Love in Independence (Holiday Mail Order Brides)

by Morgan, Kit

  “No apology needed, Pastor Luke,” said Mrs. Peatman.

  “Most certainly not,” added Mrs. Brock. “It wasn’t your fault Eunice fainted. It was hers.” She pointed an accusing finger at Miss Longfellow, her lips now pressed into a firm line.

  “She can’t help it, Mother. Stop.” Eva said, speaking up for the first time.

  “Help what?” asked Miss Longfellow.

  Eva looked her up and down. “You’re not from around here,” was all she offered.

  Mrs. Brock shot her daughter a dirty look before returning her attention to Luke. “I should think you’d be willing to work with us on a daily basis, Pastor Adams. The celebration is in less than two weeks, and we haven’t a moment to waste!”

  Eva rolled her eyes at her mother and smiled at Winnie. “I guess we’d better get to work.”

  Luke watched as Miss Longfellow gave Mrs. Brock a wary look, and then nodded her agreement. He took a step back, and sat on the nearest pew. “So, Miss Longfellow and Miss Brock will be the organizers. The rest of you form your committees, if you haven’t already done so. We’ll need decorations, someone to put together the parade, and then, of course, the picnic.”

  “And don’t forget the fireworks!” Mrs. Peatman put in.

  He looked at Miss Longfellow, who wore a pained expression on her face. “Do you need any help with those?”

  She glanced at the others. “No, it’s been decided that Mr. Peatman will handle the fireworks, as he’s always done.”

  He glanced at Mrs. Peatman. “I had no idea someone was already doing that on a regular basis. Good. Let’s get started then. Miss Brock, I’d like you to handle the picnic and decorations, while Miss Longfellow and I organize the parade.”

  Mrs. Brock’s body shuddered. “That will never do. How can my Eva be expected to handle something as important as decorations without your input?”

  Eva blew out her breath and turned her face away from her mother’s. Luke noticed the red creeping into her cheeks and felt pity for the poor girl. He knew how overbearing Mrs. Brock could be. He’d witnessed her in action often enough to instantly feel sorry for anyone having live with the woman. But to see her in action in front of him, got his hackles up. “Miss Brock is capable of handling the job. I have every confidence in her abilities.”

  “Then why isn’t she organizing the parade with you?” Mrs. Brock shot back.

  One, two, three, four … Luke counted to himself. “Because I picked Miss Longfellow, who is equally capable, I’m sure. Now, to work.” He stood. “Miss Longfellow and I will be sitting over there. Let’s work for the next hour then see what we’ve all come up with.”

  Mrs. Caulder took Eva by the arm. “I have a lovely idea for the tables at the picnic!”

  Eva smiled at her, and patted her hand. “I’d love to hear it.”

  “Oh, and I think we should have a pie-eating contest!” added Mrs. Peatman.

  Mrs. Brock gave her daughter a look cold enough to freeze a pond. It was clear she had an agenda, and wanted her daughter paraded before him in hopes that he’d be interested. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. Before he left Chicago, it had happened all the time.

  “Pastor Adams?”

  He turned. Miss Longfellow was looking up at him, a shy smile on her face. “Yes?”

  “I … I …” she took a deep breath. “I want to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being clear with you about why I’m here.”

  “Think nothing of it. We need the help and you’ve come to do just that. Now, let’s go see what we come up with for a theme for the parade.”

  “Theme? Why do you need a theme? Shouldn’t it be obvious?”

  He smiled. “I suppose on the one hand, yes. But on the other hand, I like to be different. Help me figure something out, and then I can get back to writing my sermon.”

  She smiled, nodded, and let go of the breath she’d been holding. The action caught his attention. Had she been holding it all this time?

  He shook off the thought and went to the pew nearest his office. They sat, and he again noticed her eyes when he looked at her. “Where are you from?” he blurted. He hadn’t any idea why he asked; it just came out.

  “North Carolina originally. After my mother died, I went to New Orleans.”

  “Your mother? She really did … “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. All that misunderstanding earlier …”

  She held up a hand. “No need to apologize. I’m getting along.”

  “When did she pass?”

  “Just a few months ago. It’s one of the reasons I came out here. I needed a fresh start.”

  He gazed into her eyes. So, she was there for the same reason he was. “I understand more than you know about that.” She smiled before she looked away. He had the sudden urge to turn her around to face him, if only to gaze into her eyes again, but balled his hand into a fist instead. For one, it would be improper, and two, he wasn’t sure he could stop looking once he got started.

  * * *

  Winnie felt a deep blush color her cheeks, and looked at one of the stained glass windows that graced the building. Her stomach felt odd and a tingle was making its way up her spine. Good heavens! Where did this come from? She wanted to look at him again, but didn’t dare. She wasn’t sure if she could keep herself from outright staring at the man. He was a handsome man, no doubt about it. But her attraction to him felt strange, with was odds with itself. After all, she was his intended! Was.

  He’d cut her off before she finished telling him the truth. Was it for the best? Probably. She’d suffered enough embarrassment since arriving in town. No sense dragging him into it. Besides, who knew how much more she’d have to suffer at the hands of her three ‘benefactors’ during the rest of her stay. If she couldn’t make this work with Luke Adams, then what was she to do? Shouldn’t she come clean and tell him the truth? But if she did, would he reject her outright and send her packing?

  “Miss Longfellow?”

  Her head snapped around to face him. “Oh! I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “I asked if you think we should use a flower theme?”

  “Flowers?”

  “Yes; wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone decorate their wagons with flowers?”

  The man liked flowers … Winnie smiled at the thought. He must, since he’d made the suggestion. “I think flowers would be wonderful. How many flowers are you thinking?”

  His eyes roamed her face. “Lots of flowers; as many as we can gather. The fields are full of them now, and there’ll be more in a couple of weeks.

  A chill went up her spine. “I see, well then … we … we …” Oh no! Not now! She straightened in the pew and took a breath. “We should do it, then. I think it would make the parade beautiful.”

  He smiled, and then suddenly frowned. “Oh, I don’t have anything to write with. Excuse me a moment.” He got up and disappeared down the short hall leading to his office.

  “I know what you’re about.”

  Winnie jumped at the voice. She turned to face Mrs. Brock in the pew behind her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You and Pastor Adams, sitting so close together; why, it’s shameful!”

  “What?”

  “I’m keeping my eye on you, Miss Longfellow, and if I see any immoral conduct displayed, I’ll see you’re run out of town.” With that, the woman hefted herself out of the pew and marched to the other side of the church where the other women were happily making plans.

  Winnie sat, dumbfound; her mouth hanging open like the village idiot’s.

  “Here we are; this will help,” Pastor Adams said as he returned with a pencil and paper. He sat and looked at her. “Is everything all right?”

  She shook herself, closed her mouth, and nodded. She’d never known such women existed! How could Maude and Martha say Eva Brock was terrible? If she was, it was probably because of her mother!

  Pastor Adams grabbed a hymnal from the back of a pew, and
used it as a writing surface. He scribbled a few things down, and then gave her his attention. “What else?”

  “Huh?”

  “What else should we have in the parade?”

  Winnie thought a moment, still trying to recover from Mrs. Brock’s verbal attack. “Uh, music?”

  “Of course! Yes, we can’t have a parade without music.” He tapped the pencil against his chin a few times. “I’ll speak with the mayor; I’m sure he’s had folks play at different town functions. He can give me a list of people to contact. Would you like to speak with the musicians and round them up?”

  She stared at him, tears in the back of her eyes. Mrs. Brock’s words had dealt her a solid blow. The woman was attacking her character and didn’t even know her! How could she say such things? Besides, she’d already been in the pastor’s office with him, and no one had thought anything of it. Everyone saw them come out together, so what was all the fuss about?

  “Miss Longfellow? Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head, still unable to speak.

  “I can round them up if you like. You can see about getting some of the women together and planning when to gather flowers for the parade.”

  She closed her eyes against the tears, and smiled. “That sounds good.”

  He studied her and, without warning, took one of her hands in his. “Miss Longfellow, if you ever need someone to talk to, well, you know where to find me.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She glanced over his shoulder at the other women. Mrs. Brock was busy waving her arms and berating Mrs. Peatman about something. “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother. You must still be grieving. I understand how that is.”

  She looked into his eyes. No one had talked to her about her mother since she’d died. When she showed up on Aunt Eugina’s doorstep, they’d not had much time to talk. Her aunt had become withdrawn, and was preoccupied with the whereabouts of someone named Slade, a man who’d vanished into thin air. And, though she’d gathered from her aunt’s conversations with her assistants that he was no angel, her aunt obviously had a soft spot for him. Before Winnie had left New Orleans to come west, Aunt Eugina had contacted the law about the missing miscreant. “Yes,” she finally said. “I suppose I am.”

  “I’m always here; you can talk to me anytime,” he offered gently.

  She looked at her hand enveloped in his. Warmth crept into her bones as she stared and, for the first time since her mother had died, she felt her heart break from the loss. Winnie closed her eyes and turned her face away.

  “Miss Longfellow?” he asked, his voice soft and low. “Do you need to step into my office to take a moment to collect yourself?”

  She nodded, not knowing what else to do. She could feel the loss of her mother deepen, and didn’t want to start weeping in front of the others. He stood without relinquishing his hold on her hand, and pulled her up as well. Just as he let go, Mrs. Brock’s head snapped up, her eyes intent on them. Pastor Adams leaned down and said in the same low voice, “Take all the time you need. I’ll keep working out here.”

  Winnie swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  “No problem; I’m glad I can be of help to you. I don’t know how you’ve kept this locked up for so long.”

  She looked up at him. “How do you know that?”

  “Aside from you telling me,?” he asked with a smile. “Let’s just say I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.”

  She nodded. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “Comes with the job.” He patted her back, and gave her a light shove in the direction of his office. “We’ll be fine out here. And who knows, maybe I’ll come up with something brilliant.”

  She smiled, her tears almost breaking free, and headed to the small hallway. Once inside his office, she closed the door, and wept.

  * * *

  Luke had fought the urge to wrap his arms around the grieving girl and comfort her. He recognized raw pain when he saw it, and Miss Longfellow was riddled with it. But it wasn’t just the pain of her mother’s death he sensed; there was something more. She was distracted, and he had the feeling she was upset about something besides not having dealt with her grief. What, he had no idea, but hoped he could be of some help to her. Of course, since they were working on the upcoming celebration, he was certain he’d get the chance.

  He sat and glanced toward the other group just as Mrs. Brock’s booming voice rang out over the others. “What? You can’t possibly want purple on the stage! This is for Independence Day, and only red, white, and blue should be considered! Why, the very idea!”

  Eva Brock covered her face with her hands and groaned. It was all he could do not to groan right along with her. Who wouldn’t, with that spewing her opinions all over the place?

  Mrs. Caulder looked ready to bust a gut at the outburst. Perhaps he needed to play peacemaker between them; but the thought of Miss Longfellow alone in his office with her tears kept him sitting at the ready near the hallway. What if she cried out in anguish? She had to be suffering a flood of tears by now. Should he check on her? No, best to give her more time …

  “I see your help has abandoned her post.”

  Luke looked up. Mrs. Brock loomed before him, her daughter at her side. “Not at all; she’s taking a little … break.”

  “Hmmm, how long does it take to visit the privy?” she huffed. “Eva, go fetch that girl so we can tell them what we’ve come up with. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

  Luke stood. He didn’t want Mrs. Brock to know what Miss Longfellow was doing in his office. The last thing the poor girl needed was any sort of ‘consoling’ by the woman. “I’ll see to it. You put your notes in order.”

  “Our notes are in order!” she barked.

  “Glad to hear it. I’d best go fetch Miss Longfellow. I told her to bring me something from my office. Perhaps she’s having trouble finding it.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Eva, her voice calm.

  Luke looked at her and took in her innocent expression, before observing Mrs. Brock’s satisfied one. “Certainly.” He didn’t know Eva Brock, but so far she seemed to not take after her mother.

  She led the way into his office where they found Miss Longfellow seated at his desk, her face buried in her hands, weeping. “Pastor Adams,” Eva said in a soft voice. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s all right, Miss Brock. She’ll be fine. And please, call me Pastor Luke.” He went around the desk, bent down and whispered in Miss Longfellow’s ear. “Are you all right? Do you want to go back to the Smythes’ house?”

  She raised her face from her hands, eyes red from crying. “No, I’m done for now. I had no idea … tha… tha …” she shook her head and put a hand to her mouth.

  Eva came around the other side of the desk and held her. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, I can see it’s a terrible burden. I’m so sorry.”

  Winnie stared up at her, and unable to help herself, buried her face in the girl’s comforting embrace.

  “She’s lost her mother recently,” Luke whispered. “See to her, will you? I’ll see to the others.”

  Eva nodded, and kept her arms around the weeping girl. The sight warmed his heart. He always marveled at small kindnesses and the power they held. Knowing he was leaving Miss Longfellow in good hands, he returned to the sanctuary.

  Seven

  Winnie wiped her tears as she moved away from Eva. “I’m usually not so easily upset. I can’t understand what happened.”

  “It’s all right,” Eva said as she leaned against the desk. “I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a parent.”

  Winnie looked at her. “I’ve lost two.”

  Eva put a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh, Miss Longfellow; I’m so sorry.”

  “Please, call me Winnie.”

  Eva nodded. “And you can call me Eva.” She glanced around the office. “I don’t suppose Pastor Luke would have a spare
handkerchief around you could use.”

  Winnie gave her a half-hearted chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t think so.” She sniffed back the last of her tears, and sighed. “We should join the others.”

  “Not yet; you still look like you’ve been crying.”

  Winnie closed her eyes and rubbed her arms. She always felt cold after weeping, and, though her grieving was short, it was enough to tire her out. “Just a minute more, then…”

  “Then, what? You don’t have to go back in there.”

  Winnie could only stare at her. “But …”

  Eva pulled her out of the chair. “Maybe some fresh air? It always helps me after I’ve had a crying fit.”

  “Really? You’ve had … fits?”

  “What girl hasn’t? C’mon, follow me.”

  Winnie followed Eva through the door that led outside. The sun was bright and warm, and felt good on her skin. She looked at the blue of the sky and inhaled the sweet scent of grass and flowers. “Pastor Adams wants to use flowers in the parade,” she said.

  “That would be wonderful. Did he say how?”

  “No, just that he wants to use them. He said the fields around here are full of them.”

  “They are.”

  The two stood in silence for a moment before Eva straightened up at a familiar sound: her mother storming outside toward them. “There you are! What are you two doing out here?”

  Winnie was too tired to deal with any more of Mrs. Brock’s tantrums, but before she could say anything, Eva came to her rescue. “We were discussing flowers. Pastor Luke wishes to use them for the parade.”

  “Flowers? What does that have to do with you wasting your time out here?”

  “Where else are we going to find them, Mother?”

  Mrs. Brock opened her mouth, thought better of it, and snapped it shut. Eva smiled at her, took Winnie’s hand, and led her down the path to the front of the church. Rose bushes graced the main walkway, much as they did at the mayor’s house. Eva leaned into one, and inhaled. “Mmmm, these are so lovely.”