Redeeming-Love-By-Francine-Rivers

R E D E E M I N G L O V E
netting and enough Panama hats to last the population along the isthmus a
decade.” He welcomed them into a neat parlor that overlooked the river. A
Mexican cook served a savory meal of roast beef and potatoes on elegant
china. Joseph poured a fine imported tea for them. Even the knives, forks,
and spoons were silver.
Joseph did most of the talking. “I think I’ve just about convinced my
family to leave New York and come west. Mama said the only way she’ll
agree is if I’ll take a wife.”
Michael grinned across the table at him. “Did you tell her to bring you
one?”
“I didn’t have to. She already had one picked out and packed up, ready
to come west.”
Dinner finished, Joseph poured coffee. The two men talked politics and
religion. Neither agreed with the other’s viewpoint, but the conversation
continued amicably unabated. She was drowsy. She didn’t care that
California had become a state or that mining companies were taking over
the gold country or that Joseph insisted Jesus was a prophet and not the
Messiah he was waiting for. She didn’t care if the river was rising with the
rain. She didn’t care if a shovel cost three hundred dollars while a new plow
cost seventy.
“We’ve put Angel to sleep,” Joseph observed, adding another log to the
fire. “The second bedroom is right through that door.” Joseph watched
Michael lift his wife tenderly and carry her in. He swirled the coffee in his
cup and finished it. He had been watching Angel since spotting her by his
Franklin stove. She was one of those rare beauties that caught a man’s breath
no matter how many times he had seen her before.
When Michael came back in and sat down, Joseph smiled. “I’ll never forget
the look on your face the first time you saw her. I thought you were
crazy when I heard you married her.” Good men were often destroyed by
obsessions with fallen women, and he had worried about Michael. Joseph
had never known a more mismatched pair. A saint and a sinner. “You seem
pretty much the same.”
Michael laughed and took up his cup. “Did you expect me to change?”
“I expected her to feast on your heart.”
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