LILLY HIKED Dahlia higher on her hip as they neared their street the following night. The child had been whiny all day due to her burn, and Aunt Pearl had dismissed them early again. With Claire present, she’d assured Lilly the two of them could finish and close the restaurant without a problem during the last hour or so.
A mixture of emotions warred inside. Relief to be able to give Dahlia the attention she needed with her injury. But guilt had warred strong when she’d left the café with work undone. Not to mention a niggle of fear. What if Aunt Pearl decided having a young child about the place was too irritating? Or even too dangerous, after yesterday’s disaster.
She couldn’t let that happen.
As Lilly turned onto their side street, she heard the pounding of nails—odd this late in the evening. A motion ahead stopped her short and sent her heart racing.
A man. Beside her shanty.
Chapter Seven
LILLY DARTED off the street and into the shadows of the quiet shack on the corner. She’d not met the owner of this particular home, but surely they wouldn’t mind her taking refuge for a moment.
“Ow, Mama.” Dahlia wined again, and Lilly bounced the child on her hip.
“Shh. We have to be quiet for a minute, honey.” She fought the urge to clamp a hand over the child’s mouth.
Instead she focused on the man outside her cabin. He was moving around on the left side of the building. Working, it looked like. He raised a board to the side, examined it, then swung a hammer, bringing forth the pounding noise she’d first heard.
Familiarity washed through her as she studied the man. Reverend Sullivan. What was he doing here, nailing boards to her cabin?
She squared her shoulders and stepped from the shadows. What right had the man to make changes to her home—her own property—without her permission?
The strike of the hammer drowned out her approach, and she stopped about ten paces behind him. As soon as the pounding stopped, she gathered her nerve.
“Reverend Sullivan. What are you doing to my home?”
He jumped at her words, spinning to face her. A sheepish smile spread over his rugged face. “You startled me.”
He must have noticed the fire in her eyes then, because he turned to look at the shanty, stepping backwards. “I was just closing up some cracks between the boards.”
She followed his gaze to the siding, eyeing the freshly lumbered wood nailed to the wall at regular intervals. She looked back at him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Winter’s coming. This’ll keep you two a lot warmer.”
Dahlia whimpered again, and the reverend’s gaze softened as he eyed her.
“Hi there, pretty girl. How’re you feeling today?” He stepped closer and tweaked Dahlia’s hand.
Lilly expected her daughter to cringe the way she did with most strangers. Instead, she stopped whining and allowed a hint of a smile to play at her mouth.
“I need to take Dahlia inside. I’ll be back in a minute.” Her emotions were in such a whirl, it would take a few moments to collect herself.
The reverend wiped a sleeve across his damp forehead, sweat beading there despite the chilly evening air. “I’m finished with this side anyway. Just need to clean up my tools.”
Lilly escaped through her door and eased Dahlia onto the bed. “I’ll get you some medicine, honey.”
As she poured the dose and helped the child drink it, her thoughts whirled around the man outside and his words. Considering all he’d accomplished, he must have spent all day working on her house. She’d seen the new boards nailed across the front of the shanty, too, and a glance at the right wall showed no cracks. Only the rear wall hadn’t been covered. But with another shack built close behind them, wind didn’t usually blow in from that direction.
Lilly moved to her warming stove and built a fire. As she piled the sticks, she wondered why had he done it? Did he expect something in return? Men always expected something. She struck the match and lit the kindling, then paused to watch the spark catch and spread to the dried bark and twigs.
Didn't matter what the good reverend expected from her. She wasn’t giving it. Absolutely not.
She caught her thoughts. The man was a preacher, and Claire’s brother, too. Maybe he wanted something entirely different. Hadn’t he asked so many times for her to play the piano for services? Was this encouragement for her to give in?
She bit her lip as the fire caught hold of the log and the flames flickered steadily. She had to go back out and face him.
Drawing her strength, she sent a smile to her daughter. “I’m going outside for a minute, sweet one. I’ll be right back.”
No need to worry about the child climbing down from the bed. Her droopy eyelids meant the medicine must already be taking affect. Dahlia stuck her thumb in her mouth and snuggled into the blankets.
A cold breeze struck Lilly as she stepped outside. She’d not felt the rustle of it in the cabin like she usually did. Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she moved toward the side of the building and the man who’d worked so hard on it.
He was stacking extra boards close to the base of the wall and didn’t seem to notice as she stood at the corner. She took the opportunity to watch him. He wore a long-sleeved green flannel shirt with suspenders but no shirtwaist. Just like a common laborer. Even though the shirt was roomy, the suspenders outlined his muscular shoulders, and his sleeves had been rolled to reveal defined forearms.
The man definitely kept himself in shape, not soft and fleshy like her pastor in Derbyshire had been. And most definitely not balding. Her gaze flicked up to his thick brown hair, trimmed shorter than most men wore theirs. Not slicked down with pomade either. At least not at this point in his workday.
He turned and saw her, his face lighting. “I’m finished here. I hope that helps keep the weather out now.” He glanced at the dusky sky. “Looks like it might rain in a bit.”
She tightened her lips. As nice as the man seemed, she had to understand his motives. “Why did you do all this?” Maybe not the kindest approach, but she didn’t show kindness to men anymore.
He shrugged like he’d done earlier. “I saw the cracks yesterday, and with winter comin’ on, figured it would help if I closed them up.”
She eyed him. What wasn’t he saying?
“Did you do it so I would play at your church?”
Lines creased his brow. “Of course not. We’d love to have you, but whether you play or not is your choice.” He motioned toward the wall. “I saw a need here and filled it. That’s what God calls us all to do.”
That couldn’t be his only reason. But the man looked too sincere to be faking.
He reached down for a hat and a burlap sack, then settled the hat on his head. “I’ll get out of your way now. Good to see Dahlia’s doing better.” He stilled, finding her gaze again, his eyes searching. “She is better, right?”
Lilly forced herself not to nibble her lip. “Some. It pains her, though.”
Sorrow filtered through his amber gaze. “I’ll keep praying.”
He stepped forward then, tipping his hat as he passed her. The smile that pulled at his mouth started a tiny flutter in her midsection. What was that from?
“Have a good evening.”
Something inside her almost called out to him. Almost wanted to stop him from leaving. She could offer him tea.
But she let him go. She watched his long, confident stride as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
A wistful longing took root in her chest. Was that…loneliness?
~ ~ ~
To my better self,
The reverend came again today and covered the remaining cracks on back side of the house. I still don’t know how to feel about it. He truly seems to want nothing in return. Is it possible a man would do a kind deed with no expectation of compensation? Do such men exist? Pa-pa would have. And did, so many times. Yet I didn’t think there were others like him.
Our woodpile has also been replenished
with enough cut wood to last for most of the winter. Not odd sticks like I usually gather, but split logs perfectly sized for the stove. How long must it have taken him to split so much? No wonder the man stays lean and strong.
Another thing that bothers me is the cost of the boards he nailed to the cabin’s sides. They were lumber-milled. How much did he spend on such luxuries? More than I could repay should I save all winter, I’m sure.
But I want to repay him. I need to. It irks me to think I’m beholden to a man. Perhaps I could exchange piano playing for his work. Would that be wrong of me? Would I be giving in to his scheme? Yet he looked so sincere when he said he wanted nothing in return. Could that really be true?
~ ~ ~
“DO YOU SEE the church, honey? We’re almost there.” Lilly gripped Dahlia’s hand as they neared the freshly painted white building. Her insides churned as she strained to hear noise inside. All was quiet, save the chirping of a bird.
“My foot hurts, Mama.” Dahlia dragged slower.
“I know, honey. But see? We’re here.” She didn’t usually make Dahlia wear shoes, not at this age anyway. It was easier to carry the child back and forth between the café and home. But the church had been farther, and no child of hers would enter God’s house without proper clothing. The poor child, though, with the pain of the stiff leather chapping Dahlia’s burn.
Lilly stepped lightly up the stairs and across the wide porch, pulling her daughter with her. Still no sounds from inside. Was it possible the reverend hadn’t arrived yet? Claire said the service began at ten o’clock, so she’d come over a half hour early to familiarize herself with the songs. She never imagined she might beat him here.
The hinge on the door didn’t creak as she pulled it open and peered inside.
There. On the front row. A pair of broad shoulders hunched, the head of brown hair bowed forward.
“Can we go in?” Dahlia’s little voice filled the silence.
The man’s head jerked up, eyes wide as he turned to them. For several heartbeats, he stared at her as if trying to decide whether she were real or a mirage.
Then he straightened and rose to his feet, a grin spreading across his features. “Come on in, ladies. I was just…well…come in.” He motioned them forward.
Lilly’s midsection flipped and fluttered as she tentatively stepped forward. “I thought I would play the piano today. For the service.” Why did her voice sound so weak? “Can you tell me the songs so I can practice them?”
His expression changed from pleasant surprise to…wonderment? Awe? Reverence? No word seemed to describe it. He looked almost speechless. The Adam’s apple at his throat bobbed. “Uh…I thought Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. Do you know it?”
She thought back through the songs they’d sung in England. That had been one of them, but did she remember the tune enough to pick it out?
He spun around and strode to the piano. “I have a hymnal here. It has the words and notes.” With the book in hand, he paused, mid-step. A sheepish expression taking over his face. “Do you play from notes?” Red crept up into his face, splashing his cheeks. He moved toward her again, the book extended. “Here. You can do with it as you wish. If you’d rather we sing a different song, I’m open to anything.”
She took the book from him and examined the cover. Protestant Hymns.
The reverend bent down in front of Dahlia so he was eye level with her. “And how are you today, Miss Dahlia? You’re looking especially lovely. You know what? I found something the other day I bet you’d like. Do you want to come see it?” He held out his hand and waited.
Dahlia studied him for a moment, then released her grip on Lilly and took the Reverend’s outstretched hand.
Lilly’s heart stuttered. She’d never seen Dahlia accept a person so quickly. Especially a man. The child hadn’t even looked at her for permission like she usually did, even with Aunt Pearl and Claire. But Dahlia would be safe with the reverend, as long as they stayed where Lilly could keep an eye on them.
With the hymnal in hand, Lilly moved to the piano. She ran a hand across the smooth mahogany before she removed the cover from the keys. Not a speck of dust anywhere. Who had polished it so fastidiously?
Positioning her fingers on the keys, she eyed her daughter and the pastor. They both crouched over something at the end of a pew. Some kind of paper. Happy murmurings drifted in Dahlia’s sweet childish voice.
Lilly started into a few scales. At first, the sounds were choppy under her cold fingers. But the rhythm evened out, and the notes soon began to flow. She played through a quick minuet, then started on a hymn she barely remembered from their church in England. The melody came back to her, though, and she poured herself into it.
At last, she reached for the hymnal and found the page for Come Thou Fount. The notes weren’t hard, and she soon found herself humming along. It was a rich, flowing melody with words that had the power to haunt.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God.
The idea bothered her, and she stopped studying the words. Instead, she focused on the notes and the power of the music. Let it flow through her with cleansing strength.
When she finally drew the song to a close, she looked up to check on Dahlia. Her daughter was sitting in the reverend’s lap, chattering on about a paper in her hands. He wasn’t watching the child, though. He’d been studying Lilly. His penetrating gaze wasn’t harsh, yet it seemed to pierce through the shell she’d worked so hard to grow.
She dropped her focus to the hymnal. “Are there other songs you planned to sing?”
Several beats passed before he answered. “Sometimes we sing Just as I Am at the end of the service.” The richness in his tone was undermined by a raw quality. As if he, too, were stripped bare, exposed and struggling to cover his emotions.
Lilly swallowed and flipped through the book to find the right page, thankful to have something else to focus on.
This song wasn’t familiar to her at all, so she picked out the melody with her right hand first. It was simple, with four easy lines—and another message that she didn’t want to hear. She could defend against the words alone. But combined with the music, as the harmony of the chords spoke to her, the words seemed to grow in power. The music penetrated her thoughts.
She ended the song quickly, then flipped the pages back to the first hymn. Without making eye contact, she rose from the piano bench and moved toward the pair sitting on the pew.
The one time she let her gaze flick to the reverend’s face, he watched her with the touch of a smile pressing a dimple into one side of his mouth. She looked away and held out a hand to her daughter. “Come on, honey. Let’s let the reverend do his work.”
“I’d prefer you call me Marcus.” His baritone was deep, quiet.
Her eyes darted to his face.
A sheepish tinge took over his mouth, pressing dimples into both cheeks. “After all, you said to call you Lilly. It’s only fair.”
She pinched her lips against a flush. Yes, she had. As improper as it was, she’d been too afraid to risk giving out her last name. It made her too…identifiable.
At last, she nodded, then reached for the child’s hand again. “Come, Dahlia.”
Chapter Eight
PEOPLE STARTED entering the church soon after, and Lilly parked herself and Dahlia on the corner of the pew closest to the piano. If she could have melted into the wooden seat, she would have gladly done it.
The reverend—Marcus—greeted everyone, his booming voice spreading his quick wit and friendliness throughout the small chapel. If his words could be believed, he really seemed to care about these people. And something in his tone made it hard to suspect him of duplicity.
Lilly’s shoulders were rigid, and she dreaded the approach of strangers to welcome her. A few smiled and offered greetings from the aisle, but they must have read her desire to be left alone. Wasn’t it time for the service to start yet? If she’d had a pocket watch
, she would have escaped outside, behind the church, until it was time for her to play.
A woman slid onto the seat beside her and wrapped an arm around Lilly’s shoulders. She stiffened, but a sideways glance revealed Claire’s smiling face.
Her friend leaned closer to whisper, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Relief filtered through Lilly, and she offered as much of a smile as she could. “You, too.”
Claire’s husband, Doc Bryan, settled beside her, and the couple spent a few minutes talking with Dahlia.
Marcus walked to the front of the church, and quiet eased over the room. He flashed a smile as he greeted the group, a smile that sent a flip through her insides. The man was too handsome to be a preacher. The two realities seemed at odds with each other.
She missed most of what he said during the opening, too caught in her thoughts and perusal of him. But when he spoke her name, her mind jolted to life.
“She’s agreed to play for our hymns today, and I think you’ll enjoy the treat a great deal.”
Lilly took her place at the bench, head ducked under the intensity of dozens of stares. Why had she ever agreed to this? She’d known better. Every muscle in her body ached under the tension, but she started into the introduction to Come Thou Fount.
In steady increments, the music took over, performing its soothing ministrations on her soul. The sound of so many voices raised in harmony with the notes amazed her. Awed her. She was tempted to add her own voice to the mix, but instead, she soaked it all in.
~ ~ ~
“LILLY, YOU HAVE to come see him. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Lilly eyed Claire as she sat across from her friend at the work table in the café’s kitchen. Her kitchen. The kitchen that had offered so much solace and protection these last two years. The lunch crowd had died down, and the two were slicing bread for tonight’s meal.
“Miriam came through the birth better than I would have, and that baby boy is the cutest thing I’ve seen in years.” She turned to Dahlia, who was sitting in a chair at the end of the table. “Except for you, sweet thing. He’s not quite as cute as you.”
The Lady and the Mountain Promise (Mountain Dreams Series Book 4) Page 5