Page 51 of If the Boot Fits

On the way home after her tutoring session with Jack, there’d been no soft moments of closeness as the sun set. Asher’s gaze constantly scoured the landscape for threats, and his battle-ready mentality had him so stiff, he’d felt as cuddly as a rock when she’d scooted close enough to brush her leg up against his.

Don’t be ungrateful. He’s trying to protect you. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t take his duty so seriously.

Still, a woman with such a short time to determine a man’s potential for becoming her forever love match couldn’t help wishing the man in question would attend a little more to her than the surroundings.

“The lemonade’s ready.” Ida Mae pulled a long-handled spoon out of the half-full milk can they would use to tote the beverage out to the garden site. She curled her fingers around the handles on either side and braced her legs as she prepared to lift the heavy container out of the sink.

“Let me get that for you.” Her father’s top ranch hand, his cheeks an intriguing shade of pink, rushed through the open back door to assist.

Martin had been filling the wagon with garden tools a few minutes ago and must have come to the kitchen to see if they were ready to load the food.

“I can manage,” Ida Mae insisted, raising the can several inches to prove her point. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I got no doubt about that,” Martin said as he reached for the handles himself, “but why tucker yourself out when you can tucker me out instead?”

He grinned, and Samantha swore she saw Ida Mae’s lips twitch in response. Until his hands brushed hers. She jerked backward, and the milk can banged down into the sink as she tucked her hands inside her apron.

Samantha pressed her lips together and pointedly turned her attention to the lunch basket. She’d never in her life seen Martin flirt with a girl. He was the quiet type who kept to himself, even at church and town socials. He had to be about ten years older than Ida Mae, but he’d obviously taken a shine to her. Even knowing about Jimmy and, likely, her history with Leroy.

Martin was a hard worker, dependable, and as honorable as the day was long. He’d be good for Ida Mae. If she would allow herself to trust a man again.

Lord, you know what is best. I want so much for Ida Mae to be happy and for Jimmy to have a father who loves him. I don’t know if your plans for them include Martin or not, but I ask you to work things together for their good.

And for mine, too.

Why was it easier to trust God to work things together for the good of others than for herself? She believed the Lord was at work in her life, but there was so much uncertainty swirling around her, she felt like she was stumbling around in the dark. How much easier it would be if God would light a lamp and show her the full plan so she could step forward in confidence, knowing she was going the right way.

As she shuffled things around in the picnic basket to give Ida Mae and Martin the illusion of privacy, an unexpected bit of insight materialized in her mind. There must be dozens of ways to pack this basket. Sandwiches could be placed on the top right. Or they could switch places with the boiled eggs. The boiled eggs could be divided up, some on the right and some on the left. The crackers could be taken out of their tin. The cheese could be sliced or left in a large wedge. As the one packing the food, she had the choice of how to place everything. There wasn’t only one right way to do it. All the food would still end up at the picnic. Some methods might lead to the food being smashed or spilled, so wisdom certainly played a role in minimizing difficulty, but as long as she followed the prescribed menu and didn’t trade out the eggs for rocks or the cheese for a cake of soap, the picnic would still be a success.

Could the same be true of life in general? That the Almighty provided godly parameters for his people but gave them the freedom to choose the details of the paths they walked? She could return to Boston and serve the Lord, or she could serve him here in Texas. She could walk in faith as the wife of a rancher, the wife of a banker, or a single woman who never became a wife at all. Her duty was to seek God first and walk in righteousness, but within those parameters, she could make a hundred different choices that would shape the details of her life in a thousand different ways.

Yet not all of those ways were equally good. Dropping a twenty-pound watermelon on top of her sandwiches would lead to considerable bruising, and taking the crackers out of their tin would end in a crumbly mess.

How I need you, Lord. Your wisdom. Your discernment as I seek the best path for my future. Guide me through the tangle of possibilities I face. Show me what is best, and give me the courage to trust your leading above my own desires and limited understanding.

“Samantha? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry. What?” Samantha lifted her head and pivoted to face Ida Mae, who was giving her a curious look.

She must have been ensconced in her thoughts longer than she realized, for both Martin and the lemonade had disappeared from the kitchen.

“Do you need anything else before I fetch Jimmy? Mrs. Stewart took him to watch the horses while we packed.”

Samantha shook her head. “No, I’m done with the basket. I’ll take it out to the wagon, then check on Clint. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes.”

“Jimmy and I will wait for you in the wagon.”

An idea sparked as Ida Mae turned to leave.

“Why don’t you and Jimmy ride in the front?” Samantha called after her. “I’ll ride in the back and make sure the lemonade doesn’t spill.”

Martin had been assigned escort duty for their excursion today and would be driving the wagon. Samantha had no doubt which lady he’d prefer to join him on the driver’s bench.

“I don’t think—”

“It’ll be safer for Jimmy,” Samantha argued. “Keep him away from the trowels and hoes and such. Plus, he likes the horses.”

Ida Mae dropped her protest, but she shot Samantha a look that clearly said she was aware of her friend’s meddling and did not approve.