Seek Me With All Your Heart (23 page)

Martha folded her arms across her chest and stared at the fire for a few moments. “I think Arnold is a good Christian.”

Emily nodded again. “He seems like a nice man.”

Martha chuckled. “Doesn’t he, though?” She shook her head. “Can’t for the life of me figure out why that sil y old carpenter wants to spend time with me.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “You probably haven’t noticed, but I ain’t always real cheerful.”

Emily bit her bottom lip, then took a deep breath. “I’ve always thought you were just fine, Martha.”

“Wel , you better go before my cookies burn.” Martha stood up.

Emily jumped up and put on her coat and bonnet. “Thank you for the gift, Martha.” She picked it up from the coffee table.

“Send my thanks to your mother for the rhubarb jel y.”

“I wil .” Emily walked toward the door, then turned and smiled. “Have a nice time with Mr. Becker.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Martha rol ed her eyes, scowled a bit, then mumbled, “Merry Christmas to you folks.”

“Merry Christmas.” Emily opened the door and left.

She was almost to her buggy when she heard the door open. She turned around.

Martha stood on the porch. “Emily?”

“Ya?”

“Is it too late for me to be one of ’em?” Martha took a step forward and rubbed her hands along her arms. “You know, a good Christian?”

Emily smiled. “It’s never too late, Martha.”

MARTHA PULLED HER cookies from the oven. “Argh!” She eyed the blackened edges as she set the pan on top of the oven. “Can’t even seem to make a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

She lifted one of the cookies with the spatula, blew on it, then flipped it over. Too burnt to serve to Arnold. He’d think she had never baked cookies, which would be the complete and total truth.

Oh wel . Al wasn’t lost. She eyed the pan of lasagna in front of her, the one she’d pried from the frozen container and put in her own casserole dish. The way the cheese melded to the edge of the pan made it look almost like she’d prepared it herself. And anyone could toss a salad, which Martha figured she’d done quite wel . Boy, how she missed Emily in the kitchen.

Not my fault I never learned to cook
. She didn’t remember her mother ever teaching her. And when she’d married Herbert, they’d had a live-in housekeeper and a cook, so Martha had never pursued the craft.

But after Herbert died, Martha had traded their estate in Monte Vista for this much smal er home in Canaan, and she’d parted ways with the help, giving them enough money to either retire or take a lot of vacations. She missed the lavish meals from time to time, but it was easier to be alone. Or so she’d thought. She smiled to herself as she looked over her surroundings. It had been a long time since she’d cared what her place looked like. After Herbert died, she’d fal en into some sort of funk she hadn’t been able to shake. Until now.

She jumped a bit when she heard a knock at the door and felt sil y. She was going to have to do something to harness al the giddiness she’d felt since the day she laid eyes on Arnold Becker. The man seemed to radiate kindness, and he was bringing a few things out in Martha that had been stuck beneath a lonely heart for several years.

She took a deep breath and pul ed the door wide. He stood on the porch shivering, but then a smile spread across his face, and Martha couldn’t recal ever feeling as warm as she did at this moment or as dizzy with happiness.
Maybe I’ll learn to live with giddy
.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he crossed the threshold.

“Get yourself in here out of the cold.” Martha closed the door behind him. She tried to control the blush fil ing her cheeks, but be blasted if she just couldn’t. “Warm yourself by the fire.”

Arnold smiled as he walked to the fireplace. He pul ed off his gloves and a black felt hat that looked similar to the ones the Amish folks wore.

“Here, let me take your coat.” Martha waited while he shed the long black overcoat, then she laid it across the back of the couch.

“Hel o, Elvis,” he said as he made his way to Elvis’s cage. Martha fol owed, anxious for Arnold to hear how she’d taught Elvis to say Merry Christmas.

“You’l love this. Listen to what my Elvis learned just today. Such a smart bird, my Elvis.”

Elvis squealed before he spoke, then loudly said, “I think I love that Arnold. I think I love that Arnold. I think I love that—”

“Elvis! Shut your mouth! Good grief!” Martha was afraid to even look at Arnold, and any previous blush in her cheeks was now fire-red embarrassment.

Elvis, you are in big trouble
. Martha slowly turned to Arnold, raised her brows, and flashed him a stiff smile. “Dumb bird. He was supposed to say Merry Christmas.”

Arnold’s mouth was curved into a smile, but his eyes were open wide. Luckily, he didn’t comment on Elvis’s new saying, though his cheeks were turning as red as Martha knew hers were.
No sunflower seeds for you today, Elvis. You’re grounded
.

“Something smel s real good, Martha.”

She smiled. “I hope you like lasagna.”

“I do.”

Even the frozen kind?
“Why don’t you give the fire a poke while I go set the table?”

Arnold nodded, and Martha headed to the kitchen. Once everything was ready, she went to get him, and they sat down to eat.

“Shal I say the blessing?” Arnold folded his hands together and bowed his head.

Martha did the same. “Sure.”

Arnold thanked the Lord for the food, for Martha, for his home, for his life, for his friends, and about near everything else. Martha was grateful for al those things he mentioned, and she’d grown accustomed to praying before meals. Occasional y, she’d try to talk to God on her own, but it felt awkward because she didn’t real y know much about Him. Her family didn’t attend church when she was a child, at least not that she could recal , and Herbert hadn’t been a church person when she met him either, so it wasn’t something they ever did.

Over the years, Martha had watched the Amish. They were kind, generous, loving, and every last one of them seemed to have a strong faith. There was something comforting about being around them, but their sense of peacefulness wasn’t easy for her. She wasn’t unhappy. A bit lonely, perhaps. But her and Elvis had gotten along mighty fine. Just the same, maybe she should lift up her heart in prayer more, let God know she appreciates Him. Arnold sure seemed to have a rapport with Him. He talked about the Lord a lot. Martha was uncomfortable talking about her faith—or lack thereof—but she enjoyed hearing Arnold talk about his relationship with God and the peace it gave him. It made Martha want to buddy up with God too.

I’m an old woman. It’s probably too late
. Emily’s words rang in her head. “
It’s never too late, Martha.
”

Then as clear as the cute little pug nose on Arnold’s face, she heard a voice in her head.

Seek Me with all your heart
.

She said, “Huh?” about the same time Arnold said, “Amen.”

Arnold grinned. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” She sat tal er. “Amen. That’s what I meant to say.”

Arnold dove into his salad, and Martha spooned a large helping of lasagna onto his plate. Then she served herself some. Al the while, she reflected on what she’d heard.

Seek who?

They ate quietly for a minute or two. Then it came to her. She knew who.

“Arnold, it’s Christmas Eve. You going to church tonight?”

Her dinner partner looked surprised. “Yes. Midnight Mass.”

“Think they’d let me in, if I was to want to go to church tonight?”

Arnold shook his head. “I don’t know, Martha. You’d have to talk to the priest, then confess your sins, then they would need to bathe you in holy water, and you’d have to address the congregation as to your intentions, and—”

“Forget it! I was just asking.” Her eyes were large as she shook her head.

Arnold burst out laughing. “Martha, I’m teasing you. Of course you can go. Anyone is welcome in the Lord’s home. I’d love for you to attend with me . . . if you would like.”

Martha felt her face reddening again. Who would have thought Arnold had a sense of humor? “Okay,” she said shrugging. Midnight was way past her bedtime, but something in her heart was driving her in this new direction.

Thirteen

MARTHA KNELT DOWN FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME, HER knees crackling with every squat as she clutched the pew in front of her. It had been a long time since she’d attended a Catholic Mass, or any church service for that matter, but now she remembered that the Catholics were the ones who exercised while they worshiped.

She fol owed along best she could, and even found herself singing along to the Christmas songs led by a ful choir. Their white gowns reminded her of the carolers that used to come by her house years ago, dressed similarly and carrying song books. Herbert had loved that part of Christmas, especial y the children singing. But no one caroled anymore, and Martha suddenly found herself wondering why. Or maybe they did . . . but just never came to her house.

Thoughts about the way she’d lived the past few years bounced around in her head. She didn’t have anything to be particularly angry about. Losing Herbert when he was a young man of fifty-eight had been a blow, and that had taken some time to get over, but she knew she didn’t have a lot of the worries that some folks had—money issues, health issues, and other things that can drag a person down. Herbert was a good man, and memories of him always brought a smile to her face. They’d shared fifteen wonderful years together late in life. Even though Martha never did care for the fancy life that he’d introduced her to, she’d sure loved her husband.

Martha could clearly recal the day Herbert walked into her family’s pet store to browse around. She’d heard a rumor that a rich man from Boston had purchased an estate not far from her family’s farm. A huge house with nine bedrooms, a customer at the store had told her. Much of what Martha learned about their smal town came from customers at the store. Her parents believed in hard work, and they didn’t encourage outside interests or friendships, even when Martha was young. Martha had spent most of her time alone—or at the pet store—wel into adulthood. So when Herbert had said he wanted to buy a parrot—the store’s only parrot, her beloved Elvis—she’d been just about ready to tel the stranger that the bird wasn’t for sale. But then her mother walked in from the back room and happily accepted a large sum of money for the bird. Then Herbert walked out of the store with the best friend Martha had ever had. She befriended Herbert in an effort to make sure Elvis was wel cared for. But Herbert turned out to be a good guy and someone who tolerated Martha’s unique disposition. They were married a year later.

Not hearing a word the priest said, she thought about why she hadn’t made any other friends, not real friends anyway. If anything, she’d discouraged it.

Seemed like a lot of work sometimes, to make friends. Although . . . she’d taken a liking to Emily and David.

She peeked at Arnold out of the corner of her eye. Martha knew she wasn’t up on the styles like she had been in her younger days, but it didn’t take a fashion model to figure out that Arnold’s suit looked like it was from the days when young people wore peace signs on their shirts and drove around with flowers on their vans. Arnold had probably never had any material wealth. Herbert had it—tons of money. And he’d dragged her wil ingly into his life, but once he was gone, Martha realized that a smal er space in the world for her and Elvis was real y al she needed.

She stood up when she saw those around her doing so, feeling a bit guilty that she’d missed out on the prayers being offered. She just wasn’t sure about al this church stuff. Something about being in a big room where God seemed to be closer than usual made her feel unworthy. What had she real y done in her life that was good enough to please God?

Maybe agreeing to go to church with Arnold had been a mistake, but after the service was over—after paying attention to the last half—she felt rejuvenated. What had been rejuvenated, she didn’t know. But she just felt good in general. During the final prayer, she thanked God for having her in His home.
Wish I knew You better
.

Seek Me with all your heart
.

Martha stopped abruptly as they were slowly fol owing the crowd down the aisle toward the exit. “Did you hear that?” She turned to Arnold and frowned.

“Hear what?”

Martha looked toward the front of the church. Poinsettias lined the area, and the lights from the nearby Christmas trees twinkled atop the white surface of the altar, reflections bouncing in every direction like tiny little beings dancing in celebration. “O Holy Night” piped through the organ on the second floor, and Martha began walking against the crowd. Arnold cal ed for her, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she gently elbowed her way down the aisle until she stood a few feet from the altar. She looked up at Jesus hanging on the cross and studied the pained expression on his face. She couldn’t have explained her emotions at that moment to anyone. Except maybe to God. And she had a hunch He already knew how she was feeling.

She took a deep breath, stood tal er, then turned around and headed back down the aisle with the others. Arnold was standing in one of the pews toward the back of the church, waiting for her.

“What were you doing?” Arnold stepped out of the pew and joined her. Together they walked several steps to the door.

“I don’t know.” Martha heard the voice in her head again.

Seek Me with all your heart
. “Maybe I’m going nuts.”

Arnold smiled. “I think you’re just fine.”

Here we go again
. Martha felt her cheeks turning red. It wasn’t so much what Arnold said, but how he said it sometimes—so warm, in such a tender tone. Her old, wobbly knees felt weaker than usual. She let him latch onto her hand as they walked to his old Ford pickup truck, which probably had traveled alongside the vans with the flowers at some time in the past. Martha could remember fantasizing about being a flower child when she was younger, but work on the farm and at the pet store kept her away from that legacy. Probably just as wel .