Though None Go with Me by Jerry B. Jenkins Page B

holding her so tight that she knew he hated separating as much as she did. “So this is what Shakespeare meant by ‘such sweet sorrow,’” she said. Though neither had spoken of love, she had fallen for Ben. His embrace told her he felt the same about her.
    Only moments after Ben and his friends pulled away from the camp, Will rumbled up in his truck. Elisabeth was glad to see him. She only wished he were more forthcoming; he could be a quality friend. He loaded her stuff and opened her door, helping her in. It was as if she had grabbed a tree branch. She was amazed at the strength and size of his hands. He had to have died a thousand deaths, she thought, to let her touch him. As he climbed behind the wheel he avoided her gaze and did not return her smile.
    â€œI really appreciate this, Will,” she said.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he said, wrestling with the gearshift. “Good summer?”
    She told him how challenging and yet beneficial it had been, but she said nothing about Ben. “And what about you?” she said. “How’s your work going? Your mother? The rest of the family?”
    â€œGood. She’s okay. We’re all living together now, you know, Ma and me and my married sisters and their families. Taking in boarders too. Everybody’s busy.”
    It was the most he had said in one burst since she’d known him. She tried to engage him further, but he would only answer questions, not offer more. Tired of the effort and full of fresh memories of Ben, Elisabeth looked out the window as if studying the sunset, deciding not to turn back unless Will said something.
    After about fifteen miles of silence, she jumped and turned when he spoke. “Just basically been working,” he said.
    He was staring at the road. “Have you?” she said. They had been through this. Everybody was fine and he was working more than ever. She had told him she had always admired that about him. Maybe he wanted to hear that again.
    â€œYep,” he said. “Seems like it’s all I do. Work. ’Course we’ve still got senior year.”
    It was the first conversation he had initiated with her in more than ten years. She had to reward it. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be glad when that’s over. Won’t you?”
    â€œI sure will. I was hoping maybe we could get married then.”
    Her eyes grew wide. “You’re getting married?”
    Will looked left, then back to the front, still avoiding her eyes. “I was hoping.”
    â€œWho’s the lucky girl? Someone I know?”
    He pursed his lips and shook his head.
    â€œI know,” she said. “That Burke girl, the redhead?”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t do that, Elspeth,” he said, clearly angry.
    She hadn’t seen this side of him but was delighted he was asserting himself. “I’m sorry, Will, but this is exciting. I don’t mean to make a game of it. Just tell me.”
    â€œIs that your answer?” he said, his voice flat and hard.
    â€œMy answer?”
    â€œIs that how you turn me down?”
    A chill washed over her. “Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sporting with you. I didn’t realize what you were saying. Please forgive me.”
    â€œOkay, but then will you?”
    â€œOh, Will.”
    Elisabeth wished he would pull over so they could talk face to face. But he was on paved road now and they seemed to be flying. She couldn’t imagine what he must have gone through to broach the subject.
    â€œI’ve been praying about it,” he said, sounding encouraged. “I believe it’s what God wants for us.”
    Elisabeth sighed. Why did this have to happen? The day she committed the rest of her life to God, she learned her father was dying. Now the day she knew she was in love with Ben Phillips, Will Bishop announced his intentions.
    â€œWill, I’m flattered. And you must know I’m very