Edge of the Wilderness - By Stephanie Grace Whitson Page 0,27
or diamonds.”
Beginning to cry, Gen wrapped her arms around him, sobbing out thank-yous. He held her for a moment, fearful of the emotions that rose in him at the feel of her body against his. He patted her head awkwardly, murmuring, “Don’t cry, my dear.”
They stood together for a moment until Gen backed away and gestured toward the table. “Let me make you some breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Simon said. “I was just going out the back door to head for the church. I’ll be back in time to eat with the family.”
“Please, Simon,” Gen begged. “We never have time alone.” She had already reached for the rolling pin and biscuit cutter.
“All right,” he said uncertainly. Putting his Bible back on the table, he sat down. Gen’s back was to him, and for the first time in a long time he could admire her profile without the threat of someone else noticing. When she spun around to pour him a second cup of coffee he looked away quickly and felt his cheeks growing warm.
“Read to me,” she said, quietly nodding at the Bible.
He opened the book and began to read: “‘I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making request with joy, for your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now; being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ: Even as it is meet for me to think this of you all, because I have you in my heart . . .’”
Gen asked over her shoulder, “Where is that?”
“Philippians,” Simon answered quickly. “Paul wrote it from prison. I’ve been studying it, thinking it might encourage the men at Davenport.”
She nodded. “I like the idea of God beginning a work . . . and then sticking with it—bringing it to its logical end someday. It’s comforting, thinking that He cares enough to be involved in our lives that way.” While they talked, Gen made fresh biscuits, scrambled eggs, and dished up applesauce. She set the meal on the table half apologetically. “I know we usually have potatoes, too, but we—”
“I’m not really that fond of potatoes for breakfast,” Simon said quickly.
“Oh—I-I didn’t know that.” She sat down beside him.
The simple fact that she chose to sit beside rather than across from him did not go unnoticed. Nor did the, way her dark hair glistened against her crisp yellow gingham dress. He managed to mumble a juvenile blessing, but afterward an awkward silence reigned over them both until Meg appeared on the stairs, scooting down on her bottom, Hope in her arms.
“We smelled breakfast,” Meg said, yawning.
The instant Meg’s feet touched the floor, Hope strained to get out of her arms. When Meg put her down, Hope crawled toward Simon, who scooted back from the table and welcomed her with outstretched arms.
“Good morning,” Simon said, looking over Hope’s head to Meg. “How are my two girls this morning?”
“Hungry!” Meg said, and sat next to Gen at the table.
“Pa-pa-pa-pa!” Hope said, and patted Simon’s cheek.
Gen and Simon exchanged glances, and for the first time neither one felt compelled to look away, lest they reveal too much to the other.
Only one week later, Simon stood alone again in the predawn dark. This time, he was in the parlor, looking out toward the street. He had packed last evening and spent a restless night waiting for morning and the time to go. Everything pointed to it being God’s will that he go to Camp McClellan. And every emotion in him still cried out against his leaving. He would miss Hope’s next new words. He would miss her learning to walk on her own. He would miss hearing Meg read aloud every evening and discussing theology with Aaron, who had recently developed a precocious interest in Bible doctrines.
Added to the burden of loneliness he would feel apart from his children, Simon dreaded separation from Gen. Still, he knew it was right to go. He had not heard God’s voice audibly, but phrases from Scripture still rang in his heart, confirming that he was to feed the sheep. If he didn’t obey the inner voice, how could he call himself a Christian? If he did not distance himself from Gen, how would he avoid behaving like a love-struck fool? He had seen Miss Jane Williams watching him closely over the last few days. He assumed