The Preacher's Wife Page 12

  “Maybe after the fitting. I’m afraid you’ll stick me with a pin.”

  Linda placed her remaining pins in a cushion and stood. The measuring tape dangled from her neck. “Lift up your hair so I can measure your bust.”

  She did as instructed. The seamstress gasped at the ruddy, healing scabs on the back of her shoulders and arms. “What happened to you?”

  The reaction made Marissa tense. “I don’t want gossip, Linda. Don’t ask if you can’t resist telling everyone.”

  Linda’s voice grew low as she took in the cuts and fading bruises. “Mr. Garth is responsible for this, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Marissa let her hair fall down again to cover herself. “Promise you won’t say anything.”

  Linda continued to stare, awkward.

  “Promise.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Not even Sophie.”

  “I promise.”

  Marissa still had her doubts from prior experiences with Sophie and her friends. “I’ll take you upon your word, then.”

  An hour went by, and Marissa found herself becoming more at ease with Linda since they had reached an understanding, or at the very least, an agreement to remain silent.

  The bells on the door chimed as someone entered. Rebecca’s voice called up front. “Are you ladies still measuring?”

  “We’re finished, ma’am,” Linda called back. She handed Marissa her clothes from a rule-lined table. “I’ll work as fast as I can today so you can have a bodice and skirt this evening.”

  Unsure of how to dispel the girl’s discomfort, Marissa uttered a simple thank-you.

  Saturday evening Rowe drummed his fingers on the desk where the new Bible lay. Light from the lamp reflected its gilt-edge pages, casting tiny gold beams across the walls of his home study. He should be putting the finishing touches on his sermon for tomorrow, but he found himself distracted once again.

  He picked up the Bible. It was an expensive gift, but when Zachary told him about Marissa’s Bible being destroyed by Jason, he wanted to do something to ease her distress of losing a keepsake. So he had gone to Claywalk today to buy her a new Bible. If word got out in Assurance about his gift, the church elders would beat a path to his door, demanding an explanation. He didn’t have one for them or himself.

  He recalled what he sensed when he helped Marissa onto the wagon outside church. Several theories could explain what happened. Rowe listed them as he listened to the wind whistle through the trees outside.

  The most obvious was that he was glad Marissa recovered from her injuries. Another acceptable explanation was that he was new to Assurance. After a day of preparing sermons, of course the distraction of a friendly visit caused a positive reaction.

  Rowe heard the horse snorting outside. He got up and looked out the back window to find the animal trotting the yard in circles. The setting sun highlighted the sheen in its chestnut coat. The horse tossed his mane before heading to the yard’s perimeter.

  Rowe returned to his desk and raked his fingers through his hair. The third explanation was a bit more daring, but still reasonable. He found Marissa to be pretty. It was natural for a man to admire a woman’s beauty, the same way it was natural to admire a landscape or a flower. The horse’s neighing outside sounded like chortling laughter. Rowe gave up. Who was he trying to convince? The attraction he felt was similar to what he experienced when first introduced to Josephine. God rest the woman’s gentle soul, how could he do this to her memory?

  Rowe’s mind brought back the day of her funeral. So peaceful she looked, with her light auburn hair dressed in soft waves about her shoulders.

  “She appears to only be asleep,” one of his nieces had remarked.

  But Rowe knew the hours of agony Josephine endured in her labor and of the fever that swiftly overtook her after it was discovered that their son was stillborn. It was his fault both of them were taken away so soon.

  After the mourning period was over, part of him wanted to keep Josephine’s memory alive. He still felt that way today, though the faces of the past were becoming increasingly blurred in light of his new surroundings.

  And the faces of the present. One, in particular. Why did this lost woman have to matter so much?

  The wind rapped on the window glass like a knock. How could you?

  “I’m not.” He found himself talking out loud to no one. The grief was finally going to have its way, make him descend into madness.

  You don’t love Josephine anymore. You let her die. Now you let her memory depart for a woman no real man of God would spare a second glance.

  Was this why people perished out west, because the land conspired with the hidden recesses of their minds? Dusty was right about the devil being in the town. Something here was intent on making him regret ever stepping foot on that train to Kansas.

  The wind picked up speed, and Rowe saw his horse go into the small sheltered area where the hay and water trough were kept. The door of the cabin beat against its hinges. He went to bar the latch before the door threatened to slam inward.

  A rainstorm was coming. Clouds darkened the sky and blotted out the last of the orange sunset. Rowe went to the cabinet near the stove for matches to light the rest of the lamps. When he came back to the darkened study, the gilded pages of the Bible cast bigger points of reflected lamplight on the wall.

  Maybe he shouldn’t give the Bible to Marissa. It was a bit extravagant. Still, she deserved it after all she had been through. He would give it to her, then leave her be.

  He started to wrap it in red paper that was also purchased in Claywalk, and as he worked, he also began to steel his heart. He’d done his part in helping the Arthurs get Marissa out of the saloon. What she did with the rest of her life was up to her and God. If he wanted to be a successful preacher in the town, he had to distance himself from the situation, physically at least. Hopefully in time, the rest of him would follow.

  Chapter 14

  MARISSA RETRIEVED A pair of newly soled kidskin walking boots from behind the counter and proceeded to wrap them. “Yes, Mrs. Barnes, your shoes are repaired. They were finished yesterday.”

  The gray-haired matron regarded her with sharp, narrow eyes as Zachary totaled the cash amount. “Aren’t you Arrow Missy?”

  It took her aback to hear her stage name on the lips of a genteel woman. Her fingers halted in the process of folding the corners of the wrapping paper. “I used to go by that name, but I don’t work at the saloon anymore.”

  “She’s my employee now.” Zachary gave Marissa’s shoulder a pat. “She’ll be able to help you with anything you need in the future.”

  Mrs. Barnes pressed her thin lips together and narrowed her eyes. “As you say, Mr. Arthur.”

  Marissa watched her collect her boots and leave the store. “She doesn’t like me very much, does she?”

  “She has to get used to you. You’ve only been working a week. Once you’re established here, no one will concern themselves with your former life.”

  He kept speaking as though she was going to work in the store permanently. His constant attention and training signified he wanted her to stay.

  More shoppers came into the store. Some reacted to her presence like Mrs. Barnes, wary and skeptical, while others paid for their shoes and left without so much as a glance in her direction. Zachary reassured her as much as possible when he saw her mood sinking. “It gets easier. This is new to them, and it’ll soon wear off.”

  “Do you mind if I sit with Rebecca in the back room to catalog the stock for a while?”

  He weighed her request with a critical eye. “Mari, I don’t want you hiding back there. It won’t do you or the customers any good if you’re not on the sales floor.”

  “I won’t hide. Let Rebecca teach me how to catalog or remove shoes just for an hour. I promise I’ll come right back out.”

  Zachary gave his reluctant permission, and Marissa stepped around the front counter. The bell chimed on the door as anothe
r customer came in.

  “Has my order arrived yet, Mr. Arthur?”

  Marissa jolted at the sound of Rowe’s voice. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since their last encounter at the church when she returned the borrowed clothing. When the Arthurs went to church on Sunday, she opted to remain at home and prepare dinner.

  “Reverend Rowe! Good to see you.” Zachary pushed a stack of receipts into her hand. “Give these to Rebecca, Mari. She’ll need them for the record books.” He turned his back to her and resumed talking to Rowe.

  Marissa clutched the receipts. Zachary had all but kicked her into the back room. Rowe didn’t even greet her as she walked off the sales floor. Bits of their conversation reached her ears as she paused just inside the stockroom.

  “…I would have given it to her sooner, but my obligations kept me from leaving the church…”

  She? What other woman could Rowe be referring to, and what was he presenting to her? A pang of jealousy hit Marissa like an unexpected slap to both cheeks. How had he managed to find a lady so soon?

  Slumping onto a nearby stool, she figured exactly how he managed. Rowe was charming, friendly, handsome, and a gentleman. Linda Walsh practically swooned when she first saw him, and the majority of the town’s women did the same. The fact that these desirable qualities were in a godly man—a preacher, no less—made for a most eligible bachelor indeed.

  Marissa dug her nails into her palms, where they began to hurt. What reason did she have for being offended that he chose to give another woman a present? Hadn’t she raced away from him last week at church after he helped her into the wagon? Perhaps he had seen too much of her curtness for his tastes.

  Or perhaps it was simply that he preferred a lady like Reverend Thomas’s wife. That woman would cook kitchen-hall-size dinners for the church, entertain houseguests all day, serve the poor, and sing like the star of an opera company. Never a day went by when she hadn’t had a cheery smile upon her face.

  Marissa wasn’t ignorant of her own personal characteristics: independent, tall, watchful. Those weren’t the traits that men normally admired in women, especially preachers’ wives. Vivaciousness, finishing school manners, a knack for making everyone feel graced to be in her presence. That’s what men wanted to see in a female.

  There were positive qualities to her person, of course. She was helpful, intelligent, and usually polite. She could cook, sew, mend. Her stature allowed her to lift and carry more than the average woman. Those were skills needed for a life on the prairie. She knew seven or eight forms of ballroom dance. That was a rare talent to be admired.

  But could a preacher appreciate a waltzing wife?

  Stop thinking about it. It was absurd to even consider the idea that her former background would not show negatively on Rowe’s duty as town preacher. It was better to not dwell on courtship and marriage for the time being, especially when she left her old saloon life less than two weeks ago.

  She stood up from the stool and approached Rebecca, who sat at a table with her back turned, poring over the account ledger. “Mrs. Arthur, your husband told me to give these to you.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Rebecca took the receipts from her. “You look upset. What’s wrong?”

  Marissa hated that her face was always so transparent. Amid the neatly stacked crates of nails and cobbler’s tools, she took a seat across the little wooden table from Rebecca. “The customers are wondering why I’m here instead of at the saloon.”

  “And?” Rebecca prompted, as though she knew there was more to be revealed.

  “Reverend Winford is here speaking to Mr. Arthur about a gift he’s going to present to a woman. Mr. Arthur sent me away, and the reverend was so excited about the gift that he didn’t bother to greet me.”

  Marissa cast her eyes down in embarrassment as Rebecca nodded in understanding. She moderated her previous statements. “It’s none of my business, of course, but a courteous ‘hello’ would have sufficed.”

  “The reverend most likely wasn’t aware of his manners, given his excitement.”

  Marissa busied herself with stacking leather into a neat pile on the table, anything to occupy her sensitive, aching hands. I truly should not feel this way. I’m so jumbled up inside.

  “Marissa, would you mind helping me with the supper tonight? I’m afraid my fingers are going to be so cramped from all this ledger writing.”

  “I wouldn’t mind at all.” There would be more work for her hands and something else to dwell on.

  For the remainder of the afternoon she helped Rebecca, arranging crates and learning the store ledgers. Zachary didn’t come into the back room and order her to go out on the sales floor, as she expected him to. When the workday was done and she was at home, she prepared a dinner of chicken and vegetables on the stove. All the while her mind wrestled with the idea of Rowe and the unnamed woman. Who was she?

  Marissa pictured the unmarried young ladies of Assurance and thought of those who could catch his eye. Linda Walsh was fresh and pretty, but she wasn’t ready to leave the shelter of her parents’ wings just yet. The sisters Amelia and Leslie Mason already had beaux. Several other women were ruled out until the remaining choices were Margaret Rheins and Sophie Charlton.

  Both women were flirtatious and coquettish. Marissa could see how a man would be attracted to Sophie’s petite, outward appearance. Linda already told her that Sophie had her eye on the reverend. Did Rowe finally succumb to her persistent charms and helpless gestures?

  “Let him have Sophie, if she’s what he wants.” Marissa forced the overly analytical thoughts aside while she checked on the chicken.

  Rowe would probably marry a rich farmer’s daughter or townswoman when the time came. It was expected of men from his background and education, and there wasn’t much she could argue against it.

  “Mari, is the chicken cooked?” Zachary called from the main room of the house. “Our guest is here.”

  The Arthurs never said anything about having a guest over for supper tonight. She hoisted the pan from the stove with two mitts and carried it to the dining table.

  “Good evening, Marissa.” Rowe stood in the room’s center, waiting.

  The roasting hot contents of the pan came close to dripping all over the floor and the front of her dress. “It’s you.” Marissa set the pan in the center of the dining table as he approached.

  He produced a beautifully wrapped present in dark red paper, her favorite color. “This is for you.”

  Confounded, Marissa looked to Rebecca and Zachary for an explanation. They merely smiled and nodded encouragingly. “Thank you, but what is the occasion?”

  “You are. Open it.” Rowe held the present out.

  Marissa took the gift. It was square-shaped and heavy. She tore the red paper away to find a Bible, bound in soft ivory leather. She gasped. “Rowe, this is extravagant.” Too fancy, is what she wanted to say. How much did he spend?

  Zachary went to admire the book. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? He wanted to show me the Bible before he presented it to you.”

  “You both knew about this?” Marissa grew sheepish as Zachary’s smile broadened. “That’s why you shooed me away to the back of the store and why Mrs. Arthur wanted me to help with supper.”

  “We had to keep you distracted,” said Rebecca.

  Marissa opened the Bible toward the middle, where a silk bookmark rested atop the book of Psalms. Jason’s voice suddenly echoed in her head, That preacher’s making an example of you. He is using you to build his church. Was this gift an attempt to get her to join the congregation?

  Reading the first psalm to herself, she stopped when she discovered him staring intently at her, the same way he did when he helped her into the wagon. What was behind those dark blue eyes? She had to find out if he honestly sought her friendship or if he merely needed to make an example of her for the rest of the town.

  For a moment that seemed like an eternity, she returned his gaze. “Thank you again.”

  T
hey stood, awkward, with the Arthurs as their onlookers.

  “Mr. Arthur told me about what happened to your grandmother’s Bible. I tried to find you another one like it.”

  “It’s lovely.” Marissa really did think so, but the very nature of the gift, its similarity to her old Bible, even the wrapping paper in her favorite color, everything was too well thought out.

  “I think we’d better eat before that chicken gets cold,” Zachary suggested when the silence stretched too long.

  Marissa put the Bible on top of the dish cabinet, where it couldn’t be in danger of gravy stains and grease smudges. “That was highly sweet and thoughtful, Reverend.”

  Rowe seated himself across from her. His endearing face tempted her to reconsider her suspicions, but for the time being, she deemed it best to remain vigilant.

  The supper ended just after eight, with everyone finishing off the light yellow biscuit cookies that Rebecca Arthur was famous for. Zachary regaled Rowe and Marissa with stories about the early days when Assurance was first settled as a missions town.

  “Zachary, let him get up and stretch his legs. He’s sat listening to you long enough.” Rebecca rose and began to clear the dishes from the table. “Mari, would you mind entertaining our guest on the porch while we clean up?”

  Marissa set her napkin on the table and proceeded to rise. Rowe hurried around the table and pulled out her chair for her. So this was how proper women were treated when they dined with men.

  Zachary winked at Marissa when Rowe wasn’t looking, and she blushed. Was everyone conspiring to make her a lady?

  Marissa and Rowe left the table to go out into the quiet evening. The last trace of sunset skimmed over the horizon like a smear of orange paint blending into an ever darkening blue canvas. From a distance the vaulted store fronts of the town square formed angular silhouettes that dared to compete with the majestic backdrop of the wide, rolling land.

  “If Virginians could see this, they would envy the homesteaders,” Rowe said with awe in his voice. Leaning over the front porch rail, a smile crossed his face. “Did the Arthurs seem different to you this evening?”