He shook his head.
“But seriously, I think Mum is right, and we need to pray for EJ that she’s not getting in over her head.”
“I’ve been praying that for weeks,” he admitted.
“Then let’s hope she finally starts seeing what’s really going on.”
Sunday passed, Monday dawned, and he’d texted EJ happy birthday. He figured she’d not appreciate a phone call but had tried at breakfast anyway, only to have it go to voicemail. He’d left a quick message, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, then hung up. He’d gotten her a little something, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate it if she couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge his earlier text.
He tried again now. Still no answer. So maybe she had her phone elsewhere. Weird, as she always seemed to have her phone within reach, but maybe she was just busy. It wasn’t like she’d refused to take his call. He frowned. Was it?
“Hey, Jordan. You ready to help, or are you gonna stare at your phone all day?” his dad called.
“Coming.”
While it might be a public holiday for most people, farm life didn’t allow a day off. He went back to helping his dad drag in the remnants of a tree branch that had fallen in the heavy winds last night. The gum trees in this paddock were known as widow-makers, collecting detritus in their upper branches that could fall during high winds and kill a passerby. Every so often the news highlighted tragic tales about unsuspecting campers who’d been struck by a branch. He wasn’t a huge fan of camping, thanks to that.
“Looks like we’ve got enough dead branches for another bonfire this season,” Dad said, dusting off his gloved hands.
“Sure do.”
“It’s nice to have those bonfire nights. Although it wasn’t quite the same without EJ here.”
“No.”
He glanced around. The Angus cattle were in the next paddock over, so he peered that way. He didn’t want Dad noticing how his words poked at his heart wound.
“She’s always been one for wanting the finer things in life,” Dad went on. “Almost like she thinks Wattle Vale isn’t good enough for her.”
Jordan said nothing. He couldn’t very well deny it, as that would be a lie.
“You heading back to the city tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Son. Is everything okay?”
“Sure.” He knew he’d have to make more of an effort to allay his dad’s concern. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”
“A lot—like EJ?” His dad grinned.
“Seriously?”
Dad laughed. “Come on. We all know you’ve missed her this weekend.”
“Am I that obvious?” he muttered.
“’Fraid so. But that’s okay. We’ve always known you and her are supposed to be a thing.”
“What?”
His dad chuckled. “You and her. So don’t worry that she’s had her head turned by this Churchill man. She’s got her head screwed on right, and she’ll see the light. I promise.”
The image of that lighthouse flashed through his mind.That’s right.He was supposed to be digging deep into the well of God’s love so he could be showing that to EJ. Not feeling this sense of frustration and resentment. And while he’d been doing his best, he knew his best wasn’t exactly stellar. He sighed, glad the wind in the trees drowned out the sound.
“Look, I know it doesn’t sound very Christian of me, but there’s something about Eric Churchill I just don’t trust.”
“That doesn’t sound unchristian. It might be discernment. Something that’s proved true a time or two, if I recall.”
