5. God values the man I am.
I’d stopped believing that, didn’t I, Lord? Gil shut his eyes and prayed. Worked hard so You’d be impressed by what I do, but forgot You value who I am. How’d I get so far off track while settin’ other people on theirs?
He returned to the notepad.
6. Emily…
Gil didn’t know how to finish that. Emily…could love me? Emily…might love me? Emily…wants to love me? Each time he came up with an option, Gil realized he didn’t have any way of knowing those things, nor did he have any control over them.
Okay, Lord, I need a little help here. What’s within my control that I can know?
It came to him:
6. Emily is worth fighting for. Now.
He sprinted up the front drive and threw himself into the truck before he could talk himself out of it. The tires spat gravel as he roared out of the Homestretch gates, heading for town. He knew her store closed at five, and it was already twenty till. The truck couldn’t go fast enough. When he got stuck behind some farm machinery, he was crazed with frustration. “You gonna let it all go to pieces now?” he roared while he banged his hands on the steering wheel. “Come on, God, cut a guy a break here. I’m finally gettin’ this right.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The batch of soap had gone horribly wrong.
Emily stared at the unimpressive little rectangle. Normally, her soaps looked artisan and handmade. But this batch looked more like something scraped off the bottom of a pot. The cinnamon and orange scents she’d put in—always tricky to get a masculine scent rather than anything floral—had gone a little wrong, and the bar smelled like overripe cider. It had an orangey-brown tinge that couldn’t really be called attractive. She stepped back and cocked her head to one side, declaring it one of her least successful attempts at soap-making. A casual observer might easily mistake it for a preschool art project.
But she loved it. The fact that she’d only had enough mixture left to form two bars because she’d slipped and dropped the pot only added to the charm.
Just two bars. Like the two bars that started everything. The imperfection fit, somehow. She held her bar up to Othello, deciding that lopsided rectangles were artistic. “We’re shooting for feeling here, not fancy.” Othello blinked, stretched out his head to give it an inquisitive sniff, and promptly dismissed her creation as nothing he found worthy of his attention. “Everyone’s a critic,” she said as she reached for some yellow paper.
Emily wasn’t sure if she could ever explain to Gil how the concept of lye being necessary to make soap helped her come to terms with everything. Even when she said it out loud to Othello it sounded ridiculous.
“Nobody needs to get it but me and God,” Emily declared to the empty kitchen.
Carefully, she copied down the long verse from 1 Timothy onto the paper. “I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.” It had taken her some time to decide on the passage, but she’d known it was right. She got a warm feeling in her chest when she thought about her handwriting nestled snug up against the soap.
Ms. Montague’s Mercy Soap had its first customer.
Well, Ms. Montague’s Mercy Soap had only two customers. This particular scent would be a limited edition, two-of-a-kind production.
“Othello, I need to go pay a visit to Gil. He doesn’t know it yet, but he needs one more bar of soap in his life.” She gave Othello a kiss on the top of his fuzzy head and grabbed her car keys.
Gil’s red truck pulled into the parking space in front of West of Paris just as Sandy Burnside was locking up the front door. He spilled out of the truck, leaving it running.
“Where is she?”
Sandy looked at him. She knew everything, he could tell by the way she looked at him. “Who?”
“Sandy…”
Sandy tucked the shop keys into that monstrous handbag of hers and leaned back against the door. Hang her, she knew everything that was going on, but she looked as if she was having a pleasant Sunday chat. “Do you love her?” she said calmly.
Gil rolled his eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Sandy, don’t you think I ought to be havin’ that conversation with Emily?”
“She ain’t here. I am. Now I know where she is and you don’t, so unless you want to find out who’s the more stubborn here—and trust me, it’s a draw—answer the question.”
“Sandy…” It was turning into a growl with every repetition.
She crossed her arms over her chest and casually inspected a fingernail. “I ain’t got nowhere to be, hon. Take your time.”
Middleburg was full of meddling crazy people. He stalked the sidewalk for a moment, thinking that this was insane. This wasn’t a declaration for the middle of town. Sandy had no business knowing. He could find Emily himself if he had to—it’s not as if he didn’t know where she lived.
Unless she’d gone somewhere. He thought she’d never leave the shop, but maybe, if she was in pain, she would go off somewhere. Ask Sandy to mind the shop. He didn’t think he could stand another hour, let alone days, without talking to Emily.
“Fine.” He threw up his hands. “You win. I love her. I’ve fallen for her completely, like some kind of lovesick idiot. Now will you please tell me where she is before I—”
She held up one hand. “Now, now, no need to get all prickly on me, I just needed to make sure we had our priorities in order.” She smiled warmly and he tamped down the urge to yell at her. “She’s at home.”
“You knew she was home the whole time and—” Gil decided he didn’t have a polite way to finish that sentence. He threw himself back into the truck and pulled out of the parking space with only enough time to hear Sandy call, “You’re welcome,” while waving from the sidewalk.
It was a two-minute drive to Emily’s house. In his state of mind, he could have run it in one.
Her VW wasn’t out front. That doesn’t really mean anything, he told himself as he threw open the little white gate and took her front stairs in a single lunge. He banged on the door. “Emily!” A fat orange cat poked its head through the living-room window curtains and blinked at him, but no one answered the door.
“What do you mean she’s not home?” Gil moaned into the air. “Sandy said she was home. She’s not home. How can she not be home?” The cat blinked again and settled onto the top of the couch back, as if this might make for entertaining viewing. “Where is she?” he asked the cat through the window, then practically slapped his head for the stupidity of it all. “Cats. I’m asking cats.”
Where is she? Where would she have gone? Lord, don’t do this to me. Don’t make me wait for her now. He stood on Emily’s tiny front porch for ten minutes, helpless and frustrated beyond belief.
There was nothing to be done.
At first he thought he’d just camp out on her steps until she came home. She’d come back from wherever she was mending her wounds, she’d find him here and they’d start the long process of talking it out.
He realized, picturing that homecoming, that he hadn’t even kissed her yet. He sank down onto the porch steps, astounded.
How could he possibly be in love with someone he hadn’t even kissed yet? It was like some sort of sick fairy tale where the frail princess and the swaggering prince sigh at each other from afar. I’m not that kind of hero, he almost laughed to himself. I really am in over my head here. How about a little help here, Lord? Big ol’ hunk of divine guidance coming down out of the sky to tell me what to do?
This had gone way too fast. Maybe they did need time. Maybe they needed to wait a bit. Wait? Now? You remember, Lord, how bad I am at waiting?
He’d set out in his truck determined to fix everything, to make it all better. He drove home without a clue as to what came next.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun was setting, and it was ge
tting cold. Ethan had answered the gate buzzer, but told Emily Gil wasn’t there. He’d gone off “in a supreme huff,” Ethan said, leaving his cell phone and PDA on his desk and tearing off in his truck without a word to anyone. Ethan invited her in to wait in the house, but Emily declined. It felt better, somehow, to stay out here at the gate.
She was just about to give up when she caught sight of the red truck coming over the hill. Her heart slammed around in her chest as he drove closer. Oh, God, make this all right between us. I’ll settle for whatever You decide, but You know how much he means to me now. I won’t ask, because You already know. I’ll try and trust You, really I will.
She couldn’t see Gil’s face behind the windshield. She had no idea what his mood was as he pulled the truck up against the gate just as he’d done before. Emily held her breath as she got out of her car.
It was an ordinary front gate on a dusky February night. Nothing romantic or significant, just a muddy roadside in front of a place she’d come to hold dear. Taking a deep breath, Emily pulled off her hat and said, “Gil?”
He got out of the truck slowly, with the most unreadable expression on his face. Emily wrapped her hand around the soap in her pocket and tried to breathe.
“You weren’t home,” he said.
“You went looking for me?” She dared to hope that was a good thing. When they’d last stood at this gate, he’d sounded as if he never wanted to see her again. “Gil…”
He walked straight to her. “I’m sorry I waited to tell you. You were right. I—I was scared of this. I’m sorry.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry I held all that against you. I hadn’t even realized how unforgiving I still was. When I made the speech, I thought I’d come through it all and then it all came back when you told me and…” She trailed off. “I can’t make any sense. I think it will be a long time before any of this makes sense.”
He reached out to her, his rough hands tracing one strand of her hair as it fell against her cheek. “I want to try to make sense of this. More than anything. Do you believe that?”
She’d told herself they would take it slow. Take it one careful step at a time. But when he touched her, when the setting sun caught the surprising tenderness in his eyes, none of that mattered. She threw herself into his arms so hard he stumbled back a bit. He laughed as he righted the two of them, a bright warm laugh she’d never heard from him.
And then he kissed her. Fierce and desperate and without anything held back. She felt the last of the thick wall he’d built around himself come down in her arms and knew this was what God had intended all along. When he pulled away to look into her eyes, it was like a different man staring at her. The one she’d only seen glimpses of before, the one hiding behind the wall.
Sandy’s question had been right. Was this man the same man as the one who’d left Ash back on that street corner? No. This man in front of her had been someone like that, long ago, but now all things had been made new. Her own heart included.
“I’ve…um…brought you something,” she stammered, suddenly finding it hard to catch her breath. “I made this for you.”
Gil took the little rectangle in yellow paper from her hand, his head cocked to one side in surprise. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Not exactly.”
He peered at the handwritten wrapper. “Ms. Montague’s Mercy Soap.” He turned it over in his hand, looking at it.
“I’ve made soap before,” she started, diving into an explanation she could only hope would make sense. “I don’t know why I started up again today, but I was so confused, and it was the only thing that kept coming to me when I prayed. So I made a batch this morning.”
Gil hoisted himself up onto the stone wall and offered his free hand pull her up with him. He pulled her up easily, then wrapped his arm around her as they sat on the stones in the fading light. “You see,” she said, taking the soap from his hand and holding it up for him so he wouldn’t have to take his wonderfully strong arm from around her, “soap’s got three things in it. The first two aren’t supposed to mix—oil and water. I found that, well, sort of metaphorical.”
He grabbed the hand holding the soap and kissed it, mitten and all. “I get what you mean.”
“But you can get them to mix. It takes a third element. If you don’t use it, the oil and water won’t mix and it won’t work. And that’s lye.”
“Lye? Drain cleaner?”
“Well, the same chemical. It’s caustic and dangerous and they say—oddly enough—that the trick is to treat it with respect. Sound familiar?”
“I think I follow you.” The wide, warm smile had yet to leave his face.
“At first, I thought of your past as the dangerous part of you. The part that could hurt me. But it’s the part of you that makes you able to do what you do. It’s valuable even though it’s dangerous—just like the lye. And the same with me. My past is hard for you, but it’s part of who I am, so it’s the same. We both have corrosive things in our lives, but we can choose to make them work for us, to help us mix when it seems like we shouldn’t.”
“So I have to ask: What’s mercy smell like?”
“Not as good as I’d hoped,” Emily admitted, laughing, feeling relief as the sorrow of the past few days simply slipped away. “It should be Ms. Montague’s Mistake Soap.”
“Nah,” he said, looking up at her with a glint that made her stomach flip. “I like the mercy part.” He lifted his arm from around her and worked the wrapper off. He knew, as she knew he would, to look inside, even though he had to squint in the dusk. “I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an—” his voice caught a bit, and she knew she’d chosen the right verse “—as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.”
“That’s you. That’s what happened to Ash.” She touched the wrapper in his hand. “But I’ve realized now, everything is redeemable if you believe in mercy.”
“It’s the whole point of Homestretch Farm, but I’ve never gotten it, really,” Gil said. “I’ve been telling the guys that for years, never realizing that I wouldn’t let it apply to me. And then you…”
He couldn’t speak for a moment. Emily guessed he had a lump in his throat as large as the lump in hers.
“We’ve got to fight for it,” Emily said, looking up into his eyes. “Now that I get what this place is all about, now that I know what I know, I can’t bear the thought of them voting to close Homestretch.”
Gil let his head lean against hers. “I know.”
“I’ll fight it. We’ll fight it. We’ll find a way to make them see. They can’t close it because of Mark—it’s the guys like Mark that need Homestretch to stay open. There’s got to be a way to make them see it. God will show us the solution, and we can be strong if we’re together.”
Gil nodded, brushing his hand against her cheek. “And we are together. You and I.” His eyes weren’t dark at all now, just rich and deep and warm.
After another incredibly tender kiss, he held the bar closer and gave it a sniff.
“Whoa, there,” he choked, his eyes watering. “You’ve got enthusiasm, I’ll give you that much.” He laughed, and she laughed, and the world righted itself into someplace wonderful where anything could happen. Gil reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. He closed his eyes for a second, and he knew he was letting the moment sink in, savoring it. “I am in love with you. You know that.”
“Yes.” She let her face tilt into the warmth of his hand.
“And I’m in love with you, Gil.”
His arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight, holding her as if she’d been gone for years. In a way, she had.
“Come on inside.”
Epilogue
September was unusually hot that year. The cluster of tough-looking young men fidgeted in their chairs, looking as if they’d rather be anywhere but in the Homestretch
Farm living room.
Emily took a few snapshots for her new scrapbook. These would look nice next to the clippings about the town council voting to keep Homestretch open. And the shots of Middleburg’s two new artfully mounted ATM machines. It had been a big year. She made sure to get a really good picture of Paulo, even though he looked as if his shirt was making him itch. Sandy had provided him with a nice shirt and pants for job interviews—she had done that for all the “graduating” men—and Paulo looked handsome, if a bit out of his element.
Gil leaned over Emily’s shoulder. “You think he can pull it off?” he whispered.
Emily nodded, then caught Paulo’s eye as she took one more photo and gave him a thumbs-up.
“You guys don’t know what you’re in for here,” Paulo began, looking around the room. “I didn’t. And I looked just like you, and I bet I felt just like you, last year. I was pretty sure this was just another of those stupid programs. But it ain’t.”
The newbies traded glances with each other, suspicious. Paulo cleared his throat nervously. Gil nodded and motioned for him to continue. Emily felt Gil’s hand tighten around hers.
“The way I figure it, you got two choices. You can take this chance, or blow it. My friend Steve, he took it. He’s my roommate now, and he’s got a serious job making good money. We live in Lexington, and next year I’ll probably have enough money saved up to get a car. Always wanted a car. I’m takin’a few classes, I got an okay job, but Steve? He’s gonna make it. Big. He’s really smart that way. One of you guys could be a Steve, and you probably don’t even know it yet.
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