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Gil’s brows furrowed. “Me, too. And quickly.” A frown creased his face. “I’ve learned that God often doesn’t give immediate answers, but I don’t have time to spare. Not if it’s His will for the boys to play in the competition.” He gripped the edge of the seat, and the lines in his forehead deepened. “I sense God leading me to enter the competition, Ava. But there’s so much to contemplate. What song should the boys play? How will we fit in more practice time? How can I prepare them adequately to accept a win or a loss as God’s will for them? I can’t stop thinking about what Reverend Ediger said. Winning is grand, but it can make one full of himself. Losing hurts and can leave one discouraged. I don’t want either result.”
He released a soft laugh. “And instead of telling you all this, I should be talking to God. Forgive me, Ava. You always were so easy for me to talk to.”
Heat flooded her face, and she hoped the twilight shadows hid her blush. “He is even easier to talk to,” she said, surprised by her words. When had she last found conversation with God easy?
This evening.
When praying for Gil.
He leaped down, then gave the armrest a pat. “Thank youfor the ride, Ava, and for your prayers. I appreciate them very much.” He trotted to the building, inserted his key in the lock, and opened the door. He entered and shut the door behind him without another glance in her direction.
She released the brake and flicked the reins, her heart fluttering. Back when they were courting, if he’d entered a building without acknowledging her with a wave or a blown kiss, she would have harbored hurt feelings. But tonight she recognized that his lack of attention only meant he was eager to spend time with God in prayer, and she found not even a smidgen of insult in his rush to leave her. Jo, she was changing.
Lamplight glowed behind the windows of Mr. Willems’s house. She parked the carriage and climbed down, then followed the walkway to his porch. She tapped on the door. Moments later, his voice called, “Come in.”
She cracked the door and peeked inside. He sat on the settee, where he’d been the last time she was here. “Mr. Willems? Gil asked me to let you know he is spending some time in the band practice room at the bank. He’ll be back shortly. He didn’t want you to worry.”
The man shifted on the cushions, grimacing. “I hope he isn’t too long. I need to visit the…er…room outside, but I don’t know where Timmy left my crutches.” A mirthless chuckle sounded. “I’m as helpless as a turtle on its back.”
“Would you like me to look for the crutches?”
He waved his hand at her. “Nä. I’ll wait for Gil. Thank you, Ava.”
Ava returned to the carriage and drove to the back of her house. She’d barely led Pansy into her space when Papa entered the barn.
He marched to her side of the carriage and put his hands onhis hips. “Where have you been? The service should have ended over half an hour ago.”
Ava winced. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but it pained her to have worried her father. “The service went long. I’ll explain why.” She climbed down, then paused, Mr. Willems’s predicament giving her concern. “Papa, Mr. Willems needs help getting to the outhouse. Could you go over?”
Papa’s frame relaxed, but his frown remained in place. “Why isn’t Gil over there?”
“I’ll explain that later, too. Is Mama all right?”
“Jo, she is sleeping.”
“Good.” She moved to the horse’s neck and reached for the rigging. “Go see to Mr. Willems. I’ll take care of Pansy, then join you at Mr. Willems’s place and tell you both about the Bible meeting. I think it’s best for him to know, too.”
Papa sent her a puzzled scowl, but he exited the barn through the side door. Ava released Pansy and gave the horse fresh hay and water, then she hurried to Mr. Willems’s house.
When she stepped inside, Papa was sitting at the far end of the settee, and Mr. Willems’s crutches leaned against the table beside him.
The man sent Ava a smile. “Here you are again. Your father says you have news to report from the meeting.”
Ava sat in a straight-backed chair across from the settee. “Not news, necessarily, but a prayer request that involves Gil and…well, quite a few people in Falke.” She repeated everything Joseph had said about the band competition at the End of Harvest celebration in McPherson. Then she shared how the parents of the boys had prayed for Gil to seek and follow God’s will concerning the boys’ participation. She started to tell them what Gil said about the pull he was feeling, but shedecided he’d shared it with her in confidence. She shouldn’t betray his trust. She finished, “Gil wanted a quiet, solitary place to pray. That’s why he’s at the bank building.”
Papa and Mr. Willems had listened intently. Now they exchanged a glance, smiles on their faces.
“I hope he takes them,” Papa said.
Mr. Willems’s head bobbed up and down in an enthusiastic nod. “Me, too.”
Ava drew back, startled by their responses. “You do? Why?”
“Competition builds teamwork and character.” Papa spoke with certainty.
“It’ll give the boys something to work toward—something to take pride in,” Mr. Willems added.
“But isn’t pride a boastful thing?” Ava had heard many sermons on the danger of self-pride.
