Bachelor's Puzzle (22 page)

His brow arched with surprise. “Don’t you think I’m a good minister, Maggie?”

“Oh no! That’s not what I’m’m saying at all. You are a very good minister. I t’s just that . . .” She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. She couldn’t very well tell him that she intended to marry him and it would be more to her liking if he was in some other occupation. However, that thought forced her to question her own motives. She wanted to marry the man to win a competition, not because she loved him. On the other hand, she could very easily love him. She was almost certain that if she could kiss him, she’d know if she could fall in love with him. In the moment of silence that descended while he waited for her to finish, she cocked an ear to listen for Georgie. She could hear nothing. He had probably wandered off far enough.

She made an impulsive lunge toward the minister, knocking her fishing pole askew as she did so. She threw an arm around him and bumped her lips so hard against his, one of her teeth bruised her lip. When the awkward maneuver was over, she knew it had to have been the worst kiss in the world.

He was staring at her, shocked. “What was that, Maggie?”

“Don’t you know?” Embarrassed by her stupid ineptitude, she focused her attention on straightening out the pole.

“Come here,” he said gently and firmly.

Her eyes shot up in surprise, and her heart started thudding loudly inside her. He reached out an arm, encircling her and drawing her near. Her eyes widened with awe as he nudged her closer until their lips were only an inch apart.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

She clamped her eyes shut and held her breath at the same time. Then his lips touched hers. Her heart raced now, thud-thudding so that it echoed in her ears. She wondered if ministers were supposed to know how to kiss so well.

He held her a moment longer than the kiss lasted. She ventured to open one of her eyes a crack and saw his were open, too. He was smiling.

“That’s how it’s done,” he said. There was good-natured mocking in his tone, but Maggie could see a look in his eyes that said he was going to kiss her again. He leaned toward her.

Then came Georgie’s yell. “Hey, I found it!” A loud rustle of the brush followed. He had been closer than she’d thought.

William backed away, but he was still smiling. She was astonished there was no guilt or apology in his expression. She would have thought a minister would be more repentant of such behavior, but she was glad he wasn’t. Maybe it would be easier than she thought to get him into another line of work.

Shortly thereafter they headed for home, leaving William at the Copelands’ before going on to their place.

As they were tending their horses in the barn, Georgie said, “Hey, Mags, why’d you kiss the minister?”

Maggie nearly dropped the saddle she was carrying to the rack. “Why, you little brat! You were spying on us!”

“It was just an accident,” he said defensively. “Are you sweet on Reverend Locklin?”

Desperately, Maggie replied, “Listen here, Georgie, you mustn’t ever tell anybody what you saw!”

“I don’t know . . . might be too important to keep such a secret from Mama and Dad.”

Maggie knew that must never happen. “You keep this quiet, and I ’ll . . .” She racked her brain for something really enticing. “I’ll do your arithmetic for a week.”

Georgie seemed to consider this. “The school term will be up soon. How ’bout if you do it till the end of the term?”

That was nearly three weeks, but Maggie thought it was worth it. She didn’t mind arithmetic as much as she did housework. “Okay.” She spit in her hand and held it out for him to shake and seal the bargain. When he grabbed her hand, she prayed he’d keep his word.

EIGHTEEN

What am I doing? Zack silently questioned himself as he sat at the desk in his room trying to focus on memorizing another sermon.

Kissing one sister while wanting to kiss the other? Acting as if he had a right to either sister?I f he weren’t a minister, neither of them would look twice at him. Well, perhaps Maggie would.

She was a firebrand, that one! But not straight-laced Ellie. Why, then, was it Ellie who filled his thoughts? And why, as he was kissing Maggie, had he wondered what Ellie would think?

Mrs. Copeland’s knock on the door was a welcome diversion, even if her reason was not.

“Reverend, you have a caller,” she announced.

He arched a brow. “Who might that be?” Please, not Maggie looking for another kiss!

“It’s Miss Mabel Parker.”

That was worse. “Can you give her my regrets? Tell her I am working on my sermon—”

“I tried, Reverend, but she said she’d only take a moment of your time.”

With a sigh he rose and followed Mrs. Copeland to the front parlor. Mabel was seated on the velvet settee. She was an attractive young woman. Nineteen, like Ellie, she was just as graceful and poised.

“ReverendL ocklin, I do hope you don’t mind a surprise visit,” she said politely.

Her graciousness lost something in the fact that it would have hardly mattered if he had minded. “Of course not,” he replied with just as little sincerity, “but I can only spare a few moments. I have a sermon to prepare.”

She picked up a package that was beside her on the settee. “These are the shirts my mother altered for you.”

He had nearly forgotten that he had given Mabel some shirts a few days ago when she had made yet another visit. Taking the package, he had no choice but to show his gratitude by sitting and visiting. He took the chintz chair adjacent to the settee.

“You may open the package,” she prompted.

He didn’t see the point, since they were just old clothes, but she probably wanted him to praise her mother’s work. He slipped the string from the package and folded back the paper. Inside were the two shirts he had sent to have the sleeves lengthened and the sides let out.L ying on top of them were some handkerchiefs that were not familiar. He picked up one, noting that embroidered in a corner was the monogram
WL
.

She smiled, batting her thick lashes. “My mother said a man can always use handkerchiefs.”

“Do send her my thanks,” he said. “I certainly can use them.”

“I did the embroidery.”

He looked again at the stitching. “Very nice!” he exclaimed, recalling that she had also made one of the fancy blocks on that quilt. When she continued to gaze expectantly at him, he decided she wanted him to offer more. “Your talents amaze me, Mabel.

I will think of you every time I use these.” Every time I blow my nose? He tried not to grin at the amusing thought.

They visited for a time, with Mabel doing most of the talking. She was articulate and engaging. Yes, this girl would probably have made William Locklin a wonderful wife.

Mabel wasn’t his only female caller in the next couple of days.I ris Fergus came with another dish of cookies, and she, too, engaged him in a brief visit. But her conversation was rather artless and boisterous, reminding Zack of a female mule driver he’d once known.

Sarah Stoddard came to call on Saturday, bringing a frosted apple cake. He happened to answer the door when she knocked, and he thought she looked as if she’d been praying he would not be home. Her cheeks turned pink and remained so during the entire visit, a painful fifteen minutes. As with their previous encounters, he had to propel the entire conversation and practically drag responses from her. Anything she did say was fumbled. He had the distinct impression she was not here of her own volition. Doubtless her mother had put the cake in her hand and shoved her out the door.

Upon consideration of these visits he could comfort himself with one fact. He’d had no desire at all to kiss any of these young women. Perhaps he wasn’t as degenerate as he’d feared.I t wasn’t all the young women of Maintown who stirred him—only two. Peculiar, yes, but still a comfort.

On Sunday, the fourth Sunday in June and his second to preach in Maintown, Zack dressed in the black broadcloth suit Ada Newcomb had altered.I t fit perfectly, and he could almost forget who he really was. He had visions of hiding in this safe little enclave for many years. The thought did not make his feet feel itchy at all.

What, indeed, was happening to him?

He walked into the schoolhouse to find it full once again. He was especially pleased to see that Tommy Donnelly had come again.I t bolstered his confidence that the altercation with the boy’s father had indeed done some good.

Zack preached on the topic of forgiveness, embellishing the good Reverend Markus’s words with his own personal take on the subject and making a veiled reference to the fight with Donnelly. He had intended to admit his mistake, mostly by way of appeasing Ellie, but upon seeing Tommy in church, he decided that getting on Ellie’s good side was not worth admitting to a mistake that had turned out well.I nstead, he used a reference he had come across in Markus’s book: “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose.” He’d been very pleased to find a bit of Scripture that reinforced his position.

Again, everyone praised his sermon and clapped him on the back afterward. He could not help thinking that years of drifting and bouncing from one occupation to another had not brought him as much satisfaction and approbation as one month of pretending to be a preacher.

Ellie managed to slip past him while he was engaged with several others of his congregation. She was the only one who didn’t make an attempt to shake his hand after the service. Maggie, on the contrary, nearly wrenched his hand from his arm as she pumped it up and down, a grin plastered on her face. He hoped she had the sense to keep quiet about what happened at the pond, but at the rate she was going, everyone was going to guess something was up between them regardless of her silence.

On this particular Sunday the ladies of the church had organized a covered-dish dinner. Because it was a beautiful afternoon, trestle tables were set up in the school yard. One table was laden with a dizzying variety of foods: hot dishes, breads, pies, cakes, and gallons of punch. Zack was directed to take the first place in line, and he made no argument, piling his dish high. He sat at one of the other tables and was soon joined by what was coming to be his usual entourage of young women.

He groaned inwardly. But he also knew he could have probably put a stop to the feminine barrage by simply inventing a fiancée back East who planned to join him soon. He guessed he didn’t disdain all the attention that much after all. Besides, he reasoned, keeping the young women distracted with visions of romance would prevent them from paying close attention to the flaws in his performance.

As usual, the glaring absence from the table was Ellie New-comb. She was sitting at another table with Colby Stoddard.

Zack pretended not to notice.

When the meal was finished, the women cleared away the dishes and several of the men set up a game of horseshoes. Zack joined them.

“Say, Reverend,” Calvin said after tossing a perfect ringer, “the board of deacons is going to meet Wednesday, and we were hoping you’d join us.”

“Be happy to,” Zack said as he took his turn.

“We’ll meet at the school after supper.”

Zack nodded, thinking little of it. He had no idea if it was usual for the pastor to join the deacons’ meetings or not. He aimed his horseshoe and tossed, but it went wide of the stake.

He cursed—just an innocent “Shoot!” but apparently the folks of Maintown did not think that appropriate language for their pastor. The word was met by a perceptible silence. I t was more surprise than judgment, though a couple of women who were nearby did respond with censoriously raised brows.

With a lame smile, Zack apologized with a simple, “I’m sorry.” He decided he’d only make it worse if he tried to say more. The game resumed, and he was more careful after that. And, though being so careful took some of the fun from it, he stuck with the game as long as it lasted because it kept him in the safer company of the men. He noted some of the girls looking over at the game, Maggie in particular. He should avoid her as much as avoiding cursing.

Maggie was just about to walk over and join the horseshoe players. She knew they’d never let her play, since the men seemed to think it was solely their game. But she was as good or better than many of them. So despite the fact she knew they’d reject her, she would try just to needle them.

Then her mother called. “Maggie, come and join us.”

The women had cleaned up the food and the dishes and now were seated on quilts spread over the grass. Most had sewing in hand. Ellie, Mabel, and the other girls who aspired to matronly pursuits were with them, as well. Maggie would have rather joined the young kids who were running around the school yard engaged in a game of tag. But she reminded herself that she, too, was now seeking a husband, and that very person had turned when her name had been called and was watching.

William might be a lot more fun than most preachers, but it was a sure bet he’d not appreciate a girl who ran around with the kids. Thus Maggie made herself walk to the quilts. She plopped down beside her mother and tried to look happy about it.

Her mother arched a brow at Maggie’s unladylike manner but probably chose to remain silent considering that it was enough she had come at all.

“Why don’t you help me with some of these Flying Geese?” Mama suggested. She had already cut a bunch of triangle shapes out of fabric. The larger center triangles were cut from a variety of colorful scraps, while the right-angle triangles, the sky, which would go on each side of the center geese, were of muslin.

“I’ll just mess them up for you, Mama,” Maggie replied.

“You’ll do just fine.” She handed Maggie a couple sets of triangles, a needle, an extra thimble, and thread.

Maggie took them because she saw some of the ladies were watching and thought it would embarrass her mother if she sneered at sewing. Normally she wasn’t so sensitive to her mother’s feelings, but maybe it was time she ought to be. She was no longer a child. Someday, maybe sooner than she wanted to think, she would have to be a part of the group of women.