favorite people. I feel that way because you’re intelligent and we can talk on any subject. I don’t know why you haven’t been able to do that with your family, but God can change you. I’m sure of it.”
Henry sighed. “This might be more than He’s ever asked of me before.”
Walker was still smiling.
“But if He requires it of you, and I suspect that He does, He’ll help you. You know He will.”
Henry could not help but agree. He and Walker talked on for the next hour, mapping out a plan and looking at verses that spoke to the man of the family and how much he needed to lead. By the time Henry left for home, he was well and truly spent, but he was also determined to change. He and Walker would meet at the same time next week.
Thinking once again that his sisters had doubted his salvation made his heart ache.
“I don’t know how to talk to them, Father. I don’t know how,” Henry said softly in the coach as it moved toward Newcomb Park. And from that point on, he prayed until the coach pulled into the drive.
Chapter Eight
Pembroke
The sun was up and warm in a cloudless sky when Cassandra arrived on Friday morning. Hastings told her at the door that Tate was already on the veranda. Cassandra headed that way.
“Hello, Mr Tate.”
“Hello, Cassandra. Can you stand to be outside today?”
“Yes. I might have begged for this if I’d found you inside.”
Tate waited for her to sit and then handed her the book he’d been holding.
“Here you go.”
“What’s this?” Cassandra looked down at the new volume.
“Our next book. Have a go at it.”
A moment later Cassandra’s laughter bubbled out. She didn’t know if it was Japanese or Chinese, but she knew one thing: She couldn’t read it.
“Where did you unearth this?”
“Hastings is very resourceful,” Tate answered with a broad smile, clearly pleased with himself.
“And what if I’d been able to read it?”
“Ah, yes, that would have been fun. The joke would have certainly been on me.”
Cassandra laughed a little more.
“Are there other languages you can speak?” Tate suddenly wondered. He was as good with Italian and French as Cassandra was, but until that moment assumed there was nothing else in her repertoire.
“Now that would be telling,” Cassandra hedged. In truth, any other language she’d worked on was sketchy, but she didn’t want to admit to that just yet.
“You choose to remain a mystery.”
“For the moment.”
“I might have to keep searching for books.”
Cassandra laughed at this and was ready to reach for the nearby paper, but Tate had another question.
“Has anything been rectified in your painful situation?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How would you not know?”
“Because at times things happen quietly or slowly. I’m fairly certain that some talking has gone on, but it’s rather new, so time might be needed.”
“If I were to pray about the situation, for what would I ask?”
Wanting very much to continue to be discreet, Cassandra had to think on that.
“I think we can pray that all hearts involved be open, humble, and patient. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense.”
“Do you want me to read now?”
“That’s fine.”
Cassandra reached for the paper but didn’t open it.
“Mr Tate, may I ask a question of you?”
“Yes.”
“How do you pray for yourself? How do you stay at peace when you don’t know what will happen with your eyesight?”
“I pray that I’ll keep trusting.”
“So the biggest issue for you is trust?”
“Yes. It helps that I was studying Moses at the time of my accident. God asked Moses to trust Him in so many ways. Sometimes he failed, and other times he was obedient. But what stuck out the most to me was God’s plan in Moses’ life. Clearly God knew what He wanted from Moses and how best to take care of His servant.
“As His child, I believe that God has a plan for me. God knows whether my having my sight restored will bring
Henry sighed. “This might be more than He’s ever asked of me before.”
Walker was still smiling.
“But if He requires it of you, and I suspect that He does, He’ll help you. You know He will.”
Henry could not help but agree. He and Walker talked on for the next hour, mapping out a plan and looking at verses that spoke to the man of the family and how much he needed to lead. By the time Henry left for home, he was well and truly spent, but he was also determined to change. He and Walker would meet at the same time next week.
Thinking once again that his sisters had doubted his salvation made his heart ache.
“I don’t know how to talk to them, Father. I don’t know how,” Henry said softly in the coach as it moved toward Newcomb Park. And from that point on, he prayed until the coach pulled into the drive.
Chapter Eight
Pembroke
The sun was up and warm in a cloudless sky when Cassandra arrived on Friday morning. Hastings told her at the door that Tate was already on the veranda. Cassandra headed that way.
“Hello, Mr Tate.”
“Hello, Cassandra. Can you stand to be outside today?”
“Yes. I might have begged for this if I’d found you inside.”
Tate waited for her to sit and then handed her the book he’d been holding.
“Here you go.”
“What’s this?” Cassandra looked down at the new volume.
“Our next book. Have a go at it.”
A moment later Cassandra’s laughter bubbled out. She didn’t know if it was Japanese or Chinese, but she knew one thing: She couldn’t read it.
“Where did you unearth this?”
“Hastings is very resourceful,” Tate answered with a broad smile, clearly pleased with himself.
“And what if I’d been able to read it?”
“Ah, yes, that would have been fun. The joke would have certainly been on me.”
Cassandra laughed a little more.
“Are there other languages you can speak?” Tate suddenly wondered. He was as good with Italian and French as Cassandra was, but until that moment assumed there was nothing else in her repertoire.
“Now that would be telling,” Cassandra hedged. In truth, any other language she’d worked on was sketchy, but she didn’t want to admit to that just yet.
“You choose to remain a mystery.”
“For the moment.”
“I might have to keep searching for books.”
Cassandra laughed at this and was ready to reach for the nearby paper, but Tate had another question.
“Has anything been rectified in your painful situation?”
“Not that I know of.”
“How would you not know?”
“Because at times things happen quietly or slowly. I’m fairly certain that some talking has gone on, but it’s rather new, so time might be needed.”
“If I were to pray about the situation, for what would I ask?”
Wanting very much to continue to be discreet, Cassandra had to think on that.
“I think we can pray that all hearts involved be open, humble, and patient. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense.”
“Do you want me to read now?”
“That’s fine.”
Cassandra reached for the paper but didn’t open it.
“Mr Tate, may I ask a question of you?”
“Yes.”
“How do you pray for yourself? How do you stay at peace when you don’t know what will happen with your eyesight?”
“I pray that I’ll keep trusting.”
“So the biggest issue for you is trust?”
“Yes. It helps that I was studying Moses at the time of my accident. God asked Moses to trust Him in so many ways. Sometimes he failed, and other times he was obedient. But what stuck out the most to me was God’s plan in Moses’ life. Clearly God knew what He wanted from Moses and how best to take care of His servant.
“As His child, I believe that God has a plan for me. God knows whether my having my sight restored will bring
Similar Books
