Step with Me: Love Amiss... A Christian Romance (Seaside Chapel Book 2)

by Jan Thompson

  Emmeline was on her way to go indoors for a drink of water before her next scene rehearsal when Jared stopped her at the door to tell her how much he liked her playing his harp.

  She tried not to read too much into what Jared was saying. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him, if possible, since she had an obligation to Sebastian.

  Speaking of whom, where is he?

  “I’m serious,” Jared said, as if Emmeline hadn’t heard him. “Everybody needs sponsorship.”

  Emmeline felt a hand on her shoulder. She knew whose it was.

  “Sponsorship of what?” Sebastian asked, standing closer to Emmeline.

  “I want to hear more of her music,” Jared said.

  “In that case, you’re welcome to attend SISO concerts whenever I play,” Emmeline said. “We have several outdoor concerts next month, though I’ll be in only one. I’ll get you the date later. The rest of the time, I’ll be at private weddings.”

  She was also playing gigs at Saffron, but that was not her information to share. She glanced at Sebastian and he didn’t say anything about it. Maybe it slipped his mind.

  Or maybe he didn’t want Jared there when she did play at Saffron.

  “In a couple of weeks my church is having another outdoor service on the beach. We call it the Fire Pit Service. I’ll be playing a Celtic lap harp. Would you like to come to that?” Emmeline glanced at Sebastian again.

  He didn’t look happy at all that she had invited Jared.

  “A lap harp?” Jared asked.

  His emphasis on lap made Sebastian clear his throat.

  From the corner of Emmeline’s eye she spotted Nigel waving to her.

  “Oh I have to go. I really need to get some water for my throat. Seb, could you please get me a glass of water?”

  “I’ll get it.” Jared started going.

  “No, I’ll get it.” Sebastian.

  “I’ll—”

  “Boys? Children?” Emmeline said. “I’ll get it. Just show me where the kitchen is.”

  “I’ll show you,” Jared said.

  “I’ll go.” Sebastian said and he was gone.

  Emmeline laughed all the way back to their makeshift “stage” by the pool. Juveniles.

  Jared was right behind her. “What’s wrong with him, huh?”

  Emmeline didn’t respond. She was looking at her script. Reading Elizabeth’s lines meant she wasn’t practicing her own lines. Still, she was paid either way, and that was enough for her.

  Some day she’d just have one job and it’d be playing the harp.

  “If I get a lap harp would you teach me to play it?”

  Emmeline stopped walking. “I’m not sure if Talia would appreciate that request.”

  “Talia? What about her?”

  What does Talia see in this guy, anyway?

  “Or would you prefer to teach me on the harp I already have?”

  Oh boy. Jared is persistent.

  “I understand that TBTS will be rehearsing here every week. I would rather not feel pressured into playing your harp or teaching you to play. My dad is the harp teacher. Not me. I don’t have enough patience to teach.”

  “Emmeline!” Nigel’s voice was loud and carried through the evening air.

  Everyone else yelled her name as if echoing him.

  “Coming!”

  Just as Mr. Darcy and Lady Catherine were taking up their positions beside Emmeline’s Elizabeth, Sebastian came out with a tray of cold bottled water for everyone.

  How thoughtful.

  Sebastian winked at her for whatever reason. She didn’t have time to figure it out as she began that banter with Lady Catherine in a scene at Rosings. Emmeline couldn’t imagine how big the Lady’s residence might be, but the script called for Elizabeth to appear intimidated.

  Intimidated?

  That’s easy.

  Emmeline didn’t have to pretend. She’d been intimidated all evening.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emmeline adjusted her backpack over her shoulders, grabbed her bicycle helmet, opened the front door of her apartment, and came face to face with Bart.

  She shrieked.

  How long had he been standing outside her door?

  Bart made a show of stepping back, his flabby triceps jiggling out of his muscle tee-shirt. He was wearing a pair of faded pajama bottom.

  “What do you want?” Emmeline pushed her bicycle out of her apartment, slammed her door shut, and locked it.

  What’s the point? Bart still has the key.

  “What do I want?” Bart stepped closer to Emmeline. “Many things.”

  His cigarette breath made Emmeline cough.

  “But I digress. This morning, however, it’s about what you want, Miss Emmeline.”

  “Make it quick. I have to get to work.” Emmeline pushed past him.

  Bart grabbed the bike and stopped her. He pointed to a black van parked in the courtyard. “Behold, your new van, Miss Emmeline.”

  “You’re giving me a van?” Emmeline laughed.

  “You can have it for five hundred dollars.”

  I knew it.

  “Does it even run?” Emmeline leaned her bicycle against the wall outside her apartment.

  She followed Bart to the cargo van. The vehicle might drain her gas bill, but it looked like it was big enough to transport her harp or even for her to live in if she had nowhere to go.

  Yet, the closer she walked toward the van, the more it seemed too good to be true. There were little round holes pockmarking the side of the van, holes scattered all over in random patterns looking like constellations, holes that hadn’t disappeared in the black spray paint.

  To begin with, rain could seep in through those holes and ruin her harp inside.

  Huh.

  “If you don’t like black we could have it painted over with your favorite color.” Bart rumbled his way to the back of the van.

  Periwinkle color all over? I think not.

  Emmeline stepped forward after Bart opened the cargo door. The entire interior had been stripped down to the frame. There were dark stains of some sort here and there on the floor.

  “What are those splotches?” Emmeline asked.

  “Grease.”

  “Red grease?” Emmeline raised her eyebrows.

  “Grease comes in many shades and hues.”

  “It doesn’t look like grease, though.”

  “Nothing some bleach won’t take out.” Bart waved his arms about. “All that space, huh? You can put two or three—or even five—harps in here. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look. This is a work van. Normally you’d pay at least forty thousand dollars for a brand new one. But this one is special.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Special, Miss Emmeline. Just for you. Five hundred dollars.”

  “Doesn’t look like it’s worth that much.” Emmeline backed away.

  “Trust me. It’s worth more than that. I’m doing this as a favor for a friend. He wants to get rid of it quick.”

  “Quickly.”

  “What?”

  “Get rid of it quickly.”

  “What I said.” Bart shut the back doors. He pointed to the roof of the van. “You can put two fifty-foot ladders on there.”

  “Why would I need even one fifty-foot ladder?”

  “You never know.” Bart went to the front. He lifted the hood. “Come see this engine. It’s a beauty.”

  “I’ve seen enough, Bart. I have to run.”

  “Two seconds.”

  Two seconds?

  Beep. Beep. That’s two seconds.

  Emmeline sighed and humored him. She peeked into the engine. She had no idea what she was looking at. It looked clean, and somewhat shiny in parts. It looked like someone packed extra stuff under the hood, but which part was added on? She had no clue.

  Bart lost her in his ramblings about pistons and crankshafts and superchargers and whatnots.

  Emmeline f
elt dizzy. “Stop.”

  “You’re impressed.” Bart smiled.

  “No. I have no idea what you’re taking about.”

  “Okay. Let’s just say the engine has been souped up.”

  “Is this a getaway vehicle?”

  Bart seemed hurt by her question.

  “Let me think about it and let you know, okay? I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.” Emmeline walked back to her bicycle for her own getaway.

  “I’ll leave the van here only until tomorrow. Is that enough time for you to call your mechanic?

  “I didn’t say I want it, Bart.”

  “You need transportation. Maybe this van is from God.”

  “You told me you don’t believe in God.” Emmeline put on her helmet and strapped it in.

  “Make me, then, Sweet Emmeline.”

  Emmeline laughed. “You can’t make someone believe in God. I can tell you about Him, but you have to decide for yourself.”

  “You call yourself a Christian and yet you never invited me to your Bible Study.” Bart curled his lips. “You know, the one you go to every Tuesday night from seven to nine?”

  “It’s for women only, Bart.”

  “All the better. I can handle women.”

  “There’s a Friday morning Bible Study for men. They meet at the Scrolls bookstore. You could attend that.”

  “Why should I? I’m not interested in men.”

  “A Bible Study is not a social club. It’s for—”

  “Don’t shove your religion down my throat. So what’s it gonna be, Miss Emmeline? If you don’t buy this van, don’t expect me to give you a ride when it rains.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “This is a good van. Zero to sixty in seconds.”

  Seriously?

  “Thanks, Bart. I’ll let you know, okay? If someone else wants it, that’s the way it goes.” Emmeline climbed on her bicycle. She looked around for her helmet, when she realized it was already on her head.

  “You can tell me the truth.” Bart looked dejected. “You don’t have the money.”

  “I don’t have the money and I don’t want the van,” Emmeline said.

  “Four hundred?”

  Emmeline shook her head.

  “Three hundred?”

  “Sorry.”

  “How about I buy it for you? We can share the title.”

  In your dreams.

  Emmeline laughed and peddled quickly out of the driveway.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Twenty minutes!

  Emmeline lost twenty minutes chatting with Bart, and she was late clocking in at Scrolls. There was no time to change into the clean clothes she had brought in her backpack. There was hardly any time to wipe off her sweaty face as she made a mad dash to the customer service desk.

  No one was working behind the desk, and there were two people waiting to be served.

  Someone help me get organized!

  By the time Emmeline assisted the second customer to order the children’s books she wanted, there was a third person at customer service, and she was bad news.

  Still, Talia Cavanaugh-Perry looked amazing in her jogging outfit—except for that pinched face.

  “May I help you, Talia?” Emmeline asked as calmly as she could.

  “Yes, Emmeline. Stay away from him.”

  Which one?

  “I’m working at the moment. My break isn’t until eleven o’clock.”

  “I suppose you don’t know that I own half this store. If I want to talk to you right now, you drop everything and talk to me.”

  Oh. I had no idea.

  Emmeline had thought Talia only came and went in her father’s bookstore. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Talia rapped the table. Spoke through clenched teeth. Her voice was low. “Stay away from my Jared.”

  Jared.

  Obviously, Sebastian’s scheme to win back Talia hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Are we still in high school?” Emmeline had no idea how that came out of her mouth.

  Forgive me, Lord Jesus.

  I thought I was over my sharp tongue.

  “I can fire you on the spot,” Talia snapped.

  “For what?”

  “For being late for work. This is the third time this month.”

  So she checked my schedule? Looked for ways to get rid of me?

  “I’m sorry. I’ll stay late to make up for it.” It meant being late for church tonight or skipping it altogether. But she needed this job.

  “It doesn’t work that way. You can’t just come and go. This is a business.”

  It dawned on her that she’d better check if Talia had the power to fire her. As far as Emmeline was concerned, that role rested on Argo Perry, Talia’s dad, with advisement from the manager of the store.

  Talia was neither her dad nor the manager.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Emmeline kept her voice down.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Talia said. “But I’ll give you another chance if you stay away from him.”

  “Jared or Sebastian?”

  “Jared, woman. Why do I care about Seb? We broke up.”

  “It seems he still cares for you.”

  “He does?” Talia frowned. “Whatever for?”

  Emmeline shrugged. “Talks about you all the time.”

  “Really? Well, tell him I’ve moved on.” She pointed fingers—daggers—at Emmeline. “Get between Jared and me, and I’ll see to it you don’t work here anymore.”

  “If I lose this job I’ll have to take more roles in Theater by the Sea. As you know, we now rehearse our plays in Jared’s backyard. I’m going to be at all the rehearsals at house, which could be several times a week.”

  Talia’s lips moved but Emmeline couldn’t hear anything.

  “All summer,” Emmeline added for good measure. “I’m not complaining, since I need the income. Story of my life, Talia. Have you ever had to do four part-time jobs to make ends meet?”

  “Aren’t you going back to school?”

  “Yep. First week of August.” For the longest time, it couldn’t come soon enough. Now, Emmeline wasn’t sure. She was starting to get to know Sebastian—never mind.

  “Then you’re gone by August?” Talia asked.

  “Gone. Out of your sight.”

  “What about Seb? I thought you two are going out?”

  “Yes, we are. Whatever God wants for us is where we’ll go.”

  Forgive me, Lord.

  I shouldn’t have played the God card.

  Then again, in her heart, Emmeline genuinely believed it.

  Whatever God wants is what I want.

  Talia stood there in some sort of thought. There was no other customers behind her now. If she wanted a standoff, Emmeline could give her all day. Sitting at customer service on Wednesdays was usually uneventful.

  “Maybe I can help you, girl,” Talia finally said.

  “Help me how?”

  “If you work more hours here, you wouldn’t need to be in the theater.”

  Emmeline nodded. “Or work in the music library at SISO or play harp at weddings though I enjoy both.”

  “I’ll keep all that in mind.” Talia strutted away.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Emmeline wasn’t sure if Talia heard her.

  Having ameliorated Talia’s concerns, Emmeline couldn’t help feeling better about her day. It had started poorly with Bart trying to pawn off the getaway van on her. It was improving now with potentially more hours and pay at Scrolls.

  It would be sad for her to leave Theater by the Sea but truth be told, she’d rather work at Scrolls. No lines to memorize, less of Rafferty to fend off. And her work life would be simplified down to three part-time jobs instead of four.

  By the time her break came, Emmeline was on top of the world. Sebastian had texted her and confirmed that Helen Hu would be coming to town Thursday evening and could meet them after Emmeline got off work at Scrolls.

  Dinner w
ould be at Sebastian’s house. He was cooking.

  Emmeline had never been to Sebastian’s house. She didn’t even know where he lived, whether it was on Sea Island, St. Simon’s, or Jekyll. She knew that Skye lived in the Village near the grocery stores where she shopped for her clients, but Emmeline hadn’t asked about her brother.

  Why should she? If not for trying to find her own brother for their parents’ sake, Emmeline would not have crossed path with Sebastian Langston.

  Then a thought sprung into her head.

  God knows who to bring into my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the time Emmeline cycled home from church on Wednesday night, she was exhausted. She had been working all day starting at ten in the morning at Scrolls and ending at ten o’clock at night at Seaside Chapel rehearsing with the sanctuary orchestra for the upcoming Sunday morning church service, and then with Skye for their duet in next Wednesday night’s Fire Pit Service.

  Twenty minutes of cycling home in the summer air gave her time to pray and thank God for a fruitful day. She couldn’t wait for Thursday evening when she could talk to Helen Hu about finding Claude.

  Thank You, Lord Jesus. Thank You, Thank You.

  Emmeline showered to soap off all the gunk she probably picked up on her skin and hair while cycling on the streets. She brushed her teeth as quickly as she could. Drank a glass of water. And crashed onto her bed, shutting out the world.

  Until she heard her door rattle.

  Something crashed.

  She sprung out of her bed, cell phone in hand. She peeked out of her bedroom door. There were shadows in her living room. She shut her door and locked it.

  She punched in 911 on her cell phone.

  “Someone’s inside my house,” she gasped, giving the dispatcher details.

  She couldn’t stay in this closet bedroom. There were no windows, no exit. The only way to get out of here was through the front door or the windows there.

  She slid into her sneakers, put her cell phone into her pajama shorts pocket, and prayed like crazy.

  Help me, Lord.

  “Emmeline, oh Emmeline…!” Slurry voice unmistakably Bart’s ricocheted in her ears.

  Oh. It’s just Bart.