He shook his head slowly, as if he were entertaining a different thought with each turn of his head. “Is there anything you’ve wanted to do? Something that would make you happy? Read? Paint? Sing?”
Without thinking, she blurted, “Sleep.”
His toothy smile broke through his face. “Then take a nap.”
“That’s silly.” A midafternoon nap next to a cookstove adding heat to the already hot day did not sound enjoyable. “You’re cooking.”
“I am, but I’ll cook outside.”
That would be inconvenient for him. “No, that’s not necessary.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to the cabin. “A good day for a nap—too hot for much else. I have a feeling summer is going to drag its heat into fall.”
“This is ludicrous. This is your busiest time of year.”
His head came so close his breath stroked her neck. “I want you to.” His whispered words tickled her ear. “If I weren’t cooking, I might join you.”
A tingle shot up her back, but she shied away from the confusing feeling. Since the accident, they’d slept together side by side in the huge bed he’d built. He’d not had time to build another bed during her illness. After all that time sharing, asking him to make another bed seemed childish. But they’d never slept next to each other during the day. “I think I ought to be doing something useful instead.”
“You do that every day. At the very least, sprawl out on the bed and read something. You should at least rest your leg. You’ve been doing double duty this week. I’ll manage the chores for the afternoon.” He left her at the doorstep and strode away. On a mission.
She walked into the kitchen and fingered the dirty dishes on the counter. Her heavy eyelids begged her to give in. She moved the plates into the water basin but refrained from washing them.
An unbidden yawn surfaced. Never would she be able to sleep during the day without feeling lazy for doing so. But she had permission, so she’d take that nap. Just not a long one.
But her mind wouldn’t settle. She’d never been so worried about hurting a man who had feelings for her.
How long until admiration and caring become affection?
And was the stirring of love enough to get her past her darkest fear?
Wiping at sweat along his hairline, Everett found another stray feather in his hair. He flicked the downy plume away and returned to turning the chicken on the makeshift spit. The smell of smoke and meat made his stomach gurgle. He preferred to eat dinner earlier than this, but Julia was sleeping soundly, so he whistled a slow tune and didn’t rush. With his knife, he pricked the meat. Almost done. The pot of boiling green beans was close to ready as well.
Ladies liked picnics, right? He tiptoed into the house and grabbed a blanket and his Bible off the trunk and peeked into the bedroom. Julia stirred a bit, so he froze. She murmured and her eyelids flickered, cheeks rosy. He held his ground.
She bolted upright and blinked hard several times. “Everett?” Her throat sounded full of rocks.
“Good evening, Julia.” He ambled over to the bed and offered his hand. “You ready for dinner?”
“Did I sleep that long?” Her eyelids kept opening and shutting.
Her long eyelashes begged to be kissed, but he refrained and pulled her to stand. “Yes. But that’s what you were supposed to do.”
“But . . . no.” She put her hand to her forehead. “If I slept that long, I’ll just lie awake all night.”
A tightness in his chest clenched the rest of his body. All kinds of images popped unbidden into his mind. He’d had enough trouble sleeping next to her. He dropped her hand, needing to put distance between them. He called to her as he nearly ran out the door. “Come, dinner’s outside. Bring the guitar, would ya?”
To take advantage of the beautiful view to the south, he spread the blanket beside the bed of flowers Julia had arranged near the house. The horizon was just starting to show signs of the approaching sunset as pink and orange hues tinted the sky.
He grabbed the browned chicken from the fire spit, set it in a tin pie plate, drained the vegetables, and returned to the blanket. Julia had already settled herself, sitting with her head tilted back, eyes closed. Her hair was a mess and her bare toes poked from beneath her skirts. His throat constricted. Like that first day he’d seen her after she’d awoken in the Stantons’ barn. That day he’d run from her. Now, he wanted her to run to him.
She opened one eye and glanced at the chicken. “Who’s that?”
“The mean little hen.” He took his fork and pulled apart the meat to hasten cooling. “I think she deserved it.”
“You went through a lot of trouble.”
“Not much.” He said a quick blessing over the food and handed her a fork. “Hope you don’t mind, but since I’m doing dishes, we’ll eat out of the same pan. Less cleanup for me.”
Huffing, she speared a long green bean. “Maybe I should start taking such shortcuts.”
Around a mouthful of chicken, he mumbled, “Sure. You oughta. No need to stand on formality with me.”
She took a delicate bite. “This is good! Why didn’t you do this when you were a bachelor instead of eating biscuits and beans?”
He laughed. “If I did this every time I was hungry I wouldn’t have much of a flock left.”
“Right.” She chewed slowly before taking another mouthful.
Eating his meal in a comfortable silence, he listened to the drone of cicadas while watching the colors of the sky grow richer. And he sneaked glances at the fine figure of a lady next to him, but she kept her gaze pinned ahead.
When finished, he opened the Bible. He’d been out of the habit of reading God’s Word when she first came, and he didn’t realize how much he had missed hearing from God every day. During her fever and recovery, he’d read aloud to her, beginning in Genesis. Those long lists of names and numbers in the Old Testament had put her to sleep. Thankfully, William had ordered just that to promote healing. He flipped the pages to 1 Samuel. Finally out of the long lists of names and tallies and into more histories, the reading seemed to keep her interest.
She’d listened every night since her fever broke, but never said much of anything. When she had uttered in her delirium that God did not love her, his heart had fractured. She was good at taking a hammer to his chest and splintering it into a million pieces. He prayed God would use His Word to make crevices in the wall she’d wrapped around herself since she’d succeeded in keeping him out. Perhaps God would have better luck.
He cleared his throat and read.
“And it came to pass, when they were come, that he looked on Eliab and said, Surely the Lord’s anointed is before him.
“But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart. . . .
“And Samuel said unto Jesse, Are here all thy children? And he said, There remaineth yet the youngest, and behold, he keepeth the sheep. And Samuel said unto Jesse, Send and fetch him: for we will not sit down till he come hither.
“And he sent, and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he.
“Then Samuel took the horn of—”
“Wait.” Julia grabbed his arm.
He lowered the Bible. “Yes?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t understand what?” Scanning the text he had read, the story sounded straightforward.
“It said God didn’t want the first son. That He looked at the heart and not on the man’s pretty features, but the Book says the last son God chose was beautiful and fine featured.” She bit her lip. “Sounds like He’s choosing what He said He doesn’t choose.”
Glancing through the text, Everett could see how it sounded like God rejected one handsome man for another. “Well,
it says He sees the heart, but the text only describes the looks of the two men. I suppose being in the same family, he was bound to be as nice looking as the first one.”
She thumped her chin in her hands.
“God saw something in the first one that wasn’t as pleasing as what He saw in David.” Everett stopped a moment and tried to arrange his words for clarity. It was the first time she’d made a comment. He didn’t want her to stop now. “I guess He ignores looks, be they ruddy and beautiful. Or not. It’s what’s inside that matters.”
“What is He looking for?”
“Remember a few days ago when we read that God sought ‘a man after his own heart’? He meant David.”
“So He only wants to bless those that are like God?” She dropped her head. “No one’s perfect.”
Everett’s heart wobbled. God, help me to help her understand. Your Word has brought this opportunity to share, and I need your wisdom to take full advantage of it. If I can’t show my love to my wife every way that’s possible, at least give her your love. Give her the peace that comes from you, to comfort her in the stressful relationship I’ve put us in here on earth.
She sighed and turned away.
Clearing his throat, Everett plunged forward. “No. We’re not perfect. I know my own heart isn’t perfect. I don’t think I could get anywhere near the description David was worthy of receiving.”
“Then there’s no hope for us.”
His head shook of its own accord. “David wasn’t perfect either. In fact, as king, not only did he steal a man’s wife and have an affair, but he killed her husband so he could keep her once she was found to be with child.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound much like ‘after God’s own heart.’” Her features appeared confused, but something glimmered in her eye, like a fleck of hope.
“No, it doesn’t, does it?” He twiddled his thumbs. “But God still saw the man’s faith and desire to know God and be what He wanted him to be. David messed up, but his desire to obey was evident in his heart. That’s most likely why God knew he’d be the best king. Despite wrongdoing, David’s heart strove to be right.”
“So how do you know if your heart is good enough?”
Everett paused, his heart beating in his ears. How did he know God wanted him? A memorized verse shot into his thoughts, and he flipped to the book of Romans to make sure he quoted it correctly.
“I guess we can never know.” She made a move to stand. “Just wait until we’re dead, I suppose.”
Snagging her sleeve, he pulled her back down. “Give me a second.” His finger scurried across the words until he located the spot. He held the Bible close so he could see in the dim light and read aloud.
“That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.”
He laid the book aside and turned so he could judge her expression. “That’s what the New Testament says, so that’s what our instructions are today. David’s heart was right with God. And these are our directions to get a right heart—believe Jesus died for your wrongdoings and conquered death on your behalf. That simple confession, if it’s backed with real belief and trust, makes your heart right with God. This is the kind of heart God seeks. Someone who believes His commands and entrusts his life to God.”
Julia pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He detected a glistening in the corner of her eye. His arms ached to drop the Bible and pull her into his chest, but he didn’t want to stifle the conversation.
“But there’s nothing in my heart worthy of wanting. All I have is my beauty. It’s all I’ve ever had of worth. And the Bible says God doesn’t even want that.”
Brushing away her solitary tear, he cupped her face. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. Just one gift God gave you that I enjoy. More than I ought. But He’s right. The inside of a person is what counts. None of us are good on the inside, but once you take the step to believe and become right with God, He takes an initial willing heart and makes it better every day.”
Scooting closer, he took her other hand in his. “If you want to, you can trust Him with your heart. He can save you from the wrong you have inside if you believe.” He closed his eyes, as if his concentration could compel her to make a decision.
“Well, if my looks are worthless and my insides are worthless, then there’s really no hope besides trusting that He’s willing to save me for no apparent reason. Right?” She sniffed.
He paused and considered her words. “You’re right, there is no hope apart from Him. Hope only comes from God and throwing ourselves onto His promises, having to rely on the fact that He speaks the truth. But He does have a reason to save us: He loves us.”
She nodded and propped her chin on her knee. Her frown twisted his insides.
After a bit of silence, he couldn’t remain quiet anymore. “Do you want to do that? Confess and believe?” His heart teetered.
“But what if there’s something truly bad on the inside?”
“Nothing’s too bad.” He shook his head. “Remember David committed adultery and murder. Surely you haven’t done anything like that.”
Her eyes darkened, and her arms tightened around herself.
Could she? No, not his Julia. But she was hiding something. Something that terrible could explain a lot of her reactions. Did he even want to hear? He reached for her hand, to comfort her as much as himself. His mouth was dry, but he pushed out the right words. “Whatever you’ve done, He’ll forgive. He promises to.”
She turned to him. “But—what—about—” a body-wracking sob interrupted each word—“you?”
He took her into his arms and held her for a long time as her sobbing ebbed and flowed. The few times she tried to talk, the words tripped over one another and only brought more tears. When she seemed spent, he nestled his cheek in her hair. Her body stiffened in his arms. Please, God, don’t let her revert back to silence. “I believe in Christ the way He asks us to. I’m His child, and He gives me commands, just like a father does. He tells me I have to forgive others just like He has forgiven me. So yes, I will forgive you. Is there something you need to tell me?”
“But it’s too bad,” she whispered.
Figuring she hadn’t murdered, that left David’s story of adultery to have caused her emotional letdown. He braced himself for something that would hurt to his very center. “I won’t lie and say for certain what you’ve done won’t hurt me, but the past doesn’t matter to me unless it’s standing in your way. Get rid of the guilt by telling God about it. He’ll forgive your sins, and I should do no less.”
She loosened her arms from his waist, but he only gripped tighter.
“Don’t pull away, love. Let it out.”
She spoke into his chest. “I’ve been defiled. Another man has taken what you as my husband alone should have.”
Wincing, he held her firmly. The hurt he’d expected couldn’t compare to the sinking feeling he experienced in his chest. His arms trembled around her, and he blinked hard and fast.
“My father promised him my hand, but when I learned he was marrying me only for the business my father would give him, I refused,” she choked out. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Flashes of fury bolted from Everett’s heart, toward his hands and head and back again. He labored to keep his hold on her loose while desiring to crush the man. A trip to Massachusetts for a manhunt burst into his thoughts. But that wouldn’t help his wife hurting in his arms right here, right now.
And to think how she’d almost relived her nightmare with Ned. So that was where her fear of men came from. He couldn’t blame her for the wrong done to both of them.
“Honey, there is nothing to forgive you for.” He leaned her head back and brushed the hair from her face. “But I’ll tell you how that feels—awful. B
ut there is no possible way my pain could match yours. I want to kill him for hurting you. I’m so sorry that happened. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you.”
“You’re not—” she hiccupped—“not repulsed by me?”
“No.” He couldn’t keep the huge grin off his face. “I can’t fathom anything about you that would repulse me.”
“So God feels the same way about—”
“He hates sin, all sin. But that wasn’t your sin, although you’ve reaped the effects of that man’s wrongdoing. But still, I’m sure you have done wrong things in your life. Those are the things that you have to turn away from and ask forgiveness for. Do you want to do that?”
“I suppose I should. I’ve always believed the story of Jesus dying on a cross and coming back to life. I heard about that when we went to church every now and then. But I never trusted Him for anything, and I don’t pray. How do I know He’ll accept me when I’ve never really cared what He thought?”
Everett shrugged. “Because He promised He would. Faith is leaning completely on the promise of someone to do what he pledges. If God said He’ll forgive us, and we believe He is a God who can do anything, then we have to believe He’ll do what He said.”
She chewed on her fingernails, and he prayed through the silence. The sun sank behind the rolling hills, and he sighed. It was good she asked questions. Perhaps she would ask more on a later day. He prayed in time she would trust God.
“So how do I do this?”
His eyes snapped open, jolting him from prayer. “Huh?”
Julia waved her hands beside her face. “The confessing thing? Do I have to do something special?”
“No. You just pray.” A smile teased his lips, but he kept it from taking over. This was serious, despite her cute flailing limbs. “It’s simply talking to God. Remember, it’s what’s in the heart He looks at. As long as the heart holds true what the mouth says, He’ll hear you.”
“Fine.” She moved to bended knees and arranged her skirts. Like a little girl at the side of a bed for her nighttime prayers, she folded her hands before her and whispered, “God, I have nothing of worth. My heart isn’t even good, but Everett says you’ll take it that way and make something better of me. I suppose I have to trust that you will. I want you to want me. I want my heart to be wanted, not my face. You say that’s what you desire. Please save me.”
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