narrow shoulders lifted and fell.
Next topic.
“Tell me about your research.”
Her eyes widened. “My … uh … which research?”
Why the frightened doe look?
Smiling, meaning to reassure her, he added, “The historical material you’re gathering on the church. For the anniversary book, remember?”
She leaned back in her chair, obviously relieved. “Oh,
that
research.” For the first time since she’d arrived, Emilie appeared to relax, brushing a few stray wisps of brown hair off her forehead. “I’ve studied most of the original Moravian settlements in America—Bethlehem, Nazareth, Christiansbrunn, Hope, Salem, and Bethania. And Lititz, of course.”
Jeff whistled. “The woman does her homework.”
His praise flustered her. “Well … yes. I plan to weave some of their historythrough the fabric of ours here in Lititz, so local readers can see how it all fits together.”
As she outlined the events she’d be covering—Count Zinzendorf’s arrival in Pennsylvania and the rest—Jonas listened and observed.
She’s smart. Serious. Pretty, in a pinch-lipped sort of way.
And hurting, unless his radar was way off base.
It was that quality alone that made it hard for him to ignore her—much as he wanted to, much as she wasn’t remotely his type. He liked women who were on fire—for the Lord, for life, for people. Emilie Getz was as cold as they came.
Which is where you come in, son.
Jonas didn’t move a muscle while his entire being made a radical attention shift.
Lemme guess, Lord. You want me to warm things up. Make her feel welcome. Show her—
Fullness of joy, son.
Joy?
Show Emilie who I am.
Jonas swallowed a groan, training his eyes on the anything-but-joyful woman sitting across from him. For an instant, they exchanged glances.
Hmmm.
Maybe her chilly exterior from last night had warmed a bit after all.
Whatever the case, his commission was clear.
Got it, Lord.
The One who made him knew him well: Jonas couldn’t turn his back on someone who was hurting. That’s why he’d always been there for Nathan. Why he spent three hot weeks on a Central American mission field last June. It was also why he’d found Trix at the Humane Society, a golden retriever with the pain of abuse in her eyes and the limp to prove it.
Emilie wasn’t limping, but there was a bruised look about her that made him willing to forget, just for a moment, what a bookish, standoffish snob she was.
Joy, huh?
What the woman needed was a diversion.
Yeah.
Some outdoor activity, full of fresh air and God’s creation and …
wait
.
It was perfect.
“Dr. Getz.” Jonas tossed his napkin on the table, his fourth dessert a fond memory. “What do you know about birding?”
Her eyebrows formed a distinct
V.
“As in robins and wrens?”
Jonas nodded. “And black-capped chickadees—”
“And yellow-bellied sapsuckers.” Jeff added with a chuckle. “Fielding men are a bird-crazy bunch.”
Emilie’s
V
tightened. “How many are there?”
“Birds?” Jonas shrugged. “Millions, I guess.”
“Not birds.” The corners of her mouth threatened to curl up. “Fielding men. How many are there of those?”
Chris held up his fingers. “Four: Jonas, Chris, Jeff, and Nate. No need to include Nathan, though.” He shot Jonas a sideways smirk. “He’s even uglier than the three of us.”
Emilie started to say something, then pinched her lips tighter still.
Jonas propped his elbows on the table, his hands dwarfing the fragile coffee cup. “The reason I asked is this is the weekend for the Lititz Christmas Bird Count.”
“
Christmas
birds?” Chris groaned. “
Red
-bellied woodpeckers and
green
-winged teals, is that it?”
Jonas rolled his eyes. “He knows better, Emilie. Our dad—” out of nowhere, something lodged in his throat—“that is, our dad was a high school biology teacher.”
“Delaware’s Teacher of the Year.”
“Right, Jeff.” He’d almost forgotten that. Forgotten a lot of
Next topic.
“Tell me about your research.”
Her eyes widened. “My … uh … which research?”
Why the frightened doe look?
Smiling, meaning to reassure her, he added, “The historical material you’re gathering on the church. For the anniversary book, remember?”
She leaned back in her chair, obviously relieved. “Oh,
that
research.” For the first time since she’d arrived, Emilie appeared to relax, brushing a few stray wisps of brown hair off her forehead. “I’ve studied most of the original Moravian settlements in America—Bethlehem, Nazareth, Christiansbrunn, Hope, Salem, and Bethania. And Lititz, of course.”
Jeff whistled. “The woman does her homework.”
His praise flustered her. “Well … yes. I plan to weave some of their historythrough the fabric of ours here in Lititz, so local readers can see how it all fits together.”
As she outlined the events she’d be covering—Count Zinzendorf’s arrival in Pennsylvania and the rest—Jonas listened and observed.
She’s smart. Serious. Pretty, in a pinch-lipped sort of way.
And hurting, unless his radar was way off base.
It was that quality alone that made it hard for him to ignore her—much as he wanted to, much as she wasn’t remotely his type. He liked women who were on fire—for the Lord, for life, for people. Emilie Getz was as cold as they came.
Which is where you come in, son.
Jonas didn’t move a muscle while his entire being made a radical attention shift.
Lemme guess, Lord. You want me to warm things up. Make her feel welcome. Show her—
Fullness of joy, son.
Joy?
Show Emilie who I am.
Jonas swallowed a groan, training his eyes on the anything-but-joyful woman sitting across from him. For an instant, they exchanged glances.
Hmmm.
Maybe her chilly exterior from last night had warmed a bit after all.
Whatever the case, his commission was clear.
Got it, Lord.
The One who made him knew him well: Jonas couldn’t turn his back on someone who was hurting. That’s why he’d always been there for Nathan. Why he spent three hot weeks on a Central American mission field last June. It was also why he’d found Trix at the Humane Society, a golden retriever with the pain of abuse in her eyes and the limp to prove it.
Emilie wasn’t limping, but there was a bruised look about her that made him willing to forget, just for a moment, what a bookish, standoffish snob she was.
Joy, huh?
What the woman needed was a diversion.
Yeah.
Some outdoor activity, full of fresh air and God’s creation and …
wait
.
It was perfect.
“Dr. Getz.” Jonas tossed his napkin on the table, his fourth dessert a fond memory. “What do you know about birding?”
Her eyebrows formed a distinct
V.
“As in robins and wrens?”
Jonas nodded. “And black-capped chickadees—”
“And yellow-bellied sapsuckers.” Jeff added with a chuckle. “Fielding men are a bird-crazy bunch.”
Emilie’s
V
tightened. “How many are there?”
“Birds?” Jonas shrugged. “Millions, I guess.”
“Not birds.” The corners of her mouth threatened to curl up. “Fielding men. How many are there of those?”
Chris held up his fingers. “Four: Jonas, Chris, Jeff, and Nate. No need to include Nathan, though.” He shot Jonas a sideways smirk. “He’s even uglier than the three of us.”
Emilie started to say something, then pinched her lips tighter still.
Jonas propped his elbows on the table, his hands dwarfing the fragile coffee cup. “The reason I asked is this is the weekend for the Lititz Christmas Bird Count.”
“
Christmas
birds?” Chris groaned. “
Red
-bellied woodpeckers and
green
-winged teals, is that it?”
Jonas rolled his eyes. “He knows better, Emilie. Our dad—” out of nowhere, something lodged in his throat—“that is, our dad was a high school biology teacher.”
“Delaware’s Teacher of the Year.”
“Right, Jeff.” He’d almost forgotten that. Forgotten a lot of
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