A Family for the Farmer (13 page)

Pastor Stone's tone changed, and Emily refocused her attention on the service. He'd finished the announcements and was addressing his congregation.

“You all know that now and again we make time for special testimonies, and you'll see in the bulletin that we have one of those scheduled this morning. I've invited Miss Emily Elliott to speak to us. Emily is the granddaughter of our beloved Mrs. Sadie Elliott, and if you don't know her already, you soon will because she's agreed to help us get our new coffee shop off the ground. Since she's going to be working for the church part-time, I thought it would be beneficial for all of us to hear her story. Emily?”

Jacob Stone offered her an encouraging smile, and Emily stood up, feeling her knees shaking like jelly as she began to sidle her way down the pew to the aisle. As she passed Abel, he reached out with one hand and caught her arm.

Startled, she glanced down at him. His face was set and drawn, and his eyes bored into hers. Abel spoke quietly and intensely. “I don't know what Stone's talked you into, Emily, but listen to me.
You do not have to do this
.”

She felt heat flare into her pale cheeks, and she lifted her chin. “Yes, Abel, I think I do.” On legs that suddenly seemed sturdier, she made her way up to the pulpit.

As Emily looked out into the church, some of her nervousness returned. The pews were packed. Well, maybe it was better this way. She'd tell everybody at once and get it over with.

“A lot of you have been hearing stories about me having some dishonesty in my past, maybe even criminal behavior. I'm here to tell you that the things you've been hearing, in part at least, are true.”

Her eyes skimmed over the congregation, picking out faces. There were her children looking innocently interested. They knew her stories, and there would be no surprises for them today, thank goodness. Abel was not looking at her but was looking down at the hands he had clenched in his lap. She saw Jack Lifsey from the feed store, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, either. Bailey Quinn, her ponytail twisted into a sophisticated looking knot, shifted in her pew uneasily, but she threw Emily a friendly smile. Way in the back Lois Gordon sat in the corner of her pew. Her disapproving features looked like they were set in granite.

“Six years ago because of some foolish decisions I made, I found myself in one of the most difficult situations imaginable. I was an unmarried, pregnant teenager alone in Atlanta. I was running away from home, from God and from myself.” Emily kept her fingers clamped on the polished wood of the podium. She recounted her downward spiral as concisely as she could, forcing herself not to make excuses for her behavior, which had included increasing bouts of shoplifting.

“At the time I didn't see what I was doing as wrong, although it obviously was. I was angry at the world because someone I trusted had disappointed me.” She saw Lois Gordon shift irritably in her seat, but Emily tilted her chin up a notch and continued. “Being mad at the world was easier than being mad at myself. I thought other people owed me the things I needed, so when I could, I took them.

“One day I decided to shoplift at a pharmacy. I chose a little mom-and-pop-type store because I knew they wouldn't have the high-tech surveillance equipment that the chain stores always had.”

Emily took a deep, shaky breath. “I was several months pregnant by then. I had started worrying that my baby wouldn't be healthy because I was eating only junk foods, so for the first time I decided to shoplift something that wasn't strictly just for me. I decided to steal some prenatal vitamins. That turned out to be both the worst and the best decision I'd ever made...because I got caught.”

Abel had looked up from his hands, and his eyes were on her face, his expression unreadable. Emily's eyes found his, and as she continued she felt as if she were telling her story to him alone. “I'd never been arrested before, and I was terrified and angry and just an all-around hot mess. But that's when things started to change. The owner of the pharmacy, Mr. Arlowe, was a Christian, and the fact that I was trying to steal vitamins for my baby got his attention.”

With her eyes fixed on Abel's face, Emily talked about how Mr. Arlowe had shown up in court and had petitioned the judge to remand her into a Christian home for single mothers. She described how the elderly man and his wife had visited her there, bringing her flowers and little items for the babies, and how this help coming in her darkest hour had finally opened her heart so that faith and hope came rushing in.

“So, I have to tell you that the stories you've been hearing about me are probably mostly true.” She pulled her gaze away from Abel's face and looked back at the rest of the congregation. “I'm not asking you to trust me. You don't really know me, and I understand better than most that trust should be earned. I just want you to know that my story doesn't end back there in my darkest days. I want you to understand that if you or somebody you love is in a dark place like I was, your story doesn't have to end there, either.”

She offered them a brief smile and then began to make her way back to her pew. A noise caught her attention, and when she glanced up she saw Abel. He was standing and clapping, his jaw set like a rock.

She stopped halfway to her seat, stunned. One by one several other people stood and joined in the applause. Emily gave the congregation a bewildered glance and then offered them all another grateful smile as she hurried over to the relative anonymity of her seat.

As she sidled past Abel, he reached out and took her forearm again, but this time his grip was gentle.

“You were right,” he said under his breath. “You did need to do that.”

Emily gave him a quick nod and hurriedly sat down next to Phoebe, who smiled up at her. “They liked you, Mama,” she said in a stage whisper before holding up the bulletin she'd been scribbling on. “Look. I drawed a bird!”

“Thank you, Emily.” Pastor Stone had reclaimed his pulpit, and he was beaming out over his congregation. “It's not often we have a standing ovation in church. That's unfortunate because we have a lot to clap about around here. Now, if you'll turn to page three hundred in your hymnal—”

“This,” came a ringing voice from the back of the church, “is a disgrace. Jacob Stone, you have made a mockery out of this church service. And I, for one, will not tolerate it without speaking up.”

Chapter Nine

L
ois Gordon was standing up in the back of the church, and even from this distance, Abel could tell that the plump woman was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

“You had the gall to lecture me when all I was doing was protecting the businesses of this community, and then you turn around and give this
criminal
a job working for the church?”

“Miss Lois, this isn't the time.” Stone spoke firmly from his pulpit, but the elderly lady wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise.

“I can't think of a better one! Particularly if you still expect me to foot the bulk of the bill for the new fellowship hall.” A murmur rippled through the congregation, and one of Lois's friends reached up a tentative hand to touch her elbow. Lois shrugged it off. “No, I'm not sitting down. I've had enough of this nonsense. But you—” the old lady turned her baleful gaze from the pastor to the people in the pews “—you have no more sense than to applaud such foolishness! For shame! If my husband were still alive and a deacon of this church, he'd never stand for this!”

She was most likely right about that. Abel figured Dr. Gordon would have shut this down in a wink. He and those like him were one reason Abel had steered clear of church for as long as he had.

“Let's go, Emily,” Abel said quietly. He began to gather up the children's crayons and papers that were scattered over the pew. The wide-eyed twins helped him, darting uneasy glances toward the back of the sanctuary.

“No.” Emily was sitting bolt upright in her seat. Those two telltale spots were burning high on her cheekbones, but the rest of her face was as white as paper. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. “I'm seeing this through.”

Meanwhile, Lois Gordon's voice was growing louder and shriller. “You are
ruining
this church, Jacob Stone! First you waste our good money on that ridiculous coffee shop, and then you hire
her
to run it. If that's good stewardship of church funds, I'm a gardenia! That girl is a loose woman with a criminal history, and she has no business coming in the door of this church, much less working for it!”

“Miss Lois, I believe you've said just about enough,” Jack Lifsey spoke up from his pew, and several other churchgoers nodded in agreement. “We're supposed to be Christians here.”

“I'll let you know when I've said enough,” the old lady retorted. “If the likes of Emily Elliott can get up and speak in this sanctuary, I certainly can!”

Stone had a quick aside with the music minister, who hurried to the pulpit as Stone started down the aisle. From the set of the preacher's mouth, Abel figured he was planning to pry Lois Gordon out of her pew or die trying. Either way, Abel wanted Emily and the twins a safe distance away.

“Let's step outside, Emily. If you're set on staying till the end of service, we can come back in after Stone gets all this under control.” If Stone could, which seemed unlikely at the moment. Abel watched as Lois snatched her arm away from the minister's gentle hand and refused to budge.

The murmuring in the pews increased. Nobody was paying much attention to the music minister's attempt to start the hymn. They were too focused on the drama unfolding at the back of the church, and they looked from Lois and the pastor back to Emily, whispering.

“Emily?” Abel prodded.

“No, I'm not leaving.”

He saw Emily's neck pulse as she swallowed hard.

“But I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the children out for me. Please.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then Emily looked over at him. She was pale and shaking, but there was a determination in her eyes that made his protest stall in his throat.

“Please, Abel,” she repeated quietly. “I can handle this.”

He hesitated a minute, but he could see that she'd dug in her heels. Reluctantly he gave in, got up and shepherded the children out, cutting a wide berth around Lois, who was now surrounded by a wary circle of people, all trying to persuade her to leave the sanctuary. They didn't seem to be making much headway, because the old lady was well beyond the point of reason. It looked like somebody was going to have to pick her up and carry her out of the church. Abel was about ready to volunteer for the job himself, and he knew a thorny holly bush out on the front lawn of the church that would make the perfect dropping-off point.

He looked back at Emily, who gave her confused children a little wave and smiled brightly at them. Reassured, the twins went willingly through the door, but Abel lingered for a second. Emily's smile had been big, but it looked thin. He hated leaving her there sitting alone in this mess, but as usual that was exactly what she wanted him to do.

Once outside, he let the children play on the church's playground while he worried over Emily and fought the temptation to go back into the sanctuary. He leaned against a handy oak and watched the children swinging on the swing set. They seemed happy enough, glad like any children would be to be playing instead of sitting quiet in a church pew.

Phoebe dismounted her swing clumsily and went sprawling, and Abel quickly pushed off the tree trunk and started in her direction. Before he could make it to her, her brother stopped to help her up, bending to brush the bits of grass and dirt from the front of her dress and checking her knees for scrapes. She must have passed Paul's inspection, because a second later the two were off and running to the big curving slide.

Abel's heart swelled with an unfamiliar pride. Emily had done a great job with those two. They were good kids, both of them. Any man would be proud to claim them as his own.

He might as well be honest with himself.
He'd
be proud to claim them.

That was something he'd never seen coming. His own dad sure hadn't been much of an advertisement for fatherhood. And Abel's struggling teenage attempts to take care of his headstrong younger brother had pretty much strangled any desire to have kids of his own.

But then Emily and her twins had come back to Goosefeather Farm, and something had shifted loose deep down inside him. New notions had been skirting around the edge of his mind for a while now, and those ideas had come front and center when he kissed Emily on the porch. Now they were all he could think about—though he could see his kiss had spooked her, and he knew he'd have to bide his time.

Abel's years around animals had taught him that rushing frightened creatures only made things worse. So he'd let Emily have her space even though the more she talked about working in that coffee shop Stone had dreamed up, the more uneasy Abel felt.

Jacob Stone was a solid man and a good preacher. He didn't trip over his own tongue, either, and the women sure seemed to like the look of him. Maybe Emily had Abel's mind twisted a bit sideways, but he still had enough sense to know that he was no competition for a man like Stone when it came to setting female hearts pattering. If he was as unselfish as he ought to be, he'd push Emily in Stone's direction and wish them both well, but the very thought of her and her children being claimed by another man, even a decent one like Stone, made Abel's stomach churn.

He heard a noise and glanced over toward the sidewalk that led to the church's rear parking lot. The sight he saw hit him like a punch.

Lois Gordon was being led to her car by one of her cronies, Gayle Morris. Gayle had one arm protectively around her red-faced friend, who still looked fit to be tied.

“Can you believe this foolishness?” Lois was sputtering like an angry hen. “Asking me to leave.
Me!
”

Abel frowned. He'd better round up the twins and take them back to Emily before Lois saw them and started more trouble.

As it turned out, Lois wasn't the one he should have been worrying about.

Paul and Phoebe sprinted over and planted their little feet on the sidewalk in front of the two ladies. Abel had already started in their direction, but when he saw the look on Paul's face, he upgraded his walk to a trot.

“You were mean to my mother,” Paul said in a clear, matter-of-fact tone. “You're not a nice lady.” Phoebe stood a cautious foot or two behind her brother, but her face had the same accusing look to it. She nodded her agreement.

“Paul, Phoebe,” Abel called out, trying a tone he'd found useful in dealing with balky animals. “We need to get on back into the church.” Phoebe flicked an uncertain glance in his direction, but Paul kept his focus on the women in front of him.

“Go away, little boy!” Gayle darted a worried look at Lois's face and waved her hand in a shooing gesture. Lois's face had shifted from beet red to pasty white. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off Paul.

Paul favored Trey a good bit, especially around the eyes. Abel felt a flash of pity for the old woman, and when he reached the little group, he spoke more gently than he'd intended.

“Excuse us, Mrs. Gordon, Mrs. Morris. Phoebe, Paul, I said we need to go back inside the church now.”

“No! Not yet. Wait.” Lois Gordon never took her eyes off Paul's face. “Wait just a minute.” She was breathing hard, and her friend clucked worriedly.

“Lois, honey, are you all right? You're a terrible color. Do you need to sit down?”

Lois clutched at her friend's arm. “You see it, don't you, Gayle? Anybody could see it! He's the spitting image. Just the spitting image!”

“Yes, honey. I see it.” The other woman looked over at Abel, telegraphing her concern with her eyebrows. He nodded, but before he could speak Lois went on breathlessly.

“I never saw him up close before. And the girl.” Lois moved her gaze over to Phoebe, who promptly took a step backward. “The resemblance isn't so striking, but I can see Trey in her, too. Don't you, Gayle?”

“Yes.” Her friend nodded and patted Lois's arm. “I see it, Lois. Of course I do. But it's hot out here, honey, and I think we need to get you on home. You're terribly upset.”

“Upset. Yes.” Lois repeated her friend's words absently, her eyes moving from one twin to the other. Her reaction had flustered them, and they looked uneasily at Abel. He put his hands protectively on their shoulders, maneuvering them off the sidewalk and onto the grass beside him.

“Excuse us,” Abel repeated, not bothering to put much warmth in his voice. He felt sorry for Lois Gordon, but his pity only went so far. “We'll let you ladies get on your way now.”

Lois detached her gaze from the twins and looked up into his face. The shock in her expression ebbed away, replaced by a chilly haughtiness. “Abel Whitlock,” she said.

“Yes, ma'am.” He met her eyes squarely. She didn't give an inch but met him stare for stare.

“My Trey never would say, but I know it was you who bloodied his nose all those years ago.”

She had him there. “Trey and I had a difference of opinion that day, and I let my temper get the best of me.” He didn't apologize. He still struggled with being sorry for that. Sometimes the line between Christian forgiveness and standing up for what was right seemed mighty blurry.

“He had to have plastic surgery, you know. We should have sent you the bill.”

He didn't blink. “I'd have paid it and counted it a bargain. Ma'am.”

Trey's mother sniffed scornfully. “You did it for
her
, I suppose. Because Trey wasn't fool enough to shipwreck his life and marry her. That girl always had you wrapped around her little finger, same as my Trey. Only she didn't give you the time of day, did she? She had her sights set higher back then.” Those icy eyes measured him. “Small wonder. I knew your father. He was a good-for-nothing kind of a man. Your grandfather, too.”

Abel remained silent, but he could feel a muscle twitching in his cheek. Lois's sharp eye saw it, and she permitted herself a small, satisfied smile.

“I don't like you, Whitlock, but I give credit where credit is due,” the older woman continued smoothly. “I've always admired people who are able to pull themselves above the level of their raising. You've done that by all accounts, and so I'm going to give you a word of advice. Be very careful where you bestow your affections, or you'll sink right back down into the mess you came up from. A bad woman can ruin a good man.”

“Are you calling my mama a bad woman?” Paul spoke up from Abel's side, and Abel could feel the tension in the boy's small shoulders. “She's not bad.”

“Of course she isn't, Paul.” Abel kept his eyes locked on Lois Gordon's. “I'm sure that's not what Mrs. Gordon meant. Now we'll need to go back into church, or your mama will be wondering what's happened to us.” He dipped his head courteously toward the two women. “Ladies.”

Gayle only blinked at him, but Lois responded with a curt nod of her own. He turned back toward the church with the children in tow.

“Mark my words,” he heard Lois Gordon call behind him. “You think your daddy always had a drinking problem? He didn't, not until he took up with Gina Finch. The Whitlock men always choose the wrong women, and it's their ruination. Everybody knows that.”

Abel set his jaw and kept walking. He had to give the woman credit. When it came to pushing people's buttons, she was a force to be reckoned with.

The service was over, and people were coming through the church's arched doorway in a steady stream. Abel stopped beside a large concrete planter full of begonias to wait for Emily. He couldn't help noticing that people didn't look nearly so uplifted as they usually did after one of Stone's sermons.

In fact, most of them looked a little shell-shocked. Jacob Stone definitely did. The pastor was dutifully manning his usual post by the front door, shaking hands and passing pleasantries, but from the look on his face, he needed a couple of aspirin and the afternoon off.

But Stone wasn't Abel's concern. Emily was. When he caught sight of her slender form coming out of the darkness of the church foyer, he zeroed in on her expression, trying to read it for clues.