The Alliance by Jolina Petersheim

Author:Jolina Petersheim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Contemporary Women, FICTION / Christian / Romance
ISBN: 9781496414502
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2016-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

“Should I take you home?” Jabil asks as the wagon pulls back into Mt. Hebron.

“It’s past midnight.” I glance over. “Where else is there to go but home?”

He doesn’t respond. Moses latches the gate behind us. I turn on the bench seat and see him standing between the gate and the wagon, staring to the left, though nothing is there but the outline of Field to Table in the dark. For the second time tonight, I leap from the wagon. Jabil says to the horse, “Whoa, whoa.” The wooden wheels roll to a stop. He calls after me, “Thought you were going home.” When I don’t respond, he continues, “You shouldn’t be out this late.”

I keep walking away from him but call behind me, “Wasn’t I just out this late with you?”

Moses has climbed on top of the scaffolding again. I feel the draw of his eyes as I approach, but he says nothing. I mentally berate myself for jumping from Jabil’s wagon when I’m obviously wanted more there than here. I turn back to trail its tracks, which have gouged parallel grooves in the crusher-run gravel. The wagon is still close enough that I hope Jabil doesn’t turn around and see me, slighted and trying to catch up. I take two steps in his direction when Moses says, “Need something, Leora?”

Rattled, I about-face. I look up at him and shade my eyes, as if that gesture will help me see better in the night. I lower my hand. “Have you heard anything about Melinda?”

Moses gets up and walks to the scaffolding’s edge. He smiles down at me. “Sorry, no. No one’s seen anything.” He pauses. “You and Jabil were the last ones back.”

“We were also the farthest from the community.”

“No doubt that was planned.”

“Well. Not by me.”

Coughing a laugh, Moses shakes his head. “No, not by you.” He thumbs the air over his shoulder. “Charlie’s making rounds. Wanna come up? It’ll be a little while before he gets back.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling; I’m never brazen enough to ask for what I want. I grip the rungs, and scales of paint slough off like dead matter. Moses doesn’t offer me a hand, but directs a flashlight at my hands so I can make the climb on my own.

“How ’bout you?” he asks, once I’ve reached the top. “See anything?”

I shake my head and sit on the scaffolding edge beside him—our feet dangling, the heels of our boots tapping lightly on the rungs. “A window was broken and a lamp turned over. But nobody was there. Looked like the Slocums just packed up their stuff and left.”

“They have people nearby?”

“Doubt it. They moved here from Chicago to homestead.” I experience a bout of sadness, recalling the Slocums’ framed paintings, depicting peaceful scenes juxtaposed by the dwelling’s abandoned state. “Why didn’t they come here?” I ask. “We could’ve helped them.”

“Would we have, Leora? Sounds good in theory, but if it came down to our families or theirs, would

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