Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Seth
I found myself lingering outside on my porch for longer than normal in the mornings, with the hope of getting a glimpse of Ella to make sure she was alright.
I’d decided to share my truth with her yesterday when I wrote her daily note on the cut wood.
She’d come to Maggie’s Wednesday group without saying anything or acting differently towards me.
I wondered if she had read it yet. I hoped it made her feel less alone.
There was a dark pain in her eyes, even when she smiled, and it tore at my heart.
The porch creaked, and I peered over to see Maggie walking up. She followed my line of sight, and I blushed, looking away from Ella’s.
“That poor girl. She’s completely slammed the door on the Lord,” Maggie said.
I nodded. “And let me guess: You’re going to bring her back into God’s good graces?”
“Naturally,” Maggie said, as if it went without question.
I laughed. My grandmother was on a mission to bring everyone to Jesus.
I’d once found her talking a woman’s ear off in town about how much God loved her, and when she finally let the woman come up for air and speak for the first time, the lady rattled off Italian and managed a small, “No English.” We laughed the whole way home.
That was Maggie—God’s biggest cheerleader—and I loved her for it.
“What if you turn her further away from God? She doesn’t seem like the woman who likes to be pushed,” I told Maggie.
Maggie frowned. “Well then, we’ll have to show her the Lord’s love through our actions. She will see how much He loves her through us.”
I peered at my grandmother. “And just what did you have in mind?”
“I heard she isn’t ready for winter,” Maggie told me.
I nodded. “I offered to help, as did Ruthie. The stubborn woman refused us both. Nothing to be done.” I shrugged.
I wasn’t about to go over and get the door slammed in my face again.
I’d just gotten on good terms with Ella, and I wanted to stay that way.
Especially since I almost burst out laughing every time I see her diaper chicken.
“Seth Jacob. Go help that girl get ready for winter. She’s got animals and sprinklers, and Lord knows what else needs to be done.”
“But—” I interjected like a child, and Maggie gave me “‘the look’.” It was the same look she’d taught my mother, the one that said if you don’t do what I ask, you’ll regret it.
“Yes, ma’am.” I stood, chugged the rest of my coffee, and walked to my truck.
Maggie and God wanted me to tend to His lost sheep, but what if that sheep was rabid?
Guess I was going to get bit.