The Stronghold by Evans Marianne;

Author:Evans, Marianne;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Fiction
Publisher: Pelican Book Group
Published: 2018-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

~*~

Nabbing his sister-in-law-to-be, Aaron strolled with her outside where they could catch a breath of fresh air and chat in peace. “So, what was with that whole ‘Aaron’s had so many nice things to say about you’ remark you made to Emma earlier?”

Mila snickered. “Oh. You noticed that?”

Aaron glowered.

“I’m trying to be welcoming. Or maybe I’m just prompting things along. Isn’t that the phrase you used a while back when we were talking about the way you’ve been trying to help Ben and HB make a connection?”

Mila’s sweet-as-you-please smile left Aaron equal parts irked and admiring. She was a formidable force. “You didn’t used to be so mean.”

“Actually, I was even worse. You just didn’t recognize the trait.” She grinned and gave him a light shove. “Don’t let grass grow. Go get her. She’s a gem. Music’s starting. Dancing awaits. With a lovely lady. Go.”

Aaron listened to Mila’s advice, but opted to divert a bit and resettle before approaching Emma. He’d approach her as friend, as a grateful recipient of her professional expertise. He paused at the table occupied by his family and gave Mom’s shoulder a tender squeeze. “Dance with me?”

Her smile burst like a firework; her eyes danced like stars. “I’d be delighted.”

Aaron accepted her hand and led her into a smooth glide that matched the beat of the music.

Mom gave his hand a squeeze. “You know, when you're finished dancing with me, you should go and be as welcoming to Emma. I see the way you look at her, and it's got to be hard assimilating to a small town where everyone already knows each other and—”

Aaron cast a beseeching glance toward the heavens. What was with the women in his life these days? “Mom, are you, by any chance, matchmaking?”

“No, not exactly. Try friend-making. That’s a much better analogy.”

“Sure it is.” Aaron squelched a skeptical chuckle and leaned back with a knowing grin. “You’re a fibber. You want to get rid of me.”

“Never.”

They moved to the tempo of the music for a few beats.

“Women are tricky.”

“Guilty as charged.” No woman raised three sons without possessing a strong personality of her own, and Anna Fisher could write a textbook on the topic.

“Do you want to know why I’m so picky?”

“Sure. Fill me in.”

“Because you’ve set the bar very, very high.” Aaron kissed her cheek.

“Oh, my darling.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back and tossed her head. “Aren’t you sweet?”

“I have my moments.”

“More than a few.” She kissed his cheek and the softest scent of gardenia drifted.

Once the song ended, Aaron led her back to the table, there Dad waited, a contented expression easing the time-lines of his eyes and mouth. He looked great, from his posture to the renewed, ruddy hue of his cheeks. Mom gave his arm a concluding squeeze.

“OK, son, it’s my turn now.” Dad claimed Mom’s hand. After kissing the back of her fingertips, he led her to the dance floor.

“Go, Aaron,” Mom encouraged as they walked away. “Talk to her.

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