Author: Sarah Monzon
Category: Christian
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/sarah-monzon/page,13,535596-with_you_here.html
A hundred times over he’d considered Kayla and her little stunt. No matter how he spun it, he couldn’t unravel a reason why she’d steal. It wasn’t like her. Not the Kayla he knew and remembered. She’d been the sweetest thing when they were kids. Creative, with a mind that made him swell with pride. They hadn’t had extra money for expensive art supplies, but the things she could do with the array of broken crayons and nearly dried-up paints they’d secreted away from school had been magical. While he had been busy trying to protect her from the seedier side of their neighborhood, she’d created other worlds for them to escape into with her art.
When was the last time he’d seen a paintbrush or a piece of chalk in her hand? It seemed like the soft, fluid lines within her had hardened to sharp angles. What had changed?
A flow of people trickled through the opening in the glass security partition for arriving travelers. He pushed off the wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He’d attempt a smile but couldn’t pretend anything about this pleased him. He’d spent his childhood trying to shield her from influences that would lead her to prison, and once he’d finally been able to remove her from the slums, she chose the wrong side of the law?
A familiar figure emerged, her hand gripping a designer carry-on bag. She scanned the area, her gaze searching then landing on his. For a moment he thought he could see her, the sister of his youth, but then shutters descended, and she was once again a stranger in a familiar form.
He exhaled a long sigh and stepped up beside her, pressing a kiss to her head. “Kayla.”
“Nanny.”
“Don’t be like that.” He reached for her bag, but she transferred it to her other hand.
“I got it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping the ends a bit and pulling. “Fine. Let’s just go and get the rest of your stuff.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “This is it. Mummy dearest said she’d mail anything she thought was pertinent.”
His teeth clenched again. “Fine.”
They walked in silence, their body language charged and arguing loud enough to turn heads as they passed.
A blast of heat laced with humidity hit him in the face as they exited the airport and entered the parking garage. He fished the keys out of his pocket and clicked the key fob. Mila’s borrowed sedan beeped, its lights flashing.
Kayla glanced over at him, her amber eyes laughing. “Really? Since when does the famous Seth Marshall drive a family car? You took your driving test in a Mercedes roadster.”
He opened her door and met her gaze. “People change.”
Hurt shadowed the depths staring back at him. “Don’t I know it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It means nothing.”
Should he push her? Knowing Kayla, she’d only push back harder, and before they knew it, they’d be locked into a reverse tug of war. Instead, he closed her door with more force than required and counted backward from five as he made his way around the hood of the car.
His temper was always getting him into trouble. Just ask Davie. Seth made a fist and let it fall on the top of the car. If he was ever going to start building bridges with Kayla, he couldn’t go around smashing the foundation before the concrete dried. He ripped open his door and fell into the driver’s seat, starting the ignition and slamming the transmission into gear in quick succession.
“I know you’re probably tired, but we’re going to have to stop by the center before heading to the flat. There’s a meet and greet to celebrate the current session starting. An opportunity for parents to get to know the volunteers working with their kids and also for community members to come and offer their support.”
She leaned against the door and stared at him. “So that’s it?”
He ignored the bait she dangled from a hook like an angler. “It’ll be good. Give you an opportunity to meet everyone. You can see where you’ll be working.” He glanced her way before returning his focus to the road. “Mila is excited to have someone with your talent on board.”
She crossed her arms. “My talent?”
“Art. She’s had an advertisement up looking for someone who could aid that department.”
“Hopefully she finds a willing person, because it won’t be me.”
“Why not? You love creative expression. You’d be perfect for the job.”
“Except I don’t paint anymore. I don’t draw. I haven’t so much as colored in a book in ages. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
“Then this will be the perfect opportunity for you to pick it back up again.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She made a strangled cry in the back of her throat and turned to stare out the window. “You aren’t listening to me!”
“What? What would you like to say, because I’d sure like to hear it. I’d love to hear how someone with such a healthy bank account felt the need to try and steal from a store, or why someone with such natural talent like yours would squander it away.”
The car seemed to shake under him, and he feared it was from the loud vibrations of his voice. Regret pooled around him, dampening his temper. He sighed and chanced a quick look at Kayla. Her face was flushed, skin pulled tight.
“Look, I’m sorry.” He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away from his touch. “I’m listening. Tell me what’s going on with you. Please.” He wasn’t sure how she’d react, but he had to say it. “I’m worried about you.”
Her hard lines stiffened further. She might as well have been made out of granite.
“I miss my sister,” he whispered.
Out of his peripheral vision, he thought he saw a tear form in her eye, but then he blinked and nothing was there.
He pulled into the center’s parking lot and turned off the ignition. His knee bumped the steering wheel as he turned toward Kayla. “Can we talk about this some more later?”
She sniffed, her spine ramrod straight. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Exiting the car, she effectively slammed the door on the conversation, leaving him on the outside of her life.
He followed after her but didn’t say anything. They’d be among other people in seconds, so this was neither the time nor place to take a crowbar to that invisible door. One day though…
He spotted Amber along the edge of the rec room beside Yasmin, and the tight ball that had been sitting in the middle of his chest began to dissolve. Amber wore a floral sundress, and her long, dark-blonde hair was out of its normal ponytail, cascading over a shoulder. She smiled at something Yasmin was saying to her, and he couldn’t help but compare Amber’s inner softness and the light that shined out of her to Kayla’s sharp angles and moodiness. Day and night in female form.
Without thought, he grabbed his sister’s wrist and made a beeline to the two women. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
His movements caught Amber’s attention, and she looked over at him from across the room with a smile. Yasmin leaned close to her and shared whispered words. Ones that caused a blush to pink Amber’s cheeks.
By the time he made it to them, his heart pumped as hard as it did after a full day of drills. People rubbed off on each other, which was why he’d tried so hard to protect Kayla growing up. He hadn’t wanted any of the dirt from their neighborhood to rub off on her and drag her down. But maybe that hadn’t been enough.
He shot a quick look at Amber. He’d only known her a little while, but he felt like he knew her. He glanced down at Kayla beside him. If they became friends, maybe Amber’s sweetness would rub off on his sister. Maybe she’d regain a bit of the innocence she’d lost along the way. Worth a try, at least.
“Kayla, this is Amber and Yasmin. Ladies, my sister Kayla.”
Kayla lost some of her rigidness and offered a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“I hate to run off, but Mila is waving me over.” Yasmin pointed to the hall. “It wa
s a pleasure to meet you, Kayla.”
“Seth, why didn’t you tell me your sister was coming?” Amber shook her head at him and smiled at Kayla. “Brothers.” She rolled her eyes. “So, are you here to volunteer too?”
“Something like that.”
“With your brother? You probably know more about soccer than I do. I’m sure Mila and Ben can find another place—”
“No!”
Both women’s heads swiveled to stare at him. Amber’s brow wrinkled with confusion while Kayla gave him a knowing look.
“What I meant to say was that Kayla has no interest in football, and you and I are getting into a rhythm now, Amber.”
“I bet you are,” Kayla muttered under her breath.
He glared at her. “Besides, Kayla can’t wait to get started in the art department, isn’t that right?”
“I’m practically humming with excitement,” she said in a monotone.
Amber looked between the siblings, perplexed. “All right then.” She pointed behind her. “There’s someone I need to talk to, but I’ll see you guys later. Nice to meet you, Kayla.”
Seth watched her go, his gaze trailing after her. Gagging sounds brought his attention back around.
“What’s wrong with you? Since when do you see a girl you want and not take her? You’re just standing there like a lost puppy who’s been commanded to stay. Or did you start syphoning off your testosterone when you became Monk Marshall?”
“First of all, don’t talk like that. It’s crude. And second, did I start treating women with more respect when I gave my life to Jesus? The answer is yes.”
She opened her mouth like she was going to say something more, but then she seamed her lips shut tight.
He sighed, all of a sudden feeling very exhausted. He put his arm around Kayla’s shoulders and hugged her to his side. “Come on. Let’s go home, baby sister.”
Chapter Sixteen
Holy Roman Empire, 1527
“Is it your habit, princess, to wake before the sun and depart your bedchamber to…where precisely?”
Christyne swallowed back a scream as her blood froze in her veins. The door had barely closed behind her before the voice in the shadows spoke.
That shadow turned, the silhouette small and lithe.
A woman.
She should have known the speaker from the soft pitch of her voice, but fear blocked all thought. Woman or no, danger still presented itself. Sat on her bed. Beckoned with a hand.
“Come. My curiosity has plagued me these past minutes. The garderobe is there, and your mannerisms around the landsknechte the day past leads me to believe you did not depart your rooms for a dalliance with one of those men.”
Christyne stepped to the center of her chambers but stopped short of joining her father’s intended atop the bed.
Clare picked at the woven bedclothes, her light hair swept to the side, braid trailing one shoulder. What little illumination the predawn brought sought out the golden threads of her mane. She looked up and captured Christyne’s gaze with her own.
“Was it for the dissenter you risked leaving your chambers in the dark of night? Are you aiding the man?” An earnestness coated her words and a spark lit her eye. A spark of hope.
The same that flickered in Christyne’s own middle. Clare had not named the man a heretic. She had not cried out for his blood. Did her sympathies lie with those that followed their conscience, or did she, like Christyne’s father, remain loyal to Pope Clement, Emperor Charles, and the Roman Catholic Church?
The woman upon her bed sighed. “You are wise not to trust easily. Pray tell, did your father inform you as to how our betrothal came to be?”
Christyne cleared her throat. “I assume by the manner in which these things often happen. He offered for you.”
Clare barked a humorless laugh. “Nay. ʼTis punishment to my father and reward to yours.”
“Pardon?”
“The Diet of Speyer. Did you hear of it?”
She thought back. Her father did not inform her of the workings of their state nor the empire as a whole. What she knew, she’d gathered through Hette and what the maid overheard from the servants, or what she herself could stumble upon through straining her ears past closed doors. Though she knew of the imperial city of Speyer, she had not been made aware of a Diet taking place in that city.
“The Edict of Worms? Surely you have heard of that at least?”
Christyne nodded, though with the lack of light, the other woman may not have seen the slight movement to indicate her answer. “An edict by the emperor sentencing Martin Luther to death and outlawing both the man and his writings.”
“As well as penalizing any who are found to be in possession of his writings. Unfortunately, the emperor has had a difficult time enforcing his edict. Martin Luther still lives and breathes, and his works spread like a plague. His Majesty’s words, not my own, I assure you.”
“And the Diet of Speyer?”
“Another of the emperor’s attempts to enforce his edict. Alas, he could not attend this meeting, and thus Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, the emperor’s younger brother, you know, presided over the meeting. It was there my own father and some of the other princes who had been secretly following the new teachings openly professed their beliefs.”
Christyne sucked in a breath. This, then, was how some of their neighboring princes had decided to lead their people in a way other than Roman Catholicism. She had wondered, but her musings had never been answered until this moment.
“Because of the unrest with the Turks as well as the tension between the emperor and Pope Clement, princes such as Philip of Hesse and John, the Elector of Saxony stepped forward with their declaration of conscience. These princes went against the emperor’s wishes for the Edict of Worms to be enforced and heretics and rebellions be snuffed out. Instead, they negotiated that each prince should order worship in his state according to his own conscience.”
“And your father was among these princes?”
She inclined her head. “As told.”
“Then…”
“As a reward to your father for remaining loyal to him, Emperor Charles decreed my father surrender his daughter to unite with the house of Heidelbraum.”
Christyne closed the distance between them and lowered herself beside Clare on the bed.
The other woman squared her shoulders. “Do not look upon me with such pity. I do not confess to know the Lord’s ways, but I trust that He will be with me even here.” She leaned forward. “And now, mayhap, I have stumbled upon my purpose in your land. Tell me, are you aiding the man for whom the Duke of Schlestein searches?”
Could she trust this woman and her story? More light filtered into the chamber, night releasing its charge to day. A changing of the guard. Dare she let down her own?
“I only wish to help. Even now, your father may be rousing the mercenaries to fox out those hiding in the wood beyond.”
Christyne closed her eyes and breathed out an assent.
“What are we to do?”
Christyne opened her eyes. Clare’s own, shining with purpose, infused her bones with steel. “I had not thought that far ahead.”
The other lady’s mouth pulled to the side. “How did your path manage to cross with that of the fleeing dissenter?”
“I disguised myself as a maid to get past the castle walls and stumbled upon Lorenz in the woods.”
Clare released her lips from the prison of her teeth and smiled. “Have your ears been tickled by the tale of Junker Jörg?”
How would a knight help them in this situation? Did this woman think to send for him to aid them? “Nay.”
Clare’s gray eyes flashed with amusement. “He is none other than Martin Luther himself. After the Edict of Worms, the scholar’s life was all but forfeit. Frederick the Wise sent guards dressed as highwaymen to overtake his coach traveling to Wittenberg. They escorted him to Wartburg castle instead, where he took on the name Junker Jörg and pretended to
be a knight. He remained hidden for ten months, translating the Holy Scriptures into the German language.”
“Thus the Brethren hiding amidst the woods…”
“Do not have to show themselves as they truly are. With the marriage ceremony only days away, many will be descending upon Heidelbraum castle. No one will turn an eye to a few extra guests.”
The bedchamber door creaked open and both ladies froze. Hette stepped through the space, eyes widening at the picture the two presented upon the bed. She dropped into a curtsy while balancing a tray. “Princesses.”
Christyne straightened. She hated to ask more of the girl, but no other way presented itself. “Hette, come forward. We have need of you this morn.”
She set the tray upon a tabletop and stood with her head bent, eyes cast to the floor.
Christyne feared that adding one more secret to the maid’s load would tip the scale and all would come crashing down at their feet, but how else would they procure men’s clothing? An extra gown could be gathered from her own wardrobe, but lederwams, jerkin, and hosen were not within her reach. “Hette, I wish to borrow a suit of clothes from your brother Nikolaus.”
Hette’s face rose, skin pale. “Another, princess? But why?”
“Is it not sufficient that your lady has requested them?” Another ounce to weigh down the poor girl’s guilty heart. Alas, Christyne did not think Hette could keep her lips sealed if she knew more protestors would soon be under their roof. A confession would burst forth from her lips the moment she laid eyes on Bishop Wilmer.
Hette’s head lowered once more. “Of course, princess.”
“Make haste, as the need is urgent.” The maid turned, but Christyne halted her. “This errand remains a secret, Hette.” The girl dipped another curtsy. As she reached the door, Christyne stopped her a final time. “I thank thee.”
Clare and Christyne helped each other dress and arrange their hair into jeweled nets. They gathered gowns and the menswear Hette had brought them and hid the clothing in a leather satchel that they draped across the maid’s shoulder. Smaller pieces went into pouches slung from their own waists, but if they carried too much on their persons then suspicions would be raised.