The Preacher's Lady

by Lori Copeland

  Elly tightened the embrace, their tears mingling. The lantern dimmed and the stove at the front of the church no longer glowed with heat.

  Finally Adele released her and sat up straighter. “Were my parents there to witness this?”

  “They heard everything. Faye was so kind and welcoming to the child, but clearly she was taken unawares.”

  The thought of Milt’s gentle words as she fled the house brought fresh tears. After a bit, she sat up and wiped her nose on Adele’s handkerchief. “The man doesn’t deserve my tears.” Elly lightly blew her nose and regained control. “And this little child will be a blessing to Faye when… ” She caught back her next words. Adele couldn’t know about Milt’s failing health, not now before she was about to give birth.

  It had been Elly’s place to give Milt and Faye grandchildren, not another woman, not a saloon girl, for heaven’s sake.

  “Bo fathered a child out of wedlock.” Adele repeated the words as though she was trying to somehow make them believable.

  “He told me he sinned mightily,” Elly whispered. “So I shouldn’t be surprised.” But she was. Staggered would be a better word. Felled. Flattened. How many ways could a heart be broken?

  Adele slowly shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Bo might have gone off course, but I do not believe he fathered another woman’s child. He would not do that to you, Elly.”

  “But he did, Adele. I was the last person on his mind when he created this lovely child with another woman. I have to accept what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

  “Unless he was in a drunken stupor, no one could make me believe he would do this. Elly, we have to believe he’s still the man we’ve always known.”

  For a moment the women’s eyes met. Both knew Bo drank and caroused during the time he’d left Berrytop. He’d confessed as much to anyone who would listen—always quick to add the forgiveness he’d found in the Lord—so why would fathering a child be out of the question?

  “Where’s the child’s mother?” Adele’s question echoed softly in the darkening church.

  “She’s dead—something about a saloon brawl. The whole incident sounds like a dime-store novel, only a real little girl is without her mother.”

  Each new piece of the puzzle only seemed to indicate Bo’s rebellious years would haunt him and Elly forever. It was hard enough to ponder what those years held, and even more devastating to stare into the eyes of the product of his youthful defiance.

  “I am so sorry.” Adele’s eyes swam with unshed tears. “So very sorry his past continues to hurt you so deeply.” She absently stroked Elly’s hair.

  Moments passed. Adele stood and added a log to the stove, adjusted the damper, and sat back down. “You know that you can’t keep misleading Gideon. You have to tell him about your feelings.”

  Elly was tired of the ruse, tired of pretending, but most of all tired of deceiving herself. There wasn’t enough cattle or manure in the world to make her love Gideon the way he should be loved. She couldn’t keep leading him on when there was no hope for a real future together. “I know what I have to do. I’ve tried so hard to make Bo my past, to put him in his proper place in my life, but I can’t. He meant too much to me. I’ll go to my grave loving him, no matter what he’s done.”

  “You need to tell him. Surely if you feel this strongly about him forgiveness will eventually come.”

  “I can forgive him, but I can’t forget his past. And now there’s a child involved.” She sat up, touched the hanky to her nose, and tucked in stray curls. She hated to think how the crying reddened her nose and eyes. She couldn’t go home until she composed herself. From this moment on, honesty was her new policy, especially when it came to matters of the heart. “Think of how I would have reacted to the child’s sudden appearance if I had fully accepted him back in my heart. I could have forgiven him those years, Adele, but a child? With another woman? How would I have lived with that knowledge day in and day out, knowing he betrayed me to the deepest sense?”

  “The child is an innocent victim. She had no say in this matter. She didn’t have the privilege of choosing her parents. Would you honestly reject her?”

  “No, of course not. I know she’s without blame but—and I’m only being honest—I fear deep down I would resent her. I wouldn’t want to, but it’s possible.”

  “Acquiring a small child overnight isn’t going to be easy on Ma and Pa,” Adele murmured. “But we’ll love her. If God chose us to raise her, then we will.” The women sat in silence, focused on the cross that hung there.

  “You know what Christ would do,” Adele said softly.

  “He welcomed all children, even when His disciples complained.”

  “Can we do any less?”

  “It’s easy for you to say, Adele. Bo’s your brother. Your love for him is different than my love. God is absolute; I’m weak.”

  Sighing, Adele admitted. “I have no solutions. I just know that you can’t marry Gideon, not with a half hearted kind of love, and not when you still love Bo.”

  “Everything you’ve said is true, and you’re a good friend for saying it. I’ve spent endless nights trying to find a solution. The thought of hurting Gideon a second time is unthinkable. Doing so would make me no better than Bo. Gideon’s a wonderful person, but I don’t love him the way a woman should love her husband. He’s only a dear friend—or brother.”

  Adele’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, I was afraid of that.”

  Elly clasped her hand. “Tell me what to do, Adele. I am so very confused.”

  Adele leaned closer and whispered. “I wish I could, sweetie. Our situations are very different, but I can tell you what I would do. I’ve lost a man I love, so my heart goes out to Gideon. I’ve lived in a lonely world without my love, and I wouldn’t suggest you, or anyone, walk that road.

  “This matter is between you and God. He tells us not to be unequally yoked. The Scripture is referring to matters of faith, but I wonder if the verse might include matters of the heart as well.” She smiled to herself. “I guess the old adage is true: You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. A woman can marry a man, but the vow can’t make her give what isn’t there to give. Don’t put yourself in that position, love.”

  Elly shook her head. “You’re so wise, Adele.”

  “And you’re so silly. I merely see things at this moment that you don’t or can’t.”

  “Where should I start? I’m so muddleheaded I hardly know my own thoughts.”

  “Well, to begin with, you must make up your mind about Gideon, permanently. You cannot keep toying with his heart and his feelings.”

  “I can’t hurt him, Adele. I simply like him too much to hurt him.”

  Adele narrowed her gaze at Elly. “Well, then, make me understand how you think you’re going to live with a man and bear his children without loving him. Do you believe that by marrying him and living a miserable life you will make him happy?”

  “Gideon wouldn’t make me miserable, Adele. He’s kind and compassionate.”

  “So is Reverend Richardson. Would you marry him if he were available?”

  Elly drew back in horror. “Never!”

  “Then you, undoubtedly, will have a little trouble living with someone you don’t truly adore. Living with a man you love desperately is taxing at times. Believe me, I speak from experience.”

  Elly shook her head. “How will I ever find the courage to tell Gideon these things?”

  “If they need to be said, God will provide the courage.” Adele sat back and rubbed her large belly thoughtfully. “And Elly, if you’re lacking forgiveness in your heart for Bo, God will provide that too. All you need to do is ask. You have to be willing. What Bo has done seems unforgivable, but is it? Is one sin worse than another?”

  Elly sat quietly absorbing the conversation. Bo had asked for her forgiveness and until tonight she thought she’d given it. She hadn’t. His sins still ate into her flesh, numbing her soul, embittering her. Her pun
ishment was even greater than his.

  She sighed heavily. “Even if I could completely forgive Bo, he’s never asked that we reconcile, not once.”

  “Perhaps he’s more perceptive than we give him credit for. Perhaps he sees that you still harbor hurt and haven’t truly pardoned him. Ma says the only person we hurt when we won’t forgive is ourselves.”

  “I said I forgave him.” She said the exact words, and meant them. Or thought she had.

  “But you hadn’t released him, not really. There’s a big distance between our mouths and our hearts. We can say something and not mean a word.”

  “He could have told me he didn’t believe me. He could have saved me a lot of hurt.”

  “Well, I’m not going to pretend to know everything about my brother or you, but I would guess the two of you are so attuned to each other’s thoughts that he felt what you had given him were words, not your heart.” She gripped Elly’s hand. “Who has your heart, Elly? Bo or Gideon?”

  Chapter 17

  Who has your heart, Bo or Gideon?

  Adele’s words rang in Elly’s head in the days following their conversation. All through polishing the banister and feeding the chickens and blackening the stove, Adele’s admonition to fully forgive Bo played over and over. She’d never thought of herself as an unforgiving person, but she’d never faced this kind of distress before.

  She rose from the table and dumped the remainder of her meal in the slop bucket. Food settled in her stomach like a rock.

  She took her coffee to the parlor window to watch Willow play in the Garretts’ front yard. The child worked with uncommon intensity to build a snowman. How she struggled to lift the middle section atop the base. Part of Elly wanted to don a heavy coat and mittens and help the child; the other part stood by to observe and wait for her heart to thaw. The town of Berrytop had no such struggle over Willow. The little orphan readily won the community’s heart, and they accepted the child with surprising empathy.

  Because of the bad weather, Gideon was preoccupied with his herd. He spent hours riding his property to make sure each animal had what it needed. Elly hadn’t seen him in the past few days. He’d only commented on Willow with a sideways glance. He’d offered no speculation as to her parentage, and Elly hadn’t encouraged the subject. Gideon and the community tampered their notice and their imaginations in deference to the Garretts.

  Thanksgiving was one week away, and soon after, Christmas.

  And then, the New Year.

  Elly had done nothing more toward the approaching wedding other than spending an afternoon with Ma browsing the mercantile for material to make Adele’s matron of honor dress, and even then she hadn’t made a purchase.

  The steam from her coffee cup rose, but she didn’t drink. The activity going on outside the window proved more interesting than breakfast. Bo now played in the snow with his daughter. His little girl. A tizzy of envy and hurt boiled in Elly’s gut and she felt the tug of rebellion. All sorts of other sensations boiled through her veins. She set the coffee on the table. Even laced with sugar and cream, the brew ate at her stomach.

  Willow was a visible reminder of Bo’s recklessness that had now come to affect so many, especially the Garrett family. Not one of them confirmed the notice aloud, but everyone knew the connection this child had to Bo Garrett. Of course he had to be the father. Why else would a dying woman send her child to him for life-long protection?

  Willow’s birdlike laughter penetrated through closed windows. Irene joined Elly in the parlor, carrying her mending to a chair by the window where the light was brightest. Elly knew she should return to the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes, but the scene before her proved too entrancing.

  Bo pushed Willow in a sled on the hard-packed wagon tracks on the road in front of their houses. Up and down the road he ran, encouraged on by the little girl’s giggles. Elly tried to repress a smile, but a grin formed when she saw Bo wrapped around Willow’s finger. That took no time at all.

  She raised her eyes to take in the broad landscape of sky and fields and woods. Next year’s cranberry buds were safely tucked beneath piles of protective snow and ice. The wood frogs now slept, frosted and still, in the woods beyond the Garretts’ bogs; the ground squirrels huddled in their burrows; and the bunting and redstarts winged to warmer places. All would awaken and return come spring.

  Come spring I will be a married woman… and possibly expecting Gideon’s child.

  Her gaze drifted to the box that contained her mother’s wedding dress. She’d planned to take a nip and tuck here and there, but such busywork no longer drew her. Soon enough the days would be even shorter and drearier, perfect days for sewing duties. Absently, she reached for her coat.

  “I haven’t fed the chickens,” she said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Irene glanced up. “Dress warm.”

  With her gathering basket in hand, Elly stepped onto the porch, looking forward to reaching under the warm hens and listening to their noisy gossip. A fat snowball hit her square in the forehead.

  Stunned, she dropped the egg basket, mentally sputtering. Of all the…

  Her eyes easily located the culprit. Bo stood in the middle of the road, Willow at his side, grinning like a mule eating green grass.

  Calmly kicking the basket aside and stepping off the porch, she reached into a drift to scoop up a mitten of wet snow and packed the wad tightly. She straightened to gauge the distance to her target.

  Bo’s grin widened as he bent to gather ammunition for his next salvo. Elly hurriedly mounded snow for a barrier. As they both prepared for battle, perfect calm settled on the snow and stirred the trees. Lazy white clouds crisscrossed overhead. The serene moment drew out and then curdled to crackling anticipation.

  Snowballs flew, slamming into heads, shoulders, turned backs. Elly’s squeals overrode Willow’s as the battle intensified. She would not be beaten. A snowball smacked her cheek and tears sprang to her eyes.

  As suddenly as the attack started, innocent fun turned to resentment. Resentment intensified into white-hot anger. Frozen balls flew through the air as fast as they formed. Bo staggered beneath the relentless assault. How could this man have destroyed a love that had been so perfect? How dare he!

  Elly hurled the ammunition one after another until Bo curled into a ball in the middle of the road, arms over his head, fending off the attack. The harder she threw the more her tantrum built into an unrelenting charge.

  Willow had withdrawn to the side of the house, watching with round eyes, apparently fearful she would be Elly’s next target.

  Finally, exhaustion overcame Elly. Sweat dotted her lip. She struggled for breath. She slipped to the ground, covered her face, and released the tears. She strained to name the source of her outburst. Certainly frustration, but acceptance? Had the unsettled nature of her future spurred the attack? She’d denied the truth of her feelings for months, but also wished without allowing herself to hope. Such contradiction demanded release.

  She loved Bo. No matter how hard she tried to think otherwise, she loved this man with heart and soul. What did her misguided love say about her? That she was one of those impractical women who would forgive a man anything? She lifted her face to the sky. “Is that really what you want, God? Do you want me to forgive Bo for a vile and senseless act?”

  A wind whispered across the frozen ground, and words formed so clearly in her head she would have vowed they were spoken out loud. “I’ve forgiven worse.”

  She searched the sky for the source of the message. “But you’re God,” she whispered.

  The answer came back distinct and loving. “Trust Me.”

  Covering her face with her hands, she dissolved into tears again. Her life swam before her—a life spent waiting to claim true love. She thought she trusted God, only to experience crushing betrayal. And yet, He asked her to trust Him even more. She didn’t know if she could.

  She slumped into a sobbing heap. She was barely aware of a pair of strong
arms lifting her and holding her tightly. A familiar scent washed over her—wood smoke, wet wool, soap. She sought refuge in the base of his neck, her cries turning into painful heaves. A child’s voice came to her. “Don’t cry, Miss Elly. Bo won’t throw any more snowballs.” Willow turned to Bo and shook her finger. “No! No!”

  Elly envied the childlike understanding of what just happened. She only saw the flying snowballs and the sharp smack when one landed. Elly knew the cause of her tears came from a deeper place. As tears do, these came from too many hurts and disappointments.

  In the midst of her own turmoil, Willow’s innocence and caring captured her heart. She could no longer resent such simplicity.

  Bo nudged the Sullivans’ back door open with the tip of his boot and carried Elly into the warm kitchen. Pa’s sleepy voice came from the parlor. “What…? Who’s here?”

  “It’s Bo and Elly,” Bo called.

  “And Willow!” the little girl added.

  “Willow? Well come in here, short stuff. I think there must be a peppermint around somewhere. Irene, where’s that candy jar?”

  Willow broke away and ran in the direction of the voice. By now Elly had managed to gain control of her emotions. She sat at the table, unable to look Bo squarely in the eye. He must surely believe she had lost her mind—pelting him with snowballs, terrorizing him like an overbearing bully, and then sobbing uncontrollably.

  He stepped to the stove and poured water from the steaming kettle into the sink. Adding cold water from the pump, he stirred the warm water with his hand. “Do you still keep the washcloths under the sink?”

  He remembered that? He would. He was so… adjusted.

  He drew back a curtain tacked to the counter, removed a cloth, and then dipped and wrung it out. Elly felt the warmth on her face, her cheeks, her hands. Bo’s calming voice steadied her nervous tension. “I know you’re angry with me, but did you have to knock my head off?”

  Her cheeks stung with humiliation. She had no right to bludgeon him for any reason. And she surely didn’t want to try to explain emotions she didn’t fully understand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what come over me.”