Читать книгу The Maverick Preacher - Victoria Bylin - Страница 12

“Good evening, ladies. May I join you?”

Adie had been about to carve the roast when she looked up and saw Reverend Blue, tall and lean in a black coat and preacher’s collar, standing in the doorway. His cheeks gleamed with a close shave and his hair, dark with a slight wave, wisped back from his forehead. Adie nearly dropped the carving knife. The drifter who’d fainted on her porch was nowhere in sight. In his place stood a gentleman. His eyes, clear and bright, shone with mirth. He’d surprised her, and he knew it.

He’d surprised her boarders, too. Pearl’s face had turned as pale as her white-blond hair. Mary, her cheeks red with anger, glared at him. Bessie beamed a smile, while Caroline stared as if she’d never seen a handsome man before.

Adie was as tongued-tied as Caroline but for different reasons. While walking to the bank, she’d chirped like a cricket to stop him from asking questions about Stephen. She’d kept her focus until they’d reached Colfax Avenue Church. She hated that building as much as she loved Swan’s Nest. She felt that way about all churches, especially ones led by men like Reverend Honeycutt and Maggie Butler’s brother.

Looking at Reverend Blue, she didn’t see the trappings of such a man, but still felt more comfortable with the drifter.

She indicated the chair on her right. “Please join us.”

As he approached, she glanced around the table. If he asked questions, her boarders would answer truthfully. The thought terrified her. They all knew she’d adopted Stephen after the death of a friend, but she’d never breathed Maggie’s name. As slim as the details were, Adie didn’t want a stranger, especially a preacher, knowing her business.

She positioned the meat fork, lifted the knife and sliced into the roast with too much force. As the cut went askew, the blade cracked against the platter.

Still standing, Reverend Blue indicated the roast. “May I?”

Caroline broke in. “Please do, Reverend.”

Irritated, Adie set down the knife and took her seat, watching as his fingers, long and tanned by the sun, curved around the handle. Maggie’s hands had been pale, but her fingers had been just as tapered. As he cut the meat into precise slices, her nerves prickled with an undeniable fact. Joshua Blue had carved a hundred roasts. Like Maggie, he’d sipped from fine crystal and knew which fork to use. Her stomach lurched. In the same breath, she ordered herself to be logical. Lots of men knew the proper way to carve meat.

Reverend Blue arranged the last slice on the platter and sat to her right. Adie had no interest in saying grace, but Bessie insisted on keeping the tradition. Tonight the older woman looked at their guest. “Would you give the blessing, Reverend?”