Bachelor's Puzzle (31 page)

“A publican?” he asked.

“You know—” When he gave her a censorious look, she finished without further question. “He was a tax collector, not a popular person back then and regarded by all as a sinner.”

“Then what happened?”

“Zacchaeus was thrilled to have Jesus in his home. His heart was touched and he repented of his evil ways, giving half of his wealth to the poor and restoring to those he had cheated in his taxing. And Jesus forgave him.”

“Just like that, Jesus forgave this man who was obviously a lowlife type?”

“Of course, Reverend. That’s what God’s love is all about, isn’t it?I’m’m not certain of the exact reference, but I know it says in the Bible that Christ came not to call the righteous but to call sinners to repentance. But, Reverend, you know all this.”

There was distress in her tone. I t would be quite vexing to someone like her if her minister fell from faith. He winced inwardly as she used
Reverend
again, though seeing her distress he didn’t have the heart to correct her. Suddenly he had never appreciated his own name more and longed to hear it from the lips of others. Even Zacchaeus would have been preferred over that title of Reverend or the name stolen from a dead man.

“Yes, of course,” he lied. “But even a minister needs to be reminded of these things now and again.”

She took his hand in hers and turned her gaze so that he had no choice but to look into her eyes. After only a moment he was desperate to look away. He could not bear that look of caring and genuine tenderness. Yet at the same time he was so mesmerized by the depth of those blue eyes that he felt glued in place.

Then she said, “I would pray with you . . . William.”

Hearing her say that name sickened him. I t was worse than when she called him Reverend, because she was now doing it to please him, despite that it made her uncomfortable.

A voice in his mind cried,
Run! Run! Run!

But he didn’t run. He wasn’t sure his legs would have carried him anyway. He sat there and let her pray, trying with what will he had left to shut out her sweet petition to God.

TWENTY - SIX

Shortly after Tom’s funeral the sheriff came to Maintown. He was not alone. The Methodist circuit minister, Joshua Barnett, accompanied him. While the sheriff went to the mill to speak with Calvin, the minister stayed at the house to visit with Zack, who began to feel like Daniel in the lions’ den, a Bible story he did happen to know.

Ada served them tea in the parlor, and Zack tried to get her and the girls to remain, but Ada declined.

“I’m sure you men would like some time to yourselves to talk about your work.” She and the girls left him alone with the minister.

Barnett had some books that he handed to Zack. “I heard about the fire and thought you might like some reference books to replace yours. I can spare these as long as you need them, my boy.” Barnett was a good twenty years older than Zack. He was tall and hefty but appeared fit, for the rigors of riding a circuit could not help but keep a man’s physique sound. His head was balding, and the hair that remained rimmed a large bald spot like a monk’s tonsure. I t was black, streaked liberally with gray. He wore wire-rimmed glasses over pleasant blue eyes and generally seemed a good-natured sort.

“Thank you very much,” Zack said, taking the books and seeing with a quick perusal that none were books of sermons. Maybe they would offer him some help anyway.

“I have been wanting to meet you, Reverend L ocklin,” Barnett said. “But you know how our work keeps us busy.I’m’m sorry it was this tragedy that finally got me to be neighborly.”

“I understand completely,” Zack replied. “I, too, have wanted to meet you and the other pastors. But, alas, time does get away from us.”

“How are you holding up, my boy? Many an older, more experienced man would be hard-pressed to find the inner resources to deal with such difficult events.”

“Well . . . ah . . . trusting God helps.” For some odd reason, when Zack had first come here, spouting religious verbiage had come more easily than it did lately. Now, when such words should flow after much usage, they had begun to stick in his throat. Today, however, he would have to put on his best performance, for if anyone was going to see through his ruse, it surely would be a man of God.

“Well, Reverend L ocklin, you must feel free to come to me if you need assistance.”

“That is kind of you, but you know what the Bible says— God helps those who help themselves.”

Barnett smiled quickly; then that was replaced by a perplexed expression. Zack feared he had somehow offended the man.

Finally Barnett said, “Many use that reference, but it is not truly in the Bible, of course.”

Zack grimaced. He was in trouble now. Surely the man didn’t expect him to have read and studied every word in the Bible. Zack decided to be frank. “I didn’t know that.”

“A common mistake of lay folk.”

Zack waited for the man to point an accusing finger. I nstead he went on in a patient tone.

“I am afraid I part with the commonly held notions about self-reliance. The Bible does say, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ ”

Zack braced himself for what he’d feared most—a theological debate with a real man of God. Hoping to nip this in the bud, he nodded and said dismissively, “Yes, of course, Pastor.” Then he quickly added, “In any case, my losses were the least of any here, Reverend Barnett, but I do appreciate your offer.”

“May I change the subject, then?”

“Of course.” Zack swallowed. Now what? he thought, unable to feel any sense of reprieve.

“I must ask you about Robert Markus.”

Zack nearly dropped Ada’s fine teacup. Was that man going to ever haunt him?

“Ah, dear Pastor Markus,” Zack said, trying to mask his apprehension.

“You knew him well, then?” asked Barnett.

That little
Run! Run! Run!
alarm began sounding in Zack’s mind. The minister’s seemingly innocent question had the sound of a trap.

“I served in his church in Boston for a time,” Zack responded as evasively as he could.

“I had the honor of attending one of his tent meetings,” Barnett said, “in his younger days, before he went to Boston. You must know, of course, that he started out a Methodist.”

“Of course.” Zack paused, waiting for the trap to snap shut on him. But it didn’t. Barnett just nodded in response.

Zack relaxed a little. He’d passed the hardest test of all with flying colors. But he didn’t let down his guard, especially when Ada invited Barnett to stay for lunch. There were only a few more difficult patches during the meal, but Ada saved him when she asked about folks she knew in Barnett’s church and got the conversation turned to news and gossip about locals. Barnett had to leave right after the midday meal because he had an evening service in St. Helens. Before going, he suggested that the local denominations get together later in the summer for a camp meeting. Zack heartily approved of the idea and offered his help in the planning, knowing that he’d be gone before it ever happened. Probably.

Maggie was nervous the entire time the sheriff was there and continued to worry even after he went to find Dad. Oddly, William seemed every bit as nervous as she was, though she had a feeling it had more to do with Reverend Barnett’s visit than the sheriff ’s. He had turned white when the man had introduced himself as a fellow minister. She wondered about that as she did her chores that afternoon but didn’t know what to make of it. She was more worried about her own problems.

Though the sheriff showed absolutely no interest at all in Maggie, she was in a cold sweat the entire time he remained at the house. She was certain if her parents knew she was withholding important information, they would be upset. She felt like a liar, though she had said nothing at all. Twice she almost blurted out what she knew to the sheriff but then thought of poor Tommy and how it could ruin his life. That sealed her silence. She prayed Tommy was long gone, then hoped it was okay to pray such a prayer if Tommy had indeed shot his father.

At supper Dad talked about the sheriff ’s visit. He’d taken off work at the mill in order to show the sheriff the place where they’d found Tom’s body. He also went with the man to question Mrs. Donnelly. None of this investigating had yielded anything new. The sheriff drew the obvious conclusion: Tommy had shot his father, probably accidentally, and had run away out of fear. The sheriff would send out a bulletin to other constables in the county to be on the lookout for Tommy and to take him into custody for questioning if they found him. No one was anxious to accuse a seventeen-year-old boy of murder.

Maggie should have been comforted that it appeared the matter would simply fade away. But still she could not sleep that night or the next, haunted by terrible dreams when she did manage to nod off for brief moments. No wonder she was cranky and out of sorts the next couple of days. No wonder she reacted as she did when she looked out the kitchen window and saw William talking to Ellie in the garden.

She had seen the two of them together an awful lot since he had come to stay with them. What was going on? Had Ellie changed her mind yet again about William? And Mama seemed to be conspiring in their favor. She was letting Ellie shirk her chores while piling more and more work on Maggie.

If that wasn’t enough, Mama constantly sent Maggie up to Mrs. Donnelly’s house with food or merely to check on the woman. Most of the time there was someone from the Sewing Circle there to keep the grieving widow company and take care of the household chores, but Mama wanted Maggie to help with the outdoor chores—feeding the chickens, milking the cows, weeding the garden, things that Jane or Tommy would have normally done. Jane wasn’t doing any chores now. She merely sat in a rocking chair with sewing in her hands, never putting a single stitch into it. Sometimes the ladies would get her to talk for a bit, but usually after a few words she’d lapse into silence and stare into space.

Mama said Maggie’s presence might be a comfort to the woman because she’d been Tommy’s only friend. But Maggie feared the time would come when it might occur to Mrs. Don-nelly to ask her what she and her son had talked about. Maggie didn’t know if she’d be able to lie to Mrs. Donnelly, even though she thought the woman would be better off not knowing.

All this weighed on Maggie, and she knew it was petty to be thinking of romance at a time like this when people were suffering serious hurts. But she couldn’t help it. She felt terribly put upon. Whether on purpose or not, Mama was favoring Ellie, just because she was older and more of a lady. Ellie could just as easily feed the Donnelly chickens, though, of course, she didn’t even feed the Newcomb chickens these days. The only outside task she did was the gardening, and that was because she liked it. She did the sewing, the mending, the cooking, and the housecleaning.

Maggie hated those chores, but she knew very well no one cared about that.If Mama thought she was old enough to marry, she might take Maggie’s training in these matters more seriously. Maggie had forgotten her frequent declarations that she wasn’t about to marry for many years. She forgot that until recently she used to jump at the chance to clean the hen house rather than cook or sew.

What was happening to her?

She only knew that as she watched William and Ellie laugh together, it set her teeth on edge.

“Maggie, aren’t those potatoes done yet?” Mama asked.

Suddenly Maggie realized she was helping cook supper, a job she’d just told herself that only Ellie did. Well, of course I have to peel potatoes! Who else is going to do it if Queen Ellie is off wooing Prince Charming?

She gritted her teeth during supper but nearly lost all control of her temper when she thought she saw Ellie and William exchange a covert glance, like sweethearts with a secret. William had kissed Maggie. Did it mean nothing to him? Did he take her no more seriously than anyone else? Everyone would see her much differently if she was married. She now knew it had been foolish of her to think she ought to wait. Only married women, or those who were close to marrying like Ellie, were of any consequence.

She decided that after supper she would approach William and get the truth from him. Was he courting Ellie or not? But while Mama was serving cake, Elisha Cook came to the house asking for William. Mrs. Cook didn’t have long to live and could the reverend come pray over her? Mama didn’t think it would be good for William’s foot to ride so far, but the reverend did not even hesitate. He left immediately.

Maggie had another sleepless night.

The next morning Mama and Ellie were busy setting up the quilt frame in the front yard. The Sewing Circle was coming to meet at the house. Mama hoped it would get Mrs. Donnelly out of her house for a time and get everyone back to some comfortable normal activities.

Maggie saw William stride out the kitchen door, so she hurried after him. He’d come in late last night, long after she’d gone to bed, though she had been awake and had heard his footsteps as he climbed the steps and strode down the hall, still with a slight limp, to Georgie’s room. She’d thought about catching him then, but there was too much risk of waking Ellie or the others. I n any case, if he was now headed back to the Cooks’ or on some other errand, she could not bear to wait another day before talking to him. Besides, she had put on a dress in preparation.

He was indeed heading toward the barn. She jogged toward him, then slowed to a more sedate pace when she was near.

“Are you planning to go out today?” she asked.

“Yes, I was.”

“Are you sure you ought to? Mama didn’t think you should be riding.”

“I had no problem riding out to the Cooks’,” he said. “My foot is much improved.”

She thought he was a bit defensive, but perhaps he had a right to be, since it did sound as if she was interrogating him.

Changing her tone, she said, “I—we’re all worried about you, William.”

“I know.” He smiled.

It gave her courage to go on. “William, before you go, can we talk a moment?”