The Preacher's Wife Page 7

  Rowe shifted. “He told me about you and your mother—”

  “My mother? You spoke about her?”

  Jason made no attempts to hide his eavesdropping after that. The proprietor turned the stool so that he could view them both full face.

  How could Mr. Arthur have exposed her life to a practical stranger? Rowe Winford had been in town for less than two weeks, and already he knew more about her life than its four hundred residents. “Zachary shouldn’t have talked about my mother.”

  “He was only looking to help you.”

  “How? By advising you to come in here and tell me how bad a sinner I am?”

  “No.” His face darkened at the accusation. “He said none of those things. I came only to invite you to church.”

  “Thank you for the invitation. I will consider it. Now I have work that I must be getting back to. Will that be all, Reverend?”

  Her abruptness was not scaring him away. He planted his feet to the floor as defiantly as she did. “Will you be in attendance this Sunday?”

  Surely something vile could be said to make him leave. Marissa put the broom aside and placed defiant hands on her hips, peppering her words with extra emphasis. “Yes. Yes, I will be there, if you want the church to see what a saloon girl looks like. You can warn all the decent, upright women of what will happen to them if they don’t do what you tell them. Satisfied?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. The muscles clenched in her stomach. She knew she set something off inside him that wouldn’t benefit her to see.

  “It was my idea to invite you to church, if only for the sake of showing you a courtesy that I hope you are well-mannered enough to accept.”

  Marissa recoiled as if she had received a physical blow from him. Rowe continued. “Only God can judge. Any negative opinion that you have of ‘decent, upright women’ reflects your own feelings of inadequacy.”

  Marissa had been called names and received taunts all her adult life, but nothing struck so close to her core as the truth he unleashed upon her that moment. Inadequate was the way she perceived herself, to say the least. His words reaffirmed what she believed for so long.

  And if a man of God could say it, who was to argue? The emotional blow that had been dealt her personified into a pain that made her hands throb.

  Rowe spun on his heel and gave Jason a curt nod. “Good day to you, Mr. Garth.”

  The saloon doors were pushed open with a bit too much force and slammed shut to announce his departure.

  After a few moments Jason put out his cigar. “Well done. He won’t be back for a while.”

  Marissa returned the broom to its niche behind the counter and prepared to measure out the night’s whiskey. “I did what you wanted. Please leave me to finish this work.”

  Jason snickered. “If the way the reverend spoke to you is how he delivers sermons, he’ll be gone back to Virginia again by the end of the season.”

  What had gone through his mind to make him lash out at Marissa? Rowe fumbled through his sermon notes. Church was about to start in ten minutes, and here he was once more, disorganized and unable to focus on the day’s topic.

  Marissa had preoccupied him ever since he stormed out of the saloon on Thursday. His anger subsided only when he arrived home and started hammering on the fence, and by then it was much too late to go back and apologize. It was doubtful she would want to hear anything he had to say after he’d spoken those cruel words.

  Why should she graciously accept his invitation to come to church? Of course she would be wary of accepting an invitation when he came upon her in a place where she never wanted him to find her again.

  And that comment about inadequacy. How could he give her such an analysis? He was sure he had seen only an inkling of the talent, intelligence, and abilities that God placed within her to survive all this time on her own. Very few young women would have the fortitude to last very long, if left in the guardianship of one such as Jason Garth.

  “Forgive me for judging her, Lord,” he prayed more than once. “I offered to help her, but I failed. I let my temper get the better of me.”

  It’ll be a miracle if I ever speak to her again. There went the plans for helping her and the church.

  Music began to filter through the door of the study. The organist played the entrance hymn, and that meant people were filing into the pews. Rowe threw on his coat and prayed that God would use the sermon to touch someone’s heart.

  What had gone through her mind to come here today? As Marissa told herself repeatedly, she had no business at the church.

  Early that morning she awakened while Jason and the girls were still in their rooms, sleeping off the effects of the previous Saturday night’s work. Dressed in a forest green taffeta gown with white lace gloves and a small, matching veiled bonnet, she crept down the stairs as quietly as possible. Then, with her grandmother’s worn and faded white Bible in hand, she tiptoed outside to walk the short path to her destination.

  The doors to the church were closed, yet the unified song of the congregation rang out. Marissa almost thought she heard Rowe’s baritone among them but decided against it, not knowing what type of singing voice he possessed. If it was anything like the way he spoke, though, it would be deep and rich.

  Her hand rested on the door handle. For years she hadn’t been in a church. Were services held the same way she remembered when she attended with her mother and father? Would she be welcomed into the sanctuary or ushered out without delay?

  Only one way of knowing.

  The congregation progressed to their second hymn as she walked in. Their backs were to her as they sang facing the pulpit or followed along in their hymnals. Albert Pate played on the organ. In the soprano section of the choir his wife led the women in a measure of high notes. Mrs. Pate and Marissa’s mother had been friends once, but the woman never did acknowledge Marissa, except on the first day that she returned to Assurance with Jason. She overheard Mrs. Pate talking with the liveryman’s wife in the general store. “It appears Elizabeth raised up a soiled dove. I knew nothing good could come of her marriage to that Gregory Pierce.”

  Marissa scanned the pews. The more notable of citizens were closer to the front: Sophie Charlton and her family; the mayor Humphrey Hooper and his wife; Tom Euell, the newspaper editor. Zachary and Rebecca Arthur sat just behind them.

  Finding an empty pew in the back of the sanctuary in the last row, she sat down at the far end closest to the door. The interior hadn’t changed much since her last visit as a child. The old altar cloth of blue had been replaced with royal purple, but the pews, the location of the organist, iron lamp sconces, and brass candleholders, even the hymnals, remained the same.

  Of course the preacher was a new addition.

  Rowe led the congregation in “Amazing Grace,” singing the lyrics by heart. It was a familiar song to Marissa as well. She pondered over the words and their meaning. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. She didn’t know whether she liked the song for its message or for the memories it brought to mind.

  Surely the Lord’s faithfulness didn’t extend to a woman like herself, else she would not be in her current situation. Her mother wouldn’t have suffered. Both her mother and grandparents had placed their trust in God, and look where it had gotten them. All gone from the earth, fallen to sicknesses, while she was left alive to carry on a lonely existence.

  The song ended, and the congregation sat down. Marissa scooted further down in her seat so Rowe wouldn’t find her amidst the people. No doubt seeing her would make him feel all the more smug in his ability to draw even the nonchurch-goer into the assembly.

  Rowe turned the gilded pages of the large Bible on the podium. “Today I would like to talk about the sin of gossip and how we should have a heart for the Lord. Turn with me to Proverbs sixteen, verse twenty-eight.”

  What a concept. What need did God have of anyone’s heart, as powerful as He was? Opening her Bible, she flipped the time-worn pages b
ack and forth until she found the correct chapter in the Old Testament that Rowe directed everyone to turn to. Save for Genesis, Exodus, and Psalms, she had forgotten the order of all the books.

  As the sermon began, she tried to read the verses for herself. A froward man soweth strife: and a whisperer separa-teth chief friends. Marissa understood what was being said in them, but not where the deeper meaning emerged. How did Rowe glean profound teaching from what looked like two simple sentences?

  “The same message applies to us today,” he explained, looking up from the Scriptures. “We sin when we gossip and spread rumors. It can damage lives irreparably. Instead, we need to maintain a quiet life. The way to do that is to not entertain those who slander and to gently remind them to refrain in their behavior…”

  Marissa curled her toes. She knew where Rowe drew inspiration for the sermon, and she had no desire to be his muse. God, lead me. She found herself praying. The action made her afraid and embarrassed. The last time she prayed, she had been a child, kneeling beside her mother. When Elizabeth died, it felt like God left her too.

  “We need to seek forgiveness, repent, and ask God to lead in the right direction.” Rowe closed the sermon with two more verses and a prayer. Marissa bowed her head respectfully, as she remembered seeing her grandmother do, as she herself had done when she used to say her evening prayers at the foot of her bed. Her mother had always been beside her, even when that bed turned to a straw pallet and then to a frayed, unwashed blanket on the cold, hard ground.

  As she sensed the prayer drawing to a close, Marissa rose silently and slipped out the door. There. She had gone to church and honored his invitation. But that did not mean she had to stay to talk to him or subject herself to the glares and whisperings of the congregation.

  Marissa hurried down the road, eager to put as much distance between her and Rowe as she possibly could.

  Chapter 8

  SINCE HEARING ROWE’S sermon on the dangers and sin of gossip, Marissa felt a glimmer of hope that the people of Assurance would take heed of the message. Already she could tell that a few had been listening on Sunday. When she went to deposit the saloon’s earnings into the bank the following morning, there were decidedly fewer snickers and sneers as she stood in line for the teller. The little improvement she saw inspired her to open the Bible again to see what other principles it contained.

  Taking a break from her duties Wednesday evening, Marissa read Christ’s words to His disciples and contemplated the message. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

  She looked up from the old Bible and stared at a faded advertisement of her parents’ riverboat skit hanging in the corner of her small room. How the disciples must have felt when Jesus gave them this instruction. No longer having to shoulder the problems and distresses of their times, they could rely on their Master to come to their aid.

  If someone offered to shoulder her burdens, she would fly. There would be no worries about money or where she would stay or where her next meal would come from. Someone else could handle those troubles.

  But there was no one. Jason kept her because she needed to pay off her mother’s debt and because she increased his profit. The town made her the object of their ridicule. Since her mother died, she relied on herself and would continue to do so if she wanted to survive.

  But you don’t have to rely on yourself.

  Looking up from her Bible, Marissa blinked. Where had that thought come from?

  The door to her room snapped open and Jason burst in, crossing the floor in three loud stomps. “That old sot Jedediah and his gang drank half a case of my bourbon tonight and wanted to put their bill on credit. They haven’t paid me for the last one back in May.”

  “Did you allow them to do it again?” Marissa was used to Jason complaining about his customers’ habits when he was the one who encouraged their bad business.

  “No.” He spoke slowly, irritated when she didn’t share in his grumbling. “And I told him that he and his leech friends can’t have another drink in my establishment until their bill is current.”

  “That’s good, Jason. Maybe you’ll see that money sooner rather than later.”

  “Or lose my best customer while I wait for him to try and come back.”

  “Jedediah can’t be that great if he owes you so much money.”

  “He drops his coin on the girls too.”

  Marissa pictured the spindly-legged, pot-bellied man and shuddered. “I’m grateful I’ve never seen that man’s money.”

  Jason cast a critical eye on her figure. “Don’t think you’re not too good for it. He just likes his girls small. If you weren’t such a tall treetop woman, he might make you a bit richer.”

  Marissa quelled her instinct to trade insults. It didn’t seem to be the right response anymore. He gave her the meanest look he could muster when his words garnered no reaction.

  “Since when did you start readin’ that?” His focus shifted to the Bible in her lap.

  “Since my grandmother passed it down to my mother and she gave it to me.”

  Her hands instinctively went to cover the Bible, but she stopped. Why should she be ashamed of reading it?

  “Ever since last Sunday you’ve been carrying that Bible and glancing at it every spare chance you get. I know where you went that morning too, because I heard your steps go out your room.”

  “I’m not supposed to rise before noon on Sundays now?”

  “Simone watched you from the window and saw how you were dressed. She came and told me where you were likely headed.”

  The fact that he had the ladies scouting for him gave her chills. “I’m your best and longest-standing employee. You know I’ll keep my loyalty to you until my contract is finished. Why should you care where I go on my days off?”

  “Tsk, tsk, darlin’. Don’t get defensive. Simone was only curious.” Jason shrugged. “But we both think you’re not church material.”

  Marissa rubbed her hands in a massaging motion. He only said it to hurt her feelings. It couldn’t be true. After all, she just read how Jesus forgave the woman at the well. That woman also lived a sinful life, and the Lord accepted her. The biblical example strengthened Marissa to defend herself.

  “You and Simone don’t always have to be right.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Jason pushed himself in front of her and cupped her chin in his hand. His fingers dug into her flesh as his lips curled into a nasty parody of a smile. “I know where this sudden interest in the Word comes from. You’re sweet on the reverend.”

  He cut her off as she started to protest. “No man like Rowe Winford wants a slatternly woman like you. You may not entertain the men in this saloon like the other girls, but where you work still defines your reputation.”

  Bile threatened to rise in her throat as he continued his verbal assault.

  “You are a whore in his eyes, like you are in the eyes of everyone else in this pathetic town. Better stick with me, if you want to see any gain from it.”

  The Bible lay at their feet where she had dropped it the moment he seized her. Jason launched a wad of spittle on the floor near the worn, white leather cover and exited.

  The week after delivering what many in the congregation declared to be a rousing sermon, Rowe was forced to turn to the heavier aspects of being a minister. Midweek one of the town’s founders passed away in his sleep. The family made haste with the arrangements, and on Thursday Rowe performed his first funeral service in Assurance.

  He presided over the entire service. It included comforting and counseling the man’s widow, surviving children, and close associates. After locating a gravedigger, he consulted with the undertaker so that the family would have some of their burdens lessened.

  By the time it was over, he was exhausted and had to drag himself home, where he slept for the remainder of the day. In the evening Rowe awakened and read a recent letter from his younger brother Nathaniel back home
in Virginia.

  You must find it hard adjusting as a lone reverend, ministering to the needs of a small town. How is it, to be planted on the infinite plains of western America while your entire family is in Virginia?

  Rowe finished the letter and picked up a blank sheet of stationery to reply. The pen hovered over the paper as he debated whether to write about the climate or the people he met.

  You should be ashamed to think of that soiled saloon girl when your sweet wife lies cold in the ground. He heard the evil voice again. Though inaudible to his ears, it jarred his mind with guilt and condemnation.

  Rowe bowed his head, fighting against it. Clammy sweat formed on his brow.

  Help me, Lord, to live the life You planned for me.

  Expecting the sense of loss to seize him again and run off with him to a dark, lonely place, he struggled to find words to write to his brother. It was time to forget the past, to move forward. He had to find a way to get past the temptation to do otherwise.

  Marissa’s last few days of work flew by. On Friday, at the end of the evening, Marissa left two sets of red and black dance costumes draped over a chair, having no more need of them.

  Sorting through her everyday blouses and skirts, she arranged them separately in leather valises. Tomorrow morning she would find a pair of strong hands to deliver her things to the local hotel where she would be staying until she found employment. The money would last for a good month or two, enough time for her to acquire something, surely.

  God, help me. If I don’t find work, I will not last long. Her gaze swept the small room that had belonged to her for the past two years. The bed nestled against the wall, the blanket turned down for her last night here. The chair and little table looked pitiful and bare since the removal of their frilly coverings. She removed the riverboat advertisement from the wall and tucked it safely in one of her books. Shelves lay empty as books, lamps, and toiletries all were packed and stored away.

  Her Bible lay on the bed, one of the last things to be packed. The very act of holding it and turning the pages gave her a comfort that she missed in life.