The Courtship by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-23T14:48:12+00:00

Part Three

A Free Man

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Chapter 13

September had swept in with a frigid breath sweeping the mountains, and soon, Lanie knew, the trees would lose their green hue.

They would turn to red, yellow, and gold, and the woods would be clothed with glorious colors. It was a time of year she loved perhaps more than all the rest. The hot summers were leaving, and winter lay ahead, but the fall was the time when the air was like wine.

Sitting in her bedroom beside the window, Lanie stared out. She watched Corliss who was playing a game with Beau and Booger; the child made up games and incorporated the animals on the farm as well as those humans she could enlist to act them out. Lanie smiled as Corliss spoke something to Booger, and the big bloodhound lifted his head and howled. It was a mournful sound, and Booger had a mournful face, and yet he was, all in all, a happy dog.

I wish I knew what was going on in Corliss’s head. She’s so smart.

There’s no telling what she’ ll do as she grows up.

She shifted her gaze then and watched Davis throw baseballs at a target he had made from a box with a hole not much larger than the ball. He wound up and threw with a strength and power that amazed Lanie. Time after time, the ball made a white streak and disappeared into the hole with a loud thump. Even those that didn’t go into the hole didn’t miss by much. She thought then of his offer to play professional baseball and knew her dad had advised against it. Still, Davis had not made up his mind.

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THE COURTSHIP

The grandfather clock downstairs struck ten times, and Lanie turned her attention back to the sheets of paper spread out on the table. She picked up her Bible and read again the story of the Last Supper. She had been writing a poem trying to incorporate some of the events of that night, and she read again the verse that she had put at the top of the poem:

Jes us riset h fr om supp er, and laid aside his garments; and took a towel, and girded himself. Aft er that he pouret h water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples ’ feet , and to wipe them with the towel wh

erewith he was girded.

She had been puzzling over the title for days, and now it came to her: Footwashing. She wrote it down firmly over the verse.

She had worked hard on the poem, staying up late and rising early. Somehow, the Last Supper had always had a tremendous effect on her. Every time she took communion at church, it was a time of self-examination for her and a time when it seemed that Jesus revealed Himself to her very clearly.

“What must it have been like,” she murmured. “All the disciples were

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