Though None Go with Me by Jerry B. Jenkins Read Free Book Online Page A

daughter I lost. I was paid not a dime for virtually raising this ungrateful child myself.”
    â€œUngrateful?” Elisabeth said. “If anything I’ve ever said or done has made you think that either I or my father were un—”
    Aunt Agatha waved her off. “I ought to have the right to buy this house,” she said.
    Horrified at the depth of her aunt’s disdain, Elisabeth snapped, “Fine!”
    â€œExcuse me, Miss LeRoy,” Mr. Beck said. “Legally the house is not yours to sell until you are of age. In the meantime, it is under my purview, and I am charged with retaining it for you.”
    â€œI’ll sell it to you as soon as I’m able,” Elisabeth told her aunt, determined to keep peace.
    â€œAt fair market value, of course,” Mr. Beck said.
    â€œAt whatever price Aunt Agatha feels is fair,” Elisabeth said.
    â€œOh, my,” Mr. Beck said, putting away his papers, “I beg of you to carefully—”
    â€œWe both heard her loud and clear, Mr. Beck,” Agatha said.
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œMy niece will honor her word. She always does.”
    Mr. Beck shook his head and took a breath to speak, but Mrs. Erastus cut him off. “Unless you have other business specifically related to the will or your purview, as you put it, I’ll thank you to leave my house.”
    â€œIf it’s your house already,” Mr. Beck said, rising. “I prefer to leave. But I promise you, I’ll fight for my late client’s wishes, and you may—”
    â€œGood-by, Mr. Beck,” Agatha said.
    Elisabeth believed God would have her honor her aunt, even if Agatha didn’t deserve respect. Being cordial to her, let alone loving her, was a chore Agatha made more difficult. Elisabeth sympathized with young people who grew frustrated at home and couldn’t wait to get out. Agatha reminded Elisabeth almost daily of her promise to sell the house.
    â€œAt fair market value,” Elisabeth said.
    â€œThose were the lawyer’s words, not yours,” Agatha said. “You said at whatever price I thought was fair.”
    Not sure what she was going to do about her foolish promise, Elisabeth found herself more aware than ever of every detail of the only home she had ever known. She knew every squeak on the stairs, every depression in the floor. She loved the highly polished lacquer on the great banister, the feel of the flocked wallpaper in the parlor and front room. If Elisabeth indeed had to sacrifice this place to a promise made in anger, she would memorize every detail of it. But as she walked slowly from room to room, running her finger over every surface, from the bricks around the great fireplace to the plaster walls of the kitchen and the tile in the bathrooms, Elisabeth felt the bitterness of Aunt Agatha’s stare.
    Elisabeth found it a relief that summer to be gone nearly every night for training hour activities at church. Will Bishop often sat near her but hardly said two words to her. She spent most of her time deflecting the attentions of Art Childs, who seemed to always want to sit with her, walk with her, talk with her. “Can we walk in the woods tonight after the meeting?” he suggested one day.
    â€œNo, Art. No, thank you. All right?”
    She feared she had humiliated him. He looked at the ground and busied the toe of his shoe rearranging the dirt. “Well, no, it’s not all right, but I get the message.”
    â€œThere’s no message, Art,” she said, feeling awful as he forced a smile, then turned from her. “It’s just, I—”
    â€œIt’s all right, Elisabeth,” he said. “I know you can do better.”
    â€œIt’s not that at all,” she called after him, but he didn’t look back.
    There was, Elisabeth had to admit, a young man she wouldn’t have minded strolling with. Five years older, he would be a junior that fall at a small