Knightley George Austen is off limits, and even if he were on limits, he’d never go for the younger, off-brand version of his first wife. Cami was gentle, kind, and wrapped everyone around her finger by being genuinely good. I have to trick people into thinking I’m someone worthy of love and affection. I have to make everyone think I’m perfect, because if they find out I’m not, I’m—
A knock at the door startles me, and I realize I’ve broken the pen that was on my table. When did I even pick it up?
Black ink coats my hands, trickling onto my beloved puzzle pieces, as Papa announces his presence.
“Emma Jane, for supper, do you…” His question hangs in the air as he notices my ink-stained hand. “What happened, darling? Are you okay?”
He’s at my side in seconds, moving quicker than I’ve seen him do in a while. “Oh, you’re crying. Honey, what’s wrong?”
Papa pushes hair out of my face, and I quickly drag my clean hand up to my cheeks. Yep, sure enough. They are damp. When did I start crying? And a better question… why?
“I’m fine. Was just thinking of how unfortunate it is that Henrietta may soon become a bride.”
Papa sways. He places both hands on my puzzle table, knocking a few pieces to the ground as he does. “Oh, dear. Not another one. Did someone put something into the Hartfield water tower? Emma Jane, are you sure you should be matchmaking? You are too perceptive to love for your own good. Eventually, you’ll match yourself…”
“Papa.” I stand and hug him from behind, careful not to get ink on his nice, tan sweater. He swears there are many drafts in this house and dresses accordingly even though it’s a humid hell outside. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that. Marriage was never in the cards for me. I think God saw to that.” I’ve never told Papa about my PCOS diagnosis. He is too sickly himself. I don’t need him fretting over me.
He turns and embraces me. “You shouldn’t get married because it can rip your golden heart out, Emma Jane. That doesn’t mean you are not someone worthy of marriage. I hope you knowthat.”
I feel the tear as it slides down my cheek this time. “Thank you, Papa. But still. I’m yours forever, okay?”
He kisses the top of my head, and I’m reminded of Knightley’s actions from last night. Fatherly affection. Is that what he was trying to get across when he messed with my hair? It’s something my father would do.
I sigh. Why does it matter? I’m going to set him up with the most perfect woman I can find in the area. If I have a say in it, he will not lose this election simply because of old religious-based mindsets that a man can only run a town if he can run a family or is Southern Baptist.
Did no one ever read where Paul said it was better not to marry? That being unmarried means you can devote more time to the Lord?
Isn't that a good thing?
“Oh, Jane invited us over for supper. Do you want to go?”
My stomach knots. “Will Knightley be present?”
“No. He’s working late at his law firm.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but also… I feel disappointed. “Then yes. Let’s meet Jane for supper.”
Knightley
Rule #6: Look for common goals and values when making a match. Opposites attract only goes so far.
If one more person at this church tells me they wish they could move to Juniper Grove to vote for me, I might lose my mind.
Or at the very least, I may find a church closer to my house in Juniper Grove instead of driving out here every Sunday.
No, I wouldn’t do that. This place, these people—though nosy and intrusive—are truly my home.
“Oh, Knightley, dear.” Ms. Mary Bates tugs my arm as I’m trying to exit the small white building that’s currently my nemesis. “I heard you have new competition. If I could move to Juniper Grove…”
“Thank you, Ms. Bates. Your vocal support of my political endeavors means a great deal to me.” A great deal of poop, but she doesn’t need to know that.
Thankfully, Henrietta catches her attention and drags her away from me with a knowing smile. One can always count on Henrietta to corral Ms. Bates. Ms. Bates is Henrietta’s aunt. She adoptedHenrietta after her parents were killed in a plane crash. I mouth the wordsthank youand then make my escape.
I notice Emma Jane talking with the reverend, and I have half the mind to go over there simply because I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. I’m beginning to wonder if this man is fit to lead a church, but not because he is single. It’s more about the way he leers at Emma Jane and his lousy personality that he tries to hide. Marcus told me about running into Henrietta after her date with the reverend, and I’m highly perturbed at the way the man acted.
Opting to mind my own business for now, I walk across the lawn to the parking lot and get into my car.
I travel the short distance from Hartfield Presbyterian Church to Henry’s house for our traditional Sunday lunch. The antebellum house is a sight to behold with its classic Georgian style. I always thought I’d like to live here one day amidst the deep green grasses and old civil war bunker turned into a shed out in the back. With Bella, Emma Jane’s sister, living in London, the only person the house will be left to is Emma Jane.
