David clears his throat, and introduces himself.
“I’m David,” he says, extending a hand to Michael. “Emma is going to be my wife.”
Emma drops her eyes to the floor.
“I’m Michael,” he says, slowly extending his hand for a shake. "Wow."
“I know,” says David, who softly squeezes Michael’s hand.
“Your wife? Emma, you are getting married?”
Emma looks at her feet.
“Yes,” she says, gathering her composure. “My father says it is God’s will. We will be married in the spring.”
“The spring. I see,” Michael says. “Well, I wish you the best.”
Emma reaches for David’s hand, clasps it, and pulls him to leave.
“We must go,” she says, pulling David toward the front door.
“What about the food coloring?” David says.
“I don’t need it,” Emma says. “We just want to get out of here.”
And they walk away.
Driving back to the parsonage, Emma is breathing heavily in the passenger seat, and her hands are covering her face.
“Emma,” David says. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
“No.”
“Emma,” David repeats, “is there something you need to tell me?”
“No.”
“Well, I believe there is something you must tell me. What was that about? You know Michael, the heathen?”
Silence.
“Emma, do you know Michael the heathen?”
Silence.
“Answer me!” he says, grabbing her thigh and pinching it hard as the car swerves from his action enough to make her grab the dash.
“No,” Emma says. “I mean yes. Well, not really. We just met once. That’s all. We just talked.”
“You met him once? Where? I understood from your father had never spent time with a boy. He assured me of your purity, Emma. Otherwise, we would not be here.
“Not that you would have done anything wrong alone with him,” David says, as if he is assuring himself. “Of course not. You are an angel. But the world can corrupt just by being a part of it if we associated with the wrong people.
“So tell me? You met Michael once? Where did you meet him?”
“Across the road,” Emma says. “He worked at the Denton farm for a spell.”
“So you met him at the Denton farm. And what was this meeting about?”
“We just said hello,” Emma says. “That’s all. We just said hello.”
“Nothing else?” David says. “Just hello. Nothing more?”
“That’s right. Just hello. Nothing more. Then he left. I don’t think there is anything wrong with hello.”
“So that’s why you asked him where he went? Why did you think he went away?”
“Yes. That’s it. Nothing more. We said hello, and then I did not see him again. I saw him in the market and was surprised. That’s all.”
“He’s a heathen, Emma. Understand? You need to stay away from those types. You can’t trust a heathen. They don’t believe in God. They only believe in themselves.”
“What do you know about him?” Emma asks.
“Everybody on Sand Mountain knows about those hippies. They act like do-gooders in the community. But they don’t come to church, so we don’t know what they really want.”
“Have you met them?” Emma asks.
“No,” David says. “But I know what others have told me.”
“That sounds like hearsay. Gossip. Haven’t you read the book of James, four eleven? Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge.”
David hits the brakes hard, and turns the wheel of the car sharply to the right. Emma braces herself with open palms against the windshield to keep from crashing through it.
She cries out.
“Are you trying to kill us?” she shouts.
On the shoulder of the road, David slams the brake, bringing the car to a halt. He turns toward Emma, reaches with his right hand and grabs the bottom of her chin, tugging it toward him. Her eyes are closed, and tears are streaming down her face.
“Look at me!” David commands.
“Must I?” Emma says.
“Look at me!” David says.
Emma opens her eyes, and turns her face toward his, peering into the many pocks on his face.
“Don’t you ever – EVER – ridicule me again,” David says. “Don’t you EVER do that, much less with the Bible. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
“Yes,” Emma whimpers.
“DO YOU HEAR ME?”
“Yes,” Emma whimpers.