by Leah Atwood
Focus, Lisbeth. One more deep breath. She opened the door and saw Mrs. Imogene Bachman, an elderly dynamo of a woman with whom she attended church. Although her gentle grandmotherly appearance with a rounded waistline and snow-white hair pulled into a loose bun, she was a force to be reckoned with. She also lamented her given name and insisted on being called Mrs. Bachman. Even though Lisbeth thought Imogene was a lovely name, she never gave the odd request a second thought—she figured everyone was entitled to a few quirks.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bachman.” Self-conscious, she rubbed a hand over her hair again. “If you’re looking for the reverend, he is out with the children.”
Mrs. Bachman smiled. “It’s actually you I came to see, dear.”
The heart palpitations began. “What can I help you with?”
“May I come in?”
“Of course, you may.” Lisbeth mentally groaned. “Forgive my lack of manners.”
“No apologies needed.” Mrs. Bachman walked through the entry and went straight to the parlor, leaving Lisbeth to follow her.
“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? A warm cinnamon roll.” Lisbeth released a subtle exhale, relieved to know she hadn’t lost all her manners.
“No thank you. I don’t plan to keep you long.” Mrs. Bachman lowered her portly body to the settee and patted the space beside her. “Have a seat.”
Had it been anyone else, Lisbeth would have found Mrs. Bachman’s behavior too forward, but her take-charge demeanor was part of her charm. Sometimes.
Following her instructions, Lisbeth sat. “How is your husband? I heard he fell ill several weeks back.”
“George is fully recovered and fit as a fiddle. Thank you for asking.” Mrs. Bachman crossed her hands in her lap. She looked at her with an intensity that made Lisbeth squirm. “How are you?”
“I’m well, thank you.” A relative lie—her emotions were a wreck, but all things considered, she was okay. She had good health and a new family. Her farm would go up for sale after the new year, but she wouldn’t be left destitute.
“When I heard you and our esteemed pastor had married, I couldn’t contain my excitement.” Mrs. Bachman leaned forward with an admonishing gleam in her eyes. “Although I would have enjoyed being witness to the ceremony.”
Proud of herself for not rolling her eyes, Lisbeth offered a placation. “I understand, and we’re sorry for disappointing the congregation.”
Mrs. Bachman straightened her back and waved a hand. “What’s done is done. All is forgiven I assure you.”
A sharp retort formed on the tip of her tongue to remind Mrs. Bachman that there wasn’t any transgression to forgive, but Lisbeth remained silent. Perhaps I have it in me to be a pastor’s wife after all. Henry had always teased her about her inability to remain silent. Wouldn’t he be surprised now?
“There is an issue I wish to discuss with you.” Mrs. Bachman adjusted her legs’ position and crossed her ankles. “I’ve been designated to direct the children’s Christmas pageant this year, but I am behind due to George’s sickness. Now that he is better, I must get started, but I need help.”
The conversation took an abrupt turn Lisbeth hadn’t anticipated. Don’t ask me to help. “There are several weeks left until Christmas. I’m sure you can put together a lovely, simplified program.”
“Two. Two weeks, dear.” A loud sigh came from the older woman. “I’m not keen to admit my weaknesses, but I need help to produce a pageant worth having. Specifically, I need your help. You always did a wonderful job.”
“I can’t.” Her breath came in short spurts, spinning her mind into crashing waves of anxious thoughts. “I’m sorry.”
“Please, Lisbeth.” Mrs. Bachman reached for her hand. “I understand the heartache more than you know. George isn’t my first husband.”
“He’s not?” She shuddered. Of course, he wasn’t, or Mrs. Bachman wouldn’t have said so.
“Many years ago, before I ever moved to Waymouth, I lived in Ohio and married my first love, Joseph.”
“What happened?” Lisbeth sat on the edge of her seat.
“One month shy of our sixth anniversary, he died of a sudden heart attack.” Mrs. Bachman’s voice wavered. “He was fit and healthy, no one could have predicted it.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been many years, but I’ve never forgotten him. When he died, I thought my life was over, and the pain of never having children became more pronounced.” Squeezing her eyes shut, Mrs. Bachman inhaled a deep breath, showing a vulnerable side Lisbeth hadn’t known existed. “I withdrew from my family and friends. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy for them, but their happiness was a reminder of what I’d lost.”
Mrs. Bachman truly did understand.
Lisbeth blinked away tears. “How did you find your way back?”
“I rejoined life.” A slow smile spread over Mrs. Bachman’s mouth. “Eventually, I met George, and we got married. Soon after, the children came, and my life became full in a way I’d given up on.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
Laughter rumbled from Mrs. Bachman. “Sweet Lisbeth, it was anything but easy, but worth every step.”
“I want to live again, but it’s scary.”
“But you’re doing it. You took a brave step and remarried.” Mrs. Bachman gave her a smile.
“Everyone knows it’s only a marriage of convenience for the children’s sake. Had I not been on the verge of losing my property, I doubt I would have agreed.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Bachman didn’t back down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. May I offer a piece of advice?”
Lisbeth nodded, too choked up to speak.
“Open your heart to love. Reverend Samuelson is a wonderful man, and the children will benefit from living in a home with parents who love each other.” Mrs. Bachman freed a hand and faced it forward. “And before you protest, for all intents and purposes, you and the reverend are Timmy and Mary’s parents now. They’ll always look to you and him for guidance.”
“I’ll never be Edna.”
“Life isn’t a comparison. The good Lord brought you and Erich to step in and raise these children.”
“What if I open my heart and it is shattered again?” Her biggest fear, spoken aloud.
“There is always that possibility, but do you want to be lonely your entire life?” Mrs. Bachman winked. “And I think it’s too late. You already love the children. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I do.”
“Keep praying. God will give you the answers and strength you seek.” After she had stood, Mrs. Bachman tugged at her skirt, adjusting the waist. “Will you at least think about the pageant? Our first practice will be tomorrow evening.”
Everything Mrs. Bachman had said flashed through Lisbeth’s mind. Mrs. Bachman’s life story that so closely resembled her own thus far resonated with her in a deep manner. It was time to move on and accept the life God planned for her. All aspects of it, not just those from which she could obviously benefit. “I’ll talk with Erich when he returns home. If he doesn’t mind, then I’ll be happy to assist you.”
Chapter Five
Finally, peace and quiet. Erich leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. He loved Timmy and Mary, but they hadn’t stopped talking all day. Granted, it was a pleasant change from the unusual quietness that had plagued them since their parents’ death two weeks ago, and he rejoiced that their grief, though never gone, had subsided a notch.
Nonetheless, he relished the quiet house. Lisbeth had taken them to pageant practice, and he planned to finally work on Sunday’s sermon. Last week, he’d had to dig through his notes for an old one, and two church members had commented on the reused sermon as they left on Sunday.
He laughed. At least that meant someone listened to his sermons. Often when he looked out from the pulpit on Sunday mornings, the number of congregants with their eyes closed or nodding off discouraged him. All his mentors had w
arned him that would happen—no matter how exciting or relevant a sermon, there would always be a few who wouldn’t listen, and only came to church out of obligation. It bothered him for the first few years before he’d finally accepted it as part of the job.
Stretching his arms, he glanced out the window. For the first time in recent history, he could see clearly out the window. The church stood a hundred feet away, its white clapboards a steadying force in his world which had been thrust into pandemonium.
A chaos he’d only change if it could bring his sister and brother-in-law back to life, but chaos nonetheless. He was unprepared for parenthood, hadn’t realized the many nuances involved. The experience, brief as it had been so far, changed him. As a pastor, and as a person. All the times he’d prayed with a family over a deathly ill child, or counseled a mother and father whose child had gone astray, he’d never fully understood the weight on their shoulders. Going forward, he would act and counsel with a deeper level of compassion.
As a person—he’d always believed himself to be an organized person until Timmy and Mary came to live with him. Thank you, Lord, for Reverend Winters’ suggestion that I find a wife, and a huge thank you for allowing Lisbeth to accept my proposal. He didn’t know what he’d do without Lisbeth.
She ran the household without a flaw. Hot breakfasts every morning, a hearty noon meal to carry him through until evening, and a delicious supper every night. A man could get used to her homemade apple pies with the perfect blend of cinnamon and nutmeg. This morning, he’d stepped over to the church first thing to start the fire in the woodstove, and when he’d come home to the parsonage, Lisbeth was ironing his shirts. He’d told her multiple times that he didn’t expect her to do all the chores—he hadn’t married her to have a maid—but she insisted she enjoyed caring for a home.
Timmy and Mary loved her already. Motherhood came naturally to her, and her affection for them came through in everything she did, whether it was remembering their favorite foods, or planning to surprise them with special Christmas gifts next week. She told them lively stories of their mother, several times bringing him in to elaborate the tale. He was happy to know Edna wouldn’t be forgotten. Lisbeth made sure Edna was ensconced in her children’s memory for all her virtuous and lovable qualities.
Erich’s thoughts remained on Lisbeth as he scribbled notes for the sermon. The home’s quietness didn’t give him the concentration, nor the satisfaction, he sought. He closed his eyes, blocking out all thoughts and surroundings. When he opened them, silence echoed in the house.
He dropped his pencil and stared out at the church. Had he acclimated to the constant activity and noise already? His answer was clear. Being alone in the house and living a solitary home life no longer sufficed. Even in the late evening, once the children were asleep, he could focus on his work with the knowledge Lisbeth was in the next room over, sitting in the rocking chair working on her sewing, and the children were snug in their beds.
His sermon could wait. He had a rough idea of his key points and had three more days to put it together. There was no reason he had to finish it right now. Standing from the desk, he glanced out the window one more time. He knew exactly where he wanted to be. After leaving the office, he marched straight to the back door of the house where he’d find the quickest path to the church.
A blast of frigid air engulfed him, and he snagged his coat from the peg. The hundred-foot walk, though short, was too long in the freezing temperature for anyone to be without warm clothing. Packed snow crunched under his feet as he walked. The two inches that fell last night hadn’t been enough to shovel, but he had brushed it from the porch and steps, adding to the several inches of the night prior.
At the back door of the church, he heard children singing—mostly off-key—and others chattering and practicing lines. He stood outside for several minutes to listen. The innocent voices filled with cheer brought a smile to his face. Every year, the Christmas pageant at church was one of his favorite parts of the holiday.
Once his nose burned from the cold, he went inside. The sweet echoes of voices he’d heard outside were a direct contrast to the bedlam inside. Mischievous Ryan Mack chased timid Franny Anderson through the pews. Georgia Clayton leaned against the pulpit crying. Timmy, Fred Jenkins, and Anthony Evers—all dressed as sheep—baaed at the top of their lungs. Angel, shepherd, and wise man costumes were draped haphazardly over the tops of pews.
Mrs. Bachman waved her hands frantically trying to regain control, only the children singing took the motion as a cue to sing louder. When their voices reached a shouting level, Mrs. Bachman’s eyes widened, realizing the children’s misinterpretation.
Erich turned his head. From what he could tell, no one had noticed him yet, but he didn’t want to risk Mrs. Bachman spotting his wide grin. He shouldn’t laugh at her distraught expression, but he’d never seen her overwhelmed or intimidated in any situation. It was nice to know the stalwart woman was human after all.
Amusement under control, he turned around again. Nothing had changed in the few seconds, and he stepped in to help. With his fingers in his mouth, he whistled loudly. Abrupt silence filled the sanctuary, and everyone stared at him. Being the pastor had certain advantages.
Shooting him a relieved smile, Mrs. Bachman regained authority. “Shepherds to the left, wise man on the right. All angels off stage for this scene.”
The children scampered to their instructed positions. The teenaged boys acting as the wise men took their spots. The other boys aged ten and up who would play shepherds moved near the crafted stable. All the young children dressed as animals scattered to various assigned spots. Mary and Joseph stood by the manger, gazing adoringly at a doll meant to be baby Jesus. The girls who were angels lined up on the left wall. A few leaned to whisper to the person next to them, but no one dared run around or leave their place. Mary saw him from the angel line-up and waved to him.
He waved back, then looked for Lisbeth. Where could she be? Assured Mrs. Bachman had a tight rein on the pageant, Erich circled around the back of the church and to the opposite side upfront. He opened the door to the small storage room built off the church and walked inside. “Lisbeth, are you in here?”
She jumped up from a crate directly beside him. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” His body was inches from her, the closest they’d been physically in days. Even at nights, they slept huddled on opposite sides of the bed. His body had odd reactions when she was near.
Dare he call it attraction?
“It’s okay. I was searching for one more angel costume. At one point, we had had ten, but I can only find six, and we have seven angels this year.”
You’re an angel. Would he scare her if he told her his innermost thoughts? Probably. They, sure enough, scared him. How did one go about telling his wife he appreciated her and cared for her? Love? He wasn’t sure about all that. Love didn’t happen that quickly, did it?
They’d only been married two weeks. He hadn’t paid much attention to her then, but that had since changed. Fate must be playing a joke because he couldn’t get her beautiful image out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her chestnut hair flowing down her shoulders as it did when she let it free for the night. Her uncertain smile when she was near him, and her broad grin when spending time with the children. Her smooth, tranquil voice as she sang when she thought no one was listening.
In appearance, but more importantly, virtue, Lisbeth reflected every attribute he wanted in a wife.
“Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?” She brushed her fingertips over her cheeks, swiping at an imaginary mess. Tilted her head and gave him an odd look, catching her head on a stray cobweb in the process.
Now was his time. “I. You.” His courage faltered, and he covered his words by removing the mess from her hair. “You had a cobweb in your hair.”
“Oh dear.” She ran a hand over the spot on her head he’d just touched. “Next week I’ll take a few hours a
nd clean this room.”
“No.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done so much already. Let’s enjoy the rest of the Christmas season as a family. There will be time enough for more cleaning after the new year.”
She furrowed a brow, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “You’re the boss.”
Her response ate at him. Marriage was a partnership, no matter how it began. There was no boss. Is that how she saw him or was it simply a way of saying she agreed? “If you want to clean, you can. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. All you’ve done is work.”
“I enjoy staying busy.” She shrugged. “Besides, you know what the Bible says about idle hands.”
“It also makes it clear we are to rest at times.” An idea surfaced. “Did you have plans after practice?”
“Only the typical evening—supper and such.”
“Would you like to take a sleigh ride together?”
Her eyes lit with joy. “I’d love that. Timmy and Mary would, too.”
Great. She’d misunderstood his intentions. “Actually, I thought we could take one alone. Just me and you.”
“Oh.”
For the length of several eternal seconds, he thought she’d decline.
Finally, she nodded. “Nettie did offer to watch the children anytime we needed her to.”
“I’ll take care of the arrangements while the practice finishes.” He flashed her a warm smile. “I look forward to it.”
Chapter Six
Lisbeth paced the center aisle of the church, simultaneously eager and nervous for practice to end. What were Erich’s intentions for the sleigh ride? They hadn’t spent any time alone since the day of their wedding. Did he want more from their marriage? She’d seen the look in his eyes earlier while in the storage room. Henry had looked at her the same way.
