Patchwork and Politics by Christine Lynxwiler

Author:Christine Lynxwiler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2013-10-29T04:00:00+00:00

Ten

Holt didn’t know what Megan would say when he showed up as if it were a regular Tuesday. He’d spent yesterday trying to convince himself just to let her go, but his heart wasn’t so easily reclaimed.

He couldn’t make her believe he wasn’t worried about her past. How would he ever share his plans for the future? And if he was able to persuade her, could he be sure he was strong enough to stand by her, no matter what?

Lord, please help me to remember that Your opinion is the only one that matters.

Just as he pulled into the driveway, Megan and Sarah ran out of the house toward their van. The frantic look on Megan’s face propelled him from his truck.

“It’s Aunt Irene! She’s fallen.”

“Get in and I’ll drive you. My truck’s already running.”

Without hesitation, Megan guided Sarah to Holt’s truck and helped her into the backseat of the crew cab pickup, then she jumped in the front.

Holt glanced at Megan’s pale face and reached over and took her hand. In spite of the summer heat, her fingers were ice cold. “Did she call 9-1-1?”

“Yes, just before she called me.”

He jerked the vehicle into the elderly woman’s long driveway.

“When we get up there,” Megan said, in a low voice, “let Sarah stay outside and play with the puppies. I’ll go in to be with Aunt Irene until the ambulance comes.”

“Okay, but if you need me, promise you’ll yell.”

She nodded. Before the truck came to a complete stop, she jumped out and ran into the house. Holt noticed Aunt Irene’s old green pickup had the tailgate down. Groceries were scattered on the ground and in the bed of the truck. Had the older woman fallen outside?

The puppies bounded toward Holt and Sarah as they walked across the yard. Holt hurriedly gathered the scattered groceries into the empty bags. When he’d finished he sank down on the porch, he hoped within earshot of the house, and watched the preschooler run and romp with the pups. He heard a couple of low moans from the living room and started to rise. Then he recognized Megan’s voice, no longer frantic, but calm and soothing as she spoke to her elderly neighbor.

“How come we can’t go inside?” Sarah stared at him, a frown marring her normally cheerful face. “Is Aunt Irene hurt bad?”

“I’m not sure.” Holt didn’t have much experience with children, but he remembered that even when he was young, he’d appreciated honesty. “She’s hurting, but I think she’s going to be okay.”

“Don’t you think she’s gonna want me to hold her hand?” Her voice went up on the last word, and he could see a hint of tears in her eyes.

“Your mama’s holding her hand. But there is something we can do.”

“What?”

“Pray.”

She nodded. “Will you do it?”

“Sure.” Holt bowed his head.

“Wait!” Sarah yelled.

Holt looked up quickly. “What’s wrong?”

She slipped her tiny hand into his. “We always hold hands when we pray.”

He squeezed her hand and nodded, then bowed again. He waited for a second to see if she would think of something else.

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