Auralie had known from childhood what it meant to trust Christ for salvation, but watching Colton absorb the preacher’s words about God’s promises pricked her with envy. Was this what Belle meant when she inquired why Auralie would be afraid of a God who loved her?
The rugged lines of Colton’s jaw captured her attention. For almost four years, she’d tried to remember what Perry Bolden looked like. As her gaze traced the shadow of Colton’s profile, she realized with a start that she hadn’t wondered about Perry’s appearance in weeks, and she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. This man, unlike any other she’d ever met, was work toughened and tender at the same time. He showed gratitude for what God had given him and worked hard to care for it. Above everything else, he humbled himself in a way she’d never seen a man do before. This was the embodiment of a real man—not the kind of man who stepped over people to get what he wanted, or used money and power to manipulate his circumstances, not one who lorded over others or talked down to them.
Colton shifted his position, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. He glanced in her direction, and a tiny smile twitched his lips when he caught her looking at him. A flutter tickled her stomach, and she pulled her gaze back where it belonged, but not before returning his smile.
A gentle nudge poked her ribs. Belle covered her mouth with her fingers and coughed. When Auralie looked up at her cousin, an odd expression filled Belle’s eyes. Heat rushed up Auralie’s neck and chagrin filled her. The announcement of her engagement to Perry Bolden was scheduled within a few weeks, and here she sat in church, experiencing flutters and exchanging smiles with Colton Danfield. The word hussy tiptoed through her mind and fanned the flames in her cheeks.
“Your pastor must think I’m some kind of heathen.” Auralie covered her face with her hands as they rode home in the carriage. A fresh wave of discomfort washed over her. “I couldn’t even look him in the eye when he shook my hand at the door.”
Belle giggled. “If you had, you would have seen that he was smiling.” She grasped Auralie’s hand. “It could have been worse. You might have fallen asleep and started snoring.”
“Belle!” Auralie glanced up at Sam driving the carriage and saw his shoulders shake silently.
A wicked grin worked its way into Belle’s face. “One time a man—I think he was a deacon—went to sleep and fell forward and hit his head on the pew in front of him. They had to carry him out.” Her cousin stroked her chin. “Then there was the time—”
“Belle, it’s not funny. I was mortified. What if this gets back to my father?”
“I doubt there is anyone from our little church who is on casual speaking terms with Uncle Shelby.” Belle shrugged. “Except maybe Jack McCaffey.”
Auralie spun in her seat, her eyes wide. “The editor of the newspaper? Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Belle emitted a tinkling laugh. “I was kidding. He wasn’t even there today.” She turned sideways and grasped Auralie’s shoulders. “Relax. I was just trying to make you see the funny side of this.” She rocked back and forth with laughter.
“Oh of course. It’s sidesplitting.” She lifted her eyes heavenward. “You always did have an odd sense of humor.” She took off her gloves and fanned herself with them. “I shall never forgive you for teasing me.”
Belle wiped tears from her face. “Don’t you remember the time we had a contest to see which of us could climb a tree faster and I got stuck and your brother had to get me down? You teased me about that for months. I’m simply paying you back.”
“That was more than ten years ago!” Auralie batted her cousin with her gloves. “How long do you hold a grudge?”
Hoofbeats sounded behind them. Sam steered the horses to move the carriage over so the rider could pass, but instead the chestnut horse pulled up alongside.
“Mrs. Hancock. Miss Covington.”
Sam slowed the carriage, and Auralie turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Her breath strangled in her throat and all that came out was a squeak.
Amusement threaded Belle’s voice. “Hello, Mr. Danfield. We don’t see much of you, even though you are our nearest neighbor.”
Auralie wanted to return the favor and elbow her cousin in the ribs. She managed a smile and polite nod, but her face flamed.
Mr. Danfield removed his hat. “I missed paying my respects to you ladies at church. When the service ends, it’s often difficult to speak to everyone.” His warm eyes locked with Auralie’s. “Miss Covington, I wanted to tell you again how much we appreciated the lemonade.”
Belle cocked her head and gave Auralie a curious look, her eyebrows arching like a pair of hissing cats.
Auralie found her voice. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Danfield. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Belle’s lips pressed together as if she was trying to keep from bursting into laughter. “Mr. Danfield, I feel I’ve been remiss. We’ve been neighbors for almost three years, and I’ve yet to extend an invitation to dinner. We would be pleased to have you join us this afternoon for Sunday dinner. I heard Maizie say she was preparing a roast.”
Auralie tried to swallow and nearly choked. She wanted to shake her cousin. What in heaven’s name did she think she was doing? Surely Mr. Danfield would see through Belle’s ploy as nothing more than a matchmaking scheme and refuse the invitation.
Surprise flickered over Mr. Danfield’s features, and he hesitated. His eyes shifted from Belle to Auralie, and the same tiny smile he sent across the aisle at church tweaked his lips again. Pleasure danced in his eyes.
“Why, that’s very gracious of you, Mrs. Hancock. I really must go home first to check on—” He glanced downward for a moment, then smiled. “There are a few things that require my attention, but I would be pleased to accept. What time should I be there?”
A smile sweet enough to melt butter graced Belle’s face. “Around one o’clock would be perfect.”
He slid his gaze to Auralie. “I shall look forward to it.” He replaced his hat and tugged on the brim. “Until later, ladies.” He nudged his horse into a canter.
“Belle…” Auralie lowered her voice to a growl.
“Don’t Belle me.” A smirk danced through Belle’s eyes. “What is this about lemonade?”
Chapter 9
I must be losing my mind.”
Colton muttered to himself all the way home. Whatever possessed him to accept Mrs. Hancock’s dinner invitation? True, she was a neighbor, but judging by the mischief that twinkled in her eyes and the way Miss Covington’s eyes widened like she was facing the gallows, he’d just stepped into something better left alone.
Images of Auralie Covington kept him awake half the night, and he’d adamantly instructed himself to remain aloof. Seeing her at church took him by surprise, and he berated himself for repeatedly looking her way. Now he could only surmise that his brain had taken a holiday. What was he thinking?
Was it proper to have accepted the invitation to the Hancock home since Lloyd was away? It wasn’t as if Mrs. Hancock was there alone, but he had a suspicion the invitation was more of a nudge to get to know Miss Covington rather than a neighborly gesture.
Barnabas met him in the yard by the barn as soon as he rode up. He took Jasper’s reins while Colton dismounted.
“Mistah Colton, you look like yo’ best frien’ just up and died. Don’ you know you s’posed to come home from church wi’ th’ joy o’ the Lawd in yo’ heart and on yo’ face?”
Colton hung his head. “I did something stupid.”
A soft snort reached his ears, and he looked up to find Barnabas rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Mistah Colton, yo’s a lot o’ things, but stupid ain’t one of ‘em.” He started to lead the horse into the barn.
“Don’t unsaddle him. Just give him some water and a little bit of hay.” Colton took off the preacher’s coat and folded it carefully over his arm. “I’ve been invited to Sunday dinner.”
Barnabas bobbed his head. “That be right nice.”
&nb
sp; “But I accepted the invitation.”
“I don’ understand.” Barnabas planted a hand on his hip. “Ain’t that what yo’s s’posed to do?”
Colton ran his hand over his forehead and pulled his hat off. “Well, yes. Normally it would be a very nice thing to do. But in this case, I’m having dinner with our neighbor, Mrs. Hancock, and her cousin, Miss Auralie Covington.”
Barnabas’s eyes crinkled into merriment. “Then I didn’ make no mistake. That be right nice.” He led the horse into the barn and tethered him.
“That depends on your perspective—how you look at it.” Colton shook his head. “Having dinner with Miss Covington is like smacking a hornet’s nest with a big stick.”
Barnabas dipped a bucketful of water for the horse and deposited a small mound of hay in front of him. “I agree wi’ you ‘bout one thing. Smackin’ a hornet’s nest sho’ be a stupid thing to do. But how can settin’ down to dinner wit’ a pretty lady be stupid?”
The two men walked side by side from the barn to the house. “She’s Shelby Covington’s daughter.” Stating what Barnabas already knew didn’t clear up the muddy water. Colton wasn’t sure he could put into words what he didn’t want to hear with his own ears, much less speak to another man.
“Barnabas, don’t you see? She comes from an important, powerful, wealthy family. Her father is running for governor, and I detest most of the things he stands for. She’s been raised in luxury and privilege. I was raised learning the value of hard work. I’m nothing but a farmer and shepherd.” He turned to face the man who once toiled as a slave for Auralie’s father. “I have forty acres of land that I sweat over with your help. Covington Plantation is nearly a thousand acres that uses over a hundred slaves to work. Sitting at dinner with the likes of Auralie Covington would be akin to tramping into the palace of Queen Victoria with muddy boots.”
Barnabas dipped his head and rubbed his stubbly chin. Colton never noticed before how gray Barnabas was getting. He’d never even thought to ask how old the man was or if he’d ever fallen in love or had a family. The realization pinched a nerve in Colton’s heart and shamed him.
“Mistah Colton, is you tryin’ to tell me you ain’t good enough to have dinner wi’ Miz Covington? ‘Cause that jus’ ain’t so. You is a man who loves God and always try to live in a way that please Him. You know what right and wrong, and you stand up fo’ it. You ain’t never hurt no one that I knows about. Yo’s honest an’ a man can trus’ what yo’ say.” Barnabas’s voice cracked. “An’ you save my life, Mistah Colton. Them overseers woulda killed me fo’ sho’ iffen I’d stayed there too much longer. You give me my freedom and dignity, lettin’ me work like a man oughta work, takin’ pride in what he do, an’ earnin’ his way in dis here world.” He shook his head. “No, Mistah Colton, I cain’t let you say you ain’t good enough. I’d go to fightin’ any man who say you ain’t good enough. You the bes’ man I evah know.”
In all the time Colton had known him, Barnabas had never made a speech before. Colton didn’t know what to say. He’d grown up with the encouragement of godly parents, and Pastor Winslow was as dear to him as anyone in this world. The old preacher taught him by example what it meant to have a servant’s heart. What Barnabas just said to him was exactly how he felt about Pastor Winslow.
His throat tightened, and he must have gotten something in his eye. Dust, no doubt.
He clapped his hand on Barnabas’s shoulder, holding it there for several long moments. The two men spoke without uttering a word.
Colton cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go freshen up.”
Barnabas took the preacher’s coat from Colton. He hung it on the peg and began brushing it meticulously. A smile creased Colton’s face.
Colton politely held Mrs. Hancock’s chair as his hostess was seated. “Thank you, again, for the invitation. It’s been a while since I sat at such a nice table.”
Miss Covington seated herself at the opposite side of the table, and Colton gritted his teeth at his inability to move quickly enough to hold her chair as well. Her soft smile made him catch his breath.
She reminded him of a cameo brooch that belonged to his mother. He used to stare at it when he was little boy, thinking the lady whose ivory profile appeared there surely must be the most beautiful woman in the world, next to his mother, of course. Manhood had changed his perspective, and Auralie Covington now rivaled every other woman he envisioned, including the woman on his mother’s cameo brooch.
The black woman Mrs. Hancock called Maizie set bowls of savory vegetables and a platter of succulent roast beef on the table. Miss Covington’s mammy carried a tureen heaped with mashed potatoes and a pitcher of gravy and set them near the head of the table, while a man called Sam filled the glasses.
“Mr. Danfield, will you please ask the blessing?”
Colton smiled. “It would be my honor.” He bowed his head and lifted his voice to the throne room of God, asking special favor on this house and those who lived under its roof and the hands that labored to prepare the meal. Finally, he asked God to bless the food to nourish and strengthen them, thanking God for His provision, mercy, and grace.
When they said amen and raised their heads, Colton caught a glimpse of Miss Covington’s wide brown eyes reflecting wonder. Didn’t she think he knew how to pray?
As they passed the dishes and platters, Colton turned to his hostess. “What do you hear from Lloyd?”
While Mrs. Hancock recounted Lloyd’s last letter, Colton forced himself to pay attention to his hostess’s report, but the sweet distraction sitting across from him tested his willpower. “It sounds as if he has made an impression on the senior heads of the firm in Atlanta. You must be very proud of him.”
“Oh, I am. But I miss him terribly.” Mrs. Hancock took a sip from her glass. “I’m hoping he can come home before—” She cleared her throat. “Before too long.”
Colton took a deep breath. Barnabas declared him “good enough” to sit at dinner with Miss Covington. The least he should do is include her in the conversation. “Miss Covington, it’s so good of you to keep your cousin company while Lloyd is away.”
She’d done little more than push the food around on her plate. Was she uncomfortable with him sitting across from her? Perhaps she didn’t agree with Barnabas’s view. He gave himself a mental kick. He shouldn’t have come. He should have…
A smile filled her eyes when she looked up. “I am the one who is the beneficiary. I love it here. If I could, I’d stay indefinitely.”
Her statement surprised him. While the Hancocks weren’t poor by any means, they didn’t possess the wealth reflected on the Covington Plantation. She picked up the basket of biscuits and handed it to Colton.
“I was walking in the meadow the other day, watching the lambs in your pasture.” A charming expression lit her eyes. “They’re so adorable.”
“You must come over and get a closer look at them some time.” The invitation fell out of his mouth before he could snatch it back.
“Perhaps.”
Change the subject, you fool. “Have you and your cousin always been close?”
Mrs. Hancock managed a mischievous grin, but Miss Covington responded with a look of exasperation. “Yes, but my cousin can be a terrible tease at times.”
Mrs. Hancock’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, but we laugh a lot.”
The very idea of laughing with Auralie Covington filled Colton with a notion of such pleasure he dared not try to define it.
Auralie stood beside Belle at the front door and watched Colton Danfield ride off toward his house. Misgivings disturbed her better judgment when she admitted—albeit only to herself—that she’d enjoyed the time spent with Mr. Danfield.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Belle closed the door and arched her eyebrows at Auralie.
“Belle…” Auralie brushed her hand across her forehead. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m engaged to be married.”
“To a man you don’t love and did
n’t choose.” Belle looped her arm through Auralie’s as they walked away from the door. “And the engagement hasn’t been formally announced yet, so it’s perfectly proper to have a simple meal with a neighbor in the presence of a chaperone.” She waved her fingers in a swooping motion at herself, indicating her presence ensured the afternoon had been completely appropriate. “All I’m trying to do is make you visualize how it could be if you were to do your own choosing.”
A sigh, festered on despair, rose into Auralie’s throat. “But that privilege has been taken away from me.”
Belle gave a soft snort. “Whatever happened to my feisty cousin who dared to dream about the impossible? Think about it, Auralie. What’s the worst that can happen if you refuse to marry Perry Bolden?”
Refuse? The word smacked Auralie in the face. The very idea of refusing her father’s demands sent a shudder through her.
Belle stifled a yawn. “While you’re thinking about it, I’m going upstairs to take a nap. Care to do likewise?”
“No thanks.” Auralie gave her cousin a quick hug. She couldn’t very well blame Belle for meddling when all she’d done was invite a neighbor to dinner. “You know, you’ve always been more like a sister to me than a cousin.”
“I know. And you got me in trouble more times than I can count when we were children.” A wicked gleam glittered in Belle’s eye. “That’s why I can get away with playing matchmaker.” She giggled and headed for the stairs.
“Belle!”
Auralie shook her head. Belle meant no harm, and truth be told, she loved her cousin for what she was trying to do. But stirring up desires she’d buried long ago was a dangerous thing when her father was involved.
She headed for her favorite rocker on the side porch and curled up. Once comfortable, she realized she’d forgotten to bring the copy of Wuthering Heights with her, and she didn’t feel like going back into the house after it. She snuggled into the cushions and laid her head back. Without anything to read, her mind lay vulnerable to imaginings.
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