by Amanda Tru
Leo shook his head and threw another pinecone. “That assumes a loving, all-powerful God, and I see no evidence that He works in our lives with the intricate design you describe. It’s a nice fairy tale, but I deal with the reality of my brother and the criminals I arrest every day.”
Emma ran out of words and didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t argue with his experience, and she really had nothing to refute his claims. She, herself, had been struggling to see God’s hand working in her life, but the difference was faith. To the core of her being, Emma believed that even if she couldn’t see it, God was good. He loved, cared for, and was intricately involved in the lives of his children.
Lord, help Leo! He knows we are in need of a savior, but he doubts that You are powerful enough to do it or would even want to. I can’t convince Him, but I can see that he’s searching for the answers only You can provide. Show Yourself to him. Save him and awaken a faith that isn’t dependent on circumstances but entirely dependent on who You are.
Even as she prayed, she felt the conviction of her own words. A faith that isn’t dependent on circumstances…
“So, yes,” Leo said, lifting his eyebrows as if in challenge. “That is the long answer as to why I’m so angry. I’m disillusioned about everyone and everything. If someone behaves like an idiot, it just confirms the stupidity and hopelessness of the entire human race.”
“I’m sure I don’t help those feelings much,” Emma said sadly. “It seems like I’m always saying and doing the wrong thing. I probably only serve to affirm your views.”
Leo shook his head, the devil-may-care attitude immediately falling away to reveal an expression that truly did care. “Emma, I wasn’t talking about you at all. You’re different. You don’t frustrate me like others do. I know I get upset with you some, but it’s different. When I’m short with you, it’s usually because I’m mad at myself, not at you.”
Emma shivered. The temperature was dropping, and yet she wouldn’t think of leaving now. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would you be mad at yourself?”
“I like you,” Leo gazed off in the distance, his words seeming too serious to deliver them to her directly. “More than I should. I like that you’re different. I don’t mind that you say random things, and I think you have a wonderful way of looking at the world. You are special, but not in the way you think. I watched you with Chloe Hutchins back there, and you were amazing. You managed to do what no one else could, and you didn’t even speak a word. I doubt you know anything about that little girl, but you instinctively knew what she needed. You reached Chloe and gave her joy in a way that no one else could.”
While his words created a warmth that the temperature couldn’t steal away, she remained confused. He’d never answered her question. “I still don’t understand why you would be mad at yourself because of me. Why would it upset you to like me?”
“Because I like you more than I should.” The words burst out, fueled by traces of desperation and frustration. He finally looked at her, his eyes wide with sincerity. “I’m not a saint, Emma. I like you because you are a beautiful person, but I also like you because you’re a beautiful woman. I like to look at you. I like the way light shines on your hair. I like watching sparkles in your eyes as I wonder what you’re thinking. But it’s difficult because I know you can’t possibly be on the same wavelength as I am. I long to touch you, to feel how soft the skin of your face is, but I know that’s wrong. You don’t like to be touched or hugged, and I would never want to make you uncomfortable. So, all I’m left with is berating myself and trying to talk myself out of feeling the way I do.”
Emma swallowed with difficulty. “What makes you think that I don’t like to be hugged or touched?”
“Because of your sensory issues with autism,” Leo explained as if the answer was obvious. “That’s what I’ve heard about autism, and after I met you, I even did a little research.”
Emma spoke slowly. The topic was never easy to explain and seemed even more difficult when it mattered as much as it did now. “Autism is different for everyone. It’s a very individual experience. I don’t like to be hugged or touched by strangers. Sometimes even when my mom or dad hugs me, it feels like thousands of spiders crawling over my skin, but on the other hand, sometimes I long for a hug. Sometimes nothing else gives the same comfort as feeling the warmth of my mom’s arms around me. On some rare occasions, I’ve even appreciated the comforting hug from a good friend. While I don’t like touch probably as much as other people, it’s not a hard and fast rule.”
Carefully and deliberately, she reached out her hand, taking his in hers to prove her words true. “You seem to be an exception to the rule anyway,” she said softly. “When you touch me, even accidentally, it feels like a warm, heavy blanket wrapping around me.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Leo’s voice cracked in its whisper.
Emma nodded solemnly. “A very good thing. When I was young, I had this weighted blanket that my parents put on me when I was upset. It worked, and I loved it. It made me feel warm and safe and calm.”
“And that’s what you feel when I touch you?” Slowly, he reached up and lightly ran his fingertips over her smooth cheek.”
“Yes,” Emma whispered, feeling tingles of warmth all the way to her toes.
She looked up at him, trying to read what he was thinking, but his eyes were dark and hooded with a slight flicker burning in their depths. She’d seen that look before. That’s the same expression that crossed his face for the brief instant after Orion had knocked them off the couch.
“I don’t understand that look,” Emma whispered. “I don’t know what it means. I’ve tried to learn how to read people and know what they mean or are thinking, but I don’t know how to read that expression.”
A gentle smile played about Leo’s lips. “It means I very much want to kiss you.”
“Oh.”
Leo waited, but Emma didn’t pull away.
He bent toward her. Emma still didn’t step away.
She looked into those dark eyes so close to her own. Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings, and ever so slightly, she stood to her tiptoes.
Needing no further invitation, Leo claimed her lips with his own.
Fire rushed over Emma in the most exhilarating sensation she’d ever experienced. Leo pulled her closer, and she felt like she melted into him. Her hands reached up to his neck, every cell of her body lighting with awareness of the man who held her.
He released her suddenly, stepping back so quickly that she swayed before regaining her balance. He turned his back to her, taking several steps away and catching his breath.
Emma struggled, learning to breathe again after being suddenly deprived of a form of oxygen she had no idea she needed.
“I’ll take you home,” Leo said, finally turning back to her and beginning to walk even before she reached his side.
They left the Christmas tree and twinkling Sirius behind without a parting goodbye, and Emma’s steps moved quickly to keep up with Leo’s brisk pace. He didn’t talk to her or touch her in any way the entire trek back down Main Street to the community center. In fact, he kept his distance, walking beside her but with at least two feet between them.
They didn’t go back to the party inside but went directly to Leo’s car. After opening the car door for her, he immediately drove to her house. He pulled up to the driveway and didn’t pause before getting out and coming around to open the door to help her out of his car.
He then walked beside her up the sidewalk to the front door.
Emma walked slowly, waiting for him to say something, but he hadn’t uttered a single word since they’d kissed. Was he simply going to leave her now without even a goodbye?
“T-Thank you,” Emma said finally, braving the expanse of silence.
Leo nodded. At least, Emma thought he nodded. The porch light was rather dim.
Leo turned to leave. Emma reached out, impulsively touching his arm to stop him.
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At the touch, Leo stopped as if she’d shocked him.
Running her hand down his arm, she found his hand. Taking it with both of hers, she brought it up and pressed her cold lips to it.
“Emma,” Leo said brokenly, and he stepped forward as if to wrap her in his arms once again. But he suddenly stopped himself and drew back.
His hand escaped from hers, and he turned and left.
Emma watched him go, feeling completely confused. Suddenly lonely, Emma fumbled with the doorknob as the exhilarating memory of Leo’s kiss flowed over her. She opened the door and stepped inside. The light was on in the living room, and Emma knew her mom had waited up for her.
Emma turned to shut the door, her gaze landing on her cold hand, and she knew she would not tell her mom about the kiss. Though she had never experienced anything like kissing Leo, the last memory of the night was him dropping her hand and running away, and all Emma could think about was to wonder what she’d done wrong.
Emma saw another email from Woong pop into her inbox and sighed, knowing she didn’t have the energy left to return the email to her little friend tonight. It had taken what remaining strength she had to give her mother the general details about her night while not actually telling her anything. While Cindy had been far less than satisfied with Emma’s report, she had finally relented and gone to bed, leaving Emma to obsess over what had really happened.
She didn’t even know why she’d checked her email. Her teeth were brushed, her pajamas on, and she could have checked it in the morning. Instead, she now sat eagerly reading the stream of consciousness of an eleven-year-old boy and glued to every word.
Her hand hovered over the reply button, wondering if maybe she should send him a quick message after all. But what would she say? She had mentioned to Woong before that she was going to go to a Christmas party with the police chief, but she didn’t feel like filling an eleven-year-old in on the failures and joys of the night. He was far too young and far too curious.
However, part of his email made her think and feel like she had to respond in some way. He’d asked if God had ever spoken to her before. The question itself bothered her. She’d never felt God speaking to her directly, like an audible voice, but when she’d first started making ornaments and praying about them, she had a strong conviction that God wanted her to do it.
Can God change His mind? Maybe what was right for her in one season, isn’t right in another. Though she didn’t have an audible voice or a strong conviction, now she had circumstances making her wonder if God was now speaking in a different way through them. Maybe what she’d heard before was wrong, and this was how God really speaks.
Woong pointed out that God had used a donkey before to speak, and Emma thought even she would get the message if God spoke to her that way! However, the nagging thought that she couldn’t erase was the idea that, if God had used a donkey to serve Him, why hadn’t he used her? She desperately wanted to be used by God in a meaningful way. Her current assumption was that her autism and other issues must disqualify her from doing the big stuff, but a donkey wasn’t disqualified.
It didn’t make any sense.
Woong asked how one knows when God speaks, and the truth was, Emma had no idea. This eleven-year-old boy was likely closer to learning the secret of that mystery than Emma.
For the second time tonight, Emma felt lost on how to respond to someone spiritually. She had nothing to offer and felt woefully inadequate to answer even the most basic questions. She certainly didn’t have any advice.
Knowing she had nothing else of value to offer, Emma shut the lid of her laptop and closed her eyes in prayer.
Dear Lord, I don’t have any words of wisdom for Woong, any more than I had for Leo. But I ask that you help him. Help him to learn to recognize your voice however you choose to speak.
And do the same for me as well.
He obviously has such a heart for you and for others. Please use him in a great way that shows Your love and work to the world.
And do the same for me as well.
Muffins. That was the answer.
Monday dawned with not a single word or text from Leo since Friday night. Emma felt lost about the social protocol in such a situation. After a boy kissed a girl, did she simply wait for him to call? What if he didn’t?
What if it was her turn? Maybe she should do something so he didn’t forget her. Emma couldn’t shake the idea that she had done something wrong, which explained why Leo had behaved so strangely after they kissed. Maybe she needed to apologize.
That’s where muffins came in. Woong had suggested she go out to breakfast with someone or maybe even make muffins for that someone. Emma didn’t know for sure, but she thought that’s probably how normal people did things. Of course, Woong didn’t know anything about the circumstances with Leo, but he seemed very adept socially. If breakfast or muffins was a social ritual enjoyed by enough people for an eleven-year-old to know about it, then it was definitely something Emma wanted to try.
By the time she finished her own bowl of cereal, she knew what she wanted to do.
Now for a recipe.
Emma was excellent at making desserts, but muffins would be new for her. Both her parents were gone this morning so baking would be a solo job. Her mom left early for breakfast with some friends from church. (There it was again, breakfast was obviously an important social rite.) Her dad headed for Brighton Falls to get some supplies to fix a plumbing issue in the upstairs bathroom.
Emma stood on her tiptoes and opened the cupboard with her mom’s cookbooks. Wondering which one held the best chance of containing a good muffin recipe, she stood higher on her tiptoes, trying to reach the fat cookbook at the very top. Suddenly losing her balance, she managed to catch herself on the counter, her hand landing on a small cardstock rectangle.
Picking it up, she saw that it happened to be a recipe for muffins. Then she spied her mom’s recipe box in the corner and realized Cindy must have been sorting through them and left this one out, which thrilled Emma. Her mother’s recipe box usually contained the best family recipes, often better than any cookbook. Emma just hadn’t realized it contained any muffin recipes.
She made quick work out of following the recipe for pumpkin muffins, easily locating all the ingredients in the pantry. Compared to some of the desserts she’d made, the muffins were simple. They were out of the oven and cooling on the counter in no time.
Orion watched from the corner of the kitchen and only ventured out when the muffins were done.
“You want one, don’t you?” Emma said, interrupting his wide-eyed, puppy-dog look of longing. “Ok, just this one, but don’t tell mom or dad I ever gave you people food. Taking one of the warm muffins out of the pan, she put it on a plate and set it on the floor in front of Orion.
Orion sniffed it, licked it just a little, and then looked back up at her imploringly.
“What a gentleman you are, Orion! You won’t break the house rules at all! You know you’re not supposed to eat it, so you won’t! Such a good doggie! What legal food would you like instead?”
Orion’s ears twitched.
“Oh, I know what you want!”
Emma hurried upstairs to her studio and came back down with the box of Orion’s ornaments. When she’d first started making ornaments, Orion had taken a keen interested in chewing up whatever creation she made. To occupy her dog, she had made him his own special dog treat ornaments and trained him to only eat or play with them. When decorating their tree every year, she now hung a few of Orion’s ornaments on the bottom within easy reach, and the dog never touched anything that wasn’t his. Orion’s ornaments didn’t last long on the tree, though, and the pup was soon begging for more from the stash Emma kept in her studio for emergencies when she was working and Orion wanted to play.
Taking one out now, she handed it to Orion and watched him happily return to his corner, munching away.
When the muffins cooled enough, Emma loaded them into a festive baske
t with red napkins and carried them to the car. Her mom had gotten a ride from a friend this morning so Emma could use her car if needed. Unfortunately, the insurance was still having issues, and Emma didn’t know how soon she would be getting her own vehicle. For some reason, the insurance insisted they needed an insurance adjuster to assess the car, which was extremely difficult to do since it had been stolen!
Orion joined Emma in the car, taking position in the backseat, and Emma drove straight to the police station. She wasn’t nervous until she stepped inside, and suddenly she thought muffins a horrible idea and longed to retreat. She even took a step back, pulling Orion’s leash with her, but then the woman at the front desk looked up and saw her.
“Hi, Emma!” she greeted cheerfully. “Did you decide to come in rather than call today?”
Emma didn’t think the woman meant the comment in a mean-spirited way, but Emma still felt the sting. She didn’t even know this woman’s name, but she obviously knew Emma. Emma thought she had talked to her over the phone multiple times last week, but that didn’t quite explain how she recognized her on sight.
With her throat feeling quite dry, Emma said, “I was hoping to see Chief Jacobs for a minute. I have something for him.”
“I’ll buzz you through, and you can go on back to his office,” the woman said, reaching over to push a button. “The chief might be in a meeting, though, so you may need to wait.”
At the sound of the buzzer, Emma and Orion hurried through the door and down the aisle between the cubicles to Leo’s office. The door stood open, and Emma peeked inside to find the room empty.
“He’s in a meeting,” Officer Kirk said, greeting Emma with a smile. “He’ll probably be there a while. Is there something I can help you with, Miss Sheldon? I don’t think we have any new leads on the car thefts.”