by Jody Hedlund
“God help me,” he whispered, finally tearing his attention away from Miss Pendleton to focus once more on his sermon notes. He liked her. Much more than he should.
Chapter 6
Christine tied back the curtain. The freshly washed glass allowed sunlight to cascade into the room. She fluffed the cheerful yellow calico and then stood back and surveyed her hard work. She smiled with pleasure at the transformation that had taken place on the second floor of the Centre Street Chapel.
She’d hired construction workers to knock down as many interior walls as possible to enlarge the work space. They’d applied a fresh coat of white paint to the remaining walls. She’d arranged for several of her servants to help her scrub floors, windows, and every filthy inch of the second floor. They’d swept away debris, cobwebs, mouse droppings, dead cockroaches, and only the Lord knew what else.
Now after nearly two weeks of preparation, the work space was almost ready. Just that morning she’d had tables and chairs delivered and set up in tidy rows close to the windows to allow the women as much light and air as could be gained. She’d had lanterns strategically placed above each of the tables for dark, rainy days. And she still planned to have at least two stoves installed before winter arrived.
At firm footsteps on the stairway, her middle fluttered like the lacy curtains blowing in the breeze. After working at the chapel from dawn until dusk every day, she easily recognized the reverend’s footsteps now. And she couldn’t stop herself from anticipating seeing him.
She tried to rationalize that she was only eager to be with him to discuss their plans. But when he reached the top of the steps and offered her one of his easy, carefree grins, her heart skipped like a little girl jumping rope. She couldn’t deny she looked forward to these moments every day when he came up to check on her progress and to report on his.
Returning his smile felt easy and natural now.
“I think we’re all set,” he said, removing his hat and combing his fingers through the messy waves of blond hair.
“Will the women show up?” she asked.
“Most of them will. I’ve told them the doors open at seven o’clock.” He walked further into the room and around the tables and chairs. She was glad to see his large frame could maneuver in the new space without any trouble, which hopefully meant the women would have plenty of room to stretch out while they worked.
She ran her fingers over the smooth tabletop. “Even if we only have a few at first, word will spread. Don’t you think?”
He seemed to be silently counting the chairs. “We’ll have more than a few.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” His blue-green eyes were warm and full of confidence.
“Do they seem excited?”
With a growing smile he rounded the table toward her. “You’re nervous.”
“Maybe a little.”
He stopped in front of her and surprised her when he reached for her hands. His large fingers enclosed hers and he squeezed them gently. “We’ve done all we can, and now we must pray for God to bless our efforts.”
He’d never held her hands before. In fact, they’d rarely been alone over the past couple of weeks since numerous workers had always been present. Or Ridley. Dear, faithful Ridley. She didn’t know what she would have done without his advice and insights. Even now he would be soon arriving to take her to Devlin’s to pick up the first order of precut shirts the women would begin sewing tomorrow.
“Why don’t we pray right now?” Reverend Bedell suggested without releasing her hands.
How could she say no to such a request? Even though they were alone and holding hands, they were only praying. Surely there wasn’t anything improper about that.
He bowed his head and closed his eyes. She did likewise. However, as he began his prayer, she couldn’t think about anything but the warm pressure of his hands against hers. His fingers were strong but also contained a tenderness she’d grown to appreciate about him. In fact, there were many things she’d learned about him that she liked. He was humble, open to her ideas, and yet he wasn’t a pushover. He always had insightful suggestions and advice to add to her plans.
He was also diligent and hardworking. He arrived at the chapel before her every day and left later. He was kind and merciful to all those he came into contact with, yet he hadn’t hesitated to confront a couple of drunken men who’d disrupted the worship service. He was tough and intimidating when he needed to be.
She peeked up at him, taking a few seconds to study his features as he prayed. She liked the square solidness of his chin, the smile lines next to his eyes, and the peaceful look on his face. She found herself captivated by his mouth and the purposefulness of each word he spoke.
Suddenly his lips stopped moving, and she saw that he had one eye half open and was peeking back at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just . . . just . . .”
“You were just praying with your eyes open?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“And reading my lips at the same time?” Mirth lightened his eyes.
“Of course. What else would I be doing?”
“Thinking about kissing me?” There was something in his tone that bordered on hopeful.
She gasped and tried to dislodge her hands from his.
Instead of releasing her, he chuckled and wrapped his fingers tighter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you were having the same thoughts as me.”
She ceased her squirming and held in another gasp at the insinuation of his words. Had he been thinking of kissing her? Why would he ever consider kissing her, an old spinster? “Reverend Bedell—”
“Christine.” At the sound of her name on his lips, she shivered as a strange warmth came over her. “Will you call me Guy when we’re alone? After working together these past weeks, we don’t have to be so formal anymore, do we?”
Her mother had never called her father anything other than Mr. Pendleton their entire marriage. “I don’t know . . .”
“I’d like it.” He brought his hand to her chin and tipped it up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze, which was such a warm blue that it evaporated any doubts like sunshine upon the dewdrops.
“Very well.”
“Then say it.” His eyes were focused on Christine’s lips, and she had the distinct feeling he was indeed imagining kissing her. But why would he want to kiss her? He was surely jesting with her as he liked to do from time to time.
His thumb slid up from underneath her chin to along her jawline, then slowly down again to the tip of the chin. The touch was so gentle she shivered once more. She had the sudden urge to launch herself at him, to press against him and let him kiss her if he so wished.
But he couldn’t possibly want to . . .
“Please, Christine,” he whispered.
“Guy,” she breathed shakily. “But you’re a pastor and deserve my respect.”
“I’m just an ordinary man, Christine.” The way he said her name was like a caress. His face then dipped nearer so that he was only inches away. “An ordinary man who seems to have fallen prey to the charms of one very pretty woman.”
Fallen prey? Pretty woman? She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Reverend—”
His brows came together in a scowl.
“I mean, Guy. I think you may be ill.”
His scowl melted away into another beautiful smile. “I think you have a hard time accepting compliments.”
He didn’t realize how true his words were. Her father had specialized in doling out criticism and spite. And Mother had been too consumed with herself to think about what her daughter might need. It wasn’t until Ridley had entered her life that she’d had a single positive word spoken to her.
“What will it take for you to believe me when I tell you I think you’re amazing?”
He’d called her amazing before, and she hadn’t been able to accept it then or now. “I’m just ordinary too,” she said.
“Not to me.” The sincerity in his simple statement made her breath catch. And when he bent just a little closer, she stopped breathing altogether. “I’ve never met a woman like you before.”
She could only swallow. Hard. Surely this wasn’t happening to her. Surely she’d fallen into a blissful daydream and would be woken up to the cold truth of her reality soon.
His nose touched hers, and the warmth of his breath brushed her lips. “Christine,” he said, his voice filling her with longing, “may I kiss you?”
A warning sounded from the far corners of her mind and told her she ought to say no, that she should retreat while she still retained her dignity. But he stroked his thumb from her chin back to her jaw again, and the caress lit a flame inside her like the strike of a match to a wick soaked in oil.
She gave him her answer by moving into him and closing the distance between them. Although she’d never even embraced a man much less kissed one, she lifted herself to him and trusted he’d do the rest. She was rewarded by the sweet touch of his lips against hers. The sensation was soft and exquisite and brief. She found herself disappointed when he began to pull away.
“Guy,” she whispered and pursued his lips with hers.
He stilled as if he hadn’t expected her response. For an instant she regretted her boldness, wondered if she’d somehow broken a rule, and felt the heat of embarrassment creep into her cheeks.
“I’m sorry—” she mumbled, pulling away.
Before she could move more than a fraction, his hand slipped to the small of her back and his mouth returned to hers, cutting off her apology with another soft, feathery kiss. She didn’t know why he was being so careful with her, kissing her as though she might break. So she cupped his cheeks with her hands and pressed her lips harder.
His hand against her back tensed and his fingers splayed, drawing her against his chest. He matched the pressure of her lips, tentatively at first. But when she melded against him, his kiss deepened and she could feel the power and strength of him. She relished it, craved it. And she didn’t want it to end.
“Eh-hem.” A forced cough came from the stairway.
Christine broke free at the same time that Guy jerked back. “Oh, dear!” she said before she could stop herself.
It was Ridley. Standing on the top step and staring at them. His hat was off, and he had a hand on his head as though he’d been in the process of smoothing down his hair when he spotted them kissing. He averted his eyes, but from the awkward way he held himself, Christine guessed he’d seen the most impassioned part of their kiss.
Mortified, she said, “I’m sorry, Ridley. This isn’t what it seems—”
Guy’s touch on her arm stopped her. “No, Christine. It’s exactly what it seems, and I’m not embarrassed by it in the least.”
The tension in her chest eased a little.
“I know we haven’t known each other long,” he continued, “but it’s been long enough for me to realize that you’re very special and that I enjoy being with you in a way I haven’t experienced with anyone else.”
How could that be true? Even if he’d enjoyed her company so far, surely he would eventually come to realize that she was no one special.
“I’m a man of forty years and have already lived a full life. I don’t know how many days I have left on this earth. Therefore, I see no reason to wait to express how I feel, or to play the flirtatious games of the young, or to prolong getting to know each other in a lengthy courtship.”
“If you’ll allow me, and if Ridley approves”—Guy nodded at Ridley, and by doing so she saw that he understood how Ridley was much more to her than just a coachman—“I’d like to marry you.”
Had she heard him correctly? “Marry me?” The words squeaked high and off-key.
He released a chuckle that rumbled with nervousness. “My proposal is rather sudden. But at my age, I know myself much better and have a great deal more wisdom now than I did when I was a young man. And I’ve become more proficient at judging the heart and character of others.”
“You may be a good judge of character.” She fumbled to slow down the conversation. “But you can’t possibly know the real me in so short a time.” It had only been a month since the first Sunday she’d gathered enough courage to speak to him.
“I know you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” His expression was so sincere that for a moment she could almost believe him. “I admire so many things about you—your determination, unflinching spirit, practicality, humility, and so much more.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not sure if you’re describing the right person, Reverend.”
“Not to mention . . .” His voice dropped an octave. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. “Now I know you’re telling tales.”
“I’d like to spend the rest of my life proving to you that I mean every word.” He held her gaze, and she saw something in his eyes that pricked her with fear. Was it love?
No one had loved her like this. Why would Guy be the first? Unless of course he didn’t really know her as well as he thought he did. Once he was with her long enough, he’d grow tired of her and regret his decision.
Guy didn’t say anything for a moment but watched her expectantly as if waiting for her answer to his proposal.
Panicking, she darted a glance at Ridley, hoping her friend would have some words of wisdom written in the lines of his face and radiating from his eyes. Instead he only shrugged his shoulders as if to say she needed to make up her own mind this time.
“Christine,” Guy said quickly, perhaps sensing her fear, “I can see that I’ve put you on the spot today. And I’m sorry for that. It’s just that at my age I have no need of conventionalities. However, you’re still young and may wish to approach things more traditionally.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I’d already resigned myself to a life of singleness.”
“As had I. After my wife died, I hadn’t the desire to remarry. In fact, I resolved to have the mind-set of the Apostle Paul in missionary devotion to spreading the gospel. But from the moment I met you, I’ve thought of little else but you. Although I’ve tried to deny my growing attraction, I can’t help but think that God has brought us together to serve Him in this ministry side by side. In His Providence, He saw that the two of us working together would have much more of an impact than we could ever have individually.”
Guy’s rationale made perfect sense, and everything within her was keen to believe him. Yet she couldn’t ignore the whispers of doubt, the echoes in the corridors of her mind telling her she was worthless and unwanted and that his special attention was simply too good to be true.
Guy reached for her hand, his strong fingers enveloping hers. “Don’t give me your answer today,” he said. “Take some time to think about it. Please.”
She nodded, knowing she could do nothing less. He deserved that much from her. Next to Ridley, Guy was the kindest man she’d ever met. Over the past month he’d become her friend, someone she could trust and talk with openly. And he was right that they did indeed share a passion for the poor, lost immigrants of the city. Working with him in developing the garment shop had brought her immense joy, and she didn’t want that to come to an end.
“I’ll think about everything you’ve said,” she promised.
He squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Christine.”
At the hope that flared in his eyes, she had to look away before he saw her guilt. If her own flesh-and-blood mother and father couldn’t love her, Guy would realize soon enough that a husband wouldn’t be able to either.
Chapter 7
“I have something special for you all.” Elise approached Marianne, who was sitting against the tenement building and reading a book she’d borrowed from a friend.
Sophie and her two young charges were playing with a marble Nicholas had discovered in the gutter. But at Elise’s words, the three scampered toward her.
“What is it? What is it?�
� little Olivia asked, peering up at Elise with hungry eyes. Always hungry.
Nicholas toddled behind her, and Olivia reached for her brother’s hand. Standing side by side with their straight brown hair and brown eyes the color of rye bread, no one could mistake the fact that the two were brother and sister.
“What do you have?” Olivia asked again while tugging at Elise’s skirt.
“Be patient, my dears.” She slid down the brick wall until she was sitting next to Marianne on the sidewalk that was littered with tattered papers, empty cans, broken boards, and other foul refuse.
The June heat and humidity had forced them out of the apartment for the afternoon. But even outside, the temperature was stifling. Elise wiped the perspiration from her brow, but it was only replaced by more. She prayed the weather would turn cooler by tomorrow or they would have to suffer through another unbearable workday as they had yesterday.
“Come closer,” Elise instructed. She tucked her legs under her skirt and made room for them.
All around came the calls and laughter of play. Younger children were clustered on the sidewalk. Older girls were sitting on the sidewalks or tenement stairs, while a group of boys played baseball in the street. Parents and grandparents had brought chairs outside and occupied every spot of shade that could be found.
Sophie kneeled in front of Elise and then drew Nicholas and Olivia to her sides, putting an arm around each one. Sophie’s butter-blond hair had pulled loose from her braids and was plastered to her flushed cheeks.
Elise dug in her pocket and pulled out a brown paper package. She unfolded the paper, and the ensuing gasps of the children were sweeter than the music of an entire orchestra. She didn’t have to force a smile this time. She carefully unwrapped the wedge of cheese and let its aroma stir memories of the days when they’d had more than enough to fill their bellies.
