Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  She bit her lower lip. “I understand. Forgive me for bothering you.”

  “You’re no bother at all. I’d be pleased to meet with you tomorrow afternoon. Can you come to the parsonage at one o’clock?”

  The hour he named was her busiest time. As soon as Jenny finished with the noon meal, Cassie had to get pies in the oven for the customers in the grocery. She knew she could manage the bakery with Becca’s help, but wondered how she’d explain her absence without raising the young woman’s hopes.

  She considered his request for less than a moment. “Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you.”

  Now she had to tell Jacob of her planned absence from the kitchen. She blew out a long sigh. Lately all of her actions turned into knotted balls of yarn.

  Lifting her rose chintz skirt above the narrow toes of her Sunday shoes, she crossed the lawn to Jacob’s side and blurted out her news. “I’m meeting with Reverend French tomorrow at one. Becca can take care of the baking for an hour or so.”

  “Shouldn’t we go together to discuss our wedding?” He stared at her with one eyebrow raised.

  “Oh, yes, absolutely. But this isn’t about us.”

  He took her arm and turned toward the brick pathway that led behind the church, stopping when they reached the shade of a willow tree next to the burial ground. “You’re going to talk to a preacher and it’s not about us? I don’t understand.”

  “Wash and Becca have no one to marry them. She told me there’s no Negro preacher in Noble Springs. So I plan to ask Reverend French if he’d perform the ceremony.”

  “You’re going to be disappointed.” He gathered her hands in both of his. “Why would he listen to such a request?”

  “I have to try. How would you like it if we couldn’t get married because we didn’t have a preacher?”

  “That’s different. We could always go to another town.”

  “They can’t travel easily the way we can. If Reverend French refuses . . . well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

  He shook his head. “My Cassie. When you’re determined, I’d better not stand in your way.”

  Mindful that they stood in a churchyard, she squelched her desire to wrap her arms around him and rest her head against his chest. He was the kindest, most honest man she’d ever known.

  Cassie dumped flour and salt into a mixing bowl, then added chunks of lard. As she sliced two knives through the mixture, Becca leaned over the table to watch.

  “You got a lot of git-up-and-go for a Monday. What’s the hurry? This don’t have to be done before noon.”

  “Maybe not, but I want to leave for a while after the dinner hour. If I get the pies ready early, you won’t be left with extra work to do.” She smiled to herself, thinking she’d dodged any further questions.

  Jenny sauntered over to them. “You leaving again today? You were gone almost all afternoon on Saturday.” She winked. “Marrying the boss has its advantages.”

  Cassie’s face burned. She enjoyed being in the kitchen with Jenny and Becca and hadn’t considered how they’d view her new status.

  “That’s not the case. I can’t change today’s commitment, but from now on please treat me like you always have. I’ll be here the same hours you are.”

  “I was teasing you.” Jenny gave her a brief hug before returning to the bacon sputtering on the range.

  Sometimes teasing contained nuggets of truth. Cassie took a steadying breath while she sprinkled water over the flour mixture. Jenny had become almost like a beloved aunt, although a peppery one, over the months in Jacob’s kitchen. She couldn’t allow misunderstanding to come between them.

  She glanced up and caught Becca watching her. “When you have time, could you please peel those peaches and cut them up for pie?” She pointed to a flat wooden box filled with a single layer of ripe fruit. The tantalizing fragrance made her mouth water.

  Grinning at Becca, she added, “You could slice a few to go with our breakfast, if you want.”

  “Yes, missy, I’ll do that for sure.” She sent her a rare smile.

  Satisfied she’d warded off a problem, Cassie fluffed the flour and water together until the texture looked right, then patted balls of dough into disks. She worked without ceasing while Jenny and Becca served breakfast to the morning customers. Before noon six pies cooled on a shelf and she began work on three orders.

  Her shoulders ached from tension, but she didn’t stop. Kitchen aromas changed from bacon and eggs to fried steak and onions. By the time Becca carried the final serving plates to the noon diners, Cassie had all her orders ready for the oven.

  She flopped on a chair and undid the two top buttons on her bodice. Her body sagged. Fanning herself with an old newspaper, she glanced at the wall clock over the doorway to the dining room.

  Twelve thirty-five.

  She jumped to her feet.

  After removing her apron, she smoothed her hair and refastened her buttons. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Please mind the pies, Becca. They should be ready in forty minutes or so.”

  “Yes, missy.”

  She sensed the two women gazing after her as she left the kitchen. Please, Lord, let me bring back good news.

  Reverend French’s wife answered Cassie’s knock. “The reverend is expecting you. I’m Clarissa French. Please, come in.”

  She stepped into the spacious entry. The wood floor shone in the sunlight flowing through the open doorway. A mirrored hall tree reflected a comfortable sitting room on her right. The house smelled of coffee and fresh-baked cookies.

  Mrs. French closed the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to his study.” With brisk steps, she proceeded to a room at the rear of the house.

  Reverend French stood when she entered. “Please have a seat, Miss Haddon.”

  She chose an armchair upholstered in a floral fabric. To her surprise, Mrs. French took the chair next to hers.

  Apparently noticing her expression, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Sometimes it’s easier for young ladies to talk to another lady, so my wife keeps me company.”

  A flush warmed her face. “I . . . I’m not here because I’m in any trouble.” She hesitated. How best to explain her errand? Now that she faced Reverend French her resolve wavered.

  He rested his hands on the surface of his spotless desk. “There’s nothing you can tell us that the Lord doesn’t already know. Please don’t be nervous.”

  In spite of his compassionate expression, her heart thrummed. She straightened her shoulders to remind herself she was now bold Cassie. “A friend of mine wants to get married, so she needs a preacher.”

  “Why doesn’t she come to see me instead of sending you?”

  “She didn’t send me. In fact she doesn’t know I’ve come.”

  He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Can you tell me a bit more about this . . . friend? Why are you here in her place? Is she ill?”

  “No, sir. She’s a Negro.”

  She heard Mrs. French gasp.

  “And her intended? He is Negro also?” His face remained serene, as though he heard requests like hers every day.

  Cassie relaxed a bit. “Yes, sir. They both work for Jacob West.”

  When she said Jacob’s name, a gentle smile lifted the reverend’s lips. “I’ve seen the two of you at church. You make a fine couple.”

  “You’ve noticed? I thought with so many people there you couldn’t keep up with everyone.”

  “I’d be a poor pastor if I didn’t pay attention to my congregation. The Lord sent me to minister, not give Sunday speeches and ignore you the rest of the week.” He chuckled before turning serious. “So you’d like me to marry them?”

  “There’s no Negro preacher here. You’re their only hope.”

  Mrs. French leaned forward to face her husband. “You can’t do it, Ethan. A colored couple in our church! What would the ladies in the Missionary Society say? They’d drop over in shock.”

  “You’re right, I know.” His
bristly gray eyebrows furrowed when he looked at Cassie. “We have a mixed congregation here, Miss Haddon. Not everyone supported the abolitionist cause, although many did, myself included. But some of our members were and are firmly on the side of the Confederacy. I have to tread a fine line.”

  “Does that mean you’re saying no?”

  “It means I’ll pray about what to do and let you know what answer comes to me.”

  She rose. “I see. Thank you for listening.”

  A sodden lump of disappointment weighted her insides. There were some things all the determination in the world couldn’t fix. Wash and Becca’s dreams were one of them.

  37

  Lindberg Mercantile’s yellow delivery wagon rattled to a stop in the alley behind the kitchen midmorning on Friday. Cassie dashed to open the screen door.

  “Our new range is here,” she called over her shoulder to Jenny and Becca.

  “Couldn’t have picked a worse time.” Jenny grumbled her way across the room. “Smack in the middle of a busy day. And you’ve got pies waiting.”

  Sheriff Cooper stepped inside and tipped his hat at Jenny. “The range came in on the morning train. Sorry for the disturbance, ma’am, but no sense hauling something this heavy to the store. We’d just have to turn around and bring it over here. Thing must weigh as much as an elephant.”

  He turned his gaze on Cassie. “Would you fetch Jacob? I brought three helpers with me. He needs to tell us where he wants his range.”

  She bristled. “I’d think that empty place on the wall over there would answer your question.”

  “Rather talk to Jacob, miss. No offense.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right back.” She stomped toward the office, fuming. Of all the high-handed, condescending . . .

  Jacob met her at the entrance to the grocery. “I heard the wagon arrive. Is that our range?”

  “Your range, to hear Sheriff Cooper. He sent me to fetch you. He has to have you tell him where you want it placed.”

  “Doesn’t do any good to be upset. That’s the way he is, and we can’t change him.” He squeezed her hand. “This is a big day for us. I’m proud of you.”

  Her heart swelled. His praise was the antidote she needed to overcome her irritation with the former sheriff. “I’m eager to put the range to use. We can handle more orders if I don’t have to wait for Jenny’s ovens to be available.”

  When they reached the kitchen, she stood beside Jenny and Becca to watch while Sheriff Cooper and his helpers hefted the crated shipment from the wagon and maneuvered through the doorway. Grunting with the weight, the four men staggered to where Jacob leaned on his cane next to the empty wall space.

  “Right here,” he said, sending Cassie a subtle wink.

  Jenny sniffed. “How are we supposed to cook dinner with a roomful of people?” she muttered.

  The range hit the floor with a thud as they released their burden. The sheriff straightened, rubbing the small of his back while the other three men escaped to the alley.

  “I brought a crowbar. You want me to open the crate?” He addressed his question to Jacob.

  “Yes, please. You can pile the scraps over in the woodbox.”

  With creaks and flying splinters, the strips of wood encasing the new range fell away.

  Cassie gasped. “It’s beautiful. The drawing in the catalog didn’t do it justice.” She inched past Sheriff Cooper and traced her index finger over the sunburst design embossed over the shiny black exterior. Whirling around, she shared a smile with Jenny and Becca. “Imagine how much we’ll enjoy having an extra oven for baking.”

  “It’s mighty pretty, missy.” Becca’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  Cassie bit her lip, feeling guilty for her pleasure. If only finding a preacher to marry Becca and Wash were as easy as ordering new equipment for the kitchen. She wondered how much time ministers needed to receive answers to their prayers.

  “There’s a couple things I got to show you before you use this range, Miss Haddon. You too, Miz Fielder.”

  Jenny folded her arms under her bosom. “I’ve been cooking since I was ten. I think I can figure out how to work a range.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “I’ll see you out, Thaddeus. We’re grateful for your help.”

  After they left, Jenny moved to Cassie’s side. “Anytime you have a question, just ask me. I’m thinking you won’t have a bit of trouble. Soon as the flue is up, we’ll start us a fire. Maybe bake a test pie, just for the three of us.”

  Becca walked to the range and ran her hand over the smooth iron top. “Wash is going to cut the hole in the roof for the flue.” This time her smile lit her face. “He’s a good carpenter.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Cassie’s heart ached for Becca. Why didn’t Reverend French just tell her “no” straight out, instead of pretending he might agree? His promise to pray sounded a lot like her parents saying “We’ll see” when she was a child. A delayed no was still a no.

  Jacob sat in his office staring at the totals in his open ledger long after everyone but Wash had left.

  Now that he no longer needed to send a portion of his earnings to Keegan Byrne, he should be able to rebuild his savings within a month or two. He’d kept July’s portion when he left for Boston, hoping his visit with Colin would go as it had. When he reached the end of August, he’d be able to put another payment in his own bank account, instead of giving his profits to Byrne.

  But for the moment, his funds were stretched thin. He needed to order more stock for the grocery, and soon. He twirled the pen between his fingers. If he ordered just enough to finish out the month, he’d be in a better position in September to restock his supplies. He noted the amounts he’d need, based on Timothy’s list, then tallied the total. Barely sufficient.

  No matter. He’d done the right thing in purchasing his share. No one could threaten him again.

  From the kitchen, he heard metal clank as Wash mounted a collar to the opening in the top of the range. Further metallic rattles told him the flue had been shoved through the ceiling.

  After a few minutes, Wash rapped on the entrance to the storeroom. A dusting of sawdust clung to his hair. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, then brushed debris from his trousers.

  “All done. Want to take a look?”

  “Absolutely.” Jacob blew out the flame on the lamp and followed him.

  He whistled when he reached the kitchen. The range, with its shining nickel trim, fit perfectly into the spot Cassie had envisioned. The flue rose to the ceiling and disappeared through a precise opening. Wash had swept the sawdust away, leaving the room immaculate.

  “Good work. The ladies will be pleased when they come in tomorrow.”

  Wash ducked his head. “Hope so. I been trying to think of ways to make Becca smile.”

  “Miss Haddon told me about your plans to marry.”

  “That’s about all we got is plans.” Wash balled his fists. “No colored preacher around here.”

  Jacob opened his mouth to make a comment about Cassie’s visit to Reverend French, then decided to say nothing. The minister said he’d pray for a solution, but that was four days ago.

  He’d give the matter some thought. Perhaps he could move things along.

  After taking a final glance around at Wash’s work, he reached in his pocket and handed the man a dollar gold piece. “I appreciate you staying late. You did a fine job on that range flue.”

  Wash’s eyes brightened. “Thank you, sir.” He took a step toward the back door. “If you’re ready to go home, I’ll fetch the buggy.”

  “I’m ready.” Wash had worked hard and looked exhausted. The stock order could wait.

  Jacob strolled into the kitchen after the noon meal the next day. Heat radiated from the new oven, spreading the aroma of peaches through the room. Cassie stirred a pot of what appeared to be clear syrup on the range top.

  “Are you happy with your choice?”

  She sent him a smile t
hat weakened his knees. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

  “Happy as I can be! The morning seemed far less rushed with two baking areas. Didn’t you think so, Becca?”

  “Yes, missy.” She lifted a platter from the washbasin and set it upside-down on the drain board. “We got our work done a lot faster, for certain.”

  Jacob moved closer to Cassie. “If you’re caught up, would you come with me for a few minutes? I have an errand and would like your help.”

  A plate clinked against the platter. Becca stood rigid, hands unmoving in the soapy water.

  Cassie glanced at her, then up at him. “I’m afraid I can’t today. This is Becca’s free afternoon, and I’ve already been gone twice this week.”

  “But that’s why—” He swallowed the rest of his sentence at the sight of the gratitude on Becca’s face. “This evening then.”

  Cassie gave him another muscle-melting smile. “That will be fine.”

  He walked toward his office marveling at the way she’d taken his gruff nature and turned it into something resembling soft pie dough. He’d try to change the arrangements he’d made. This evening ought to be soon enough to accomplish his purpose, assuming they left right after the restaurant closed.

  Jacob shook the reins and guided the horse and buggy out of the alley and south on Third Street.

  “Where are we going?” Cassie smiled at him through the soft light. She placed her hand over his. “Not that it matters.”

  “I made arrangements for us to see the reverend this evening.”

  She jerked her hand away. “The reverend? Why?”

  “Wash and Becca have waited long enough for their answer. I’d like to hear a yes or a no. If Reverend French won’t marry them, maybe tomorrow after church you and I will go to Hartfield to find a preacher. I know there are a number of free Negroes in that area.”

  He turned the buggy toward the curb and stopped in front of the Frenches’ house. Lights glimmered in the windows.

  She stared at him, fanning herself with her hand. “I thought you wanted to discourage me from asking, now here you are stepping forward.”