Shelves had obviously been shifted, and wooden planks serving as seats filled the room from side to side. They’d created a center aisle for the brides.
“There’s Preacher Reed.” Jake had explained that Rev. Reed, an itinerant preacher who came to Angel Vale every few months, would perform the weddings. Once everyone had assembled, at a signal from the grooms, he went to the front. “Ladies and gentlemen, since we do not yet have the blessing of a piano or an organ, let us begin this celebration of marriage with the singing of ‘Amazing Grace.’”
No organ, not even a piano. Jake hadn’t mentioned that lack, and it hadn’t occurred to her to ask. Why should this small town of mostly miners have a piano, after all? She’d substituted as the church pianist in Merville, and could have played in a pinch. Somehow a wedding didn’t seem complete with the wedding march.
However, the hymn worked, the a Capella singing of mostly male voices beautiful to the ear. God’s grace had brought them safe thus far, and would see them into the futures.
Several of the couples had gone to the local Justice of the Peace instead of waiting for the evening wedding ceremony, so the crowd was smaller than she’d expected. Were the couples who weren’t marrying that day as thrilled and jealous and nervous as she was, anticipating their weddings in the near future? The atmosphere was contagious, encouraging Becky to dream of her wedding day. She glanced at Jake, suspecting they shared the same thoughts.
He was looking at her, his eyes open with wonder. He leaned closer and whispered, “Now that I have seen all the brides, I am more grateful than ever that the Lord put us together—for now.”
His words lit a furnace in Becky’s heart, sending flames from head to toe. “Thank you.”
Becky had attended more than her fair share of weddings. In addition to church weddings, she had witnessed several weddings performed at the parsonage. She could recite every line of the traditional ceremony, as well as the sermon Father almost always preached, based on Ephesians 5. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything.
Submission. Obedience. Those words made Becky shiver, although she would never admit it in public. But today the familiar words touched her in new ways. Never before had she gone to a wedding with her future husband by her side. With a keen awareness of his presence, she mouthed each vow, wondering if she could make those promises herself. By the time they completed the vows, Becky had closed her eyes and rolled her handkerchief into a ball.
Strong fingers covered her clenched hands. She opened her eyes to see Jake’s concerned expression, and she wondered how she could doubt such a man.
* * *
Jake noticed as soon as Becky’s lovely hazel green eyes fluttered closed, worried that the weariness of the long trip had caught up with her. When she pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule and wrapped it around her hand, he prepared for tears. Tears of joy, no doubt, as this moment represented the dreams and prayers and culmination of months of hard work.
He laid his hand over hers, meaning to celebrate the occasion together. Nothing inappropriate in the touch. When her eyes flew open, fear flashed before the smile he expected appeared.
The preacher interrupted their unspoken communication by introducing the new couples, and the guests followed the couples outside. Each bride had a bouquet of wild flowers, picked with abandon by the few children. They lined up to throw their bouquets. He didn’t understand the purpose, since everyone there was either married or engaged, but the brides seemed enthusiastic.
Becky took a spot at the far left, an unlikely spot to catch a bouquet. Although he knew she didn’t want to marry until November at the earliest, why didn’t she show a little more enthusiasm?
Rosalie Chalmers, the African American bride who planned to marry Isaac Baker tomorrow, caught the first bouquet. Had they planned it that way? The ladies scrambled more for the second bouquet—including Sophia Webster, Matt’s intended, Jake noted with amusement. When the third bouquet was tossed, Becky finally jumped forward and touched a few petals before another bride, one he didn’t recognize, caught it.
Becky returned, smiling while she commiserated with Sophia on her near miss on the second bouquet. She looked more at ease than at any other time since he’d met her.
After the bouquets, the crowd went back in the store for cake and more food. Jake moved ahead, hoping to beat the crowd there.
“I’d rather wait for the others.” Becky nodded to the couples passing by. “It must feel good seeing your plan come to fruition.”
“We couldn’t have done it without your help. Matt and I threw the plan together, but we prayed a lot about that letter before we sent it. That God would direct it to the right hands.” He chuckled. “I thought about that, when you mentioned grabbing the envelope out of the fire. I didn’t expect God to make it that hard.”
Becky rubbed a spot on her right hand. “Mr. Tennyson—he’s the mailman in Merville—might as well have been Eliezer that day. What could I say, except yes, I’ll go?”
Eliezer? Oh, the steward Abraham sent to Ur to seek a bride for Isaac. An interesting comparison. “I’m so glad you said yes. What I’m curious about is how you changed your father’s mind.”
“Oh, that.”
How pretty to see her blush.
“I told him it was my firm intention to go Merville, if one of men would have me, regardless of what he said. Sophia backed me up.” She looked at him. “I also told him that if he made me stay, I would move out of the parsonage. So he finally gave his blessing.”
Jake applauded. “And I will be eternally grateful.”
She gave him a shy smile, then turned to exchange greetings with various couples as if nervous about how much she had revealed. At last the line ended and they walked forward.
“The ladies count on you to take care of things.” He let the sentence hang.
“I suppose so. Either Sophia or me.” She shrugged as if she’d expected it.
By the time they finished filling their plates, no space remained to sit together. He led the way to the back of the store. “One advantage of owning the building is I know all the nooks and crannies.” He opened the door to his office—left it open—and cleared his already neat desk for their plates. He hoped the privacy would encourage a more personal conversation.
If she were interested in getting to know him, his office offered plenty of clues. He’d lived a colorful life for a staid man of business.
“Is this real gold?” Becky picked up the nugget he’d had added to a paperweight. “Did you find it here?”
Jake leaned back and laughed. “I stay away from the mines except for deliveries. No, that was the first piece of gold my pa found. He kept a hold of it—I think it fed his fever.”
“That was in California?”
He nodded. “After that, I think we went to New Mexico for a short time, but I first remember Pa dragging me around British Columbia as a boy. By the time I was ten, we had come back to the United States, to Pike’s Peak in Kansas Territory. Colorado now. We split our ways while we were heading to Montana from Idaho. I was only fifteen, but when we climbed the Tetons and landed on Wyoming’s lush soil, I decided I’d had enough of mining for a lifetime. Instead, I headed south and joined up with the army in Colorado, the second cavalry.”
Becky tilted her head. “Then why did you come to Angel Vale, of all places?”
He had asked himself that question more than once. “I had built up a sum, and I was looking for a place to go into business. I’d been asking God, and He seemed to send me here. To Angel Vale.” He ate a couple of bites of the cake. “We had several arguments about it, but God refused to change his mind. When Matt told me he was headed here, I knew I had to come with him.” Not many people in town cared about his past, but his future wife d
eserved to know.
“Your mother?” Becky asked in a soft voice.
“She died when I was five or six, my baby sister with her. Dad raised me on his own. Did okay. Never went hungry, taught me how to manage my money.” Although he hadn’t taught him other important things. “But he spent his life chasing a fool’s dream.”
“Have you seen him since you separated?”
Why was she asking so much about his father? Was she missing hers?
“No.” Jake hoped he kept the disappointment out of his voice. He was sure Pa must have landed at the Black Hills Gold Rush, but he hadn’t sent a hint of a reply to the feelers Jake put out.
“That is truly sad,” Becky said. “I love my father, but at my age, I look forward to living on my own.” She looked at him straight on. “I accepted your offer honestly, but in truth, I look forward to the next few months of independence.”
She didn’t sound like an eager bride. Had she accepted his invitation just to find independence, or was she truly eager to marry?
“I can’t wait to vote in November.”
Voting was so important to Becky. Was that true of most women? He hadn’t known a lot of the fairer sex, with a life spent mostly in mining communities. What was clear was that Becky would never be satisfied with sitting at home, but that was part of the attraction.
CHAPTER FOUR
Becky took her turn for a soak in the bath tub the last of all the ladies. It completed the work begun for her night’s rest. She slept better than she had for months, even before she had left Merville. She had seen a few of the other rooms and knew her accommodations were the largest in the mill house. And the furniture was much fancier than any of the other women enjoyed.
The first bucket of water felt like a rain creating slippery mud from the dirt accumulated along the road. A few buckets later, she rested in the hot, soapy tub, thinking back on all that had happened. The biggest shock had come when Sophia decided to postpone her marriage to Matt Thomas before the preacher left, for reasons Becky didn’t yet understand.
She had visited Jake’s store, which looked very different after he had exchanged the benches for store shelves. He was attentive to her needs, appearing at her side as soon as she looked for him. The store was well-stocked, including a few items Becky had suggested when he asked what the brides might need. As isolated as Angel Vale was, it must be a difficult to import anything, let alone unusual requests. No wonder he was a success. But of course, after the life he’d spent with his father, he must understand the needs of miners. How strange that they had both fled their fathers. That was something she hadn’t known before her arrival.
By the time she finished, only her hair defeated her attempts at a satisfactory cleansing. The extra rinses with soap needed to remove the oil and dirt would leave her hair more crinkly than usual. She pinned it into a bun, supported by more hair pins than it took boards to build a house
She studied her image in her hand mirror and sighed. Would Jake be disappointed? She had promised him a new look today. No, Jake wasn’t so superficial. She had seen the way he dealt with the men. They presented him with as many problems as the ladies did her. He had impressed her, she had to admit.
In the morning, she chose a freshly laundered dress. What would life be like as Mrs. Jacob Underwood? Just saying the name gave her the shivers. Maybe it was that verse Father always used to quote, the one that said, “So then he that giveth her in marriage doeth well; but he that giveth her not in marriage doeth better.” He’d planned to put off giving her away in marriage as long as possible, and he had just about succeeded in making her an old maid.
Jake represented her chance to escape that fate, and yesterday, three days after they had arrived in Angel Vale, had been pleasant. Today was her first Sunday in Angel Vale, and she looked forward to seeing how they ran their service without the presence of a regular preacher. The day also offered more time to spend with Jake, since the store wouldn’t open.
A quiet Sunday—what a wonderful thought, but it still remained in the future. She had never enjoyed a quiet Sunday in her life, growing up in a parsonage. They wouldn’t be quiet with Jake either, at least not until the town built a proper church.
Clearing out the store every time the townsfolk needed a place to meet was a generous, time consuming, exhausting job. How could he keep track of inventory when he was moving it about so much? Her mind raced ahead, imagining how she could help.
When Becky arrived at the church, Jake was already sitting on the front plank. Before she could join him, Rosalie pulled her aside. “Oh, Becky, please pray for me. I never suspected life on the homestead would be so hard. I want to be a good wife, but I don’t know if I can.”
Oh, Rosalie. Becky had been so delighted to learn a man of color was seeking a bride, but it seemed it was going poorly. They shared a short prayer, and Becky added Rosalie’s name to her list of brides struggling with their decisions to come to Angel Vale.
At every row, people introduced Becky to townsfolk she hadn’t yet met. And why hadn’t Jake greeted her at the door, instead of waiting at the front? At last she took her seat beside him, excited to be worshipping with the believers of Angel Vale. Men still outnumbered the women, two to one. Who led the services when the itinerant preacher was absent?
Her thoughts brought her to one of her favorite verses, one that stirred her heart to pray for missions. She leafed through her Bible to Romans 10 to read the familiar words: “How shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a preacher?”
A preacher’s calling was essential, beautiful. She was grateful to have grown up in a pastor’s home, although she was glad to leave it behind.
Jake whispered in Becky’s ear. “Say a prayer for me.” He walked to the front of the room, a Bible in his left hand. “Welcome to the Lord’s Fellowship in Angel Vale. When our preacher can’t be here—which is most of the time—the bunch around here decided I should take over. Now, I’m no preacher. This is the first time I have preached to so many of the fairer sex, and you’ll have to tell the men whether they made a mistake in asking me to fill in or whether they should choose someone else.”
“Nobody knows the Bible better’n you, Jake,” Matt hollered out.
“We’ll decide for ourselves,” Sophia said.
The congregation laughed—everyone except Becky. She stared at Jake, unable to believe the irony.
God had brought her two thousand miles from home to escape her preacher father and marry a storekeeper instead. God’s ways were definitely not her ways. Storekeeper, blacksmith, farmer—anything but a preacher.
Why would a loving God play such a cruel trick on her?
* * *
Jake didn’t miss the panic that flashed in Becky’s eyes when he said he filled in for Preacher Reed. He hadn’t told her. It never occurred to him to share this aspect of his life. He hadn’t thought she needed to know, hadn’t considered that she might mind. Sharing a few things God taught him didn’t make him a preacher.
Her father had gone to college, maybe even to a special school for preachers, learned things liked Hebrew and Greek. Jake could read, and he had the same Holy Spirit to teach him. That was all that really mattered. But he wasn’t a preacher, even though God nudged him in that direction every now and then.
Jake shook off the thoughts and focused on the congregation. He’d have to worry about Becky later.
“You’re all aware of the new members in our midst. The brides have arrived! In fact, a few of them were in such a hurry to wed that they said their vows and went back to their ranches. We might not see them for a few weeks.”
Laughter rippled across the congregation.
He turned to Becky, who looked at him like she was studying a ring master, to see what the next act in the circus was going to be. “I’m going to call on the lovely lady who agreed to come to Angel Vale to meet me. Please welcome Miss Becky Patterson.”
Hoots and hollers that were rare
ly heard in Becky’s home church greeted her as she slowly stood and turned to face the congregation. “I bring our brothers and sisters in Angel Vale greetings from the congregation at Seaside Community Church in Merville, Maine.”
Her words had a biblical ring, as if she was quoting from one of Paul’s letters.
“My father—the preacher at the church, if anyone doesn’t know—”
Laughter rippled across the room again.
“—said he couldn’t claim to have heard the fame of the Christians in Angel Vale clear up in Maine, but any town named after Angels must have some believers among the founders.”
Jake shook his head. Angel Vale was named for a nearby rock formation that resembled a winged angel.
“—but like the apostle Paul,” Becky continued, turning her gaze back toward the front, “he hoped to fellowship with you some day, and until then, he sent his daughter—me—”
She blushed. She’s human.
“Regular worship in a mining town was a factor that attracted us to your offer.”
The congregation applauded. Becky started to sit down, but Jake spoke her name, and she remained standing. “Please introduce the other ladies.”
Becky went through the list, women and children. They each stood with their prospective husbands, and each was greeted with enthusiastic applause. As soon as she said the last name, she sank to her seat.
“Thank you for the introductions, Miss Patterson.” For everything he tried to tell her with his eyes, but she didn’t look up.
They sang “Amazing Grace” and “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.” During the chorus of "Blessed Be the Name," she removed a notepad from her reticule, perhaps preparing to take notes during the sermon.
Heart quaking at the presence of people used to a real preacher in the audience, he led in prayer, thanking God for the safe arrival of the brides and ending with a request for open hearts to his message. Ready as he was going to be, he started talking.
“I gave some thought to preaching about love or marriage today, from Ephesians 5 or 1 Corinthians 13 or something. But Preacher Reed already did that at the weddings this week better than I can. And not everybody in Angel Vale is planning on getting married.”
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