by Kit Morgan
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Mrs. Gaston said. “Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Leora replied. “My only theory is that someone out there wants to either ruin my reputation or my marriage.”
“Or both,” Mrs. Pleet added. “And I bet I know who!”
“Who?” Mrs. Brown asked. “Who in this town would do such a horrible thing?”
“And who would let themselves be talked into doing it?” asked Mr. Short. “No doubt about it, Mrs. Drake – someone set you up.”
“So will you help me find out who it is?” Leora asked them.
“You bet we will!” someone called from the back of the group.
“No good Christian would do such a thing!” another said, which set off a flurry of murmurings.
“Calm down, everyone – I know exactly how you feel,” Leora said. “More so, since I’m the one they did it to. My worry is that if they did such a thing to me, what’s to stop them from doing it to someone else?”
“No wonder Mrs. Rutherford’s been so quiet lately,” Mrs. Gaston said. “I bet she’s been cooking this up for weeks!”
“Speaking of which,” Mr. Short commented, “where is she?”
“What did I tell you?” Mrs. Pleet mumbled, giving Leora a pointed look.
Leora’s heart sank. Maybe it was Mrs. Rutherford. After all, who had the most to gain by doing such a thing? Maybe her opening up to Leora during her visits was all an act. But if it was, then Ophelia Rutherford should join the stage and perform professionally. She’d sure had Leora fooled. “There’s only one thing to do. I’ll have to speak with her.”
“We’ll do the talking for you!” Mrs. Gaston said and raised her fist in the air. “I’ve been wanting to give that woman a piece of my mind for years!” Several others in the group agreed with raised fists of their own. Theron Drake’s usually cheerful parishioners acted as if they were about to turn into an angry mob.
“Calm down, everyone!” Leora called over the hubbub. “I’ll speak to Ophelia myself.”
“Since when are you on a first-name basis with that woman?” someone asked.
Leora craned her neck to see who spoke. “For the same reason I’m on a first name basis with you, Annie Jones.”
The woman took a step back and hung her head. “Oh. I thought you were like the rest of us and didn’t like her.”
“If you want to know the truth, I’ve been visiting Mrs. Rutherford outside of play practice. And she’s …”
The group leaned forward in anticipation of her next words. “She’s what?” Mr. Short asked.
“Not as bad as you think.” At least I hope not, Leora added silently.
“You don’t know her like we do,” Mrs. Gaston said. “She’s a bully!”
“Perhaps so,” Leora said. “But what turns someone into a bully?”
Everyone looked at each other, a few shrugging in response. “Maybe Mr. Rutherford won’t let her spend any of his money?” someone suggested.
Leora shook her head at the remark. “I don’t think that’s it. What I do know is that … well, sometimes what a person needs is to be understood.”
“Are you saying we’ve misunderstood Ophelia all these years?” Mr. Short asked.
“I don’t know,” Leora replied. But who else would have something to gain by ruining her reputation? The townspeople had replaced the poor woman with Leora in several large endeavors. Might that make her jealous, angry, bitter? Who knew? “I need to get this settled.” She turned to Mrs. Pleet. “Can you all handle rehearsal until I get back?”
“I’ll do my best,” Mrs. Pleet said. “With who we have, at any rate. There’s only so much I can manage with only half the cast.”
“Yes, I know. That’s what has me worried,” Leora said.
“Don’t pay no mind to it, Mrs. Drake,” Mr. Short said. “We’ll see to it that folks are set straight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Short, I appreciate it. The sooner we get this cleared up the better.”
“What are you going to do after you confront Ophelia?” Mrs. Gaston asked.
“Find my husband,” Leora answered. “Hopefully before someone else does.”
* * *
Theron stood in open-mouthed shock. “What did you just say?”
Mr. Oliver continued to crumple his hat. “The wife was there – she saw it! A man went right up to Mrs. Drake and kissed her, then he told her that they couldn’t go on any more like they were.”
“In public?” Theron said in disbelief. “That sounds like a line from a bad play.”
“If only it was, Pastor. But everyone saw it. Then he told her to meet him in the usual spot.”
Theron was even more skeptical now – he knew full well that his wife didn’t have time to fit a “usual spot” into her schedule. “What happened next?”
“He jumped on a horse and lit on out of town like the devil was after him.”
Theron shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. “Who was this man? Did your wife recognize him?”
“No, sir, no one did. Maybe he’s an old lover of your wife’s?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theron replied. He remembered his wedding night – there had been physical proof that Leora had no “old lovers.” “There has to be a logical explanation.”
“If so, I’d sure like to hear it,” Mr. Oliver said then caught himself. “Er… begging your pardon, Pastor, but I can’t think of any logical explanation other than what Irene saw.”
“The best person to ask would be my wife, now wouldn’t it, Mr. Oliver?” Theron asked, a slight challenge in his voice. He didn’t like Leora being accused of anything. There was a logical explanation.
“Like I said, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Mr. Oliver apologized.
“Who else knows about this?” Theron asked. Best to curb the gossip before it got started.
“Well, let’s see … Irene said Mr. Allen was there and a few other folks… frankly, Pastor, I was so shook up after Irene told me that I forgot to ask.”
“That’s okay, Peter – I’ll find out for myself.” He turned, strode to his horse and remounted. “Thanks for telling me.
“What are you going to do?” Mr. Oliver asked as he put on his hat.
“The only thing I can do – find Leora.” He kicked his horse and was off.
When he got back to town no one paid him any mind other than the occasional tip of the hat in greeting. A good sign – if they were whispering into each other’s ears he would’ve really been in for it. He took his horse to the livery stable, got him settled and fed, then headed home. “Leora?” he called as he entered the house.
No answer. “Where could she be?” he mused. Play practice should have ended at least an hour ago. Of course with the situation as it was, maybe …
“No, she couldn’t have,” he said to himself. His wife couldn’t possibly know the man that kissed her. But … they’d only been married a little over a month. He had to admit he didn’t know her that well yet.
Sure, there were certain characteristics that were obvious, all good ones, and no indications his wife was keeping trysts with a man from her past. Still, the accusation was there. Pete Oliver’s warning made that clear – why else would he meet him on the road going into town? The Olivers were good people and probably in as much shock as Leora was. Or Theron himself, for that matter.
Which led him back to his original assumption: Leora was innocent. Now all he had to do is prove it and quick. Because, God forbid, if someone sent word to the Conference council – then he’d have a real mess on his hands. He’d be able to clear it up in time, but adultery was a hefty accusation and there were sure to be short-term consequences for both he and Leora.
The big question was, who would do such a thing? Who was this man? And why did he target his wife?
Shock and anger mixed with confusion and forced him to sit. He had no idea where Leora was, so there was only one logical thing to do –
wait for her to come home.
* * *
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Ophelia Rutherford snapped. “How dare you come into my home and make such accusations?”
“Ophelia,” Leora said placatingly, “I am not accusing you, I’m asking for help. Do you have any idea how this could have happened?”
“Don’t you? Is this some man from your past?”
Leora knew she shouldn’t, but rolled her eyes anyway. “There is no man in my past – I never had the time to court before. Besides, I’d never seen him before in my life! He came out of nowhere!”
Ophelia turned and went to the parlor window. “I can assure you it was not me. Why would I do such a thing?” She turned around to face her. “Especially after everything I’ve shared with you. I thought that …” She gazed out the window again. “Never mind what I thought.”
Leora got up from her chair and went to her. “I appreciate all you’ve shared with me. It’s helped me to understand you. I want to be your friend.”
Ophelia slowly turned to face her again. Her eyes had misted and she swallowed hard. “After the time we’ve spent together these last few weeks I felt you were becoming one. I’ve not had a true friend in a very long time.”
Leora put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. “Which is why I came to you. You know everyone in this town. I only asked because others had suggested it, and because you might stand to gain from it …”
“Gain,” Ophelia muttered as if it were a curse. “As if all my bustling around before had ever brought me any good. No, you can have all that.” She paused, then added, “But how do you know I’m not lying to you?”
“I thought of that. But your eyes say otherwise.”
“My eyes?”
“I see regret in them… no, not regret, remorse.”
Ophelia took a step back. “What’s the difference?”
Leora shrugged. “The difference is that when you regret something, you’re thinking about yourself. When you’re truly remorseful, it’s about others.”
Ophelia closed her eyes and nodded in understanding. “I don’t know how to help you. I can’t think of who the man might be – I don’t know anyone that matches the description you gave me.”
“I admit I was shook up, so I might not be remembering the details clearly. There were others who saw it happen, and of course they thought the worst.”
“Naturally they did. I imagine that’s what it was meant to do. I have no experience with such matters, but I have read a few novels! A secret lover wouldn’t schedule a rendezvous in broad daylight in front of witnesses. Maybe it’s all some sort of elaborate prank.”
“Some prank,” Leora said, returning to her chair. “Especially since I’m the pastor’s wife. If this is a joke, it’s in very poor taste.”
“Agreed.” Ophelia sat as well. “The next step, of course, is to talk with your husband. Do you think he’s home yet?”
Leora glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Oh good heavens, it’s late. He’s definitely home, and I should be too.” She quickly stood, went to Ophelia and took her hands in her own. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being honest with me and for being my friend.”
Ophelia smiled, then hugged her. “It’s good to have a friend again,” she said as she choked back a sob. “And I can’t think of anyone better. Friends are precious and few in this world.”
“So true,” Leora said as she pulled away. “Now, I must go.” She kissed Ophelia on the cheek, hugged her once more and left.
When she got home a lamp burned in the parlor window. Theron was home and probably hungry. There was also a good chance he was hopping mad if he’d heard anything about the day’s events. She went up the porch steps, stood before the door, squared her shoulders and went into the house. “Theron,” she said as she spied him sitting on the sofa. “How long have you been home?”
“How long have you been gone?”
His question took her by surprise and she almost jumped. “Isn’t it obvious? There are clocks in this house.” It was a stupid thing to say and she shut her eyes as she turned and closed the door.
When she turned back he stood. “Where have you been, Leora?”
He didn’t speak accusingly, thank Heaven, but she intuitively knew someone had told him. “I had a very interesting afternoon.”
“Yes,” he drawled. “So I’ve heard.”
Leora’s shoulders slumped in relief – yes, he knew. The question was, what did he believe? “I didn’t know where you were, so I couldn’t tell you earlier.”
He went to her and pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, but terribly confused.”
He tilted her chin up with a finger. “What happened exactly?”
Leora’s lower lip trembled as the memory flooded back. Now that she wasn’t in shock, it was all the more unnerving. “A man… ran up to me as I stood outside the mercantile and kissed me in front of everyone! Then he said something about meeting him later, that he couldn’t go on like this anymore. He sounded like he was …”
“Straight out of one of those ‘penny dreadfuls’?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Have you been reading my book?”
“Well, it is on the desk in our bedroom. The thing’s so big, and I was curious …”
“Well, since you mention it, yes. He talked very much like a character in one of C.I. Sayer’s stories. Obviously someone’s out to make either you or me look bad.”
“You’re right.” He paused before asking, “Forgive the question, but you’re sure it wasn’t some old paramour of yours?”
Leora couldn’t help it – she burst out laughing.
Theron smiled. “So that’s a ‘no,’ then.”
Leora nodded. “I’ve been working in a mill, six days a week and twelve hours a day since I was a girl. When would I be able to fit in a paramour?”
“Valid point. So yes, it must be a set-up – what else could it be?”
“Well, whoever did it, it’s working. Only half of the cast showed up for rehearsal today.”
“We’ll have to set things right. And find out who’s behind this.”
She leaned her head against his chest. His arms were warm, safe, and she realized that he trusted her. “Who told you about it?”
“Peter Oliver.”
“Irene Oliver was there,” Leora said. “She saw the whole thing – and made it clear that she wasn’t too happy about it.”
“Of course not – whoever set this up planned it that way. Who knows how long that man followed you.”
“Followed me?” she asked in surprise.
As if sensing her alarm, he tightened his hold. “He was probably waiting for the right moment, to make sure they were witnesses.”
“There were witnesses, all right, but the only ones I recognized were Mrs. Oliver and Mr. Allen.”
“Both of whom were shocked enough to skip play practice.” He gently pulled away and gazed into her eyes. “I know you would never do such a thing, Leora. You’re my wife, and I …”
Please say it! she thought to herself. Please …
“… I love you.”
“Oh Theron, I love you too!” she gushed, her heart in her throat. As if the admission was a relief to both of them, they held each other tight for a few moments. When they finally did step out of each other’s embrace, both of them were trembling.
Theron’s voice rumbled with passion – and righteous anger. “This was an attack on your character, Leora – on our character. And I won’t stand for it.”
“I was the one attacked,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but it affects me as well, because of my position. And because I am yours and you mine.”
She nodded in understanding – they were one flesh, just as the Good Book said. “So what do we do?”
“The one thing we can do. We’re going to hold a meeting.”
Fourteen
“A … meeting?” Leora asked, confused.
“That’s what you do when there’s trouble in a church – you call a meeting,” Theron explained. “It’s either that or announce what happened during Sunday service.”
“But how are we going to gather everyone together?”
“That’s easy – we’ll get a few volunteers to round people up. I’m not talking about the entire population of the city, just enough folks to counteract the gossip. It’s probably all over town by now.”
Leora paled. “Already? It’s only been a few hours.”
“With something like this, that’s all it takes,” he said flatly. He pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“So am I. But it happened to both of us, as you said. I’m still trying to figure out who would do such a thing. All I know is that it wasn’t Ophelia.”
Theron smiled, knowing the connection Leora and Mrs. Rutherford had made. “I’m glad to hear that. I have a confession to make, though.”
She looked up at him. “You do?”
“I was worried for a moment – only a moment, mind you. But even though we’ve only been married a short time …”
“Theron, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you worried it was true. It’s not, of course. It has to be someone’s idea of a bad joke. Or maybe the man was drunk, I don’t know.”
“Did he smell of alcohol?”
“It happened so fast … but no, I don’t recall smelling anything like that. I remember he was young … and thin.”
“Young … thin … hmmm. I wonder …”
“Wonder what?” she asked.
Theron closed his eyes a moment. “I think I know who’s behind this.”
“Who?”
Theron sighed heavily and opened his eyes. “Prudence Stevens.”
Leora thought for a second. “Isn’t she the young girl Mrs. Pleet said used to follow you around like a stray puppy?”
“That’s the one. The same one I told Mrs. Stevens was too young for me to consider as a wife.”
