“The most time-consuming task is hemming the skirt, so I’m glad we have the machine,” Rachel said as she cut out the next piece. “I do believe I’ve spent weeks and years of my life hemming skirts by hand.”
“And now it will just take days,” Abigail said good-humoredly. “I’m teasing you, Olivia. We’ll have this done in time for the picnic, I promise.”
“Come over here and learn how to cut out the fabric,” Rachel invited. “I’ve already pinned down the pattern, but I’ll show you how to do that on the next dress. Just go around the edges of the paper, and be careful—these scissors are sharp.”
Olivia was far more accustomed to clipping out newspaper articles than she was to cutting fabric, and her hand trembled a little as she went around a curve. “Am I doing this right?”
“You’re doing very well for your first time,” Rachel told her.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m doing it right,” Olivia protested.
“You’re being far too hard on yourself. Just keep going, and you’ll get better with practice. Abigail can make it all come out right as she sews.”
By the time they had to leave for the next train, all the pieces for the first dress were cut out, and Abigail had sewn together a large portion of the bodice. They thanked Mrs. Dempsey, told her they’d be back after they cleaned up the second meal of the day, and raced to the hotel. Olivia’s hand was so tired from cutting fabric, she found it hard to hold the dinner plates properly, but she couldn’t deny feeling a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing she was doing something truly useful.
Chapter Eight
The girls had stayed up quite late on Friday night, but at last, the lavender dress was done, and Olivia had something pretty and yet respectable for the picnic. It was nothing compared to the party dresses she was used to wearing, but it suited her, and she liked the way she looked in it.
After the morning train had come and gone on Saturday, Olivia changed into her new dress, thanked the other waitresses for filling in for her on the second shift, and headed outside. Her intention had been to walk to the picnic, but she had scarcely left the hotel property when Pastor Osbourne pulled up beside her, his housekeeper on the buggy seat next to him.
“We’ve come to give you a lift, Miss Markham,” he called out jovially. “No sense in walking when you can ride with us. Mrs. Little baked so many pies and cakes, I nearly had to hire a buckboard to carry them all.”
“Are you sure you have room for me?” Olivia asked, shielding her eyes while she looked up at him.
“Of course we do.” Mrs. Little slid to the middle of the seat while Pastor Osbourne hopped down and came around to give Olivia a hand up. She would have preferred a bit more room, but as this was much better than walking, she wouldn’t complain.
“What have you made, Mrs. Little?” she asked as Pastor Osbourne flicked the reins.
“Two apple pies, two peach pies, two rhubarb pies, two cakes, and six loaves of bread,” Mrs. Little replied. “I also packed a few jars of the plum jam I made last year, along with some grape juice. You can never have too much food at a picnic—especially a church picnic. I don’t know what it is about religious people, but they can sure eat.”
“We need to keep our strength up for all those spiritual thoughts we keep having,” the pastor said, grinning at Olivia over Mrs. Little’s head. Olivia wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or amused. She hadn’t realized he had such a sense of humor about his calling.
“So, tell me where we’re going,” Olivia said. “I know the direction, of course, because I was on my way there, but tell me about the people.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Perry have been members of the congregation almost before there was a church,” Pastor Osbourne replied. “They’re some of the oldest residents of Topeka, and by that, I mean both in age and in how long they’ve lived here. The town’s only twenty years old, you realize. Every year, they host a picnic at their pond. It used to be held on Sundays, but some of the children—and adults—would forget it was the Lord’s day and become a bit too rambunctious. So we moved it to Saturday, and now they can be as rambunctious as they like.”
“Do they have family living nearby?”
“They have two adult sons, both married and with farms that adjoin their parents’. Leo Perry is their oldest grandson, and he lives with them to oversee the place. He’s a pleasant fellow—very knowledgeable about plants and grasses and trees. Helps keep things in tip-top shape. He doesn’t come out to church much, though, so you’ve probably never seen him.”
Leo Perry sounded . . . fascinating. Olivia shook her head as she looked out at the homes they were passing. Why she couldn’t have landed herself a husband in New York, she’d never know. There wasn’t one interesting single man in all of Kansas, from what she’d seen. Elizabeth had stolen Adam clean out from under her nose, Dr. Wayment had been smitten with Jeanette almost right from the start . . . fate was most definitely not on her side.
The pastor guided the buggy onto a smaller side road, and Olivia looked around her with delight. Both sides of the road were lined with trees, and up ahead, she could see a pond with ducks swimming placidly on the surface. An enchanting farmhouse sat on a rise off to the east, and the whole place was just idyllic. This was easily the most beautiful spot in Topeka.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” the pastor asked, seeming to know her thoughts. “Beauty is possible out here after all.”
“I never thought it wasn’t,” Olivia replied. “I just hadn’t seen much evidence of it until now.”
Pastor Osbourne laughed. “Well, there’s evidence aplenty here. You should see it in the spring, when all the fruit trees are in blossom. You’d think you were in heaven.”
“What kinds of fruit trees grow in heaven?” she asked, curious to see how he’d respond to such a question.
“Why, apple trees, of course. You should know from the first few chapters of Genesis how fond the Lord is of apple trees.”
He said this so seriously that for a moment, Olivia believed he meant it. Then she caught the twinkle in his eye. “Oh, very clever, Pastor. Tell me, do they teach you church humor at religion school?”
“No, but they should, shouldn’t they?” He brought the buggy around to a stop next to several other wagons and carriages, then helped the two ladies down. Olivia took the basket of bread and followed Mrs. Little over to a long table that had been set up to hold the food.
“Those certainly are lovely pies, Mrs. Little.”
Olivia glanced up at the voice and nearly dropped her basket. Standing before her was the most handsome young man she’d seen in a very long time. His hair was black, and his eyes flashed midnight. A small mustache grew above his mouth, and when he turned to Olivia, she felt her knees go a bit weak.
“I don’t believe I’ve met your charming companion, Mrs. Little,” he said, his gaze taking in everything about Olivia’s face.
“This is Olivia Markham, the new choir director,” Mrs. Little replied. “Miss Markham, this is Leo Perry.”
So this was Leo Perry. Olivia had judged him too harshly, based on the pastor’s description of him. Of course, she could hardly expect the pastor to mention how dashing Mr. Perry might be, or how his teeth sparkled white in the sun. Men didn’t notice things like that about other men.
Mr. Perry extended a hand. “Miss Markham, welcome to Topeka. I hope the choir is treating you well.”
She touched his fingertips with her gloved hand. “I’m sure we’ll have many stirring performances to come. I understand from the pastor that you’re quite tied up with business on Sundays and you’re unable to attend.”
Mr. Perry inclined his head. “That has been the case, but perhaps I’d be able to make an exception once in a while to hear the choir sing.” He held her gaze, and her heart started to thud. Perhaps this was why she felt urged to accept the position of choir director—she was supposed to meet this man, and the church picnic was the only way she would have come in contact with him.
He smiled and gave her a nod. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Markham. Perhaps I’ll see you again throughout the afternoon. I’m afraid I must excuse myself to greet the other guests, but I’m sure that none of them will be as fascinating as you.” His eyes included Mrs. Little in his comment, but his smile was only for Olivia.
“Well now, he seemed rather taken with you,” Mrs. Little said as soon as he was out of earshot. “I must warn you, Miss Markham—he talks a pretty line, but he rarely follows through.”
“He did give me that impression,” Olivia replied. “You’re not to worry about me, Mrs. Little. I’ve broken my own share of hearts in my time, and I’m not susceptible.”
Mrs. Little chuckled and patted her arm. “Very well, then. I’ll trust you to take care of yourself.”
A few minutes later, Pastor Osbourne called everyone around and offered grace on the food, and then the crowd formed a line to dish up their plates. Olivia found herself wedged between two elderly women who were both apparently hard of hearing, as they kept shouting to each other around her. She took a small portion of five or six different things and then ducked out of the line, eager to escape the loudly delivered gossip.
She paused at the edge of the gathering, looking for a place to sit and eat. Pastor Osbourne waved at her from where he’d taken a spot on a fallen log, and she joined him.
“This is perfect. Now you can save my seat while I go collect my plate,” he said. “Nothing worse than having someone steal your chair while you’re trying to decide between chicken and beef.”
“You could take both,” Olivia replied. “You’re the pastor. They’d forgive you.”
He laughed. “I could at that. You’ve rather tempted me, Miss Markham, and I’m not supposed to succumb to temptation.”
Olivia ate while she waited for the pastor to return. The food was quite excellent, and she realized to her surprise that she might actually enjoy learning how to make some of these dishes. Miss Hampton must be rubbing off on her.
When the pastor returned, he walked slowly, accompanied by Mrs. Clasby, who was talking his ear off. Her voice was so loud, Olivia didn’t even have to eavesdrop to overhear what was being said.
“Mrs. King is very upset. She’s worried that I’m leaving the choir in the hands of some sort of heathen. She said she spoke to you, and you didn’t seem overly concerned. Well, I’m concerned, Pastor, whether you are or not. The Lord’s music is nothing to be trifled with. We simply cannot leave it up to chance, and if this young woman from New York can’t put her worldly ways aside, she’s not the right choice.”
Olivia gripped her fork so hard, if it hadn’t been made of metal, it would have snapped. She hated being criticized, and she especially hated it when she’d made an honest effort. She wanted to leap up and give Mrs. Clasby the what-for, but she didn’t want to embarrass the pastor, so she remained seated, her eyes on her plate.
“Mrs. Clasby, I appreciate your diligence, as always. But I refuse to judge Miss Markham’s suitability to lead the choir until I’ve actually seen her do it. A person can conjecture all they like, but until the evidence is before them, it’s of no more use than blowing dandelion fluff.”
“Well, I suppose that’s your right, but I will say this—I hope you don’t come to rue the day when you gave that woman a chance. I’ve never seen anyone so wanton in all my days, and that’s saying quite a bit.”
Olivia glanced up, fury boiling so hot, she feared she would go up in flames that instant. Couldn’t Mrs. Clasby see that she was sitting right there? But there was a bush in the way—it was possible she sat there unobserved.
“Mrs. Clasby, I must admonish you to be careful with your words. Christ asked us not to judge others, if you’ll recall, and we are in His service in this church. I fear you’re doing Miss Markham a grave injustice, speaking as you are.”
“I’ll consider that, Pastor. I’m just glad I’ll be in Denver, where I won’t have to see this unfold.”
The pastor laughed. “At the very least, we’ve found one reason for you to be glad you’re moving to that dreadful town.”
Olivia waited until Mrs. Clasby had turned and was going the other way. Then she stood, put her plate on the log, and began to march away from the picnic and back toward town. She had no idea how long it would take her to walk the distance, but she had no intention of staying in this place where she was to be spoken of in such a manner.
“Miss Markham!”
She heard the pastor calling after her, but she didn’t so much as slow her step.
She had just reached the shore of the pond when he reached out and caught her elbow, bringing her to a standstill. “Wait a moment,” he said. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the hotel,” she replied. “Apparently, wanton women like myself aren’t welcome at church picnics.”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. “I was hoping you hadn’t overheard that.”
“It would have taken a miracle not to. Her voice could have carried over the entire assemblage of five thousand, including the loaves and the fishes.”
He laughed, his tone rueful. “I don’t believe you’re a wanton woman, Miss Markham. Mrs. Clasby is . . . a firm believer in her opinions, but that doesn’t make her correct.”
“Mrs. King feels the same way, and Mrs. King does have a lot of influence in this community.” Olivia tossed her hands into the air, more frustrated than she’d been for quite a while. “I don’t know why I agreed to take on this task, Pastor. There’s certainly nothing in it for me. I’m not religious in the slightest, I have no use for rules and regulations masquerading as the word of God, and quite frankly, I’m rather of the opinion that God doesn’t have much use for me, either. But I’ve given it my best effort.” She motioned down at her dress. “The girls at the hotel even gave up all their free time for two days to help me make a new dress so I’d fit in with Topeka decent society, but that hasn’t mattered at all—I might as well have shown up in scarlet, for all the good it did me today. I warned you this would happen, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
A muscle in the pastor’s jaw twitched. The sparkle of humor was gone from his eyes, but she couldn’t tell what emotion lay there instead. “If you’ll calm down for one moment, Miss Markham, we could discuss this a bit further.”
Olivia hated being told to calm down. Her father was always and forever saying that to her, his voice condescending, his face showing his disdain. He never thought her emotions were justified, no matter what they were or what provoked them. All this resentment rose to the surface as she glared at the pastor.
“I will not calm down. I have been falsely labeled, made to feel inferior, ridiculed in public, and all because I donated some of my free time to your church and your precious choir. Perhaps sitting up there in your ivory tower, you have no idea what it means to be put on trial and found guilty without the slightest evidence—I’m sure the biggest problem you’ve ever had is deciding which black suit to wear on Sunday. It’s easy for you to feel high and mighty, I’m sure. I, on the other hand, will always be ‘that girl from New York,’ spoken of in the cruelest of tones, as though the town of my birth has anything to do with it—Elizabeth Brody is from New York as well, and yet she hasn’t experienced any of these accusations. No, Pastor, I certainly will not calm down, and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”
She turned again to leave, but before she could take one step, she felt two strong hands encircle her waist, and she was flung through the air and into the pond. Water rushed up all around her, green and murky, and she came face-to-face with a trout before she found her footing and stood on the rocky bottom, glaring up at the pastor, who had crossed his arms like a stoic Army general.
“What . . . how dare you! I . . .” Olivia couldn’t even find words, she was so furious. She wiped the water from her eyes, but it did little good overall, as she was drenched cle
an through.
“What on earth?” Leo Perry dashed up to the side of the pond. “Miss Markham, are you all right? However did you manage to fall in?” He reached out and grasped her hand, steadying her as she climbed back onto shore.
“I did not fall. I was pushed—or rather, thrown. I’m quite relieved that the water level this close to the edge was so deep—otherwise, I could have been seriously hurt.” She tried to smooth down her dress, which was completely saturated. She’d worn it for just a few hours, and already, it might be ruined.
“Who did this?” Mr. Perry glanced around. “Surely you don’t mean the pastor—”
“I certainly do mean the pastor. He picked me up and threw me in. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I’ll go home and change now.” Olivia started off again, her head held high.
“Wait, Miss Markham. Allow me to fetch a buggy, and I’ll drive you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Perry. That would be most delightful. If you don’t mind, I shall continue walking, and you may pick me up along the way. I don’t wish to stand next to this pond a moment longer.” She strode off, leaving the pastor where he stood, arms crossed, looking like some sort of disapproving statue.
Chapter Nine
Robert wanted to call out to Miss Markham, to apologize, but he was frozen in place, rooted to the spot. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He was the pastor, forevermore—he couldn’t be throwing people into ponds, especially not women, and especially not at church picnics where anyone could have seen. Indeed, someone did see—Leo Perry, grandson of the most generous patrons of the church. How much damage had his foolish burst of temper just caused?
He watched Miss Markham as she disappeared down the lane, the foliage of the trees obscuring her from view. She was good and truly soaked to the skin, and he couldn’t be more regretful. A moment later, Leo pulled up beside her in a buggy and helped her in, and then she was gone.
A Clean Slate (Kansas Crossroads Book 4) Page 6