The Preacher's Lady

by Lori Copeland

  Elly was in no mood for a sermon. She had worked in the bogs all day and come home to fight with the cattle for over an hour. She leaned against the rock. The damp chilled her to the bone, but she was too tired to care. She closed her eyes. “I prefer the softer approach.”

  “For some, it takes more to get their attention.”

  Elly listened as Bo struggled to find a comfortable position. “Are you going to sleep?”

  “Nothing better to do.” He’d been in the bogs all day too. All that grunting and groaning finally led to quiet. Years peeled away and Elly realized they were resting side by side, barely touching, but his presence was so acute, so overpowering, that she squeezed her eyes against the sudden memories that engulfed her. The melodic thrum of the rain soon had her nodding off.

  Awakening with a start, she sat bolt straight. Drizzle fell from a darkening sky. Bo stirred beside her, his eyes closed. He murmured, “The storm’s let up.”

  “It’s dusk.” She scooted to the overhang and took a closer look at the creek. Rushing water roared. The creek was now a river, a roaring body of water.

  Crawling out from the overhang, she wiped her muddy hands on her dress. The river was out of its banks. It would be hours before they could cross safely.

  Bo soon joined her. Reading her thoughts, he said, “They’ll figure the storm stranded us somewhere.”

  Who was he trying to kid? Faye Garrett still fretted over Bo like he was three years old. “You’ll be missed.”

  “Ma’ll figure I’m doing pastoral duties for the Reverend.” When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he explained. “Richardson came down with a head cold yesterday. He asked me to cover for him.”

  “How… nice.” She was still unaccustomed to associating Bo with pastoral duties. The good Lord must have seen something spiritual in him that she hadn’t years ago.

  “Did that taste so bad?” he said.

  “What?”

  “Saying that I was nice to fill in for the pastor?”

  “Why should I care? I’m not your boss. You can do what you want.”

  “Well, Elly girl, I wish that were true.”

  Rubbing her arms against the chill, she ducked back into the shelter and settled down. They wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

  Eventually he took his place beside her. She was glad for the warmth his nearness brought, but silence separated their thoughts. Finally, Elly said. “What did you mean by that remark? That you’re not free to do what you want?”

  “Is any man really free to do what he wants?”

  “Maybe not all men, but in certain periods of his life a man is free to do as he pleases. I suppose a wife and children, a farm, or an occupation could limit a man’s freedom, but you have none of those at the moment.”

  “No occupation? I’m a pastor.”

  “So is every religious person I meet. You don’t really work. You go around praying over folks. It’s not like you harvest a bog of berries every day.”

  She didn’t like the hidden accusations or pure irreverence that seeped through her tone. Being with Bo felt like wearing a comfortable old shoe. Seven years of an ugly past didn’t appear to offend her memories. She’d missed his wisdom, his comfort, and his protective arm when the world turned hateful.

  Now his affection and protection went to people she didn’t know.

  The sense of betrayal was as strong as the day he’d ridden back into Berrytop. He belonged to God and anyone who needed his help—but that didn’t include her, not unless her steers wandered off.

  It seemed Richardson’s God thought friendship was enough.

  Black nudged the edges of the fading light. Thanks to the steers’ contrariness, Elly was cold, damp, and hungry. Spiced cranberry muffins waited for her on the table at home. She’d baked the treats earlier in the day, before she set out for the bogs. They would have tasted good with a cup of coffee after a long day of harvesting.

  She could make out the outlines of the two steers on the opposite bank, standing in the drizzle, their heads hung low. Serves you right.

  She shivered.

  “You’re cold.”

  “No colder than you.”

  “I don’t have matches, dry or otherwise, or I could scare up something to eat. There’s a farmhouse up the hill. Perhaps they could spare us something.” He spoke with such kindness that Elly thought her heart would break. But kindness didn’t make up for what Bo had done.

  “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled.

  “You will be by morning.”

  She turned to face him. Seeing him would stop this nonsense going on in her head. “What if the rain doesn’t let up? We could be here for a while.”

  “Could be weeks. Months.” She couldn’t see his grin, but she could sure hear it.

  She turned back to the darkness. “Pray that doesn’t happen. I’ll reap the benefit if God chooses to answer you.”

  He could be so unfeeling, such a tease. He’d see. God would flood the ledge. Wash them away. Sear them with a lightning bolt as they helplessly thrashed the water if she asked for safety.

  Bo lay back and said softly. “God, we need the rain and we’re grateful for the shelter. Grant us safe crossing by morning.”

  She waited for the rant about the place for folks who don’t believe in His Word. And that place was hell, where all could expect eternal flames and unanswered cries for help. Reverend Richardson’s words raced through her mind. “You get what your sin deserves!”

  She glanced over and whispered. “Aren’t you going to remind Him where we are?”

  “Nothing wrong with His memory. He knows.”

  “No, but what you said was rather meek, wasn’t it? We desperately need help, unless you’re fond of sitting in this poor excuse for a cave all night. This is going to be a long ordeal.”

  “He knows where we are. He heard our request.”

  “Your request,” she corrected.

  “Are the two of you not speaking again?”

  She wished she could see him better. The growing darkness hid his features. How could she tell if he were being snide or playful? He didn’t sound insincere, and after all these years they could still carry on a spirited conversation. Confident. He sounded confident and at complete peace with the delay.

  She crossed her arms and thought about the question. Were she and God speaking? “Not a whole lot.”

  “I thought not. I remember how you’d be on the outs with Him occasionally. Still doing that? He heard the prayer, and when the time is right, He’ll answer.”

  The night completely surrounded them. Nothing but dripping rain and silence filled the alcove. Elly wished he would say something, even if it was snide.

  “Has your baking improved any? I’m thinking of a hot apple pie. By the way, those blueberry muffins you brought over the other day were good.”

  “Pies aren’t my best suit. I baked muffins before I left the house this morning. People say they’re as good as Ma’s.”

  Of course, people were kind.

  “Is Gideon one of those people?”

  “Yes. He prefers his muffins bland and on the heavy side.” She would convince him to appreciate tastier flaky confections after they married. He’d been eating his own cooking so long he didn’t know any better.

  “And his meat tough, if I remember right.” Elly heard the tease in his voice and bantered back.

  “Well done, Bo, is not tough.”

  “You won’t have any problems with suiting his tastes then.”

  If she could have seen him any better, she would have socked him in the arm. “And what gives you have the right to question my cooking talent?”

  “You’re right; I have none. A thousand pardons, ma’am. Just making conversation.” His boots scuffed against the dirt. He was lying down again. “Watch out for snakes.”

  Snakes?

  She scooted to the farthest corner to avoid any unexpected encounter. Her nap had robbed her of any desire to sleep, but she dou
bted she could sleep anyway, now that she knew the whole night lay ahead of her.

  Her thoughts wandered to Pa, Adele, and the Garretts. Had they noticed both her and Bo were missing? And there was Gideon. She didn’t want him to think she was on a secret rendezvous with Bo. He would be crushed.

  Bo grunted and shifted. “Sweet dreams.”

  She half heartedly returned the sentiment. There was no use spilling her worries and resentments to him. He didn’t care. Besides, she had gotten them into this predicament. Her eyes grew leaden and heavy.

  His voice drifted to her. “Sure hope we haven’t stumbled upon a wolf or bear’s den. That would be a real shame.”

  Her eyes flew open. Was he teasing again or was he trying to rile her?

  Either way, she dozed with one eye open and her ears sharp for any and all sounds.

  And there were plenty of those.

  Sunlight dotted the Sullivans’ old kitchen floor when Elly let herself in the back door. Overnight the creek had returned to its banks and crossing became possible. The stove was cold and the house even colder. She noticed the note on the table scrawled in Pa’s handwriting.

  Might stay in Madison overnight. Not to worry. Don’t like to be on the road if it storms.

  Relief filled her. Pa had gone to Madison yesterday for extra crates and she’d overlooked the note. Thank goodness there would be no unnecessary explanation of where she’d been all night.

  She quickly reached for kindling and lit a fire. Before she left to start a fire in the living room and do chores, she set a pot of coffee on to boil. Finally, she trudged up the stairs to change out of her damp clothes. Her body ached from the sleepless night and she wanted nothing more than a long, hot bath.

  That wouldn’t happen. She must get to the bogs and see how the berries had fared in the storm.

  Two steers?

  Gideon Long, what were you thinking?

  Chapter 8

  Pa had beaten her to the bogs. He and several pickers were bent over a cranberry plant looking for damage when she arrived.

  “I thought you were still in Madison.”

  “I got an early start this morning. Looks like we survived without much damage.” Less than a third of the fruit had been harmed by the hail. This was the best possible outcome that could have been hoped for, and the mood among the early pickers was guarded but relieved.

  Adele chose her steps carefully across the road this morning, no doubt eager to discover why Elly and Bo had not come home the night before. Elly would have just as soon skipped the subject, but she knew she’d have to say something.

  “Morning, Sullivans!”

  “Morning, Adele.” Holt picked up a rake and Adele waited until Pa moved to another bog before going straight to the heart of the matter. She bent, placing both hands on her knees.

  “I came as fast as I could. Bo isn’t talking much. You should have been at our house last night. Of course, that would have been impossible because you were stranded on the ledge. Ma paced and fretted. Pa just looked sad. They both thought Bo had up and flown the coop again and taken you with him.” She rubbed her round belly and stretched to her full height. “This little one must be getting cramped. I get a foot to the ribs every now and again. I bet it’s a boy. No girl would kick like this.”

  Elly had no idea about babies and kicking. She braced for the question she knew was coming.

  Adele leaned in and lowered her voice. “Tell me everything, absolutely everything. How in the world did you two allow yourselves to get stuck on the other side of the river?”

  Elly shrugged, realizing the story of her night with Bo would be all over town before noon, whether she told or not. Besides, there was nothing to tell.

  She told Adele “everything.” The steers in the creek. How the storm exploded overhead. And how the next thing she knew, she was under a limestone ledge on the other side of the river. With Bo. She would have said that God had a sense of humor if the incident hadn’t involved her.

  She fingered the damaged leaves of the plants and plucked bruised berries off the stems.

  “That’s it?” Adele frowned. “You and Bo spent an entire night together, and there’s nothing to add to the story, not one solitary thing? You’re holding out on me.”

  Elly paused and glared at her. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I mean… well, didn’t the two of you talk about your past and try to set things right?”

  Elly studied the sky for chances of another storm, but the morning had dawned clear and crisp with a promise of a glorious Indian summer day to dry out the bogs. She turned toward the house, knowing Adele would waddle behind. She spoke over her shoulder. “We talked about my lack of cooking skills. That’s about it.”

  “That’s crazy. What couple would waste such an opportunity? Ike and I sure wouldn’t have. I can’t believe you didn’t press Bo to explain himself. That’s not like you.”

  Adele would not let the topic rest, so Elly fed her a scrap. She told her how she and Bo had talked on the swing one night and agreed to be friends. “And nothing more,” she finished. “So last night was merely an inconvenience involving two old friends.”

  Adele made a wry face. “You are such a fibber.”

  “Am not. I’ve told everything there is to tell.”

  “Everything you intend to tell,” Adele corrected.

  “Are you suggesting that something happened untoward between us?” Elly stiffened. “I am about to be promised to another man, Adele, and besides, you know I would never do anything inappropriate with Bo or any other man. And Bo’s a pastor, for heaven’s sake.” She picked up a rake, lifting her nose in the air, and stalked off.

  Adele fell into step. “I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything inappropriate. I know you wouldn’t think of such a thing, but it seems suspicious that you spent several hours alone in an overhang with Bo and didn’t mention your former relationship. That’s a bit of a stretch even for you.” She grunted with each step.

  Elly reached back, took her hand, and led her to the house, where they climbed the porch steps and dropped into the chairs Pa had made when he’d courted Ma. “You are my best and dearest friend,” she said, “but you aren’t privy to every part of my life.”

  Frowning, Adele leaned back and sighed deeply. “What haven’t you told me?”

  Adele didn’t need to know that last night had been eye-opening. With all Elly’s steely determination to make things right between her and Gideon, a secret place of her heart still held out a slim hope that the old Bo would come home.

  “I will tell you that last night only reinforced my conviction. Since I know Bo is no longer mine to have, I decided I will shepherd him toward a suitable wife.”

  “Oh really.” Adele cocked her head. “You are so sly. Who might this saintly woman be? I am his sister; I should at least have the right to a sneak peak at my sister-in-law.”

  “Cecelia. She’s beautiful, single, and one of the best examples of a godly woman that I know. She would make Bo the perfect wife. She’s been fond of him for years.”

  “Cecelia? She’s been fond of Bo and never said anything?”

  “She respected his relationship with me.”

  “Well.” Adele sat back. “You’re probably right about Cecelia being a good match, but Bo isn’t going to let you choose his mate, Elly. He’s a preacher, all right, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to do such a thing.”

  “He’s not supposed to have pride.”

  “But he does—especially when it comes to meddling in his private life.”

  Elly couldn’t argue with her reasoning. Bo retained his pride in a godly way, but fur would fly if he even suspected anyone was planning his future. “Naturally he can’t know what I’m doing. One whiff of my plan, and he’ll break Cecelia’s heart and then come after me with a tongue lashing. That’s why I’ll need your help.”

  Adele lifted a dubious brow. “Keep me out of this. Bo doesn’t need reasons to be mad at me.”
<
br />   “Cecelia is perfect for him. Far better we tinker a bit and make sure he’s happy than leave him to the mercy of the single women here who would fight like gladiators for his attention.”

  “True.” Adele lifted her face to the sun. “But if he’d been interested in Cee, don’t you think he would have approached her years ago? You had his heart from the moment he met you.”

  “That clearly isn’t the case now. God now has his heart. Anyone else is going to come second. I’m sure God wouldn’t mind a little earthly help to see that Bo is equally yoked. Can you think of another woman in Berrytop who suits him better that Cee?”

  Adele leveled her gaze on Elly. “You.”

  How she wished Adele wouldn’t say things like that. All she could do was accept the situation and hope that Adele moved on as she planned to do. “You have to remember, I’m no longer a contender for Bo’s heart. Gideon is the only man in my life.”

  Squealing, Adele clapped her hands. “Then you set the date?”

  “No. I would have told you, silly.”

  “A girl can dream.” Adele raised enquiring brows. “And I will still be your matron of honor?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Oh dear, I’ll have to wear a tent unless the baby is here by then. I’ll be the biggest matron of honor in the history of weddings.” Adele’s brows furrowed. “I do wish you’d decide on a date. I need to plan ahead these days.”

  “You’ll know the date the very day I set it. I don’t care if you have to wear two tents. You’re my best friend and I want you by my side.”

  “Oh my, there’s so much to do. How can I help?” Adele patted the pockets of her jacket, probably looking for a piece of paper and a pencil.

  Elly reached to still her friend’s hands. She didn’t want to send Adele into labor over a not-yet-determined wedding date. She spoke with an evenness that belied her rapidly beating heart. “We have plenty of time, but you’re right, I will need help.” Perhaps Adele could select the gown, confer with the seamstress, decide on the location, the cake… little things Elly couldn’t manage with harvest demands. “I’ll make a list and we’ll go over the details together. Are you sure you feel up to the task?”