“You know, that wasn’t so bad,” Emily said as she followed Gil to the offices after her five-minute foray into equine relations. “I’m not in any hurry to do it again, though.”
“You done good. Course, I can’t have you breaking my perfect teaching record, neither. I appreciate your success. And you can bill me for the stinkiest soaps you got—a deal’s a deal.” Gil opened the door and flipped a bank of switches to illuminate a surprisingly sleek office with every high-tech gadget imaginable. She counted at least three computer monitors, two printers, a bunch of walkie-talkie-looking things, and a wireless headset. Not to mention a stack of spreadsheet printouts that covered his desk and the PDA and cell phone he pulled out of his jean pockets before he sat down. Emily half expected to find little horse icons wandering around on a radar screen somewhere.
“It looks like an electronics store in here,” she said, scanning the myriad of technology. “You run a high-tech operation.”
“I like to make use of improvements. There’s still no substitute for a good head on your shoulders, but there’s a heap of helpful technology out there these days.” One side of his mouth turned up. “Besides, it impresses the guys and makes me look cool. I can use every advantage I can get with that lot.” Emily was amazed at how a man could look rugged and slick—it didn’t seem as if those two adjectives could apply to the same man at once.
“So why can’t you think of the soap as an advantage?” Emily ventured.
She didn’t give up, did she? Gil put a boot on his desk. She looked so funny, sitting there clutching that basket and little handbag of hers. She carried her town council papers in a straw basket, too. Other people used tote bags or briefcases, but Emily Montague seemed to have a basket for everything. It was like doing business with Little Red Riding Hood.
She sat with her feet tucked tightly underneath her, as if she were afraid the farm would seep in under the door to steal her away and stuff her into a pair of overalls. How did someone living in Kentucky look so lost on a horse farm? And why did it amuse him so that she did? But it wasn’t a make-fun-of-you kind of amusement, it was something else, something more like a you’ll-come-round kind of affection. It was as if he somehow knew she’d cope with it even if she didn’t know.
“I said I’d give your soap-for-verses plan a try, didn’t I?” he said, addressing her question.
She reached into her basket. “Have you got a list of your men handy? That’d be a good place to start. I brought my Bible and the list of verses.”
“Miles ahead of you.” He pointed to the SMART board on the wall behind her. “Watch this.”
She spun her chair around as Gil punched a sequence of keys on his computer. Oh, why not pull out all the stops? He hit a few more to turn on the voice-activated commands. The SMART board, an oversize interactive gizmo that was part computer monitor, part chalkboard, lit up. With a few keystrokes, Gil cleared a task schedule he’d been working on this morning and pulled up a blank page. She looked over her shoulder at him, clearly understanding he was showing off and—what do you know?—enjoying it. He grabbed the headset off his desk, slipped it on and said into the microphone, “Open file. Hand list.”
Emily let out a small sound of amazement as an alphabetized list of names appeared on the screen.
“Table. Column. Tile,” Gil said, and the list became the first column of a chart and shrank to the bottom of the screen. “Open Bible.” An electronic Bible program appeared on the top of the screen, so that the screen held both sets of information. “Which translation do we need?” he said, covering the microphone with one hand.
“How many do you have in there?”
“All of them. Including Greek and Latin, if you’re feeling like serving up a mean challenge to my guys.”
She smiled. “New International will do just fine.”
Gil told the program to load, and a tiny version of the Homestretch Farm logo appeared, and began spinning slowly. “Steve’s little addition to my software,” he said off the microphone. “The guy’s gonna change the world if he doesn’t blow it up first.”
“No wonder so many of your guys have iPods—this is the first ever techno-farm.” Emily watched as the SMART board whirred through its paces. Gil had to admit, it was his favorite purchase of the year.
“The government grants cover lots of their basic living expenses, but I give ’em each an iPod when they get here. For many of them, it’s the first time they’ve had something expensive that they didn’t steal or get stolen from them. Of course, I have ulterior motives. Since I bought ’em, I load ’em. They earn money in their iTunes accounts from me, and I screen their purchases. And, I get to pick one tune out of ten. You’d be amazed at the cool Christian music out there if you look around. Even Paulo doesn’t wince anymore when he stumbles onto what I’ve loaded on there for him.”
Emily turned and looked at him. He hadn’t intended to go into a speech about his techno-savvy or how he wielded it to God’s advantage. There was just something about that soft, sweet nature of hers that made him show off.
“That’s incredibly creative,” she said, with a sort of wonder in her voice that did things to the pit of his stomach. “And really effective, I bet. I wonder if anyone in Middleburg really knows all you do for these guys. Most people just think you work them so hard they don’t have any energy left over to get into trouble.”
“Well, that, too. But that’ll only get you so far. My prayer is that I finally get through to the inside, not just tucker out the outside.” Once again, he’d said far more than he planned. “Okay, let’s start with the first verse you’ve got.”
“Psalm 32:23.”
Gil punched in the citation, and the words The Lord protects the loyal but fully repays the arrogant came up on the screen. “Good one. Could probably apply to all of them, but I’d have to say it’s particularly useful to Larry.” With a few keystrokes, Gil copied the verse and citation, and inserted it into the table next to Larry’s name.
“Impressive.”
Gil found himself hiding a smile. If he had to make a guess, he was betting she could barely set up the voicemail on her cell phone. Maybe he’d download a few gizmos for her as a favor. Make “Frére Jacques” her ringtone or something. “It has its uses. What’s next?”
Emily shook her head as she drove through the Homestretch Farm gates. Gil seemed a complete turnaround from the man she’d considered him before. His program up there was far more comprehensive than she’d imagined. He worked with half a dozen government agencies to see that those young men got what they needed. They got GED courses, counseling, even literacy training if they couldn’t read. He’d struck her as cold before she got a glimpse of his passion for giving the guys a second start in life. How much of his own money was he pouring into that farm? By the time they’d finished assigning verses to each hand, and Gil had talked about who they were and what kind of things each of them had faced in their young lives, Emily could see his commitment. He’d go to any lengths to turn those young men around. Do whatever it took.
She liked that about him.
She liked him.
Emily found she couldn’t hold onto her old view of Gil Sorrent. She wasn’t sure what to do with that just yet. As they’d worked through verse assignments, they’d talked about how each hand would take to the verse they’d chosen. She caught an energy in his eyes, as he paced the room, considering options and shifting verses around on that electric chalkboard thingy. Had she really gasped when he’d hit a key and two copies of what they’d written were printed out? That must have looked idiotic. He probably knew by now that she could barely work the speed dial on her telephone. She could only imagine he must think her a technophobic, horse-fearing sissy.
“I’m not!” she declared to the bobble-head Chihuahua on her dashboard. “I just prefer the peace and elegance of old-fashioned things. I like charming over cool, that’s all. And it’s perfectly sane to not need to spend every waking moment on top of a horse. Or address a felt dog while driving down the Old Frankfort Pike.”