Big sister, ha! Maisie might be the oldest, but she wasn’t any taller than Georgia.
“Please?” Georgia batted her blue eyes at Grace.
“Save that for the boys.” Grace huffed out a sigh of defeat. “All right. What did Maisie say I should wear?”
Georgia clapped her hands in delight and began to dig in Grace’s wardrobe. When she’d finished gussying Grace up, including an upswept hairdo that made her neck look terribly long, Grace felt like a scarecrow. But what did it matter? Nobody cared how she looked other than her sisters. She’d always been comfortable in her trousers. Even preferred to have a slightly worn look to her clothes and boots so nobody could say she was uppity just because her pa had a large cattle ranch.
Gathering coats, hats and mittens—and Georgia grabbing her new fur muff—they descended the back stairs to meet Ma and Pa by the door. Her parents stared at her for a full ten seconds. Oh, my, she must look awful.
Then Ma smiled. “You look lovely, girls.” Of course she couldn’t say only Georgia looked nice, so she’d included Grace in her kind words. Ma was like that, never wanting anyone to have hurt feelings or to feel left out.
As for Pa, his eyes got all big around, and his jaw dropped. “Well, Grace... I never...”
“Let’s go.” Might as well get to town and get this over with.
Maisie met them in the cloakroom at the front door of the church. After greeting their parents, she said, “Good job, Georgia. Grace, quit slumping.” She dug a knuckle into Grace’s back, forcing her to lift her shoulders.
“Hey, quit that,” Grace whispered sharply.
“Shh.” Ma lifted her eyebrows in a scolding look.
“I saved seats for you all.” Maisie grabbed Grace’s arm and led her to Doc and baby Johnny, who were seated halfway back in the sanctuary. Right in back of Miss Sutton. Grace balked, but her family was on her heels, so she couldn’t stop now.
“Look.” Maisie nodded toward Miss Sutton, who was sitting arm in arm with Nolan Means.
Offended on behalf of the Rev, Grace started to speak, just as Nolan turned around to greet her family. The snobbish banker wore a grin like the cat that got the cream. Miss Sutton also turned and lifted her left hand to give them a little wave. On the third finger, a bright ruby and diamond ring glittered in the morning sun coming through a side window.
“They’re engaged,” Maisie whispered. “See. I told you—”
“Hush.” Pa scolded them with a look that had always wilted Grace like a weed flower in the sun.
Today, she didn’t know how to feel. So it was Nolan and not the Rev who’d proposed to Miss Sutton. Was the Rev brokenhearted? He hadn’t seemed upset last Wednesday after prayer meeting when he was chatting to Nolan and Miss Sutton was showing off that ring. Maybe Grace would stick around after church and see if he needed to talk. If her good friend needed her, she would be there for him. But was it terrible of her to be just a little bit happy that he wouldn’t be getting married after all?
* * *
From the moment Grace and her family walked into the church, Micah knew he would have trouble concentrating on his sermon. If he didn’t already love Grace, he would be falling for her now. From her fancy hairdo to her long, graceful neck to her pretty blue gingham dress to the sparkling gold earbobs hanging next to her smooth, tanned cheeks, he’d never seen a more beautiful, more elegant lady in all his twenty-nine years.
Good thing he’d written out his sermon notes. Good thing they would be singing a song before he began to preach. Good thing he was sitting down right now or he’d fall over.
Despite his own reaction to her, he could see from the way she fidgeted and cast self-conscious looks around the room that Grace wasn’t comfortable. Poor darling girl, she was still suffering from the taunts Dub and his friends had hurled her way for years. Micah understood because he’d had similar experiences in his youth and saw it every day among the young people in the church. While some teasing was to be expected and even welcomed, how well he knew that cruel taunts could nearly destroy a young person.
At just the wrong moment, when he’d turned thirteen or fourteen, was skinny as a reed and had started noticing girls, an attractive, slightly older girl at church took a dislike to him. She remarked that he would never amount to anything because not only was he ugly, but his Yankee-loving uncle was a traitor, and Micah probably was, too. Because the girl’s family was prominent, her friends all agreed and began to call him disparaging names. It took him years to get over those taunts and to realize God’s love and direction were all that mattered in his life. In truth, though, it had eased the pain somewhat in his early twenties when some of the nicer young ladies began to notice him. Clearly Grace had never experienced such admiration. Well, he had every intention of making up for it, beginning today.
At seminary one of his fellow students told the other often-starving friends a few tricks for getting invitations to Sunday dinner. Ask the father for a word of advice and linger at his side waiting for an answer. Compliment the mother on her cooking or, if one hadn’t dined with the family, compliment her attire and the behavior of her children. Micah had always felt these ploys were a little dishonest, unless he could honestly deliver such compliments. However, today he was tempted to give it a try. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.
At the end of the service when he took his place at the door to shake hands with his departing flock, Mrs. Eberly made a beeline for him, parting the crowd with her reticule like Moses with his rod at the Red Sea. The dear, plump lady arrived at his side just a little breathless.
“Reverend, you’re coming to our house for dinner, so if someone else has invited you, you just tell ’em we have priority.” After her long speech, she inhaled a deep breath.
Micah could hardly keep from grinning from ear to ear. Now he knew where Grace got her commanding presence. Sometimes it came in handy. “Thank you, Mrs. Eberly, I would be delighted.”
* * *
Grace couldn’t wait to get out of her fancy duds. She’d made this dress to wear to Marybeth’s wedding three and a half years ago, but hadn’t worn it since. Had actually forgotten about it until Georgia dragged it out of her wardrobe. Now the underpinnings necessary to wear with such a getup had begun to squeeze Grace’s middle, especially after a filling roast beef dinner. And her dressy high-top shoes, borrowed from Georgia, pinched her toes.
“Grace, why don’t you and Reverend Thomas go visit in the parlor.” Ma stood and began to gather the dishes from the dining room table.
“I should help you clean up.” Grace had no idea what she’d say to the Rev. His sermon hadn’t been the best this morning, probably because he’d read it instead of speaking from his heart as he usually did.
“Nonsense,” Ma said.
“I’ll help Ma.” Georgia began to gather dishes, too. She gave Grace a “what’s the matter with you” look the sisters had often given each other when things didn’t sit right with them but they couldn’t say anything about it at the moment.
Grace sighed. “Rev, let’s go to the parlor, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” She couldn’t imagine why they wanted her to be alone with him, but she did want to find some polite way to ask if he was broken-hearted over Electra’s engagement to Nolan Means.
“Sounds good.” The Rev held Grace’s chair as she stood, and her shoe caught on one leg. Fortunately, he grasped her arm so she didn’t fall flat on her face. His touch and warm chuckle sent a pleasant sensation up her arm and down her neck. Bother!
“Now we’re even. You caught me at the skating pond.” His gray eyes twinkled kindly.
Oh, how she wished he wouldn’t look at her that way.
Only problem with going to the parlor was that Pa had settled in his favorite chair and was now reading a cattlemen’s journal. The Rev waited for Grace to sit. After looking at the settee, sh
e chose a chair. He chose the settee, which put him closer to her than to Pa. That was nice. She smiled. He smiled. Pa coughed.
That silly cowboy book sat on the coffee table. Grace wished she’d hidden it. Too late. The Rev saw it, too.
“Changed your mind about Rio Grande Sheriff?” His voice sounded a little strained, although she couldn’t imagine why. The Rev was usually the calmest person in the room.
“Nope. Haven’t tried it again. I think Ma’s reading it.”
“Grace.” Pa cleared his throat. “Would you fetch us some coffee?”
Glad for the distraction, Grace left the room to obey. When she returned with the coffee service, Pa was grinning. He set aside his journal and excused himself. “Gotta check on that heifer.” He walked out of the room and closed the double pocket doors behind him. Only thing was, the doors didn’t quite meet in the middle, and she could hear him climbing the stairs.
“But—” No heifers up there, she wanted to holler at him. Instead, she set the tray on the coffee table and sat on the edge of her chair. “Coffee, Rev?”
“Um. Sure.” He tugged at his collar. “I—I just spoke with your father...”
“You all right, Rev? What did Pa say?” She held out his coffee, and the cup clattered against the saucer. Why couldn’t she calm her nerves?
“He...he gave me permission to c-court you.”
He reached for the cup. Just not far enough. The cup fell and struck the edge of the table, shattering and sending hot coffee and china shards in a thousand directions. One pocket door slid open with a loud thump.
“I’ll clean it up.” Georgia dashed into the room. “You two take a walk.”
* * *
As they walked across the barnyard, Micah wanted to take Grace’s hand. But she still hadn’t responded to his announcement that Mr. Eberly had given him permission to court her. In fact, she hadn’t said a word after the two of them dropped the coffee cup. Recalling the scene, Micah burst into laughter.
“What are you laughing about?” Grace tried to sound cross, but her grin and bright eyes gave her away.
“Do you suppose Georgia will tell her friends what happened?” That he’d stammered when he told Grace about getting her father’s approval for a courtship. That he’d clumsily dropped a fine china cup and saucer. “Do you think I’ll lose all credibility with the youth in the church?”
“Aw, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Grace scuffed her toe into the snow-peppered dirt, kicking a rock an impressive few yards away. “They like you.”
And I like you. Love you. But the words wouldn’t come.
They stopped beside a corral where several horses pranced about, snorting out clouds of icy air, enjoying the sunny but cold December day. Not too cold for a bracing walk, though. Instead of a walk, Grace lingered near the fence to study the horses, so Micah leaned against the wooden rails. The smells of the barnyard weren’t as sharp as they were in the summer. After seven years in cattle country, he’d grown used to the odors, even appreciated them because of what they stood for. Hard work, honesty, maybe even a tasty steak at the end of a hard day. But mostly he’d come to value the people who worked the harsh land against daunting circumstances. That’s why he wanted to write stories about the heroics of people like Grace.
“To answer your question—”
“Why would you want to—?”
They spoke at the same time, and both stopped.
“You go ahead, Grace.” He smiled, his heart welling up with love.
“Why would you want to court me?”
“Because I love you and want you to be my wife.” Wow. Had he just said that?
“You do?” She blinked those big beautiful blue eyes. “Why?”
Her question was so startlingly honest, so utterly quizzical, that it struck down any confidence Micah had that she shared his feelings. As eloquent as he was in the pulpit—or so folks told him he was, though he hadn’t done too well this morning—right now he couldn’t think of how to explain himself. Had he been wrong? Did she want only to be a friend?
She stood there looking at him expectantly.
He should have quoted Elizabeth Barrett Browning: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” But this was Grace, and she might turn up her nose at poetry. Besides, she’d asked why, not how. He laughed nervously. “Do you mean why do I love you? Or why do I want you to be my wife?” Oh, no. That sounded terrible.
To his relief, she laughed softly. “Either. Both.”
He prayed for the right response, but her confidence seemed so fragile, he feared he wouldn’t understand the Lord’s answer. “All I know, dear Grace, is that there isn’t another person in the world I’d rather be with than you...for the rest of my life.”
Instead of being encouraged, she stood there staring out over the corral as though she was looking to buy a horse. Then she shrugged. “Let’s go in and have some of Ma’s pie.” She turned away from him and walked toward the house.
And with her went his broken heart.
* * *
Grace had never known the Rev to lie and didn’t think he’d lied just now. He probably did feel some fondness for her or else he wouldn’t spend so much time with her. But that didn’t equal love; it equaled friendship. The dear man just didn’t know the difference. Love should cause a stronger emotion, and yet he’d spoken almost matter-of-factly. Or at worst, he’d sounded friendly, like he was talking to any one of his church members. Love should want to climb up on the barn roof and shout to the sky. Anyway, that’s what she’d felt like doing. She wouldn’t accept anything less from someone claiming to love her.
She also wouldn’t accept him. In spite of all her longings, she knew she wouldn’t be a good wife for him. Sure, she could cook and sew and keep house. But a pastor’s wife should be—what Grace wasn’t. Gentle, not rough. Understanding, not judgmental. Patient, not easily irked. Could she change for him? Not likely. She could pretend to have all of those fine qualities for a short while, like when she and her sisters had acted out Bible stories when they were children. But when things got hard, Grace would go back to being her old tomboy self.
After eating pie with her in the kitchen, the Rev told everyone goodbye and went home. Grace cleaned up their dishes before going to her room to hide from Ma and Georgia. That worked for about five minutes.
“Didn’t he propose?” Ma sat on Grace’s four-poster double bed, two handkerchiefs in her hands. She offered one to Grace.
Grace waved it away, then crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I didn’t give him a chance.”
“Why not?” Georgia, all starry-eyed with youthful romantic ideas, sat on the vanity stool Grace rarely used. “I heard him ask Pa if he could court you, and Pa said yes.”
“Well, aren’t you just the clever little eavesdropper?”
“I suppose I am.” Georgia didn’t look the slightest bit repentant. “But Maisie and Ma and I can see you love Reverend Thomas and he loves you. Why wouldn’t you at least let him court you?”
“He may like me, but he doesn’t love me. He feels sorry for me just like he did at that box social three years ago when he bought my box because nobody else would.” There. She’d said it. “He was supposed to marry Miss Sutton, but Nolan won her hand because he’s rich. Now the Rev is settling for me because he thinks it’s time for him to get married.” He hadn’t said as much, but she’d guessed it.
“Why, Grace, why on earth would you say such a thing?” Ma’s eyes watered, and she dabbed them with her handkerchief. “You’re a beautiful girl, and everyone admires you.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Mothers are supposed to say that.”
Ma stood abruptly and marched across the room. Standing over Grace, all five feet of her, Ma grabbed her shoulders and scowled like she used to do when one of her daughters misbehaved. �
�Why, you silly, silly girl. Haven’t you seen the admiring looks most of the unmarried men in Esperanza cast your way?”
“You mean the ones who’ve taunted me since eighth grade? Nope. Haven’t seen any admiration there.”
Ma clicked her tongue. “Well, of course they’d hide it. Not many men are man enough to approach such a statuesque beauty as you, especially when you’re wearing your gun. Being so tall, you scare ’em half to death.”
That thought didn’t bring the comfort Ma probably intended.
“The reverend isn’t scared of you.” Georgia grinned. “He’s also taller.” She stood, walked to the bed, grabbed one of the posts and twirled herself down on the blue-and-brown cotton quilt. “Oh, Grace, I long for the day when a perfectly wonderful, handsome man looks at me the way Reverend Thomas looks at you. It’s so, so dreamy.”
Again, Grace rolled her eyes. And yet they seemed so sure. Could they be right? Did the Rev love her?
“But a minister’s wife should be prim and proper. I can’t be that way.” Grace’s voice broke on those last words. “I can’t change.”
“And you shouldn’t have to.” Ma bent down and kissed Grace’s cheek. “Besides, I don’t recall you saying the reverend wants you to change. Did he say that?”
Grace blinked “No, ma’am.” For the first time since realizing she loved him, hope began to blossom in her heart. “He just said he loves me and wants to marry me.”
“Well, then, daughter, you ride into town right now and tell him you accept his courtship.”
Grace chewed her lip for a minute. “He said he had to keep vigil with Bob Starling’s family tonight. Maybe I’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
Ma and Georgia traded a look of annoyance.
“All right,” Ma said. “But you have to promise not to get cold feet, or I’ll send Georgia with you to make sure you do it. And she’ll pick up Maisie on the way to help out.”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise.” And with those words, Grace felt a joy such as she’d never known. Just think. The Rev... Micah loved her. It was just about more than she could comprehend.
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