Love in Independence (Holiday Mail Order Brides)

by Morgan, Kit

Winnie watched her. Eva Barton was a beautiful young woman, and she again wondered why Maude and Martha had made such a fuss about her. So far she’d shown Winnie nothing but kindness, which made her think. Would Pastor Adams – Luke -- notice? What if he decided to pursue Eva instead of her; and nature took its course in that direction? It would be bad enough if he wasn’t interested in her, worse if he was attracted to someone else. She sighed. If only she’d come to Independence as a normal mail-order bride! She’d probably be married by now!

  “Feeling better?” Eva asked in a soft voice.

  “Yes, thank you,” Winnie said, her voice just as low. “I appreciate you staying with me, and not telling your mother I was upset.”

  Eva smiled. “My mother is enough to upset anyone, let alone on top of what you’re dealing with!”

  Winnie giggled at that. “She seems a force to be reckoned with.”

  “You have no idea. I went to stay with my aunt to take care of her, but also to get away.”

  Winnie nodded her understanding and ran her fingers over the soft petals of a yellow rose bush. “I know what it’s like to need to get away. It’s one of the reasons I came out west.”

  “How exciting, I’ve always wanted to do something like that, except I’m already here.”

  Winnie smiled again, and then looked up as Pastor Adams came out the church doors, followed by the rest of the women. “Here you are. We were wondering where the two of you had gone.”

  “We were admiring the roses,” Winnie said. “How did you want to use the flowers in the parade?”

  He stood beside her. “Well, I was thinking folks could decorate their wagons with them, put them on their horses, that sort of thing. The person or group using them in the most creative way could get a prize.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” said Eva.

  Winnie watched as the other women gathered round. Mrs. Peatman clapped her hands together. “We could decorate the tables at the picnic with them!”

  “Yes, and we could make flower hats, too,” said Mrs. Gelsinger. “Just think how pretty everything will look.”

  “It will mean a lot of work. Flowers wilt quickly, so everyone will have to decorate their wagons, tables, and such in the early morning, or the night before,” said Pastor Adams. He looked at each woman and smiled. “Ladies, I thank you for coming this morning. I think we’ve made good progress. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course; and I’m sure the mayor’s wife will be here, along with Mrs. Tindle and Mrs. Smythe.” Mrs. Caulder said.

  Pastor Adams scratched his head. “Yes, where are those three?”

  “Mrs. Vander wasn’t feeling well, and Mrs. Tindle had to mind the mercantile. I don’t know where Mrs. Smythe is,” said Mrs. Peatman.

  “Well?” Mrs. Brock huffed as she joined them. “Where is Mrs. Smythe?” she asked as she stood in front of Winnie.

  Winnie tried not to ball her hands into fists but did it anyway. “She’s helping Mr. Smythe. They’re short-handed.”

  Mrs. Brock blanched. “Don’t say another word! We don’t want poor Eunice to faint again!”

  Winnie swore she saw Pastor Adams hide a smile. He feigned interest in the roses, and then gave his attention back to them. “Miss Longfellow, might I have a word with you in my office?”

  She flushed red as her stomach flipped. She could feel Mrs. Brock’s eyes on her even without looking, and could just imagine what the woman was thinking. “Of course.”

  He turned to the women. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us, we still have work to do. Have a pleasant day.”

  They said their goodbyes and began to leave, chatting about their plans as they went, none of them giving a second thought to Pastor Adam’s request to see her. Except Mrs. Brock, who stood with her arms folded across her chest, a look of pure defiance on her face. “Pastor Adams, what do you think you’re doing?”

  He was already heading up the church steps, and turned to look at her. “Pastor Luke,” he corrected. “And I’m going to my office.”

  “With this woman?”

  Winnie gasped. “Mrs. Brock, what are you implying?”

  “It’s indecent!”

  Pastor Luke sighed. “Mrs. Brock, as I’m going to be spending a great deal of time with Miss Longfellow, it’s only natural that we’ll find ourselves working together alone now and then. It can’t be helped.”

  “It most certainly can!”

  Winnie saw anger flash in his eyes, as Eva backed up a few steps, shaking her head. No wonder she’d to take care of her sick aunt. Winnie would have done the same thing!

  “Mrs. Brock, do you plan on chaperoning us the entire time we’re working together?”

  “Of course not! I don’t have time for such nonsense!”

  “Then, if you’ll excuse us,” he said as he motioned for Winnie to precede him.

  She was about to take a step when Mrs. Brock blocked her path. “Pastor Adams, you know perfectly well how people in this town talk.”

  “I’m well aware, since you, Mrs. Brock, are the one who does most of the talking.”

  Winnie froze as Eva covered her mouth with both hands. It was all either of them could do to keep from laughing.

  “And as you love to tell everyone my business, you can tell them this: Miss Longfellow is now my secretary, if she’ll take the job, which means we will be working long hours from now until the Fourth of July celebration. Do you think you can manage to pass that along?”

  Mrs. Brock stood, her body rigid as Eva backed away toward the road, her hands still over her mouth. “Well! I never!” She spun around. “Eva! We’re going home!”

  Winnie and Pastor Luke watched as Eva bit her lip to keep her giggles at bay, her face red with the effort, and looked everywhere but at her mother.

  Mrs. Brock stomped to the road, grabbed Eva by the arm, and dragged her off. But not before her daughter managed to wave and smile at Winnie.

  “I don’t know how she does it,” said Winnie. “I could never live with anyone so overbearing!”

  “Nor could I. I wonder if that’s why I’ve never met Mr. Brock.”

  “He doesn’t come to church?”

  “No. Now I know why. It’s the one day of the week he can have some peace.” He sighed and looked at her. “That was wrong of me to say. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, it’s probably true … what did you say?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You … you want me to be your secretary?”

  “Oh, yes; that,” he said with a nod. “Yes, I would. I can’t get anything done and these women, well, you saw how it was. I need an assistant to help get me through this, and maybe even after the celebration’s over.”

  “I guess it sounds more official when you say ‘secretary’.”

  He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “So, do you want the job?”

  “I was under the impression that I already had it. It’s … one of the reasons I came here…”

  He gazed at her a moment, and Winnie felt her knees go weak. His eyes were mesmerizing. “I’m still not clear on the reason for your arrival and what happened the other night, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  She smiled, unable to help herself, and nodded. “So am I.”

  Together, they went into the church and got to work.

  * * *

  Winnie was amazed by what was involved with not only preparing for the Fourth of July celebration, but the daily running of a church, albeit a small one. Pastor Adams—correction – Pastor Luke (he insisted she call him that as he preferred it and expected them to be working together for some time) showed her the list of sick folks to visit, the sermons he planned for the month, tithe records, upcoming weddings … okay, one. Beth Simmons and Fred Night, who were nearing seventy and wanted to get hitched in two days. At least it let her know people getting were married here! But she was beginning to doubt if she’d be next.

  “What do you need help with first?” she asked as she eyed the piles on his desk
.

  “I need help organizing this mess. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it’s not my strong point. I’m better at people than paperwork.”

  “Doesn’t seem like too much to me; I can get started on it right away.”

  “Great! How long do you think it will take you?”

  “Give me a couple of hours?”

  “That quickly? You are good at this! Mercy Vander was right; you’ll be a big help.”

  She blushed and picked up a box with loose coins and currency in it. “I’d best start recording this tithe money. Where do you want it when you’re done?”

  “I have a spot in the house where it will be safe until I put it in the bank. Most of it goes to the building fund. The church needs a new roof before winter sets in.”

  She sat at the desk and began to count, as he rummaged behind her for something. “Ah, here it is,” he said. He turned and put a leather journal on the desk.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “My sermons from Chicago; a few of them would be good for this time of year, and go well with the celebration.”

  Winnie looked at the worn book and smiled. “How long have you been serving as a pastor?”

  “Let me think; about seven years now, I think.”

  “I imagine it’s rewarding work,” she said, her voice soft.

  “Yes, very.” He sat in the other chair. “Speaking of which, you’re more than welcome to talk with me anytime about your mother.”

  “You’ve told me that already,” she said as she bowed her head and put her hands in her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, and unconsciously blushed.

  “I want to make sure you know that I’m here for you.”

  She looked at him and smiled. “I appreciate it; thank you.”

  He stood and leaned against the desk. “Are you hungry?”

  Winnie took a deep breath. She could feel his gaze again, and sensed he was asking something more. “Yes; is it lunch time already?”

  He stared at her a moment before answering. “Yes. There’s a café in town. It’s not much, but they have a nice lunch. They even have ice cream.”

  “Ice cream? Oh, I do so love ice cream!”

  “Then shall we?” he came around the desk and held his arm out to her. She stared at it, long and hard. Why hesitate? Didn’t she come here as his mail-order bride? But that’s not what she was now. Now she had to rely on good old-fashioned attraction to get the job done. But did she have the confidence that that would be enough?

  “Miss Longfellow?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry … I … I was thinking.”

  “About what?”

  She looked up at him and, realizing she still sat, stood. “How I came to be here.”

  Winnie put a hand to her chest at the statement. She’d opened herself up to questions; ones she wasn’t sure she could answer.

  “I’m glad you are.” He waved his elbow at her, reminding her to take it.

  She did, and smiled at him again. Thank heavens! He’s not going to ask me anything more for the time being! And she was right. He didn’t ask her anything more, at least not until they got to the café.

  They strolled through town at a slow pace. He kept her on his arm until they reached the road, and then released it to grab a cat being chased by a child. Once he’d handed the animal over, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked on, whistling as he did.

  She was disappointed that he’d let go of her arm, but not that she was walking with him to lunch. After all, they weren’t courting, and what would people think if they saw her on his arm going down the street? Of course, if she had still been his mail-order bride, people wouldn’t think anything of it; many couples, especially when engaged, walked arm-in-arm. But she and Pastor Luke were anything but engaged.

  They reached the café, went inside, sat, and ordered. Their conversation was minimal until the food came, mostly because people at the surrounding tables engaged him in conversation. At last their meals came, and their fellow patrons left him alone. “How’s your sandwich?” he asked then took a sip of tea.

  “Oh, fine. Yours?”

  “I can never go wrong with the chicken.”

  She blushed. Why, she had no idea. Maybe it was the twinkle in his eye when he’d said it. He was staring at her, his face somewhere between delight and curiosity, when the bell over the door rang, and in rushed Mercy Vander. “There you are, Winnie! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  Winnie turned to her. “What did you need?”

  “Martha, Maude, and I thought you’d like to help with the pie contest. We’re trying to get a list of women together. Can I count you in?”

  She glanced at Pastor Luke. “What do I have to do?”

  “Bake pies for the contest,” said Mercy.

  She tried to give her attention back to the woman, but couldn’t tear her gaze away from Luke. Good grief! He might not be attracted to her yet, but she certainly was to him! “Will I have time?”

  “I think so,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.

  Mercy grabbed a nearby chair, pulled it to their table, and sat. “We’ll have to start baking two days beforehand, to make sure we have enough pies. We’ll use my kitchen; it’s the biggest, and Betsy will help.”

  “Sounds fine, Mrs. Vander,” said Pastor Luke.

  Mercy glanced from one face to the other as she noticed their expressions and gazes. “Oh, that’s good. Uh, I think I’ll go see if Mrs. Stanley can help.” She gave them one last look, smiled, and made to get up from the table. “I’m going now.”

  Neither of them looked at her.

  “Miss Longfellow?”

  No answer.

  “Winnie?” Winnie tried to pull her gaze away, but to no avail. She heard Mercy giggle as she stood. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you later this evening at Maude’s. We have plans to make.”

  Winnie nodded. Pastor Luke still held her gaze, a satisfied smile on his face. Why, she didn’t know, and wasn’t sure if she should ask.

  Mercy giggled again, and left the café.

  “What?” Winnie asked. “You look like you know something no one else does.”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Oh, but I can’t. It’s a secret.”

  “You keep secrets?”

  “Of course; don’t you?”

  She felt her stomach knot. She should tell him, tell him everything. “I … well I …”

  He leaned forward. “Ice cream?”

  “What?” she asked, as she shook herself.

  “Are you ready for ice cream?”

  “Oh, yes. Please.”

  He motioned to a man behind a counter. “Two, please.”

  “Your usual, Pastor Luke?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” he told him then leaned toward Winnie again. “Do you feel daring?”

  Winnie looked around the café; no one paid them any mind. “To do what?” she whispered across the table.

  He smiled. “Make those with strawberries!”

  Winnie giggled.

  “Now, Miss Longfellow; while we’re waiting for our ice cream, tell me all about yourself.”

  Eight

  Winnie blanched. What should she say? How much should she tell him? “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about at the beginning. Were you born in North Carolina?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes darting to the door. For some reason, she felt trapped, but couldn’t figure out why. Oh, the tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive… She swallowed and forced a smile. Ah yes, that’s why …

  “Have you family there?”

  She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. “No, my mother was all that was left. I’ve an aunt in New Orleans, but that’s it.”

  “All your family is gone?”

  She nodded, as the hot sting of tears struck.

  Pastor Luke sat back in his chair. “So, you’re all alone in the world …”

  She loo
ked at him. “There are worse things.”

  “I suppose, but having no family … what made you decide to come all the way out here? Why not start a new life with your aunt in New Orleans?”

  She shook her head. “New Orleans is not for me. I don’t care for big cities. I prefer a small town.”

  “Me, too. Chicago grew too big for me and, like you, I wanted a smaller community to live and serve in.”

  She smiled. “I believe you’ve accomplished your goal, Pastor. Independence is as small as you can get.”

  He leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Please, call me Luke.”

  She stopped breathing.

  “Miss Longfellow?”

  She sucked in a breath, just to be safe. “You can call me Winnie; everyone does.” She let out her breath and slumped in her chair.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine!” she said with a smile, her heart racing. If he was advancing them to a first-name basis already, there was hope. Maybe he was interested in her as more than an assistant.

  A man brought their ice cream and set them on the table. “You’re lucky I had some left. Goes as quickly as we make it!”

  Luke smiled and nodded. “Don’t I know it!”

  The man laughed, and then turned and left. Winnie watched him go behind the counter, and then looked at the dish in front of her. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Like what you see?”

  She looked at him. His eyes were intent upon her, his expression mischievous. “Yes,” she whispered. It was all she could manage with him staring at her like that.

  He picked up his spoon and scooped up a bite. “I love this; don’t you?”

  She licked her lips, and looked at her ice cream. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. Good grief! What was happening to her? The man could render her speechless with a look!

  He put his spoon in his mouth, savoring the treat, and smiled again. He suddenly reminded her of a little boy who had just gotten away with stealing a cookie or candy. The thought made her giggle.

  “What’s so funny?

  “Nothing; it’s just that, well, the look on your face …”

  “Oh, that. I’m afraid I wear my emotions for all the world to see.”

  “And what would you call the look you just wore?”