Greater Love

GREATER LOVE

OTHER NOVELS BY ROBERT WHITLOW INCLUDE

Tides of Truth series

Deeper Water

Higher Hope

Mountain Top

Jimmy

Life Everlasting

Life Support

The Sacrifice

The Trial

The List

GREATER LOVE

Book Three in the Tides of Truth series

ROBERT WHITLOW

© 2010 by Robert Whitlow

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail SpecialMarkets@ThomasNelson.com.

Scripture quotations are from the following sources: HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved; THE NEW KING JAMES VERSION. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved; and the KING JAMES VERSION.

Publisher’s note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Whitlow, Robert, 1954-

  Greater love / Robert Whitlow.

      p. cm. — (Tides of truth series ; 3)

ISBN 978-1-59554-450-6 (soft cover)

I. Title.

PS3573.H49837G74 2010

813’.54—dc22

2009052635

Printed in the United States of America

10 11 12 13 14 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

To the unselfish among us. Your reward is sure.

Greater love has no one than this,

than to lay down one’s life for his friends.

JOHN 15:13

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Reading Group Guide

Prologue

THE GIRL BOLTED INTO THE BLACKBERRY PATCH . SHE CRIED OUT in pain as the tiny briars ripped her skin. The two men chasing her thrashed about in the darkness. The girl stuffed her fist in her mouth, bit down on her knuckles, and slowly eased herself to the ground.

Over yonder! I heard something! one of the men called out.

The sound of the men came closer. The girl could see the beams of flashlights in the tops of the bushes. She was wearing a dark shirt and blue jeans. Tucked in her jeans was the smooth leather pouch she’d snatched from the edge of the table when the men dragged her stepmother’s boyfriend into the night.

Her arms were tanned dark by the Georgia sun and streaked with red dirt. In the stillness tiny gnats found her face and began crawling across her cheeks and into her ears and nose. She didn’t dare slap them away.

Jessie, we know you’re close by, the other man called out. Ain’t nobody going to hurt you. Come on out and show yourself, and we’ll give you something nice.

What are you talking about? the first man hissed.

The cuts on Jessie’s arms, hands, and face stung as sweat ran into the open wounds. She gritted her teeth then licked her lips. Her tongue brought several gnats back into her mouth. Growing up south of Macon, she’d eaten a bushel of gnats by the time she turned fifteen. In the distance, she heard the sound of thunder.

She ain’t coming out, the first man said to the second. And now it’s going to come a shower. That’s why we should have brought the dogs. They’d love rompin’ through this here thicket. Blackie would flush her out in no time.

Well then, why don’t you shut up and go back to the shed and get them on down here, the second man answered. I’ll stay close by in case she tries to make a run for it.

Should I call Clay while I’m up at the house?

And tell him we brought his pouch into the house instead of leaving it locked up in the car? We had two jobs to do—teach Rod a lesson and deliver the pouch from the German guy in Atlanta. He ain’t going to be happy with one out of two.

I thought it would be better to keep it in sight in case Rod made a run for the car. He’s got a set of keys. I didn’t know the girl was there.

And that’s why we’re in this mess. Now git. For all we know she may already be at the highway.

Jessie heard one of the men move away. The thunder rumbled closer. It wouldn’t hurt her feelings if the men beat up Rod. Twice, the dark-haired man had hit her so hard it made her woozy. Her stepmother didn’t say anything. Rod had bought her a new car and gave her twenties like they were ones.

Jessie wasn’t afraid of the dogs, especially Blackie. They’d become friends since Rod brought them home. If the men brought the dogs to the thicket, Blackie would come straight to her, if for no other reason than to lick her face.

Jessie shared the men’s fear of Clay. The way Rod acted when Clay came into the room and then talked about him after he left was proof enough for her. Rich people in fancy clothes could be scary, too.

There was a flash of lightning followed by gunshot thunder. The man who remained behind swore. Another flash of lightning hit a nearby pine tree. There was a loud crack as the tree split apart. Jessie screamed then clamped her hand over her mouth, sure she’d given away her location. Barely breathing, she crouched and waited for the man to come rushing toward her. But all she heard was the sound of a tree creaking and popping. The flashlight beam disappeared.

Jessie eased up from her hiding place. The damaged tree was clearly visible. Flickering flames marked the path the lightning took as it hungrily sought the ground. Another bolt of lightning lit up the thicket with daytime brightness. In the split second of illumination, Jessie saw a man lying at the foot of the tree, his arms splayed out and his legs in an awkward position. She didn’t look twice.

She ran out of the thicket as fast as she could go. But not toward the highway. She’d read in a library book about a runaway girl who discovered the best way to travel without anyone knowing about it was along the railroad tracks. Unlike cars, trains don’t have curious eyes.

As Jessie ran toward the train tracks, huge drops of rain began falling from the sky. She stopped for a second to rub the cool moisture across her arms and face, then kept running as fast as her brown legs could take her. She didn’t know if dogs could pick up a human scent in the rain.

Jessie wasn’t going to slow down and find out.

1

THROUGH THE WINDOW I COULD SEE A FEW BROWN LEAF stragglers clinging to limbs of an oak tree. Powell Station was in the Appalachian foothills so snow wasn’t uncommon in November, but it rarely fell until after the middle of the month. I rolled onto my side and pulled the quilt up to my chin. I was glad to be home, among my family, spending a few days in the daily routine of life.

I slipped out of bed so as not to wake the twins, Ellie and Emma. After retrieving the morning eggs, I joined Mama in the kitchen. Our diet was high in cholesterol, but there wasn’t a carton of soft drinks on our property, and honey from hives behind the garden was our favorite sweetener.

Mama and I had worked together in the kitchen from the time I was old enough to be trusted at the stove until I left for college. When I returned home, familiar patterns returned without effort and we moved about efficiently without getting in each other’s way. I loved meal preparation. There was a sense of fulfillment in fixing hot, delicious food for the people I loved. Daddy claimed my scrambled eggs were fluffier than cotton candy at the county fair.

Daddy and Bobby came inside and washed their hands at the garden sink beside the rear door.

It’s a glorious morning! Daddy exclaimed to Mama. Do you know why, Lu?

Mama smiled. We all knew the answer.

Because we’re here together, Mama replied.

Daddy dried his hands and kissed me in the usual place on top of my head. He grabbed Ellie by the shoulders.

Which one are you? he asked, peering into her blue eyes.

Daddy, you know! she answered with a quick smile.

Daddy kissed her on the right cheek. Emma came up for a kiss on the left cheek. Daddy grabbed Mama and squeezed her waist.

The timer I used for the hard-boiled eggs went off. While I cooled the eggs enough to remove the shells, Ellie filled large bowls with steaming oatmeal. Emma set a cup of raisins and a jar of honey on the table, then put a cloth napkin at every place and correctly positioned on each a knife, fork, and spoon. I’d never been embarrassed by a lack of table manners. Mama’s homeschool curriculum included a course in etiquette that we were expected to incorporate into everyday practice. We ate our meals at a long picnic table painted white. Mama and I sat across from each other at the end nearest the cooking area.

Tammy Lynn, will you pray? Daddy asked.

We held hands around the table. I reached across and took Mama’s hand. It was slightly dry and coarse. Her fingers spoke of a lifetime of service to others.

Thank you for this fresh food, my loving family, and this crisp, fall day. Bless them all. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Well done, Tammy Lynn, Daddy said. Who said lawyers forget how to pray? That was downright poetic.

I won’t be a lawyer until I graduate from school and pass the bar exam next summer, I corrected.

You’ll do both, Mama said confidently as she stirred a few more raisins into her oatmeal. And the Lord will direct your steps.

Ellie popped a large bite of hard-boiled egg into her mouth. Tammy Lynn woke me up this morning talking about moving to Savannah and getting married and having babies.

That was her prediction for my future, I responded quickly.

But you didn’t disagree, Ellie answered, her voice muffled by egg.

Don’t talk with food in your mouth, Mama said.

I turned toward Daddy and Mama. I have to tell Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter by the first of December if I’m going to accept the job offer with them. If I turn them down, I could work with Julie Feldman and Maggie Smith in Savannah or come back to Powell Station and open my own office.

I know what Zach wants you to do, Emma replied. Take the job with Bradley, Applecart, and whatever so he can keep a close watch on you.

That’s not the way he looks at it.

But it’s the way he looks at you, Ellie replied. I can still see the dreamy expression on his face when you were doctoring his hand after the catfish stung him.

Has he given you any advice? Mama asked, ignoring my sisters.

He told me the advantages and disadvantages of coming to work for his firm or being part of a new practice like the one Julie and Maggie are setting up.

Being around him every day would be a big, big advantage, Ellie said, taking a sip of orange juice.

Last week Julie sent me pictures of the place Maggie rented in a new office park, I continued. It looks nice. They have an office reserved for me if I want it.

How can they afford that? Daddy asked.

Julie’s father is loaning them a bunch of money. In return, Julie gets to be a partner from the start. She claims her daddy won’t make them pay back the money.

That’s not right, Emma cut in. The Bible says, ‘The wicked borroweth and payeth not again.’ Psalm 37:21.

Tammy Lynn, you be the lawyer; your little sister can go to Congress. Daddy laughed.

AFTER BREAKFAST , ELLIE AND I RINSED THE BOWLS IN THE SINK. She leaned over and spoke in a soft voice.

If you work at the law firm with Zach, you can find out if he’s the one. I think he is, but I know it’s up to Daddy, Mama, you, and God, of course.

He’s the first man I’ve courted, I answered, glancing over my shoulder to see if Mama was still in the kitchen. And I can’t be thinking about marriage all the time. Part of the reason to court a man is to learn how it feels to be around a male who isn’t a member of the family.

Doesn’t the thought of him make chills run up and down your back?

As if on cue, an involuntary shiver ran down my back.

Not all the time, I answered, shrugging my shoulders.

Ellie continued. And after you get used to his ponytail, it doesn’t make him look girlie at all, especially when you see how broad his shoulders are.

You shouldn’t be paying attention to Zach Mays’ shoulders.

I’m not. It’s a scientific observation.

MID-MORNING I FOUND MAMA SWEEPING THE FRONT PORCH. The autumn sun shining through the trees in the front yard cast mottled light against the well-worn wood.

I’d like to see Mr. Callahan while I’m here and ask his advice.

Mama finished a stroke that sent several leaves swirling off the porch and into the cool air.

That’s a good idea. You can borrow the car.

It was about five miles to the retired attorney’s large home on top of a gentle hilltop surrounded by lush pasture where his prize Angus cattle grazed. A jar of honey in my hand as a gift, I rang the doorbell. The white-haired lawyer opened it and inspected me with piercing dark eyes that contained both fire and compassion. It was easy to imagine Mr. Callahan giving a passionate appeal to a jury.

Come inside, he said in a mellow voice.

I handed him the jar of honey. This is for you and Mrs. Callahan.

Thank you. I’ve been out of honey for a few weeks. Bobby brought a jar when he picked up a calf a few days after you and the young, healing prophet with the ponytail came by to see me.

Zach wouldn’t want to be called either a prophet or a healer. He’s an admiralty lawyer.

Didn’t I get better after he prayed for me?

Yes, sir.

Then it doesn’t matter what he calls himself. Mr. Callahan held up the honey. Let me prove my case. Your mama can make a pretty label to decorate the outside, but wouldn’t you agree that it’s what’s inside this jar that counts?

Yes, sir.

It’s the same with people.

I followed Mr. Callahan through the living room to the kitchen, a spacious room that featured a decorative island and bank of windows that welcomed sunlight.

My wife’s in Chattanooga shopping with her sister, Mr. Callahan said, placing the honey on the corner of the island. Your daddy told me Joe Carpenter offered you a permanent job, the first female clerk to receive an offer at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter since women got the vote.

They’ve had a few woman attorneys over the years but never hired a female summer clerk.

When do you start?

I’m not sure I’m going to accept.

Why not? he asked in surprise. Do you have a better offer?

That’s why I came to see you.

Mr. Callahan motioned to a small round table in the corner of the room. We sat, and I told him about the new firm Maggie Smith and Julie Feldman wanted me to join. His face remained impassive.

Maggie’s been with the district attorney’s office for a few years and wants to go out on her own, I said. Julie Feldman is the Jewish girl who also clerked at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. She’ll graduate from Emory in June. They want me to be their associate. It will be a small firm, but I believe they have a great future.

Mr. Carpenter rubbed his chin. Wouldn’t Ms. Feldman be an associate, too? She doesn’t have any more experience than you do.

Her father is a rich doctor. He’s loaning the money to help them get started. In return, Julie gets an instant partnership.

In nothing. Mr. Callahan snorted. Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter is the best firm in Savannah. It’s okay to go out on your own after you learn your way around the courthouse. But two inexperienced lawyers and an assistant DA who’s had her cases handed to her on a platter by detectives who did the hard work is a recipe for disaster.

I swallowed. I’d not expected Mr. Callahan to have such a strong opinion.

You started your own practice in Powell Station. It worked out well for you.

Don’t forget. I worked three years for another lawyer in Cartersville before moving up here. I learned enough from him to keep from making any dumb mistakes that cost me my license or caused me to go broke. And I still had a few lean years before the decent cases started rolling in. Borrowing through a personally guaranteed credit line at the local bank just to survive isn’t fun. Mr. Callahan leaned forward. How many of your classmates at the law school have multiple job offers?

I’m not sure. Except for the girls on my intramural basketball team, I don’t talk to many people about their plans.

How many of those young women have a decent job to go to after graduation?

I quickly ran through the lineup of the seven girls. We’d played together for three years in a fall league at the University of Georgia.

One is accepting a job with an insurance defense firm in Macon. Another is going to clerk for a superior court judge in Fulton County. The others are sending out résumés and trying to arrange interviews and so on. I paused. If nothing develops they’ll get desperate in a few months.

Exactly. Mr. Callahan sat up straight and eyed me for a moment. Are you looking for someone to tell you what to do?

I wouldn’t mind it, I admitted sheepishly.

Have you talked to your parents?

They know about the options, of course, but they haven’t given me their opinion.

Well, I don’t want to create confusion with what they might say.

No, it’s okay. I’m already confused.

Mr. Callahan looked past my shoulder. Tammy Lynn, do you know why you’re struggling with this decision?

I hesitated. Because I want to do God’s will?

Mr. Callahan waved his right hand in a way that brushed aside my answer.

That’s important, but to get to that point it’s necessary to be honest about yourself. I like pretending to be a cattleman, but sometimes I miss the chance to really grill a witness. Will you let me conduct a bit of a cross-examination to find out what’s going on inside that pretty, intelligent head of yours?

I managed a slight smile. Go ahead. If it helps, it’ll be worth it.

Mr. Callahan stood, pushed his glasses down his nose, and put his hands behind his back. Ms. Taylor, isn’t it true you’ve had a lot of success for a girl taught at home until high school?

I sat up straighter in the chair.

Yes, sir. Mama is the best teacher in the world. I’d read most of the books on the reading lists for my college literature classes before—

Mr. Callahan held up his hand. A simple yes is sufficient. You don’t have to prove the value of your upbringing to me. I’m just laying the foundation for my question.

Okay.

And isn’t it true that you’ve had athletic success, too?

Yes, sir.

Didn’t the girls’ high school basketball team go to the state tournament your senior year?

Yes, sir.