Читать книгу The Preacher's Wife - Cheryl St. John - Страница 11

Josie loved Mondays. On Mondays she had a fresh slate ahead of her, a palette of days that held endless possibilities. A whole new week in which to accomplish as many things as would fit. And this week was even more exciting because there would be tasks aplenty in looking after the interim preacher and his daughters.

She lit the oven, heated water and set full pitchers and towels outside each bedroom door. While coffee boiled, she fried bacon and mixed batter for flapjacks.

When she checked back, Reverend Martin hadn’t picked up his water, so she tapped on the door.

“I’m awake, Josie. C’mon in.”

He was lying propped on his pillows. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked.

“Weak as a baby, and tired of it to be sure.”

She placed a towel across his lap, prepared his razor and stirred shaving powder into froth with the brush. She handed him the mirror. “I don’t mind shaving you.”

She’d performed the task many times when he couldn’t bear to move.

“I feel like I’ve taken a step backward.”

“Not at all. Your color is good. That wound is healed, and you’re eating well. You’re just a little tired.”

“Hand me the razor, Josie. Your optimism inspires me to push forward.”

She handed him the straightedge. “How would you like your eggs?”

“Any way you turn them out will set just fine with me.”

“I’ll be back for your water. I could send Reverend Hart in to help you dress this morning.”

“You’re hereby relieved of that task.”

As she reached the kitchen, the back door opened, and the man she’d just spoken of entered the house. His clothing was rumpled and dark whiskers shadowed his jaw. He seemed larger than he had the day before, but his direct gaze had the same disturbing effect on her. She stopped in her tracks and pointed to the ceiling. “You—I left water for you upstairs.”

“I slept in the wagon. Today I’ll store our belongings and bathe in town. I’ll sleep upstairs tonight.”

“Forgive my rudeness. I was surprised to see you coming in when I hadn’t heard you go out.”

“You weren’t rude, Mrs. Randolph.”

She was embarrassed by her reaction at seeing him and spoke too quickly. “Your whereabouts are none of my business, and you certainly don’t have to explain yourself.”

“May I take water out to the back porch to wash and shave?”

“Certainly. Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” She lifted a basin from a nail in the pantry and poured warm water into it. “Let me get soap and a towel for you. After you’ve had your breakfast, would you mind helping Reverend Martin with his clothing?”

“Won’t mind a bit.” He nodded, took the things she handed him and headed out.

“You certainly made a fool of yourself, Josie,” she said in irritation, then turned back to the stove.

A few minutes later, Abigail and Anna arrived wearing clean dresses. Their freshly washed hair was arranged in loose waves down their backs.

“Well, look at the two of you,” Josie said, hands on hips and a smile spread across her face. “Aren’t you lovely. I’ve never seen hair so pretty and shiny in all my days.” Her own dark hair was wavy and never tended to stay where she pinned it.

Anna beamed.

“Our mama had pretty hair,” Abigail told her.

“If you girls take after her, she must have been beautiful.”

“She was,” Abigail agreed.

“Are you flattering my sisters?” Elisabeth asked.

Josie turned to the oldest Hart sibling now standing in the doorway. “I complimented them. I see you’ve worn your hair loose today, too. I like the way it shines.”

Elisabeth gave Josie an unreadable glance and took a seat at the table.

Josie prepared a tray and carried it in to where Reverend Martin sat propped in bed, clean-shaven.

“Breakfast smells wonderful,” he told her.

She rinsed out his shaving supplies in the clean water left in the pitcher, then carried the supplies from the room.

By then, Samuel had returned with the empty enamel basin.

“Looks like there are quite a few towels to launder today,” he said, glancing at the basket in the corner. “I can take them when I go into town.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll do them,” she said. “Monday is my usual laundry day. The girls can help.”

Elisabeth’s eyes widened. “But we’re in a town now. You can send them out, can’t you?”

“I don’t pay for services I can do myself,” Josie answered in surprise. Most preachers earned only a modest income. Reverend Martin kept a strict budget. She glanced at Samuel, now regretting she’d spoken so quickly. Perhaps the Harts had family money. She had no business questioning his expenditures.

“My wife took care of the domestic chores,” he explained. “But I see no reason why my daughters can’t learn a bit of self-sufficiency. They’ll need the skills sooner than later.” He looked at Elisabeth. “This morning while I’m in town, I want the three of you to take directions from Mrs. Randolph. I’m sure she’ll be fair about dividing the duties according to your ages and abilities.”

Elisabeth’s cheeks darkened and she refused to look up at Josie or her father. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” the other two echoed.

“What can I do, Mrs. Randolph?” Anna asked with bright enthusiasm. “I’m a good helper.”

“We’ll find you a suitable chore,” Josie replied, and then gestured for Samuel to take a seat. “Please.”

She served the meal she had prepared, and the reverend said grace before they ate.

Elisabeth didn’t speak or raise her gaze the entire time.

“Do any girls or boys live by here?” Anna asked.

“There’s a family down two houses,” Josie replied. “Susanna Maxwell is probably about your age. How old are you?”

“I’m nine,” Anna replied proudly. “Can I see your room?”

Josie glanced up. “I don’t live here,” she explained. “This is the parsonage. I have my own home a few blocks away.”

“Oh.” Anna set down her fork. “How come you don’t eat with your family?”

Elisabeth finally raised her gaze in interest.

Josie touched her napkin to her lips. “I’m a widow.”

Anna glanced from her father to Josie with a puzzled expression. “What does widow mean?”

“It means my husband died,” Josie replied.

Anna seemed to consider that for a minute. “Are you a widow, Papa?”

He held his mouth in a grim line, but he answered, “‘Widower’ is the term for a man.”

“Why?”

“You’ve asked enough questions for one meal,” he said. “Let Mrs. Randolph finish her breakfast.”

“Yes, sir.” Anna picked up her fork.

Sam explained that he’d be back that afternoon and what their choices were. “When I return, I’ll expect you to have decided whether or not you’re coming with me when I go calling.”

Anna sat on the edge of her chair and beseeched her father with eyes open wide. Her eagerness to say something forced Josie to hold back a laugh.

Samuel set down his cup. “What do you want to ask, Anna?”

Her expression showed her relief. “Who’s gonna help me with my letters and numbers?”

Elisabeth and Abigail glanced at each other. Apparently their mother had guided their lessons.

“Until we move on to Colorado and get you settled in a school, Elisabeth will help you.”

Anna frowned at her older sister. “She doesn’t do it the way Mama did.”

“Regardless, she will be your helper over the summer. You will answer to me if she reports you’ve given her any difficulty. Understood?”

His youngest daughter sat back meekly. “Yes, sir.”

He strode from the room.

Elisabeth was an efficient yet silent helper. After the meal was cleaned up, Josie got out the washtubs and heated water. She showed the girls how to make proper suds, scrub the towels and sheets on the washboard, then rinse and run them through the wringer. Anna thought the wringer was great fun, though she needed help to turn it as thick material was fed through.

Elisabeth was the tallest as well as the most precise when it came to hanging the laundry to dry, so she helped Josie while Abigail moved the baskets and handed them clothespins. Elisabeth performed the task capably, spacing the garments just so, using the same number of pins for each neatly stretched sheet.

“You do such a perfect job,” Josie told her. “I’d never know you hadn’t done this a hundred times before.”

Without a word, Elisabeth clamped the last wooden pin to the final pillowcase and wiped her hands on the apron Josie had loaned her. Josie knew the girl would have much preferred her father pay to have the task performed, but that wasn’t because she was lazy. Her work had proven that.

At noon Josie sliced ham and cheese for sandwiches. Samuel hadn’t returned yet, and she invited the girls to eat in the study with the reverend. From the pleased look on his face, their young guests were just the medicine he needed. Several church members had been faithful visitors and he’d even held a Wednesday-evening study at the house the past few weeks, but months of pain and inactivity had grated on the man who was accustomed to being active and independent.

“Maybe there’s a skillful checker player in our midst today,” Josie suggested.

Reverend Martin’s amused gaze shot to hers. “Your implication has been recorded.”

Glad to see him in a cheerful mood, she laughed and a discussion of who would play checkers ensued. “Do you like bread pudding?” she finally asked to deter the subject.

“I love it,” Abigail replied. “Mama always made lemon sauce.”

“I think I’ll make a pan. Would you like to help? I’ll go home for my cookbook and find a recipe for lemon sauce.”

Abigail’s face lit up, but her glance edged to her older sister.

“What about going calling with Father?” Elisabeth asked.

“Papa said we could decide,” Abigail replied. “I want to stay here and bake.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going with Father.”

“Can I come to your house with you?” Anna asked.

“I’d love your company,” Josie replied. “It’s just a short walk.”

“Do you have a dog or a cat?”

Josie shook her head.

“I have Daisy,” Reverend Martin said. “Silly cat’s been hiding since yesterday.”

“You have a cat?” Anna asked.

“I’m guessing she’s in that bedroom there. She likes to lie on the window seat in the sun. I wouldn’t try to catch her. She might scratch you.”

A little while later, Anna enjoyed the yards they passed and asked about the neighbors. Once they reached Josie’s, she was fascinated by everything in the house, not touching, but commenting and asking questions.

“Did you live here when you were a little girl?” she asked.

“No,” Josie answered. “My father traveled a lot, and my mother and I often stayed at my grandmother’s.”

“How come you don’t have any little girls or boys?”

If Josie couldn’t answer that for herself, she certainly didn’t know how to explain it to a nine-year-old. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I just don’t.”

“Do you want a baby?”

Josie appreciated her innocent candor. She stopped in front of the cupboard where she’d gone to find a cookbook and looked down at Anna. “I wanted a baby very much,” she said honestly. “But I have friends and tasks to keep me busy, and I think about the good things I do have, rather than what I don’t have.”

“That’s prob’ly good,” Anna said convincingly. She watched Josie select a cookbook. “Was it hard to not think about your mama at first? ’Cause I think about my mama a lot, and it makes me sad.”

“I still think about her, but now I remember the time we spent together and the things she taught me. I’m still sad that I don’t have her, but missing her doesn’t hurt like it used to. It’s okay to be sad,” she assured the child. “We miss the people we love when they’re gone.”

Anna nodded solemnly.

Josie had the urge to lean down and hug the child, but Anna barely knew her, and Josie didn’t want to overstep. “Now let’s find a recipe that sounds like your mama’s lemon sauce.”

Anna smiled, revealing four new front teeth and a side one missing. She was naively honest, charmingly inquisitive and altogether adorable.

After searching and finding what they wanted, they returned to the reverend’s with the cookbook. Elisabeth immediately took Anna aside and spoke to her in soft tones Josie couldn’t hear.

Elisabeth hadn’t warmed to Josie, and it seemed she wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Anna had taken to her. Elisabeth got out a slate and chalk and helped Anna with numbers.

Some time later, Josie and Abigail were planning the evening meal when Samuel rode past the house on horseback. He had obviously bathed and shaved, and his neatly trimmed chestnut hair shone in the sunlight. He wore a new pair of denim trousers, a pale blue shirt and a string tie.

He led the animal into the enclosure and headed toward the house. Josie turned her attention to their list until the pleasing scents of sun-dried clothing and bay rum reached her. Abigail shot across the room to hug him. The holster and revolver still hung at his hip.

He met her gaze, so she asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Haven’t had time to think about food, truthfully.”

“I’ll make you something you can take along.”

“That’s kind of you. Who’s coming with me?”

“Elisabeth,” Abigail answered. “I’m going to help Mrs. Randolph make bread pudding. We have a recipe for lemon sauce.”

“That’s fine.” Samuel nodded. “And you’ll work on your studies. Run and fetch Elisabeth for me, please. Where’s Anna?”

“She found Reverend Martin’s cat,” Abigail answered on her way toward the hall. “Right now she’s watching it sun itself.”

One corner of his mouth inched up, and Josie found herself intrigued by the possibility of a smile on his clean-shaven face.

He looked back and found her gaze on him. “Would you prefer I take Anna along, since Elisabeth won’t be here to look after her?”

“Anna’s no trouble,” she replied. “If she wants to stay, I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Randolph.”

“Would you mind calling me Josie? When I hear you say Mrs. Randolph I look for my mother-in-law—a fine woman of God,” she clarified quickly.

He raised his chin in half a nod.

She sliced bread and made a sandwich that she wrapped and handed to him. “There’s a basket of apples just inside the pantry if you’d like to take a couple. You and Elisabeth might get hungry before you return.”

He accepted the sandwich and met her gaze. His eyes were the color of glistening sap on a maple tree. The degree of sadness and disillusionment she read in their depths never failed to touch her. She wished she could do something that would remove that look.

“Your kindness is what my daughters need right now, Josie.” They were alone in the kitchen, yet he spoke softly as though he didn’t want to be overheard. “They’ve been through a lot.” He paused and his throat worked.

His loss was so recent, his pain so fresh. He’d obviously loved his wife very much. Josie didn’t presume to know how the man felt, and she knew words wouldn’t help right now. She understood and respected his grief.

She found her voice. “They’re lovely children, Reverend.”

“Every time I look at them, I see how fragile they are. How young and…” Samuel glanced away. “And vulnerable. They’re hurting.” He drew his gaze back to hers. “Elisabeth is handling it her own way, and I know she’s difficult. But…well, thank you for understanding.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence.”

Samuel’s eyes showed a spark of interest. “What do you mean?”