“Well?” Kensington prodded.
Gabriel looked to Felicity. Denying Coughlin his due would mean the secret of Kensington’s involvement with the bootlegging ring would come out. Felicity would be crushed. The moment he’d been dreading had arrived.
Kensington growled, “You have a problem deciding, son?”
Gabriel cleared his throat. “Two parents are preferred.”
Felicity beamed at him, and his heart ached.
Kensington ratcheted up the pressure. “Let’s not exclude a deserving man based on circumstances beyond his control. I’m sure we all know widows or widowers who did a fine job raising children. Why look at Mrs. Simmons. She raised a son and daughter after her husband died, and we haven’t eliminated her from consideration.”
“True.” Gabriel couldn’t refute that. The Simmonses were amongst the kindest people in Pearlman.
“But Mr. Coughlin is hardly Mrs. Simmons,” Felicity insisted. “She is kind and respected. He is shiftless and cruel. I knew Benjamin. We can’t send an innocent child to live with Mr. Coughlin. We can’t.” She blinked rapidly, and her voice rasped with emotion.
Gabriel had never heard such passion from her. She would fight for those children with every ounce of strength. He hadn’t given her enough credit. Mariah was right. Felicity did belong on the committee, and she’d just made his decision much easier.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kensington. I must stand for what is right for the children.” He placed Coughlin’s application on the rejection pile. “Mr. Coughlin simply doesn’t meet the basic requirements of the program.”
Kensington leaned back, his jaw tight and his gaze narrow. “That’s your final decision?”
Gabriel nodded.
Kensington worked his jaw. “I’m disappointed, son. I thought you were a man who practiced what he preached. Apparently I was wrong. Unless you’re willing to change your mind.” His finger twitched like it was on the trigger of a gun.
Gabriel saw his career fall dead to the ground. Mrs. Grattan said Kensington voted to retain him. The next vote would come out differently, and he’d be gone, his ministry and his hope of a life with Felicity in ruins—all for doing what was right.
He could change his mind and accept Kensington’s offer. He could sell his soul for the chance to spend a lifetime with the woman who dominated his thoughts and dreams. Kensington expected him to capitulate, but Gabriel Meeks was not in the soul-selling business.
He looked to heaven for assurance and saw the plate glass window, the one Mrs. Kensington planned to replace. Wrong was wrong. That first day, he’d told Kensington that he answered only to God. Well, nothing had changed.
“My decision stands.” Gabriel wrote REJECTED across the front of Coughlin’s application, and Felicity clapped with joy.
Little did she realize what he’d just signed away.
“What do you mean you gave up your ministry?” Mariah stopped stirring the stew and fixed her attention entirely on Gabriel.
He slumped into the nearest kitchen chair, exhausted. “It’s over, sis.”
“Why?” Mariah returned to the stewpot. “I don’t understand how rejecting Mr. Coughlin’s application warrants firing you. Any decent person can see the man’s not fit to raise a child. How on earth can that lead to removal?”
Gabriel groaned and buried his head in his hands. “It’s tough to explain.”
“Try.”
Thoughts and memories whirled through Gabriel’s mind, not the least of which was the kiss. In that moment, he knew Felicity was meant for him. She fit so perfectly, as if molded from the same bit of clay. He’d intended to ask Kensington for permission to see her. Gabriel laughed harshly at the lost opportunity.
Mariah stared. “I don’t see what’s humorous about this.”
He rubbed his mouth, but it didn’t remove the bitter taste. “I was going to ask permission to court Felicity.”
“Oh, Gabe, that’s wonderful.”
Count on Mariah to gravitate to the positive and ignore the problem. “It’s impossible.”
She blinked, spoon in midair. “I don’t understand. Even if you did lose the pastorate here, Felicity would go anywhere with you.”
“That’s not the point.” He tore at his hair.
“Then what is the point, because quite honestly you’re not making any sense?”
“Her father would never give permission.”
“Because you rejected Mr. Coughlin’s application.” She laughed and returned to the stew. “Don’t you think you’re taking this to extremes? I’m sure Mr. Kensington is a reasonable man and in time will see that you and Felicity are right for each other. Besides, he loves his daughter. You’ve told me so a dozen times. Even if he is upset now, she’ll eventually win him over. You’ll see. Everything works for the best for those who love the Lord.”
Gabriel groaned at her unshakeable faith. “We are also to expect persecution and suffering for His name’s sake.”
“My, aren’t we gloomy tonight.”
“It’s not gloom. It’s fact.” His voice broke. The chain of events had been set in motion. Once Coughlin learned he wasn’t approved, he’d expose Kensington’s part in the bootlegging. Felicity was smart enough to piece together the rest. She’d hate him. “It’s no use, Mariah. I’ve lost her.”
His sister sat beside him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Gabriel took a deep breath. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he trusted Mariah. “Something illegal is going on in this town.” And then he explained it all. He detailed how he’d smelled whiskey on Blevins, the sounds in the alley and that Slinky had fallen into a root cellar full of bootlegged liquor.
Mariah grew more worried with every revelation. “You have to tell the sheriff.”
“I did. He refused to act.”
“But why?”
Gabriel had asked himself that question many times. That was why he hadn’t told Sheriff Ilsley about Blevins and Kensington canting liquor at the root cellar. He knew only one reason why Ilsley wouldn’t act. “Perhaps he’s in on it.”
“I can’t believe that. Sheriff Ilsley is respected throughout Pearlman for his honesty and fairness.”
“Even honest men can be turned by greed, especially when their superiors are.” He bitterly thought of Kensington. There was no other explanation. Though the man owned half the town, it wasn’t enough. Perhaps he’d lost money recently. Perhaps runs on the bank had left him strapped, and he had to turn to illegal activities for funds.
“What superiors?” Mariah asked. When he didn’t answer, understanding dawned in her hazel eyes. “Do you mean, Felicity’s father?”
He nodded miserably.
“Are you certain?”
He wished he wasn’t. “I saw him at the root cellar with Blevins counting their stores of whiskey.”
“Oh, Gabe.” She hugged him, but it didn’t do much to relieve the pain. “What are you going to do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Chapter Thirteen
Felicity arrived late at the train station Wednesday afternoon thanks to Mother, who pestered her about every little thing until Felicity finally walked out in midprotest. Judging by the crowds on the platform, everyone else in town was already there. So was the train, its black locomotive grayed by summer dust. The whistle screeched with a cloud of white steam, and the smallest children covered their ears.
The crowd hummed with the anxious excitement of bees on a hive. She slid between Mrs. Evans and Mr. Hammond, who barely gave an inch. She then skirted around the Sheas. The oppressive heat stuck to her like spun candy.
“Excuse me,” she called out repeatedly. “Committee member coming through.”
Most people gave her a little room, but not everyone did. Her hat got knocked askew, and more than one elbow accidentally caught her in the ribs.
At last, intact though slightly disheveled, she stood at the edge of the platform. Only a few feet separa
ted her from the wall of the locomotive. By leaning forward over the abyss, she could see down the length of the train. To her dismay, the passengers were disembarking fifty feet away, and scores of people jammed the platform between her and there. Grown men and women jostled and craned to get a look, but Felicity didn’t see the children yet.
When the conductor appeared on the metal train car steps, the crowd surged behind Felicity, nearly pushing her off the platform.
“There they are.” The shout rang out, and the crowd pressed toward the passenger car, taking Felicity along with them.
She spotted the little faces in the windows, peering anxiously at the crowd below. One moment they were visible; the next they disappeared.
“They’re coming,” a man shouted.
Again the murmur rose, and Felicity feared the people would crush the poor children the moment they debarked.
“Step back, everyone,” Gabriel urged from the train car’s bottom step. He motioned the people to move, and they obediently took one step back. “Let’s give the children some room.” They moved back a few more inches, but not for long. As soon as he turned to the conductor, they pressed forward again.
“They’re coming,” someone shouted, and the pushing and shoving resumed.
“People,” Daddy bellowed, “let’s give the pastor here some room.”
That not only stopped the pressing but for precious minutes quieted the crowd. Though Felicity was still miffed at her father for supporting Mr. Coughlin, she was glad he’d make sure the crowds didn’t squash the children.
Daddy held up a hand. “Now listen up to the pastor.”
Gabriel had to shout. “There will be a reception at the church at four-thirty. No one may talk to the children before then. Sheriff Ilsley and his deputies are here to ensure that, so you might as well go home.”
The sheriff hopped onto the bottom step of the train car.
“Reverend Meeks is right. Not one child will get off this train until every one of you clears back.”
Grumbling, the crowd backed off, all, that is, but one man. Mr. Coughlin stood alone with unfettered access to the train. He could easily reach the children by going through the unguarded end of the car.
“Stop him,” Felicity cried, but no one listened. Neither could she get past the people that blocked her way. She waved at Gabriel, but he didn’t see her. Daddy was chatting with the sheriff off to the side. They didn’t see Coughlin.
“Let me through,” she begged Mrs. Grattan, whose heavy bulk blocked her way.
Mrs. Grattan planted her hands on her hips. “Felicity Kensington, you have no more right to this spot than I do.”
“But you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand all right. You think you’re better than everyone else. Well, we’re all equal under God and the Constitution.” With a huff, she turned away.
Felicity couldn’t see over or past her, nor could she get around her. She was trapped.
Mariah appeared for a moment but soon disappeared as the crowd moved forward with an “ahhh.” The first of the children appeared in the doorway. Perhaps five or six, the young girl’s golden curls and wide eyes ensured she’d be snapped up by someone. She hugged a rag doll and sucked her thumb.
“Isn’t she darling?” cooed Mrs. Fox.
Why wasn’t the sheriff waiting until everyone left? Bringing out the children now only made the crowd press close again.
Two boys around eight years of age climbed off the train. One, a sparkplug bursting with energy, waved to the crowd, eliciting laughter. The other, bronze-skinned and with a dark mop of curls, kept his gaze firmly on the ground.
The fourth child appeared, an older boy around eleven or twelve, thin and pale and terrified. Felicity’s heart went out to him. The poor boy reminded her of Slinky when Coughlin was leading him to slaughter.
Abandoning all decorum, Felicity shoved past Mrs. Grattan. From there, she saw Coughlin step up to the train. The last boy had appeared on the step by then, beanpole tall and wary, his trousers several inches too short. Felicity looked around for help, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.
Coughlin mounted the first step. “Show me yer muscle, boy.”
The lad, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, stood frozen in place until the black-suited male agent gently pushed him forward.
Coughlin squeezed the boy’s biceps as Felicity watched in horror. “Mighty thin, but he’ll do. I’ll take this’un.”
“No,” she cried. Someone had to stop this.
The boy looked ready to punch Coughlin, and though part of her wished he would, the boy was no match for the farmer. Coughlin would pummel the child into a bruised heap.
“Stop him.” Felicity struggled to get to the boy, but no one let her through. If anything, the crowd was more intent than ever on the drama unfolding before them. “Please, someone.”
Thankfully Gabriel leaped onto the train steps and wedged himself between Coughlin and the boy. “I’m sorry, Mr. Coughlin. The process doesn’t work that way. After this afternoon’s meeting at the church, you and the other applicants will have an opportunity to indicate a preference. Then the committee will meet and makes its decision. The children will be united with their foster parents ten o’clock tomorrow morning at the church.”
Coughlin reluctantly backed away, and Gabriel shuttled the boy to Mariah, who was gathering all the children under the protection of the sheriff and his deputy.
The terror hammering inside Felicity eased. The children were safe now. Nothing bad could happen to them.
Yet.
Once the children were safely delivered from the turmoil of the train station into the sanctuary of Terchie’s boardinghouse, Gabriel could finally relax. He hadn’t expected the crush of curiosity—and neither had the children. It took all Mariah’s skill to calm them down. Naps were out of the question and so was eating in the dining room, where curious townspeople peeked through the windows. After drawing the drapes, Terchie brought the paczki and milk upstairs.
The boardinghouse smelled of wax, borax and cleanser—good, honest clean. Gabriel drew in a lungful. This is why he came to Pearlman, not for the trivial sniping and prejudices. Over and over this afternoon he heard people, some members of his own congregation, weigh the merits of one child over the other—too thin, too frail, too shy, too fearful, skin too dark. He’d heard enough to make him wish he’d never agreed to this project.
“They’re not behaving like Christians,” he complained to Mariah when she returned. He poured her a cup of tea.
His sister blew on the piping-hot liquid to cool it. “They’re behaving like people, good and bad.”
Gabriel rubbed his temples. “I wish it was over. Can you believe Mr. Coughlin?”
Mariah smiled slightly. “He didn’t understand the process is all.”
Gabriel raised his eyes. “I never thought you’d take his side.”
“Did I say I was taking his side?” She took a sip of tea. “Did you see Felicity?”
Gabriel hated to admit he’d been scanning the crowd for her the entire time. When she appeared, frantic and hat askew, he’d nearly abandoned his post to go to her. “I had responsibilities.”
Mariah lifted her eyebrows. “I only asked if you saw her.”
“I did.” Gabriel sank into the irrational sulkiness that had dogged him since yesterday. He told himself it had to do with the disaster that would erupt when Coughlin learned he wasn’t getting an orphan, but in reality, it was all about Felicity. He wanted to protect her from the pain of learning her beloved father was a criminal, and he wanted to hide his role in that revelation.
“Mmm,” murmured Mariah. “Too bad there wasn’t time to talk. Perhaps later.”
“I doubt it,” he growled.
Mariah leveled her cool gaze at him over the rim of the teacup. “Gabriel John, two people in love must talk openly and honestly. It’s the foundation of any relationship. Don’t make her wonder why you’re avoiding her.”
He squirmed in his seat. Mariah could be just like a mother sometimes. “Some things are best left unsaid.”
“You have to tell her what you know about the bootlegging.”
“What’s this, Pastor?” Sheriff Ilsley, a tall, lean man with the sinewy muscles of a cowboy and the crooked nose of a boxer, sauntered into the room with a cup of coffee. His crisp uniform hadn’t wilted in the heat, though the dust on the trousers and shadows under the arms betrayed a tough day’s work. “Have you heard something more?”
Gabriel shot his sister a look that could send a grown man to his knees. It had no effect on her.
“Nothing new,” he mumbled. This was neither the time nor the place to tell Ilsley that he’d seen Kensington and Blevins at the root cellar. He still wasn’t certain the man wanted the bootleggers caught. “Quite a mess at the train station, wasn’t it?”
“Just what I expected,” the sheriff drawled. “A circus. Like I said, you shouldn’t have told people when the children were coming in.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Even a minister had to swallow his words sometimes.
“That church meeting of yours’ll be even worse.”
“In a house of God?” He couldn’t believe that. “Surely people will behave in a church.”
“Don’t count on it, Pastor. These folks don’t see much new around here. It’s a curiosity. You can’t blame’em for wanting to take it all in.”
Gabriel groaned. He did not want to go through that scene again. “Perhaps we should cancel the reception.”
Mariah clucked softly. “You know you can’t do that, Gabe.”
“The lady’s right. People are expecting a show.”
“It’s not a show,” Gabriel protested. “This is serious.”
The sheriff was unfazed. “Of course it is. I’m not saying it’s not. No one here’ll step out of line, not while I’m around.” The sheriff tossed down the rest of his coffee. “You can count on me to make sure everything’s on the up and up.”
The Matrimony Plan Page 16