by Danni Roan
“Thank you.” He grinned at the pretty woman and pulled out a seat at the table. The past few days he’d found it surprisingly enjoyable having breakfast with the young housekeeper. They both seemed to be early risers and were usually up first.
Rebecca placed a cup of coffee on the table, returning to the stove to start frying the sausage.
“I was wondering if I might escort you to church this morning.” Grady finally spoke after several long moments. “I mean since your new and all. It’s a little awkward being the new person somewhere.”
“That’s very kind,” Rebecca replied. “I think I’d like that.” She continued moving the sausages around in the pan until they started to sizzle.
“Mmm, it smells heavenly out here,” Sarah said, swishing into the room and peeking at the frying pan. “I’ll set the table,” she offered.
“Ms. Sarah,” Grady greeted.
“Morning, Grady,” Sara returned. “What were you two talking about?”
“Church.” He turned his brown eyes to Rebecca.
“Oh, that reminds me. I thought a picnic would be nice today," Sara suggested, placing five plates on the table. "The weather’s getting so nice and we can take our time and enjoy a real day of rest.” Sara sounded delighted.
“I could fry up some chicken,” Rebecca offered, furrowing her brow.
“No, no, no. That will not do. You are not going to work harder on a Sunday. We’ll just make some sandwiches with the leftover roast from yesterday and take cold pickles or boiled eggs.”
“I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the oven. We can take a few of those as well.” Rebecca was surprised at how much she was looking forward to an outdoor meal. At home, even picnics seemed formal.
With breakfast over and the cinnamon rolls cooling on the shelf, Rebecca returned to her room, looking around her at the pretty wallpaper and furnishings as she thought of her family. It would be odd going to services without any or her own kin.
“Rafe,” she could hear Sara’s voice as her new friend moved further down the hall. “… aren’t you up yet?”
Rebecca smiled, her melancholy mood evaporating like mist before the morning sun. Seeing two people so much in love and so compatible would make anyone smile. Rafe had been up at the break of dawn each day, grabbing a quick breakfast and heading to the ranch before the sun was fully up, but today he was relishing a chance to sleep in.
When he and Sara had first arrived, Rafe had generously offered to milk the cow, but Sara had shot that idea down with a quip that the cow would not appreciate his attention, so she and Sara shared that particular chore.
Quickly, Rebecca changed into one of her best dresses, a bright blue with a lace collar that complemented her eyes. She hoped that everyone would be welcoming.
***
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Grady Gatlin asked the pretty woman on his arm as they strolled toward the little white church with the red doors.
Along the street several other men, women and children were moving in the same direction, many carrying similar baskets to the one he had slung over one arm.
“The air is so fresh here,” Rebecca remarked. “So different than down south.”
Grady’s chuckle rumbled around them. “I have to admit I don’t miss the humidity of the south, though the winter was bitter. Mr. George insists I’ll adjust to the weather, though.”
Rebecca smiled. She could only imagine what it was like to arrive from Florida in the middle of winter. “What happened to the former teacher that you had to come in the middle of the school year?” she queried, the thought only now coming to mind.
“The former teacher had to return home as her father’s health had been failing. She did not feel her mother was equipped to manage on her own, so she left.”
“Was it hard adjusting?”
They walked a little further and she could see he was thinking of the best way to reply.
“Yes and no,” he offered, his dark brows rising and falling with his thoughts. “The children were sad to lose their former teacher, but they also were curious when I arrived.” He chuckled again.
“What?” she prompted.
“My first week I mostly taught them about life in Florida. We did geography of the south, since they had so many questions. Then Billy kept sneaking in. He’s not very happy if he can’t keep up with his brothers.”
Rebecca laughed and the sound washed over Grady like a cool breeze. “Is that why you let him come to school?”
“Partly. He’s precocious, but he’s also bright and interested, so why shouldn’t he come? Besides, his four brothers keep him in line.”
“Does he cause a lot of trouble?”
“I guess that depends on what you consider trouble.” A bright smile graced Grady’s face. “He’s an active little boy and at his age his attention span is a bit short. He also comes up with some real hum-dinger questions.”
At this point they reached the door of the church and Grady paused. “I’ll have to tell you about it later.” He grinned, pulling the door open and ushering her inside as he placed the basket on a table by the door.
The buzz of discussion filled the cozy sanctuary as Rebecca stepped inside. Women in their best dresses and men in suits or freshly laundered shirts and pants milled about, catching up with neighbors. She smiled when she saw Sara and Rafe already talking with her sisters and an older woman who must be their mother.
“Oh, hello,” a woman’s voice caught their attention, “who’ve you brought to us today, Grady?”
“This is Ms. Rebecca Carol. She’s looking after us all at the boarding house while Polly and George are away.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Mrs. Dalton, the pastor’s wife.” Mrs. Dalton’s smile was warm and bright even as her hazel eyes were curious. “When did you arrive?”
“I arrived on the afternoon train this Tuesday,” Rebecca replied.
“And you’re already in charge of guests, how efficient.” Again, Mrs. Dalton smiled. “Have you had experience with this sort of thing before?”
“Not exactly,” Rebecca answered cautiously. “I helped my sister in a children’s home for a while, so I'm not uncomfortable with cooking and cleaning.”
“Oh, there’s Mr. Dalton now, we’d better take a seat. I’d love to catch up with you soon and please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” Her sweet smile was her final greeting as she turned and hurried toward the front pew, as others settled as well.
“Shall we?” Grady gestured with his hand toward a pew behind Sara and Rafe.
Music from a tinny piano soon filled the chapel and everyone stood to sing, lifting their voices boldly toward heaven. Rebecca smiled as even the children stood on pews and sang loudly with their parents.
Soon they were settled once more on the hard bench seats as Pastor Dalton stood, opening a large, black Bible that took up nearly all of his small podium. Rebecca leaned forward, wondering what words would come and how the portly man would deliver them.
Would he be a Bible thumper, a rousing speaker, a hell fire and brimstone preacher? Her heart seemed to tip toward the quiet man whose bright eyes looked over his congregation with love.
“Today’s reading is from Proverbs 3:5 and 6.” The man’s voice was soft but resonant in the hushed space. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge him and he will direct your path.”
The verse was familiar, a simple directive to have faith. Rebecca squirmed on her seat. She knew her faith had never been strong enough. The pastor’s words continued though as he spoke of God’s plan.
“We must come to the place in our lives that it is enough to simply trust in God,” he said, smiling down at those closest to him. “Now let the children go to their Sunday School while we continue.”
A general hustle and bustle ensued while the children eagerly sprang from seats where they had been quietly confined and moved toward the door. Apparently, Sunday School would tak
e place outside today.
The sermon seemed to whiz by in a matter of minutes as the pastor spoke of God’s perfect plan. Rebecca felt herself stiffen each time the pastor’s eyes fell on her. If only she had been strong, if only she had the faith of Peter, perhaps her ministry would not have ended.
Soon she was standing once more next to Grady as his deep voice lifted in song. He smiled down at her brightly. Obviously, his heart was pure, for he seemed to show no trace of doubt or shame.
As the song came to a lilting halt, the pastor raised his voice once more. “Now let’s all welcome our newest member of Biders Clump,” he said, smiling as he lifted a hand in her direction. “Ms. Rebecca Carol has joined us to care and minister at the boarding house. We’re mighty glad to have you, Ms. Rebecca.”
A general murmur of welcome joined Pastor Dalton’s voice as all heads turned toward her. Rebecca dropped her eyes, embarrassed by the attention and Grady Gatlin chuckled. “There’s no escaping notice in a small town,” he whispered, offering her his arm.
Stepping into the aisle along with the big man, she was swarmed by well-wishers, her hand being shaken again and again by the men and women of the community.
“Did you know that Rebecca was a missionary?” a woman’s voice offered brightly. “Yes, Sarah told me all about it.”
Rebecca looked up astonished as Priscilla Adams spoke, and she cringed.
“A missionary?” an older woman with a deep brown eye spoke, blinking up at Rebecca. “Oh my dear, you must have a strong heart to have gone so far from home.” Her words were kind and held no note of sensor. “I’ve read about so many of these brave men and woman traveling to foreign lands.”
Others around her echoed the sentiment but no one grimaced or berated her for having returned to her own country.
“I’m sure Ms. Carol will tell ya’ll about it very soon,” Grady’s voice rumbled next to her, “but for now I have a picnic basket waiting on me, so if you’ll excuse us,” he finished, pulling her along with him.
The cool air on her face seemed to renew Rebecca’s flagging spirits as they stepped from the church into a sunny afternoon.
“It’s mighty hard to get away when so many folks are curious about you,” the teacher said as he moved down the stairs and retrieved their basket. “Sometimes you just have to step away until you’re ready to sit and talk.”
“It is rather overwhelming,” Rebecca admitted.
“Just be prepared for all the nosey Nelly’s to drop by in the future. I’m sure Sara will be able to help run interference for you.” He grinned.
“What are you saying about me now, Mr. Gatlin?” Sara asked, moving up next to them.
“I was explaining how it’s natural that everyone will be interested in Rebecca and her past life.”
“Yes, they will,” Sara agreed as Rafe caught up. “That’s only natural, but I’ll try to help keep them from overwhelming you.” She smiled. “Oh look, there’s Mama. Shall we join her and your father, Rafe?”
“If you’d like,” Rafe said, smiling.
“Would you like to join us?” Sara asked the other woman. “If we’re lucky, Prissy will have packed the basket.”
Rebecca cut her eyes toward a sunny spot at the back of the church where an older couple was sitting, then back at Grady, “What do you think?”
“You’ll like Maud,” Grady said. “She’s pretty relaxed for a woman with three daughters.” His smile was teasing and put Rebecca at ease.
“Alright,” she finally agreed and turned to follow Sara toward her family.
“Oh, you must be Rebecca,” the older woman spoke as they approached a large, brightly colored quilt spread out on the ground. “I’m Maud Adams,” she offered. “Please forgive me if I don’t get up. I find picnics pleasant, but once I’m settled it is best I stay that way.”
“What are you grumbling about, Maud?”
“Don’t you be sassing me, Harlan Dixon,” Maud replied as the older man approached with a large basket.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Maudlee,” the man said with a smile. “I’m Harlan, by the way,” he continued, “you already know my son, I believe.” He nodded his head toward Rafe, making Rebecca smile. She could easily see the resemblance in the two men, though Harlan was a little shorter and thicker.
“Pleased to meet you,” she offered, looking at the two older people whom she’d mistaken as a couple.
“We’re just about ready to eat. Please join us, you too, Grady,” Maud offered. “And we have plenty. Prissy was cooking all day yesterday,” she added, shaking her head.
“Where is Prissy, anyway?” Sara asked, settling next to the blanket and helping to unpack the fried chicken, pickled eggs, cheese, and potato salad.
“Probably talking to that young man about food,” Maud said, shaking her head.
“There you are, Mama.” Aquila joined them, leading Cam by the hand. “I’m starving.”
Maud smiled brightly at her oldest daughter, a soft light in her eyes. “We might as well settle down and get started. Prissy can join us when she’s ready.”
Moments later, everyone held plates of delectable food in their hands as they bantered over their meal.
Rebecca smiled at the way Harlan seemed to revel in tweaking Maud about little things, making the woman offer her own retort time and again. They were obviously old friends.
She was surprised to find just how hungry she was as she bit into a piece of perfectly seasoned fried chicken.
“Oh, we have guests.” Prissy’s voice made them all turn. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought Mr. Rupert along. He always has to eat at the Grist Mill and I thought it would be nice to share a home-cooked meal with him.”
“’Ello,” a slim young man with dark blonde hair offered. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance; I’ll just run along to the restaurant and fix myself a sandwich.” His words were brisk and clipped with the distinctive tones of an Englishman.
“Nonsense,” Prissy said, placing her hands on her plump hips, “we have more than enough, don’t we mother.” Her green eyes swung to Maud, who nodded. “See I told you.”
Prissy plopped down next to the blanket, waving for the young man to do the same. “You’re always cooped up in that kitchen baking and baking. Some days you have to get outside and enjoy some real food.”
“I’m much obliged,” Rupert offered. “It is a lovely day isn’t it?” He gazed around him as if surprised by the bright sun, cool breeze and lovely scenery.
“Sit down,” Prissy called, taking up a plate and adding items to it.
“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, lowering himself to the ground awkwardly. “Lots of people out today aren’t there.” He took the plate distractedly.
“Rupert Rutherford, I’d like you to meet Ms. Rebecca Carol,” Prissy offered, indicating Rebecca where she sat with her own plate on her lap. “Rupert is the baker at the Grist Mill,” she continued, “you had some of his treats with tea the other day.”
“You take tea?” Rupert asked, looking more closely at Rebecca.
“Not in the sense you mean, I believe,” she replied. “Prissy is referring to our impromptu get together at the boarding house a few mornings ago.”
“Oh, I see,” the young man answered, again looking about distractedly. “Lovely day isn’t it.”
Beside her Grady winked, making Rebecca smile. It seemed that Mr. Rupert Rutherford was not accustomed to eating outdoors.
“Quil didn’t like your blackberry tarts,” Prissy wrinkled her nose, making her point.
“What!” the man’s blonde head whipped around, his blue eyes focusing on Aquila where she sat next to Cameron. “What was wrong with them?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. “I assure you I use the best ingredients available.”
“There was nothing wrong with them,” Cameron spoke, sparing his wife from trying to answer around the large bit of drumstick she’d just torn form a leg. “I ate it and it was very tasty.”
“I think it was
Prissy’s jam, anyway,” Quil finally answered after swallowing her food. “I tried it on biscuits yesterday morning and it made me ill.”
“There is nothing wrong with my jam,” Prissy bristled. “Everyone loves my jam. Your taster is broken, that’s the real problem.”
Maud Adams chuckled softly, her green gaze falling on her daughters. “I’m sure your jam is fine, Prissy,” she began. “Quil seems to be rather sensitive to certain foods just now, that’s all.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Rupert offered, “that must be distressing. This chicken is delicious though. Fried chicken is a distinctly American delight.” He nodded once, then took another bite of his food.
“How are you settling in at the boarding house, dear?” Maud asked, turning her attention back to Rebecca. “I hope you aren’t working too hard.” She shot a glance at Sara, who was leaning on Rafe as she picked food from his plate.
“No ma’am,” Rebecca assured her, “Sara and I are getting on fine and the housework isn’t difficult at all with so few of us in the house.”
“Prissy, didn’t you say that Ms. Rebecca was a missionary or some such?” Harlan interjected, looking at Rebecca for confirmation.
“I was, and please call me Becky,” Rebecca offered. “I went out to Panama to help my sister and her husband in a children’s home there.”
“That must have been hard work,” Maud offered.
“Yes, but also rewarding. So many of the children arrived sick and undernourished. We did our best to help them recuperate and grow strong.” Again, she dropped her eyes expecting some comment or question on why she’d come back to the States, or why she wasn’t still there, but it did not come.
“Perhaps one day you’ll talk about it to the congregation and we can all help out in some small way.”
Maud’s words caught Rebecca by surprise. Back in Chicago, her congregation had looked at her as a failure for not staying in Panama. That, coupled with her mother’s harsh criticisms, had prompted Rebecca to place the ad in Ms. Merkel’s paper.
“Oh, are those cinnamon rolls?” Prissy’s question drew everyone’s eyes.
“Yes, Rebecca made them this morning.” Sara answered. “They’re wonderful,” she added, offering the plate of the spiraled bread round.
