by Megan Besing
William leaned over. “You know anything about this?”
Amos closed his mouth and shook his head. His Sophie…a…he reached for his tie, but it wasn’t there. He hadn’t worn one since Sophie told him her pastor T hadn’t. Something must be hindering his ability to breathe. He loosened his collar.
It didn’t help.
“If what Hanson says is true, then Pastor Amos can order himself a new bride from the other applicants he received. It’s not his fault this woman was a—a…well, you know.” The pianist’s husband squared his shoulders. “Pastor Amos shouldn’t be tarnished because of that woman. I still vote to keep him on as a candidate.”
“Agreed. His sermons are quicker than Pastor Gable’s ever were.” Someone said from the fourth row. “I’ve not fallen asleep once during Pastor Amos’.”
The shortest man in Hilltop’s congregation raised his hand. It almost cleared the top of William’s head. “I have a cousin twice removed on the other side of the river. She’s a good church girl. She’s not too old for Pastor Amos.” His voice deep and low, a contradiction to his short statue. “Not if he hurries.”
Amos slid his knuckles down his thighs. Pauline had been a good churchgoing girl, too, and look where that led him. Not that it mattered. He was not going to choose a new bride. He wanted Sophie. God had sent her to him.
Before he could stand, a hand squeezed his shoulder, holding him in his pew. “Wait a minute there, son. Let these menfolk handle this.”
Son? Menfolk? Would the congregation view him differently after the vote, and not as someone they had to watch over? William hadn’t even let him defend himself.
William placed his finger and thumb in his mouth and produced an ear-piercing whistle. Then again, the man did handle Hanson better than most. But wasn’t Amos there to shepherd them? Not the other way around. “Hanson, do you have proof of your accusation?”
That’s how William wanted to handle things? By further pursuing the lie Hanson created?
“I had my boy stop by the place where Miss Ross hailed from.”
How’d he know Sophie’s information? Grasping for straws anyway possible, that’s all this was. Amos shook his head.
The postmaster sent a nervous squint over his shoulder. So much for confidentiality concerning him and Sophie’s letters.
“So, it’s Oliver’s word against the…” Vernon blinked and removed his cap again. “Miss Ross’?”
Hanson huffed. His whiskered cheeks grew as round as a gathering squirrel’s. “And half her town. Won’t be hard to receive an official statement from their sheriff. I’m sure of it. I’ll even pay for the wire myself.”
Amos rubbed his numbing palms together. What if Sophie had been a lady of the night? Maybe she didn’t have the best past for a preacher’s wife, but that’s what it was—past. God had the power to wash clean all her sin, just as He did all the men in here. And then there was always Hosea and Gomer’s story in the Bible to consider.
Plus, Amos would never find a flawless candidate to become a preacher’s wife like they wanted. One didn’t exist.
He used the back of the pew in front of him to help him stand. “I’m not giving up on Sophie.”
William patted his back so heartily Amos pitched forward. “I think what Pastor Amos is trying to say is even if Miss Sophie’s past wasn’t what we anticipated, she isn’t on that path anymore.”
Amos held in his own growl and slumped back down. Why did William always jump in and save him? The congregation would never seek him for spiritual council if he couldn’t show himself capable.
“She could be waiting until after the wedding to return to her heathen ways. Then our reputation would be ruined. We can’t trust her.”
All the voices piled together. “Then we’d hire ourselves a new pastor. No harm done.”
Everyone’s except Hanson’s. His held the most venom. “Or we hire someone else now.” The words echoed across the vaulted ceiling. “Save the church a stained reputation. Imagine her influence on our womenfolk.”
Amos massaged his temples. Indeed, he had marched his way into a battle. With all this talk of the women in the congregation, what about Hanson’s? His redheaded daughter, Ruby, had all but snubbed him when Amos first introduced himself weeks ago. He’d not met Hanson’s wife yet. Had she passed? It would explain a few things. He should discuss it with William, but all Amos wanted to do was hightail it to Sophie. Not because he had to know all about her past sins. But it had been a whole day since he’d seen her. When he’d finally finished preparing Sunday’s sermon notes, she and Margaret hadn’t returned from delivering a batch of cookies to the girl who’d broken her arm.
The thought of kissing Sophie again hadn’t been far from his mind. Which meant he couldn’t—wouldn’t—order himself another bride. Sophie had already become a part of him. That’s why when she arrived and first introduced herself without her Christian name, he hadn’t recognized it. After receiving her first letter she had simply become—his Sophie.
“Everyone in favor of keeping Pastor Lowry as potential candidate for our pulpit, say, ‘Aye.’ ” A handful of those responded. “Those opposed?” A few nays sounded.
“Willes?” Hanson sputtered. “Really?”
“The aye’s have it by three. Two refused to vote. And I counted Hanson in already as a no. Thought that was a given.”
“Thanks, Charles. All right. Pastor Amos’ official vote for pastorship remains on schedule for the first of the month when Pastor Gable arrives.”
Well, one good thing came from this meeting. The pianist husband’s name was Charles.
“Whoa.” Hanson gripped his belt. The butt of a pistol sparkled in the dimming light. “You all know what you voted for? To keep a wretch as a potential preacher’s wife.”
That was more than enough. “She’s not a wretch. She’s my intended. And a child of—”
“You’re wrong, Lowry. Trust me, you better not hitch yourself to such a woman. You’ll regret it.”
“Enough, Hanson. You had your say. Meeting’s adjourned.” William’s bushy beard covered much of his clenched jawline, but his tone wasn’t missed.
While the elders may still have Amos set to become their preacher, the snarl Hanson produced dropped the victory to its deathbed. Amos shut his eyes. Becoming a pastor to a church who won’t heed to his council…Was that what he’d always dreamed of?
Chapter 6
Amos extended his elbow past the entryway. “You ready?” He looked at Sophie like she was an answered prayer, but they both knew she wasn’t. Not anymore.
Her fingernails dug into her palms. “Are you sure?”
Dusty’s tail swayed, brushing up against Amos’ pant leg and the house. Amos’ lips tugged a bit to the side. “Yes. I’m ready.” His full smile had gone missing since the elders’ meeting. “Question was, are you?” He peered around her. “Do we need to help Margaret carry any last items to church?”
Sophie steadied herself against the doorframe. She shouldn’t have skipped breakfast. Dusty agreed, because he inched closer and gave a low-pitched whine. “No. Margaret and William took everything earlier. I mean. Are you sure…” She stared at his shoes. Dusty put his nose on her arm. “I won’t blame you…you know, since Hanson…”
Amos lifted her hand and traced his thumb along her skin. Tingles danced up her arm before settling in her stomach. Would she ever find another man like Amos? Who was she kidding? A preacher was the only type of man who would have accepted her upbringing.
“Sophie.” Even the way he spoke her name made the flutters ignite again. “I pledged to marry you. God never breaks His promises, and I strive to be more like Him each day.”
“But—”
“We’ve already talked this through. Do you still hold to your admission that you wrote to me explaining your background?”
Sophie nodded. Mrs. T had been with her when she’d sent the letters off. So how did only her first response and last letter arrive?
&
nbsp; “Sophie Anne Ross.” Amos dropped onto his knee. “I prayed for a bride, and I was sent you. Many days and nights were spent praying for you. For us. And even after Hanson tried…” He exhaled. “God’s still in control here. You are the one He has for me.” He placed his other hand over his heart. “Your upbringing wasn’t something you chose. You aren’t accountable for your mother’s actions. Only your own. The Bible is clear on that.”
“Then we are still to wed?”
Standing, he opened her palm and placed a kiss inside. “If you’ll still have me.” He fisted her fingers, as if wrapping the kiss inside like a gift—one of a decent future.
Even if she had any other options, she wouldn’t want them. He was her calm after the storm of life she’d lived. “Always,” she whispered.
“Excellent.” He really was handsome, more so when he smiled.
Walking along Main Street, Shipley’s General Store had its closed sign flipped in the window. The whole town had packed up and gone to today’s church social. If only they’d all come back for Sunday’s sermon. Laughter and the aroma of fish reached her nose before Hilltop came into view. Sophie’s stomach grumbled but not of hunger. Strange.
The lawn surrounding the hill had its grass covered by an arrangement of blankets and a few makeshift tables. The fire with the kettles of lard were located near the largest shaded area. Margaret had explained that Hilltop Chapel’s fish fry was more than a social gathering. Even though some of the town’s folk were in need, they didn’t want to be exposed as not having enough. Those who wanted extra funds could bring in their catch and get paid, and if they stayed and helped to clean and filet the fish, then an extra nickel was earned. The members of Hilltop had the calendar full of such events. Maybe that’s why they vetoed Amos’ suggestion of adding a Bible service to the middle of the week.
Margaret met them as they neared. “Here.” She handed Sophie a glass of tea. “You look parched. Would you like to go with me to visit the ladies?” She tilted her chin to where most of the quilting circle had gathered on blankets on the flattest part of the church lawn. All their eyes were locked onto Sophie.
News about her upbringing no doubt surprised them, but like Amos had mentioned more than once, she wasn’t responsible for her momma’s actions. If only they’d agree. Beulah had said she’d already earned her chair…. Sophie wiped her forehead. Hopefully, there’d be time to win them over. How much longer until Pastor Gable arrived, anyway?
Amos’ nose crinkled. “Would the ladies mind if I keep her with me for a bit longer? Especially since I’ll be busy most of the day tomorrow reviewing the sermon. I’ve found that I can’t get too much of her company.”
Margaret fanned her face. “How precious. But Sophie, you’d be the only lady over by the kettles. It’s the men’s duty today; however, maybe…” She grimaced at the ladies. “They may need some more time to adjust to Sophie’s…Well, how about I come rescue you from the men in a bit? We still need to line up the desserts for the auction. Oh, and don’t forget, I made an additional carrot cake to keep at home for us to have tonight after the social.”
Amos pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and then flipped his tie over his shoulders. He’d gone back to wearing one after the elders’ meeting. Did those men realize what control they held? “Let’s go try our hands at some frying.”
The heat of the day would have been warm enough, but adding the fire and bubbling lard, Amos couldn’t keep his sleeves rolled up high enough. Vernon draped his arm around Amos’ shoulder, the temperatures apparently not affecting him. “Don’t you worry about Hanson.” And then there was the smolder from all the gossip. “He can’t sway us. In fact, if you want to choose not to get married, I can discuss it with the rest of the board. They might be in favor of keeping you even if you’re unmarried.”
Amos reached for Sophie’s hand. Did he not see her standing right next to him? How his statement might make her feel? “We’re getting wed when Pastor Gable arrives.”
William dropped the rest of the fish into the angry grease. He placed the empty bowl under Vernon’s nose. “Mind getting me another load?”
Before Vernon answered, Sophie grabbed the bowl. “It’d be my pleasure, William.”
Amos stepped with her, but she shook her head, leaning near his ear. All at once he no longer cared if it was 200 degrees, he wanted her beside him forever. “You stay. Visit. I just need…” The rest of her words were said with her eyes.
He placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the small of her back before she headed down the hill for the cleaning station.
Thankfully the men’s conversation turned to more pleasing topics—how to properly filet fish and which methods worked best for a breached calf. They chuckled after one of Eugene’s stories, and Amos felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He turned to find Tommy Fleming.
The boy’s eyes were filled with worry. Maybe he hadn’t turned in his catch of the day yet. That didn’t matter. Amos would buy the fish himself if needed.
“Preacher man. Your missus needs ya real bad.”
Amos’ legs buckled. His Sophie? He sprinted ahead of Tommy and found Sophie on her knees, halfway up the hill. The requested cleaned fish spilt all over the ground with Beth Fleming squatted, caressing Sophie’s back.
He dropped to his knees. “What’s wrong? Did you fall? Sophie, are you hurt?” Her breathing was labored, and she was pale, way too pale.
“Pastor Amos, might I be of service?” The town’s doctor stood before him, blocking out the sun’s bright light. “My office is across the way.”
Thanks, God. For always sending what is needed.
“I’m fine.” Sophie licked her lips. “I need to get the fish back to William. George said he hadn’t had any yet.” When she motioned at the bowl, she gagged. Her hand trembled as she covered her mouth.
“You think you can help me carry your fiancée?” The doc’s white eyebrows lowered. “From the symptoms I’m witnessing, she needs to be removed from the sun as soon as possible.”
Any other moment, he’d enjoy scooping Sophie up and drawing her near, but instead Amos prayed his shaking legs would carry them both.
Inside the office, the doc opened a bag on the counter. “Fetch me a wet cloth for her head and a glass of water. Rags are by the sink in the kitchen.” By the time he arrived back beside Sophie, the doc took the items and asked him to wait in the front room.
“I’ll stay with her.” He grasped her limp hand inside of his.
The doc didn’t meet his eyes. “I, ahhh…upon asking some further questions. What I mean to say is…there needs to be a more thorough examination completed.”
Amos crossed his arms and widened his stance.
“One an unmarried man…shouldn’t witness. Please. Have a seat. I’m sure it’s nothing. Your…” Something on the far wall gained his attention. “She probably only requires some rest in the cooler air.”
If that was the truth, then why was he doing a more detailed examination? And what type of examination was it exactly? And what was so interesting on that cream-colored wall?
The room spun, but Sophie couldn’t stop shaking her head. Doc McCormick had to be wrong.
Her—with child?
Closing her eyes, her mind slipped to the evil of a night she’d tried to erase. The darkened saloon staircase, being shoved toward the brothel rooms…If only Clyde had heard her screams over his spirited patrons.
Sophie laid her hand over her nose and mouth as if she could still smell the alcohol on Junior’s breath. His spit-filled slurs louder in her memory than ever before. The sound of her skirt ripping.
She sucked in a breath.
Lord, how could You have allowed me to bear a constant reminder of that awful night?
Junior had said she owed his father, Clyde, for allowing her and Momma to live there despite the fact that Momma had been too sick to perform. But Clyde, the saloon owner, had been the closest thing to a father figure until Pastor T. He had never a
sked questions when Momma lied year after year on Sophie’s birthday. She’d wink and say Sophie was below eighteen and too young to work the house. Clyde would never have required her to pay in the way Junior had enforced.
Hot tears dropped onto her hand. Her face wet. But that town would forever see her as Junior had. How Hanson did. As nothing more than a saloon girl whether she ever worked as one or not. What would become of her? Amos deserved to marry an unstained woman.
A handkerchief fell onto her lap, and she heard Doc McCormick slip from the room. What did he think of her? Nothing good. She rubbed a hand over her flat stomach. How much longer until the world could tell? If the church members reacted to the news of her upbringing as they had, would they now shun her completely?
She’d need to get another fresh start, a place where no one knew her. Would God be upset if she lied and said that she was widowed? Then her baby wouldn’t grow up as she had, plagued by her mother’s past doings. Except unlike Momma, it wasn’t Sophie’s fault she’d become pregnant. However, people would not care about that small detail. They’d make their own assumptions and figure her to be a liar. But how was she going to leave without any money?
The floor boards groaned in the hall. Amos paused in the doorway with Doc McCormick behind him. Even through her blurred vision, his emotions were clear. His expression filled with shock and disgust and disappointment. All things she deserved.
She bit her lip and hugged her arms to her chest.
Lord, You are the creator of all things. Why did You open my womb after Junior destroyed me? Why bring me here at all?
An unsteady whimper slipped out, and she rested her head in her palms to muffle her disgrace.
Arms circled around her, and she shuddered, but Amos didn’t release her or stop his whispering prayers. She allowed herself to be guided by his support and joined in praying. Not with any words. The tears heating her cheeks and the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears were all she could offer.
