Ben took his place behind the table and held up one hand to get everyone’s attention. “The bidding’s about to begin. We’ll start with this one first.” He held up a yellow basket.
William watched with interest as the bidding began. Various boxes went from fifty cents all the way up to three dollars. Since it was for a worthy cause, he was prepared to bid as much as five dollars for the box with the yellow ribbon.
When Ben got to the box William wanted, the auctioneer started the bidding at one dollar. Lars Olsen took the price up to two dollars. William quickly bid three, and from there the cost went to four. “We’ve got a four-dollar bid on this lovely hatbox!” Ben hollered. “Who’ll give me five?”
William’s hand shot up. He could almost taste the savory sweetness of that peach pie, and he licked his lips in anticipation.
“The bid’s at five dollars. Now who’ll give me six?”
The room became silent.
“Five, going once. Five, going twice.” Ben slapped his hand on the table. “This lunch box has been sold to the preacher for five dollars!”
William stepped forward and picked up the hatbox, bending down to sniff the lid. A delicious peach aroma tickled his nose, and he smiled with satisfaction. He hoped there were two pieces in there, because it would be hard to divvy up that peach pie with the woman who’d prepared the box lunch and with whom he knew he must share the meal.
Ben motioned to the women’s side of the room. “Will the person who made the lunch inside the box our pastor just purchased please step forward?”
All heads turned, and William’s mouth went dry when Betsy Nelson stood and walked slowly toward him.
Lars elbowed William in the ribs. “Sure hope she’s got somethin’ in that box worth five dollars.”
Chapter 20
Betsy squirmed as she watched William spread a quilt on the grass behind the church, knowing they would be sharing a meal together. When she’d agreed to make a lunch for the box social, it hadn’t occurred to her that the man who’d buy her lunch would turn out to be Pastor William.
“There, it’s all ready. Won’t you have a seat?” He nodded toward the quilt.
She smiled. At least she hoped it was a smile. Her knees knocked so badly and her face had heated up so much that she wasn’t sure what her expression looked like.
Once they were seated on the quilt, Pastor William offered a blessing, and Betsy opened the hatbox lid. “I hope you like cold chicken,” she said, chancing a peek at him.
“Has it been cooked?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Of course.” She giggled and noticed that, for the first time all day, she felt relaxed. “The dill pickles and coleslaw are the only raw items in this meal.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had prepared this special lunch just for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fried chicken, dill pickles, peach pie—all my favorites.”
Betsy squinted, while pointing to the hatbox. “How did you know there’s peach pie in there?”
A shadow crossed his face, and he quickly looked away. “Uh—a little birdie informed me.”
“Freda Hanson is the only one I told that I’d made peach pie.”
The pastor nodded. “Right before the bidding started, Freda whispered in my ear that the white hatbox with a yellow bow had peach pie in it.” He glanced across the yard where Ben and Freda sat on a blanket, sharing the lunch Freda had prepared for them.
Betsy gritted her teeth.
Pastor William chuckled. “Oh well, at least I get to have my pie and eat it, too.”
She smiled. It was nice to know the pastor had a sense of humor, and Betsy was overcome with the realization that this was the first time since Papa’s death that she’d been able to find joy in something.
She reached inside the hatbox and removed the main course, a jug of cold tea, and two thick slices of peach pie for dessert. Then she took out plates, silverware, and a cup for each of them.
“If this tastes half as good as it looks, I’m in for a real treat,” Pastor William said, reaching for a drumstick.
“Papa always said I was a good cook, almost as good as Mama used to be.”
He bit into the chicken and smacked his lips. “I can’t imagine anyone’s chicken tasting better than this.”
Betsy’s neck heated up, and the warmth spread quickly to her cheeks. She wasn’t used to getting such compliments—especially from such an attractive man. She felt something for Pastor William, no matter how hard she tried to deny it.
“I heard from the Hansons that you’ve decided to stay in Walnutport,” he said, taking their conversation in another direction.
Betsy nodded. “For now, anyway.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She poured some tea and took a quick drink, hoping it might help calm her nerves. Was it possible that Pastor William wanted her to stay because he had feelings for her? No, that couldn’t be. He was just being kind. He probably wanted her to stay so he wouldn’t have to look for someone else to play the organ and teach the girls’ Sunday school class.
Betsy dismissed her thoughts and decided to enjoy the meal as she listened to Pastor William talk about various needs in the church and how he was finally getting to know the people in his congregation.
They’d just begun clearing away their dishes when Kelly and Mike showed up. Mike suggested the pastor join him in checking on a broken window in the church that needed to be replaced.
Pastor William thanked Betsy for the delicious lunch and excused himself, then Kelly dropped to the quilt beside Betsy. “How did your lunch go?”
“Fine. How was yours?”
“It was good.”
Betsy glanced around to be sure no one was listening. “I think Freda Hanson planned it so Pastor William would bid on my hatbox and end up having to eat lunch with me.”
Kelly’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? You think she’s trying to get the two of you together?”
Betsy nodded. “From a couple of things Freda has said to me recently, I get the feeling that she thinks I would make a good pastor’s wife.”
“She’s right. You would.”
“I don’t think so. I’m too outspoken, and besides, the pastor’s not romantically interested in me.”
“Then how come he seemed to be having such a good time over here this afternoon?”
“He was being kind and polite, like any good preacher would be with someone from his congregation.”
“Puh!” Kelly waved her hand, as though she were batting at a pesky fly. “If you can’t see the way that man looks at you, then you’d better make an appointment with Dr. McGrath and ask him to check your eyes.”
Betsy picked at a piece of lint on her dark blue skirt and remained silent. If Kelly wanted to think the preacher had eyes for her, that was Kelly’s problem. Betsy was sure he’d only been acting polite today, and the kindness he’d shown toward her was no different than what he would have shown to any of his church members.
Kelly nudged Betsy’s arm. “Changing the subject, I was wondering if you’d be free to have supper at our house next Friday.”
At first Betsy was tempted to turn down the invitation, but then she thought about how much fun it would be to spend time with Kelly’s two little ones. “I’d be happy to join you for supper next week,” she said with a nod. “Is there anything I can bring?”
“Just a hearty appetite. Oh, and why don’t you wear your hair down that night? It looks so pretty when it’s hanging down your back.”
Betsy didn’t see what difference it made how she wore her hair when she went to the Coopers’ house, but she agreeably nodded.
“Great.” Kelly patted Betsy’s hand. “It will be a fun evening, I’m sure.”
Chapter 21
“It was nice of you to invite me to join you and your family for supper tonight,” Betsy said as she stepped into Kelly’s cozy kitchen. It was a large room with bl
ue- and white-checkered curtains hanging at the windows and a matching cloth draped over the wooden table. “I know how busy you are with the store and all, so I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to fix this meal.”
Kelly shook her head and moved over to the counter, where an abundance of fresh vegetables lay beside a huge wooden bowl. “Since our home is attached to the back of the store, it’s easy for me to pop over here and get something going on the stove.” She nodded toward the table. “Have a seat, and we can visit while I finish getting supper ready.”
Betsy glanced around the room. “What needs to be done? I’d be happy to help in any way I can.”
Kelly grabbed a head of lettuce and started tearing off the leaves then dropping them into the bowl. “The ham and potatoes are staying warm in the oven, and I just need to finish making the salad, so there’s not much else to do right now.”
Betsy was about to pull out a chair and sit down when a thought popped into her head. “What about the children? Do they need someone to keep them entertained until supper is ready?”
Kelly looked over her shoulder and grinned. “The little ones are in the living room with their papa, so I’m sure they’re bein’ well cared for.” She nodded toward the cupboard across the room. “I guess you could set the table though.”
Betsy pushed the chair in and hurried across the room, glad for the opportunity to do something useful.
When Kelly opened the oven door, the tantalizing aroma of baked ham floated into the room. It was at that moment that Betsy realized she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and even that had been a meager meal. Since Papa had died, she hadn’t felt much like cooking. Besides, her appetite had diminished. But standing in this warm, welcoming kitchen with such a delicious smell teasing her nose, she realized hunger pangs gnawed at her insides.
Betsy reached into the cupboard and removed five plates. She’d just begun to place them on the table when Kelly said, “Oh, I forgot to mention that you’ll need to put out six place settings.”
“Six? But there’s only five of us—you, Mike, Anna, Marcus, and me.”
“Pastor William will be joining us, too.”
Betsy whirled around. “He—he will?”
“Uh-huh.” Kelly closed the oven door and moved back to the counter; then she grabbed a tomato, sliced it, and added it to the bowl of lettuce.
“But I thought I was the only one you had invited. I didn’t realize the pastor was coming, too.” Betsy struggled with her swirling emotions as she leaned against the table. She had enjoyed spending time with Pastor William when they’d shared the box lunch last week, but it concerned her that some people from church had been trying to get her and the pastor together.
“You’re okay with Pastor William coming, I hope. I mean, you like him, don’t you?”
“What?” Betsy drew in a quick breath and fanned her face with her hand. The room had become so warm all of a sudden.
“Do you like Pastor William or not?”
“Of course I like him, but—”
“Mama, Marcus is botherin’ me!” Anna shouted as she dashed into the kitchen from the other room. “Make him give my dolly back!”
“Where’s your papa?” Kelly asked, reaching down to hug her fair-haired little girl. “Did you tell Papa that Marcus took your doll?”
Anna’s lower lip jutted out. “I tried, but Papa’s sleepin’ on the sofa.”
Kelly glanced at Betsy with an apologetic look. “Would you excuse me a minute so I can tend to this?”
Betsy nodded. “Of course.”
Kelly wiped her hands on a towel, and she and Anna scurried out of the room.
Betsy moved back to the cupboard in order to get another plate. She followed that with glasses and silverware for everyone and had just finished setting the table when a knock sounded on the back door. “That’s probably Pastor William. Oh I hope I look okay.” She took a quick peek at herself in the oval looking glass hanging near the sink and hurried to the door.
***
When the door opened and William saw Betsy standing inside the Coopers’ kitchen with her hair hanging around her shoulders in long, golden waves, his mouth went dry. He couldn’t think of a thing to say, and all he could do was stand there, gaping at her.
“H–hello, Pastor William,” she said, her voice quavering slightly.
“Betsy. I–I didn’t expect to see you here,” he stammered.
“Kelly invited me for supper, and only moments ago I found out she’d invited you, too.”
He nodded slowly. Had he been set up? Was Kelly in on the little game that some of the other women from church had been playing while trying to match him up with a prospective wife?
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside.
As a tantalizing aroma tickled his nose and made his stomach rumble, he shrugged his concerns aside and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells good.”
Betsy nodded and began to fill the glasses with water from a pitcher.
William glanced around the room, noting that he and Betsy were the only two people in the kitchen. Was Kelly planning for them to spend the evening alone? “Uh ... where’s the Cooper family hiding?”
“Kelly’s in the living room, tending to a squabble between her two children.”
“What about Mike?”
“Anna said her papa had fallen asleep on the sofa, so I guess Kelly will be waking him for supper, too.”
“I see.” William cleared his throat a couple of times. He didn’t like the way he felt whenever he and Betsy were alone—all jittery and filled with a desire to be with her all the time. His heart, which he had vowed never to let love again, pounded away like the blacksmith’s anvil every time Betsy was near. It made him wonder if he might be falling in love with her. He’d had those same feelings toward Beatrice. All that had left him with was a broken heart—and a determination never to fall in love again. Betsy seemed sincere and sweet, but he didn’t know if she could be trusted. He’d trusted Beatrice, and what had that gotten him? He needed to hold on to what was left of his good sense, because Betsy was threatening to tear his defenses down.
“If you’d like to have a seat, I’m sure the Coopers will be joining us soon,” Betsy said motioning to the chair nearest William.
He smiled despite the churning in his stomach and sat down.
“Have you chosen the songs for this Sunday yet?” Betsy asked, taking the chair opposite him.
He nodded. “They’re all familiar hymns, so that’s why I didn’t bring you any music to practice this week.” The truth was, he had purposely chosen those hymns so he wouldn’t have to be alone with Betsy while they practiced the music. Each time they were together, he found himself wanting something he knew he couldn’t have and didn’t want. Or so he told himself.
“You’re right. I probably don’t need to practice the easier hymns.” She smiled, and the dimple in her right cheek seemed to be winking at him.
William glanced at the door separating the Coopers’ kitchen from their living room. I wonder what’s taking them so long?
As if she could read his mind, Betsy pushed away from the table and stood. “Maybe I should let Kelly know you’re here.”
He nodded in reply.
Betsy had made it only halfway across the kitchen when the door flew open and the Cooper children zipped into the room. Anna held a rag doll in one hand and wore a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “I got my dolly back,” she said, holding it up to Betsy. “And Marcus got a swat on his backside.”
William stifled a chuckle as the two-year-old boy marched over to the table with a lift of his chin. Kids were sure cute. Too bad he would never have any of his own.
“Where’s your mama?” Betsy asked, reaching out to touch one of Anna’s golden curls.
“In there, tryin’ to get Papa off the couch.” The child pointed to the door then skipped across the room and climbed onto a chair. “I’m hungry.”
Mike entered the room then, rubbi
ng his eyes and yawning, and Kelly strolled in behind him. She smiled when she saw William. “I’m glad you could make it for supper, Pastor. Has Betsy been keeping you company?”
William’s face heated. I think I’m being set up. I’ll bet Kelly stayed out in the living room just so Betsy and I could spend a few minutes alone. He loosened the knot on his tie. Well, it won’t work. I will not give in to my feelings for Betsy Nelson, no matter how much I enjoy being with her.
Chapter 22
As Betsy stared out her kitchen window at the driving rain, her thoughts took her back to the supper she and Pastor William had shared at the Coopers’ house two weeks ago. Despite her apprehension, the meal had turned out quite well. After they’d enjoyed some of Kelly’s delicious apple pie for dessert, the children were put to bed, while the two couples spent the rest of the evening sitting around the kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate, playing dominoes, and visiting. Betsy had felt so comfortable with Pastor William that it had almost seemed as if she’d known him all her life.
“I wonder if he felt the same way about me,” she murmured. “He seemed much more at ease than he has in the past.”
Bristle Face, who lay curled in a tight ball in front of the woodstove, lifted his head and whimpered, as if in response.
Ever since Papa’s death, Betsy had found companionship and comfort in the dog. There were times when she wondered if Bristle Face actually felt her pain. Or maybe it was just that the dog missed Papa, too.
The window rattled from a rumble of thunder that shook the morning sky, and Betsy shuddered. She disliked storms, and this was one of the worst they’d had in quite some time. It had rained continuously for almost a week, and it didn’t look as though it would let up anytime soon.
“Sure hope the canal walls hold together,” she said with a shake of her head. If the canal was shut down, even for a short time, it would affect the boatmen, as well as everyone who lived or worked near the canal. It had happened several times during the years Betsy and her father had lived in Walnutport, but the community had always banded together and overcome even the worst of storms.
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