Read Online Sweet Forever by Ramona K. Cecil - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ramona K. Cecil
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Rosaleen experienced a flash of irritation when she saw him fight a grin. She realized he was reacting to Sophie’s suggestion that her piano playing was some sort of “ministry.”
“Like my Aunt Myrtle, I’d much rather do needlework,” Sophie admitted. “But I do dread telling Uncle Roscoe. He’s already out of sorts because I spend so much time with Edith Applegate.” She raised her chin in a defiant pose. “But Edith was my very best friend at Miss Ely’s, and I can’t help it if Uncle Roscoe is angry with her papa.”
Rosaleen remembered Opal mentioning the falling out between Roscoe Stinnett and Edward Applegate. According to Opal, when Edward Applegate left Riverfront Porkpacking to start his own pork packing business, the two men became bitter rivals, undercutting one another at every turn.
“Why don’t you leave your uncle to me,” Jacob offered, to which Sophie responded with a grateful smile.
“Oh, thank you, Jacob.” Sophie bounced like a giddy child. She glanced across the room where her aunt and uncle stood conversing with another couple. “Now, while Uncle Roscoe’s attention is diverted, I must catch up with Edith and her brother, Edwin.” Sophie murmured a quick good-bye, and with a rustling of her taffeta skirts, went to join a young lady with strawberry blond curls, standing beside a tall young man of the same coloring.
“She’s a very sweet girl.” Rosaleen meant every word as she followed Jacob’s gaze across the room.
“Yes. Yes, she is.” His soft voice held a thoughtful tone. As he turned his full attention to Rosaleen, his tone and countenance brightened. “I want to commend you on the wonderful job you did today. I’m sure my heart was not the only one touched by your playing.” His mouth quirked in a mischievous grin. “Sophie was right. It is a ministry, you know.”
Rosaleen stiffened. “I play the piano, that’s all.” Suggesting that someone God refused to recognize could perform any kind of ministry seemed beyond absurd. She wouldn’t be forced to be something she wasn’t—not ever again.
“Rosaleen”—her heart pranced when he gazed into her eyes and took her hands in his—“I know this was not the first sermon you’ve heard me preach. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed you in the hallway outside the parlor door during worship services. You’re searching for something, and you don’t know what it is. But I do.”
Reveling in the touch of his hands on hers, Rosaleen made no comment, unable to speak over the knot in her throat. She wished he’d never let go.
When his fingers slipped away, she felt bereft. She watched him walk to the mahogany desk near the parlor window and retrieve a small brown paper package.
“Please take this. It is in appreciation of your agreeing to play for services.” He pressed the package into her hands, and his gaze melted into hers. “Please promise me you’ll read it. If you have any questions, any at all, please ask me and I’ll endeavor to help answer them.”
Rosaleen managed a smile and a nod.
That night she sat cross-legged on her straw mattress, the Bible Jacob had given her in her lap. In the flickering light of the lantern hanging from the wall sconce, she read the words of Jesus. Her eyes misted as she read from Matthew 11:28–29: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
Could Jesus give her peace? Could he accept a soul that had been a mistake?
All afternoon her heart had warred. Jacob had spent the day at the Stinnetts’, visiting Sophie. Rosaleen knew she should be happy for him if he were to renew his relationship with the sweet Sophie. He deserved a pure, unblemished wife.
Tears seeped through her lashes as she shut her eyes tight against the awful scenes flashing behind them: Bill McGurty’s whiskey-laced breath hot on
“Like my Aunt Myrtle, I’d much rather do needlework,” Sophie admitted. “But I do dread telling Uncle Roscoe. He’s already out of sorts because I spend so much time with Edith Applegate.” She raised her chin in a defiant pose. “But Edith was my very best friend at Miss Ely’s, and I can’t help it if Uncle Roscoe is angry with her papa.”
Rosaleen remembered Opal mentioning the falling out between Roscoe Stinnett and Edward Applegate. According to Opal, when Edward Applegate left Riverfront Porkpacking to start his own pork packing business, the two men became bitter rivals, undercutting one another at every turn.
“Why don’t you leave your uncle to me,” Jacob offered, to which Sophie responded with a grateful smile.
“Oh, thank you, Jacob.” Sophie bounced like a giddy child. She glanced across the room where her aunt and uncle stood conversing with another couple. “Now, while Uncle Roscoe’s attention is diverted, I must catch up with Edith and her brother, Edwin.” Sophie murmured a quick good-bye, and with a rustling of her taffeta skirts, went to join a young lady with strawberry blond curls, standing beside a tall young man of the same coloring.
“She’s a very sweet girl.” Rosaleen meant every word as she followed Jacob’s gaze across the room.
“Yes. Yes, she is.” His soft voice held a thoughtful tone. As he turned his full attention to Rosaleen, his tone and countenance brightened. “I want to commend you on the wonderful job you did today. I’m sure my heart was not the only one touched by your playing.” His mouth quirked in a mischievous grin. “Sophie was right. It is a ministry, you know.”
Rosaleen stiffened. “I play the piano, that’s all.” Suggesting that someone God refused to recognize could perform any kind of ministry seemed beyond absurd. She wouldn’t be forced to be something she wasn’t—not ever again.
“Rosaleen”—her heart pranced when he gazed into her eyes and took her hands in his—“I know this was not the first sermon you’ve heard me preach. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed you in the hallway outside the parlor door during worship services. You’re searching for something, and you don’t know what it is. But I do.”
Reveling in the touch of his hands on hers, Rosaleen made no comment, unable to speak over the knot in her throat. She wished he’d never let go.
When his fingers slipped away, she felt bereft. She watched him walk to the mahogany desk near the parlor window and retrieve a small brown paper package.
“Please take this. It is in appreciation of your agreeing to play for services.” He pressed the package into her hands, and his gaze melted into hers. “Please promise me you’ll read it. If you have any questions, any at all, please ask me and I’ll endeavor to help answer them.”
Rosaleen managed a smile and a nod.
That night she sat cross-legged on her straw mattress, the Bible Jacob had given her in her lap. In the flickering light of the lantern hanging from the wall sconce, she read the words of Jesus. Her eyes misted as she read from Matthew 11:28–29: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
Could Jesus give her peace? Could he accept a soul that had been a mistake?
All afternoon her heart had warred. Jacob had spent the day at the Stinnetts’, visiting Sophie. Rosaleen knew she should be happy for him if he were to renew his relationship with the sweet Sophie. He deserved a pure, unblemished wife.
Tears seeped through her lashes as she shut her eyes tight against the awful scenes flashing behind them: Bill McGurty’s whiskey-laced breath hot on
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