Free The Englisher by Beverly Lewis Page B

God make us—each one—into a servant.’’
    ‘‘Please,’’ muttered Courtney.
    She’s mocking me.
    ‘‘No, now listen. Louisa was losing herself in the busy world. She came looking for peace, to make sense of her life.’’ Annie paused. ‘‘Guess you might be needin’ some of that, too?’’
    Courtney shrugged and pushed her chair out. ‘‘Later,’’ she said, heading off to look for Lou, most likely.
    ‘‘Something I said?’’ Annie whispered to herself. She gathered up the refuse on their table and carried it to the trash container.
    Esther was aware of Zeke’s dark eyes on her as he held their baby daughter. She trembled despite Irvin’s and Julia’s presence in the small attic room, transformed into a bedroom for her children—six-year-old Laura, three-year-old Zach, two-year-old John, baby Essie—and herself.
    ‘‘Such a sweetie pie she is.’’ Julia broke the silence, her light brown hair swept back beneath the cup-shaped prayer covering of white netting.
    ‘‘Jah’’ was all Zeke said, still creating concern in Esther as he looked from the baby and back to her, meeting her eyes with disdain.
    I’ve spurned him. . . .
    ‘‘The Lord is so good to bless us with another healthy child,’’ she managed to say, linking herself once again to her precious Savior.
    Julia came and sat next to Esther, and Esther welcomed her nearness.
    ‘‘Essie’s a droopy one today,’’ Esther whispered, scarcely able to think of anything except that her husband was terribly displeased with her. Not for birthing such a pretty baby, no . . . but for saying she was ‘‘saved’’ and a follower of the Lord Jesus, the reason for her recent temporary shunning. And for running off as she had three weeks ago, leaving him to fend for himself alone without even his children to comfort him with their laughter.
    He must despise me for it .
    Irvin glanced at Julia, an apprehensive look in his blue eyes. ‘‘When would be a good time for Zeke to visit again, Esther?’’ he asked, reaching for his wife’s hand.
    Esther made the mistake of looking at Zeke, who was already shaking his head in disgust and walking to the window with the baby. He’s ever so angry. But he’s always that. . . .
    ‘‘I want my wife to return home,’’ Zeke said, his back to them, his feet planted firmly apart. He was breathing hard.
    Irvin stood quickly. ‘‘We have an agreement on that, Ezekiel. You and I, together, will decide when that’s a good idea. And we both know now’s not the time.’’
    Zeke turned to face them, still cradling Essie Ann in the crook of his big arm. ‘‘Esther’s my wife. I say what she does . . . where she lives.’’
    Now Julia rose to stand beside Irvin. ‘‘Zeke, please, not 88 with the baby near.’’
    It must have been Julia’s gentle way, but Zeke relinquished Essie Ann, who was still sleeping in spite of her father’s booming voice. Esther felt herself sigh, glad her husband would be seen out by Irvin—and right quick.
    Without even taking time to say good-bye, Zeke followed Irvin to the door.
    Esther heard the loud clumping of feet on the stairs, and she waited to speak to Julia, who went to her and held her near. ‘‘Oh, Julia . . .’’ she sobbed. ‘‘How can I ever go back to him?’’
    ‘‘You won’t . . . not unless he proves himself to be kind and loving. Irvin will see to it.’’
    Esther choked back her tears, for her baby’s sake, shaking her head. ‘‘There was a time when Zeke was good to me.’’ She sniffled and rose to put the baby in the cradle across the room. ‘‘He loved me then.’’
    ‘‘Dear Esther, you mustn’t say that.’’ Julia stayed seated. ‘‘He loves you now. Surely he does.’’
    Love suffereth long, and is kind . . . love envieth not . . . doth not behave itself unseemly . . . is not easily provoked. . . .
    ‘‘Well, doesn’t seem so,’’ Esther whispered. ‘‘Hasn’t for ever so long.’’
    ‘‘Trust