Page 51 of More than Words Can Say

She thumbed through the pages until she found her place in Romans where she’d left off the evening before, but as she smoothed the page, her heart tugged her toward a story that had come to mind earlier today. Failing to recall exactly where it was located, she flipped through Luke until she found the passage she sought in chapter ten.

Not quite willing to jump straight into the section that pricked her heart, she began reading aloud at verse twenty-five, the parable of the Good Samaritan.

The coziness of their position made her modulate her voice to a soft timbre appropriate for such intimacy. As she read, Zach stroked her arm. Then her neck. Then the tendrils of hair behind her ear. By the time she reached the story her heart had led her to, she was pretty sure he had ceased listening. She’d nearly ceased listening herself, what with all those distracting, tingle-inducing caresses, but as she began verse thirty-eight, her concentration sharpened.

“Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”

Abigail fell quiet. She stared at the words on the page without really seeing them. She didn’t need to see them. They throbbed in her chest, convicting her, rebuking her.

“I’m Martha,” she admitted quietly.

Zach’s fingers stilled at her nape, but they didn’t pull away. They simply came to rest, their warmth continuing to radiate against her skin. “Yep, you are. You work hard, aren’t afraid to take charge, and value practicality. All good qualities.”

“Not when all that work blinds me to what is truly important.” She brought her chin around to look into his face. “I let Rosalind down, Zach. I was so focused on making the bakery a success that I left her to deal with our father’s illness on her own. Worse, I never noticed the strain it was putting on her, nor the attention that scoundrel Julius paid her. If I hadn’t been so consumed with work, she might not have felt so alone. I would have noticed . . . could have talked her out of . . .”

The tears she’d worked so hard to hold at bay during her conversation with Rosalind finally found their freedom with Zach, as if his strength gave her permission to let down her guard.

“Hey. Come here.” Zach shifted positions, scooping her up and setting her across his lap. He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the moisture. “None of that.”

He did look a bit panicked, now that she got a closer look at his eyes. Adorable man. Her lips twitched in the beginning of a grin.

“That’s better.” His heartfelt relief added another layer of balm to her soul. “We can’t change the past,” he said, stroking the side of her face. “All we can do is strive not to make the same mistakes in the future.”

“You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”

“Yep.”

She waited for him to elaborate, and for a moment she thought he would. But then he gently guided her head to lie in the crook of his shoulder. It was a comfortable spot, one that could easily lull her into not caring that he was holding something back from her. Curiosity begged her to ask questions, but caution kept her lips sealed. Zach had been waiting patiently for her to open up to him physically. She supposed she owed him the same courtesy regarding emotional intimacy.

After all, she harbored a secret or two of her own.

Zach resumed his stroking, this time focusing his attentions on her arm. He did love his touching, and my, but she was quickly becoming addicted to his caresses.

“I’m glad Rosalind told you about the photographs,” he finally said, breaking the silence and changing the subject in a rather neat maneuver.

Abigail sighed. “Me too. I just wish I could do something to fix it for her.”

“You can stand by her. Might not fix the problem, but it’ll give her the courage to face it.”

She nuzzled a little closer and slid her palm up to rest over her husband’s heart. “I know, but the Martha in me wants to do something.”

“Don’t you go sellin’ Martha short, now,” Zach said, a smile in his voice. “As I recall, she was the one who ran out to meet the Lord on the road after her brother died, while her sister stayed home with the mourners. Martha confessed Jesus as the Christ and believed he could do anything through his Father’s power. That there’s a woman of faith.”

“Yes, well, she also told Jesus the body would stink after being in the tomb for four days when the Lord ordered the stone rolled away.”

Zach chuckled. “Gotta love a practical woman. Best kind to have around in a crisis. Keeps a man grounded.”

Grounded was all fine and good, but Abigail suddenly found she wanted to be the one to enable Zach to fly.

CHAPTER

26

“Hey! Watch it.” Reuben ducked an instant before the planks Zach carried on his shoulder slapped him across the eyes. “You trying to take my head off?”

“Sorry,” Zach mumbled, fighting the instinct to swerve back to correct his error. Doing so would bring the wood around again and take Reuben out from behind, completely invalidating his apology. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Didn’t see me? I’m right in front of you.” His partner placed a hand on the planks, as if not quite trusting Zach to keep them still, and slid up their length until he stood less than six inches from Zach. Reuben stroked his jaw and raised a brow. “How could you possibly miss this good-looking mug?”