture
with my bare hands. I mean, you want to see rage," he gave a
slow nod, "that was a boy mad enough to kill.

"I remember Reverend Miller found a place to sit in a
corner of the room to wait it out with nie. Just sat there straightfaced and calm as a cat in the summer sun. He listened to inc
rant until finally I fell exhausted on the floor. That's when lie
got up, came over, knelt down beside me, and said, `You're
coming with me. The Callahans want you.'

"`The Callahans want rue?' I asked. It was the first time
I'd ever heard words like that. Someone wanted mne. He said,
`Yeah, they sent me out here to tell you to pack all your things.
You're goin' to live with them.' I couldn't believe it. Besides
Ben Broughton, Rocky Callahan was the best friend I'd ever
had. And I was going to live with his family.

"You might say they saved my life. They showed me God's
love in action. I would expect Reverend Miller to show me
God's love-but an entire family?

"It wasn't long afterward I gave my heart and soul to Jesus
Christ, asked Him to reign over my life, give me a purpose.
That family's unconditional love sent nre straight to the cross,
Emilia, gave me hope for the future, made nre realize I wasn't
alone in this world.

"I can't say it was a happy-ever-after ending, though."
He turned his gaze back to her, and in his eyes, she caught
a glimpse of moistness. "I never made amends with my pa,
although I tried. He wouldn't talk to me after I moved in with
the Callahans. It was as if the hate in him increased a hundredfold. I wanted to show hire Christ's love the way the Callahans had me, but lie wouldn't have it. His life took a steep, downward spiral after that.

"He died eighteen months later, a spiteful, embittered
soul."

Jon shook his head, and Emma couldn't help it; she drew
her hand out from under the blanket and placed it on his arm.
A ripple of muscle moved beneath her hand, sending a nip
straight to her bones. She'd never touched a man in this way,
with tenderness and compassion, and the knowledge gave her
pause. Jon Atkins did amazing things to her emotions. Compassion such as she'd never known welled up inside until a
single tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another-and
then another. She sniffed and raised the blanket to her face to
swipe at the wetness.

Jon moved an arni around her shoulder and tugged her
close. "Ali, Emma," he murmured in her ear. "What have I
done? I didn't mean to make you cry."

It seemed that once the flow of tears commenced there
was no stopping then. Hard and hot, they racked her from
the inside out. She gulped, trying to stave them off, but the
harder she tried, the faster they fell. Then came the choking
sobs, worsened only by Jon's comforting arms that now both
encircled her, drawing her close to his hard chest. "Let them
out, sweet Emma."

His soft words didn't help, for she only cried harder. What
was wrong with her? Why couldn't she get a grip on her conflicting feelings? And what had brought them on, Jon's sad
story, so similar in nature to her own that it seemed to break
her heart in two, or was it that this gripping, unforgiving spirit
she'd buried deep inside her might never dig its way out? Jon
seemed so at peace with his world, even though lie had every
right to be resentful. She was so angry, but no longer knew if she had the right. Sure, she'd been abused, but hadn't a million other kids like her suffered worse things? At least Miss
Abbott had loved her-enough to set her up for the rest of her
life. Of that, she should be eternally thankful. Wasn't it time
she let go of the hateful spirit she carried for Ezra Browning?

Oh, it was all so confusing.

A light kiss on her cheek and then her temple turned her
to mush. She wasn't accustomed to such tenderness, and the
fact that the preacher himself was showing it to her melted her
very core.

Oh, Lord, she whispered inwardly, I want what Jon has. What
do I have to do to get it?

Yet while the question lingered in her heart, she kept it
hidden from the one person who could give her the answer.

momma," he whispered. There was no help for it; when she
turned her face toward hint, he trailed tiny kisses down
the length of it, partaking of her delicate scent along the way,
trembling with rapturous pleasure.

Her lips were full and waiting when he kissed them,
salty tears mixing with their savory taste. His heart pounded
through his chest until he thought it would burst the buttons
on his chambray shirt. Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord ...I've wanted this for
so long. I love her, Lord. I love her.

My ways are perfect, My son. Do not rush My will. Give Me time
to reveal Myself to her.

The hazy piece of reasoning sought to swim to the surface,
but he kept pushing it back, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to break off this precious nionient.

Rejecting the nudge, verse after verse of Scripture started
plowing through his senses even as his mouth gently meshed
with hers.

As for God, His way is perfect: the word of the Lord is
tried.. .the secret of the Lord is with them that fear Him, and
He will show them His covenant... commit thy way unto the
Lord, and He shall bring it to pass ...I delight to do thy will,
oh my God: yea, thy law is within my heart.

With great reluctance, Jon stopped the kiss and cut loose a
weary sigh. It couldn't be helped; there was no turning off the
resounding voice of God.

Holding Emma at arm's length, he looked full into her face
where fresh tears still rolled freely down her rosebud cheeks. Cupping her face on either side, he wiped their wetness with
the pads of both thumbs. She looked confused, to say the least,
maybe even a little dumbfounded, and who could blame her?
Blast if he wasn't speechless himself! How did he explain to
her why he'd kissed her like that then suddenly pulled away?
She would never understand the wrongness of it, even though
he himself had sensed it with untold certainty.

Truth was, until she made her peace with God, broke free of
her own spitefulness toward her father, he couldn't allow himself
the luxury of her kisses. Nor could he trust himself to be alone
with her. And the worst of it was that he'd done all he could to
point her to the Father. The rest remained with her. Otherwise,
he'd always question the earnestness of her decision.

When she came to Jesus, he wanted her to cone of her
own accord-not because he'd pushed her into making a decision to ask Him into her heart.

He dropped his hands to his lap and moved away from
her. It wasn't hard to miss the tight little gasp that blew past
her lips. He wanted to explain himself but couldn't find the
words, couldn't even look her in the eye quite yet.

As if on cue, Luke's mangy brown dog sauntered up the
porch steps, his droopy ears looking as if they needed scratching. Somewhere along the way Jon wasn't sure just whenthe mutt had managed to finagle his way into the household,
as had the ginger-colored cat named Miss Tabitha.

"Hey, No-name," he mumbled for lack of anything better
to say. The dog rubbed against his knee, a silent invitation for
attention. Jon massaged his flea-bitten ear.

Emma stood to her feet, the impact of her sudden movement rocking the swing. "Well," she said with cool curtness,
brushing down her skirt before swabbing her remaining tears
with the end of her sleeve. "I feel foolish."

"What? No, you shouldn't. I-I can explain."

She raised a hand to put a halt to his next words, her throat
sounding clogged and full with emotion. "No need. What just
happened, well, don't worry 'bout it happenin' again. I saw
your regret. Yo're probably kickin' yourself two ways to Brooklyn 'bout now, you bein' the preacher an' all."

"No! Listen, I...."

"It was plain silly of me to cry like that. For gracious sakes,
I don't know what got into me, but I'm over it. Yes, I am."

She swiveled on her heel and headed for the door.

"Eninia, wait a minute. We should talk."

She paused, hand on the doorknob. "I don't need your
sympathy, Jon Atkins. I can manage just fine without it."

So that was it, then. She was back to her stubborn, contrary self.

"Cone and sit back down," he urged again. "We can talk
this out."

But the door closed behind her, and none too gently,
before he had time to manage another word.

No-name gave him a droopy eyed, if not scathing, look.
"I've blown it, haven't I, buddy?"

Dear Grace,

I thank you for the letter that came today. Since I can't
sleep anyways, nows a good time to reply. Besides I'm feeling an azi ful need to talk to a woman, which don't happen
that offen to me. I did something mighty foolish tonight
concerning a man, and I don't need to tell you how imba-
ra,ssed its made me feel. And here's what it is-I let him
kiss me. It don't make sense because I never have let a man do that before, and I don't think it came off too pleasant for
him since he had the azifulest scowl on his face afterward.
To make matters worse, he is the preacher. (Did I tell you
the preacher lives at my boardinhouse?) He's a very nice
man and I know he's sorry now for given me false hope. I
ashurred him it won't happen again.

Well, you'll be glad to know my pa is livin' in my spare
room. Jon-that's the preacher-talked me into bringin
him here because he's so sick. I'm praying God will somhow
give me strength. My pa's not an easy man. I did just come
across that verse in the Bible that says with God, all things
are possible, so that gave me some hope.

I was plain thrilled to learn I had a cousin. Maybe somday
you and me can meet. Wouln't that be somthing? You could
stay right in my room if you ever chose to visit. But Chicago is
a long ways away so don't feel oblegated. (I wish I was a better
speller. That wasn't my best class in school.)

Is your mother's name Edith becuse I know now that
Ezra wrote letters to Edith and she wrote back? How do you
know Clara Abbott? Could you tell me this ;
stuff the next time you write?

Who were the people who rased my father? Didn't he
have his own parents?

I'm sorry for my pore writing. Yours is always so pretty
and straight. My lines seem to go evey which way that its a
plane out shame you have to try decifer it.

But I'm glad I found you-or you found me. It's nice to
know I have a cousin.

Love,

Emma

P.S. Write back!

P.S. again-I'm reading that book ofJohn all over again
and it seems to be makeing more sense to me the second time
around. And I found another book called the Psalms that is
just plain comficrting. I do think I want to learn more about
God even though I never give it much thought before now.