“Oh, laundry was the main thing. I’m not good at ironing. Anything to do with an iron defeats me. Still, a wife has to press clothes so I’m trying.”
Her speech offered a clue to her upbringing. Probably a tutor and then attended a fancy girls’ school. “Your family had servants?”
“Yes, but I learned my way around the kitchen from our cook. Later I took a course in cooking more elaborate foods. I prefer the simple and filling type.”
“Good, because that’s about the only type ingredients you’ll find in Tarnation. Lydia has the only fancy dinner parties I know of in our town. I suppose she has Michael send away for some of the items she serves.” He took another bite of biscuit. “Oh, my, this tastes good.”
“I’m pleased you’re enjoying my effort. Another time after I’m more used to your kitchen, I’ll fry a chicken. I’ll bet Matthew would like a drumstick or the part of the wing that’s similar.”
“If I weren’t so full of dumplings, my mouth would water. Fried chicken is my favorite meal, with mashed potatoes and gravy and warm bread. Ah, that’s my idea of a perfect meal.”
She leaned forward, her gray eyes sparkling. “And I’m sure you meant to include a vegetable or two in that list.”
He grinned. “If I must, but not necessary.”
“You’re a parent now and have to set an example for your son. Children mimic everything. I’ve heard you say a sermon lived is more effective than a sermon preached.”
He held up a hand and laughed. “Guilty. You turned my own words against me.”
She giggled. “I certainly did, didn’t I? What you need, Reverend McIntyre, is a wife.”
He raised his eyebrows and leaned toward her. “Oh? I’m listening.”
She put her hands on either side of her cheeks, which had turned bright red. “Good Heavens, you can’t think I meant me. How embarrassing. Please forget I ever said that.”
He chuckled. “At least I know you’ve been paying attention to my sermons. In fact, seeing you in church is reassuring. You appear to listen to my every word.”
“Of course I do.”
“My dear Miss Chandler, you have no idea how many people doze off, or jot notes, or stare out the window. At times I wish I were too nearsighted to realize I’m not holding the congregation in thrall.”
“I can understand how disconcerting that would be. When my mother was a girl, she said the minister would call out the name of anyone he thought wasn’t paying attention. I’d hate that.”
“I wouldn’t intentionally embarrass anyone at a service. On occasion, I’ve spoken to people in private.”
“Did that help?”
He shrugged. “For a month or so. People are what they are.”
“As pleasant as talking to you is, I had better get on my way so I can see Mrs. Eppes before I go to Lydia’s. We’re getting ready for the next social. I hope you’ll come on Friday.”
“I’ll see how the week goes.” But he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist a chance to speak with her socially instead as her employer.
***
In the room they shared that evening, Cassandra asked, “Well, Nanny Angeline, how did your day go?”
Angeline plopped back on the bed. “I put my foot in my mouth.” She explained.
“Why couldn’t you marry him? You were hoping he’d ask. For goodness sakes, you’ve extolled his virtues since you met him.”
“He needs someone nice and…well, like Ophelia. She’d be a perfect minister’s wife. I’m tainted, a fallen woman.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense. A minister should be the first one to overlook your little problem.”
“My ‘little’ problem is growing. I’m afraid I’ll be the only unwed of our Bride Brigade and will end up having to sell my pearls.”
“Lydia won’t turn you out.”
“There’ll be doctor expenses and clothes for a baby and a crib. I’ve added it up and the numbers of things I’ll need are staggering.”
“So, marry the preacher. He already has a crib and probably diapers and most of the other stuff his son is finished with. You said he needs a wife.”
“I wish it were that simple. He’s too nice to be saddled with my problems. Besides, there are already two men who want to get him ousted.”
“You drive me crazy sometimes. Go to sleep. Maybe a fairy godmother will appear in the morning.”
Angeline snuggled under the sheet. “She already has. Her name is Lydia Harrison.”
***
On Friday evening, Angeline dressed in her gray foulard dress and took special care. Cassandra helped her.
Angeline turned her head to get the effect of her hair style. “You’re so good to help me with my hair. Now, shall I work on yours?”
Her friend clasped her hands and sat in the chair Angeline had vacated. “That would be nice. I love having my hair done by someone else.”
When they were both ready, they went downstairs together. Angeline spotted the preacher immediately. She thought of him as Grady, although she would never call him by his first name. He was talking to the sheriff.
Their discussion looked heated. She heard Adam say, “Then you’d damn well better speak up because I’ll do all I can to send things in the opposite direction.”
She glided up as Lydia tapped each of the two men on the arm. “Gentlemen, please remember ladies are present.”
Angeline paused beside Lydia. “Am I interrupting something?”
Grady turned with a smile. “Not at all.” He extended his arm. “Shall we get refreshments? I believe Mrs. Murphy outdid herself this evening. Did you help?”
She lowered her eyes. “I made the empanadas. I hope you like them. Mrs. Ramirez showed me how but this is the first time I’ve tried creating them.”
He reached for one from a tray Josephine carried. He bit into the tiny pie. “Amazing. I could eat a plate of them.”
“That’s why Josephine is taking the tray around. There are enough for everyone to have two or three, but we were afraid a couple of men with hearty appetites would deplete them.”
He picked up a plate and heaped it with finger sandwiches and cookies. “Adam tells me you’ve gone out with Elias Kendrick. Is that where your interest lies?”
She gave a shake of her head when Grady offered her the plate and prepared one of her own. “Although he was very pleasant and a perfect gentleman, I’m not interested in Mr. Kendrick nor he with me. I have no idea why he invited me to the opera house. If the sheriff is pushing him towards me then that would explain a lot.”
He gestured with his punch cup. “Why don’t we take our food and go sit on a bench outside?”
She led the way. “Sounds nice. The almanac predicts rain later in the week, but tonight is lovely.”
“So you read the about the weather, do you?”
“Mrs. Eppes has me read to her. She can’t see the small print any longer. Neither can Mrs. Arrenton. I’m reading her Little Women. Reading is so important, don’t you agree? Not being able to enjoy a book would be awful.”
“You have a lot of compassion for others.”
She smiled at him. “You said we should. In fact, you mentioned that very thing last Sunday.”
He shook his head. “I suspect yours has always been there. That quality is not one that suddenly appears because one day you heard a sermon.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a very forceful preacher. You don’t need to yell to get across your message.”
“I’d like to think so, but I don’t delude myself that I’m powerful or charismatic. I’ll bet in…wherever you lived—”
“Missouri. I lived in Missouri.”
“I’d wager that in Missouri, you were working with some charity or other.”
“A couple, but I didn’t visit those trapped at home. No one ever mentioned their need and I simply didn’t consider them. I thought about orphaned children and homeless who were without food or a safe place to sleep.”
/> He pretended to be dejected. “I thought so. Now I’m disillusioned that my sermons didn’t convert you to serve mankind.”
She giggled. “You are not.”
He set his cup and plate at the end of the bench. “Miss Chandler. I’d like your permission to pay you court. I think we would do well together.”
She scooted away. How she wished she could say yes, but she thought too much of this fine man to cause him more problems. “Me? Oh, no, you mustn’t. You need a fine upstanding woman who will set an example and be a plus to your ministry.”
“You just described yourself.”
“No, Grad…Reverend McIntyre, you don’t understand all my problems. I’d be a liability that Mr. Jackson and Mr. McGinnis would use as a weapon against you.”
“Those two are not worth considering. They’ll always find something about me to criticize.”
“I-I haven’t told you why I needed forgiveness. Please, believe me when I say I’d harm your standing in the community.”
He took her hand. “I know about your… situation, Miss Chandler. I watched my wife as she carried our son. I recognize the symptoms.”
She covered her face with her free hand. “I’m so humiliated and ashamed. Please, Reverend McIntyre, go before I turn so weepy you’ll accuse me of watering the garden.”
With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he stood. His voice came soft and filled with compassion, “I’ll go for now, but I’ll look forward to seeing you in church on Sunday.”
She sat alone for several minutes fighting for calm. When she’d composed herself enough to face people, she picked up the two plates and cups and made her way to the kitchen. For the rest of the evening, she washed cups and plates and tidied for Mrs. Murphy. When everyone had gone and leftover food put away, she hung her apron on the hook and climbed the back stairs.
She managed to control her tears until she reached her room. Pushing by Cassandra, she sat in the chair and sobbed.
Cassandra put an arm around her shoulders and leaned down. “What on earth happened to cause this reaction? I saw you and the preacher go into the garden. Everything looked promising.”
Between sobs, she said, “He asked to court me. I wanted to say yes but couldn’t let him ruin his life.”
“Now I know you’re mad. Marrying him would be perfect. You and he like the same things, you love his son. I simply don’t understand you.”
“Grady McIntyre is the finest man I’ve ever known. I can’t let him ruin his reputation and possibly his professional standing by marrying me. Look at me, I’m showing. I’m surprised the other girls haven’t confronted me about my weight gain.”
“So you’re looking as if you’re expecting. If the preacher doesn’t care, why can’t you say yes to him? Who better to accept you without criticizing you?”
“Please, Cassandra, don’t say anything else. I feel just awful.”
Cassandra threw her hands in the air. “All right, get ready for bed. Life is sure to look better tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
Yesterday, Angeline had sent Grady a tremulous smile in church but had avoided talking to him. Now that Monday had arrived, she hurried to his home to care for Matthew. She wondered what she would say to the minister she wanted to protect from blame.
He opened the door and bade her enter. “I’ll be gone all day. I’m sorry to spring this on you, but a family in the corner of the county has requested a visit. They sent a note by Jo Jo when he delivered their ice. Old Mr. Hopkins is sick and probably dying. Riley’s already gone out there. Are you willing to stay until late afternoon?”
“Of course. I wish I’d known so I could send them something. A gift of food when there’s trouble is always a blessing. Perhaps you could stop by the café and ask if they have a cake or pie or perhaps a bit of stew for their dinner.”
“I suspect the stew would be most welcome. The family hasn’t much but they share what they have. Thanks for the idea.”
He put on his hat and closed the door as he left. He was one of the few men in town who didn’t wear a western-style hat. Instead, his was small-brimmed and grey.
What should she prepare for supper and for Matthew’s lunch? She set the boy on the kitchen floor and gave him a wooden spoon and upturned pan. He laughed as he banged on his makeshift drum.
She took another spoon and banged with him. “Do you want Angeline to play too?”
“Angel play.” He laughed and banged harder.
“You said my name. Yes, Angeline. Can you say the whole word? Angeline.”
He shook his head. “Angel.”
“Well, close enough, Matthew. Wait until I tell your daddy you can say my name. Won’t he be surprised?”
“Daddy. Want Daddy.”
“Oh, no, he’ll come home soon. We have to cook for him. Will you help me?”
He reached up his arms. “Help Angel.”
Carrying him, Angeline checked the larder and the ice box. Left over roast, probably from Sunday, would be good for Matthew’s and her lunch. She wanted to fry chicken for Grady’s supper. Her purse held money he’d paid her on Friday for her first week.
She peered at the little boy who’d captured her heart. “Would you like to go for a walk, Matthew? Let’s get you to the potty and then we can go find some candy.”
She washed his face and hands and tickled his tummy. “You’re a good boy. We’ll go get a chicken to cook for your supper.”
He clapped his hands. “Chicken goes cluck cluck.”
She held his hand and let him set the pace. He’d likely tire soon and she’d have to carry him, but the walk would be good for him. They drew stares as they went to the butcher shop but she merely smiled and nodded at those they passed.
No sooner had she reached the board walkway that connected several stores than she met Mrs. Jackson. Angeline’s stomach knotted and she dreaded encountering the woman.
Lizzie Jackson stopped her. “What are you doing with the preacher’s son?”
“Mrs. Gallagher can no longer care for him so I’m acting as nanny. We’re on our way to buy a fryer for dinner.”
Mrs. Jackson’s expression was even more prunish than usual. “I don’t approve of a young single woman in the home of our preacher.”
“I’m only there a few hours on weekdays while Reverend McIntyre is away. I still live at Mrs. Harrison’s.”
“Harrumph. Foolish idea her bringing in a bunch of women to parade around like circus attractions.”
“She’s trying to help the town, Mrs. Jackson. Surely you don’t want all the young men to move away. The town would die under those circumstances.”
“There ought to be a more respectable way for them to marry.”
“I assure you we are all respectable women. If you take the time to get to know the other six, you’ll learn they are each very nice and have high morals.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t approve. Lydia Harrison has always been too flamboyant and this latest stunt of hers takes the cake.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Mrs. Harrison is the finest woman I’ve ever met. Good day, Mrs. Jackson.” She lifted Matthew to stride away from the vitriolic woman. Meeting her had put a pall on an otherwise beautiful day. She composed herself before setting the child back down and opening the butcher shop door.
Mr. Horowitz smiled at Matthew. “That’s a nice escort you have there, Miss. You have him working up an appetite.”
She glanced down at Matthew, wondering what the butcher thought of her bringing in her charge. “He is a fine boy, isn’t he? I’ll take the nicest frying chicken you have.”
Mr. Horowitz wrapped the bird in paper and tied the package with string. “Sounds as if the preacher will be happy to have a good meal. Ja, he loves fried chicken, he does. From what he’s told me, his attempts fall short.”
“I didn’t know he’d tried. I thought Matthew would enjoy a drumstick.” She put the chicken in the basket she carried.
Mr. Horowitz’s hearty laug
h relaxed her. “That he will. Boys need food with a handle.”
With a genuine smile, she said, “Thank you for your help. My regards to you kind wife. Good day, Mr. Horowitz.”
Next she went to the mercantile and talked to Josephine Nailor, one of the Bride Brigade who’d found a job working at the mercantile.
“I need four nice potatoes and enough apples for a pie. Oh, no. I forgot to check the sugar and cinnamon. I’d better get both. I hope he has flour.”
“Let me check the account.” She rifled through a stack of cards until she found the one she wanted. “Yes, he bought flour on Saturday but I don’t see sugar or cinnamon. Does he have milk and eggs?”
“Plenty of milk for Matthew but I don’t know about eggs. I’d better take a dozen.”
While Josephine gathered those for her, Angeline showed Matthew the candy. He was excited she let him choose a peppermint stick.
Josephine said, “He’s so happy. Has he had candy before?”
“I have no idea. I hope his father won’t be unhappy that I’ve given his son sweets.”
Josephine laughed. “If you’re making an apple pie for the preacher, I’m sure he’ll forgive you anything.”
“I hope so. He and Dr. Gaston have gone to the Hopkins home.”
Josephine’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, no. That sounds serious.”
“I believe the eldest man of the family is dying. Would you tell Lydia I’ll be late this evening? Reverend McIntyre thought he’d have to be there for most of the day.”
“I’ll relay the message. Nice to see you and Matthew.”
Angeline firmly grasped Matthew’s hand. “Come on, sticky boy. Time to go home.”
Josephine hurried to the door. “Let me open that for you. Shouldn’t you have us deliver your basket?”
She smiled at her friend’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you, but I have a chicken in there. I’d better get it to the parsonage ice box right away.”
Back at Grady’s home, she unpacked her basket then cleaned up Matthew and fed him lunch. While he was napping, she prepared the pie and slid it into the oven to bake. The house filled with the tempting aroma of cinnamon and apples as she cut up the chicken.
She was grateful she didn’t need to kill and strip the feathers from the chicken herself. Ugh! She’d watched cook do that. In addition to probably not being able to kill the fowl, the smell of scalded feathers was disgusting.
Angeline (Bride Brigade Book 2) Page 6