The Preacher's Faith (Red River Romance Book 1)

by Caryl McAdoo

  She grinned. “I thought that was all settled.”

  “No, it isn’t. Will you marry me, be mine for all eternity? I promise to spend my life loving you and trying my best to make every day better than the last.”

  “What if –”

  “No what-ifs. Will you marry me? Yes or no, it’s an easy question.”

  For too long, she only stared at him. Did she not love him? Was the whole thing a sham to appease her father in his last days? A game to her? He’d ask her one more –

  “Yes! I will marry you, Asa Davidson. No matter what New Hope Baptist Church says, I will marry you.”

  He jumped up and pulled her in tight then swung her around and around their future bedroom. “I love you, Faith.”

  “I love you, too; I do.” She placed her hand on his cheek, still airbourne in his arms. “I really truly do. Now put me down and let’s get busy. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  That sounded so good. She said yes, and furthermore, took out all the stipulations. She loved him. She really, truly loved him. That’s what she said.

  One fine day—not too long from now—she’d be promising to love him forever.

  What had Faith done? She couldn’t marry him Wednesday next if they didn’t vote him in full time. How could he live in Red River County without a congregation or any income? And she could never be a city girl even if Daddy was gone. But could she send Asa away? She didn’t want to have to make that choice.

  Still, she should never have said that and got his hopes all up to the sky. But they just came out. Maybe God put them in her mouth. Sure would like to believe that. At any rate, she wouldn’t entertain any thoughts of anything going wrong. She’d accept his everything’s-going-to-be-alright attitude and forget about the rest.

  “Come on; let’s go get the old people off the dime.”

  Her daddy hung on and won, or did Aunt Iris let him? Now that would be love, Auntie letting her big brother win at anything.

  Straight to the corner of the Clarksville square where all the county’s legal business was transacted, he drove them, with no directions. Wasn’t a big deal filling out the form.

  Shouldn’t be anytime now before the whole county knew the certificate donned her and the preacher’s names on the license’s lines. Next, a short hop across and down Main Street. Auntie ordered too many flowers from the florist. Then, of course, nothing doing but a fun visit to The Carousel to pick out some way too fancy, but totally awesome things people could buy her and Asa for wedding gifts.

  Naomi, Auntie’s good friend—silver sisters they called themselves—and the gift store’s proprietor, helped with so many good ideas. Faith loved the dear lady. She looked at the printed things and decided to order some thank-yous, since time for printed invitations or napkins was long gone.

  Too many of Aunt Iris’ dollars later, Asa headed his sedan west on to Paris. His backseat was bigger than she figured. Faith insisted her aunt ride shotgun, but the old dear obstinately refused, got in and wouldn’t get out again. Plus Faith figured that way Auntie could enjoy watching him, his expressions, his little glances toward Faith. She always claimed she knew from the start.

  But how could she?

  Faith studied him, too, and enjoyed the way his eyes twinkled, the single little dimple on the left corner of his smile. He’d gotten better looking. Handsome enough before, now he was totally… She stopped that line of thought. How had it happened?

  After several rounds of thank-yous and you-shouldn’t-haves, the preacher shocked her being a bit too inquisitive. “Miss Iris, how is it you never married?”

  The old lady leaned forward. “Awe, back in the bad old days, summer after I graduated high school, this boy asked me. We’d been going together about six months. He got down on one knee. Claimed he loved me. I blurted out no. He never asked me again. Stopped coming around, and the next thing I knew, him and Kristy Watkins got hitched.”

  Asa looked at Faith then at Auntie. “Why did he do that?’

  “Draft dodging, in love with love, who knows? The idiot did ask me again between his second and third marriages. Claimed no other woman would ever make him happy. That I was the love of his life, but…”

  Faith couldn’t stand it. She turned sideways. “Oh, Auntie, don’t give him the Reader’s Digest version.”

  Aunt Iris snickered. “He doesn’t want to hear my sad story.”

  “Sure I do. What did you tell him?”

  “Before or after I bought the dress?”

  “You bought a wedding dress?”

  “Hey, we all make mistakes. I wised up though. Told him no.”

  “Oh, why?”

  “Because I decided he should’ve asked me again before he ran off and married Kristy.”

  “Tell him about Cleve.”

  He glanced around smiling then focused on the road. “Another suitor?”

  “Oh, yes, but he couldn’t spell worth nothing, hated crossword puzzles, and the man drank hard liquor. What kind of life would that have been? But like the old fool I am, I bought another wedding dress. Got a great deal online.”

  He shook his head. “That’s a shame, Auntie. He wouldn’t quit drinking?”

  “Oh, he promised he would, several times, but still… We didn’t have that much in common, and the real spoiler—he wasn’t saved. All these years, I’ve been preaching to my Faith that the first thing she needed to find out about any boy was if he was a Christian. Scripture’s clear on that. Do not unequally yoke yourself. I sure couldn’t go and do what I told her not to. What kind of example would that be?”

  “Well, we can fix that. Where does he live?”

  “Boxelder, but there was more to it than that.”

  “What else?”

  “Garner Stevens, the guy I turned down twice, I loved him, but I never loved poor ol’ Cleve.”

  “So what about Garner? He still around?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. He’s on wife number five.”

  Faith swung sideways in her seat. “You think Garner would have been faithful if you would have said yes the first time?”

  “Yes, probably. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “He definitely gives up too easy, but I never, ever even suspected him of cheating on me or heard about him stepping out on any of his wives.”

  Faith reached over and patted her aunt’s hand then shrugged. “Well, I believe you deserved better than old man Stevens.”

  She shook her head. “No, sweetheart. I deserve death, hell, and the grave. We all do, but praise God, we’ve been redeemed.”

  Of course the old dear was right, but bless God, sure seemed to Faith that Iris Johnson had earned a few years of happiness. She turned back to the front. Auntie only had one chance at a decent man. What if this crazy deal Faith had gotten herself into turned out to be hers? If the church said no, then she said no, what then?

  Would a lifetime of regret haunt her? DeWayne Carter certainly wasn’t the love of her life. What about Asa Davidson though? Could he be? After only three weeks, how should she know?

  Suit shopping diverted her mind from swirling with so many unanswerable questions. He was so handsome in every one and so cute trying on so many. She’d take him ties, and he’d hold them up and agonize over the shades of a shirt. Nothing like her father in the shopping category; he’d stroll though a store and pick out three blue Dickey shirts and a pair of Wranglers without breaking stride.

  She wouldn’t call Asa a peacock or anything, but the man certainly liked to dress up.

  Then it was her turn. Of course Aunt Iris would not hear of her going on her honeymoon with any of her old clothes. New life equaled new glad rags, and her man had taste, knew exactly what he liked on women, too. Every time she came out of the dressing room, his eyes lit up even more until they sparkled like a diamond—speaking of which, no one had mentioned.

  Though he’d proposed, he offered no ring.

 
If she only knew what real love looked like. Could it be any sweeter than what she clearly saw in his eyes? But how long would that sparkle last if the money ran out… Or if he lived in Dallas and she stayed in Red River County?

  Kissing her aunt thank you, Faith made sure every receipt went with all the others gathering together in Faith’s sweater pocket.

  That night, after she finally made it to bed, she realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. She couldn’t see how she could marry Asa if the vote went against him, but what was her word worth? She would never be able to call herself a guardian of the Truth again after such a terrible infraction.

  Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Why would it? No, God was in control.

  Auntie said the fix was in, that the deacon board loved him. The congregation usually rubber stamped whatever Brother James and the others wanted, right? Had Faith even been to a church business meeting before? She couldn’t remember ever going to one. That would surely change as a preacher’s wife. Didn’t they usually hold them on Wednesday nights?

  Was calling this one an emergency business meeting a good or bad thing? If they voted no, the rejection would be so hard on Asa. Poor darlin’ suffered more than his fair share of rejection in his life. It would be nothing but evil to heap hers on top of the mountain that already shadowed him everywhere he went.

  “Heavenly Father, help me, make my way straight and keep my feet on Your paths of righteousness. You know I can’t stand breaking Asa’s heart. He’s such a good man, and he loves You so much. But You planted me here and grew me up loving this country. Please don’t tell me You want me to leave, not now.

  “Still, not my will, but Yours be done, Lord.”

  FOURTEEN

  That same night, Asa said his prayers, too, but instead of slipping into a dreamless slumber like his new lady, the dream came one more time.

  Like always, he’d been transported back in time and stood at the brick wall in front of Fire Station 24’s main entrance on Bexar Street south of downtown Dallas, the place he’d driven by so many times in the past. Once he even found the courage to visit. One of the same guys still worked there, but didn’t remember his mother.

  But this day, his birthday, he could only watch as the young woman who’d given him life, birthed him, his mother, decked out in low-waisted, too-tight faded jeans, a long-sleeved gray blouse, and a snug cap, got out from the car holding him. She slammed the door then hurried past.

  “Mother, don’t! Please don’t leave me.” As loud as he could, he screamed, but she didn’t even glance back. She tapped on the metal door then looked around, but she was Faith, and in her arms, she held a tiny version of him wrapped in a blue flannel blanket—he still had that blanket.

  The door opened, and she stuck the bundle out. “Here take him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The fireman cuddled the baby boy. She backed up three steps, took one last look, then before she turned around, gave the man a little shrug like, oh well, he’s better off now. The moustached man with bushy sideburns in the car’s driver’s seat had made a U-turn and waited across the street. She ran to the sedan and jumped in. The car sped off.

  Asa followed the baby all the way to the orphanage, watched over his baby self until the day the artful dodger moved into his house. Tough guy this kid, an inch taller but maybe five pounds lighter. Figured he’d be a handful in a tussle, but that didn’t come for a month.

  He’d tried, even asked Artie what their first and only fight had been over, but neither could remember the cause. Asa did remember each standing his ground like two gladiators, taking and giving, each blow returned, no quarter given or asked. The two toughest kids in fifth grade duking it out. Finally, an adult pushed through the crowd of kids and stopped it.

  Bloody nose, two loose teeth, swollen eyes and ears—all trophies he wore proudly. Man, what a fight, and best of all, he and Art had to spend a whole week in silent lunch together, excommunicated from the rest. What a deal it turned out to be. What a way to get a best friend, a guy you could count on, no matter what.

  Except he couldn’t.

  He jerked awake. His past vanished, but the memory of Faith giving his baby self away lingered. Was it a sign? “Oh Lord, what are You doing? What are You showing me?”

  He slipped out of bed, got a pot of coffee dripping then hit his knees.

  No answer came to soothe his troubled soul.

  Then he drove up in front of her house, and she came onto the porch smiling like the sunshine itself, waving, and all his doubts faded, vanished. Nothing to it, only a bad dream, nothing new, except Faith playing the part of his mother, except she wasn’t. She could never leave him, never would. She’d be the mother of his children, and…

  She would—right, Lord?

  Or was that what You were trying to… Did Faith even want children? She’d said something about him being a great father, and maybe about later, but…

  Faith loved cooking, always had, almost as much as she hated cleaning up, but with Asa’s appetite and never-ending compliments, love seemed totally too tame a word.

  “Umm, umm, umm.” He pointed at her biscuits and gravy, still chewing. “Oh sweetheart, it keeps getting better.”

  “Thank you.” She laughed and patted his hand.”You’re so easy, same biscuit recipe, same gravy.”

  “No, couldn’t be. This is awesome. Yesterday was great, but today. You sure you didn’t do something different? How do you do it?” He shivered as though beyond words. “I’m going to weigh like a zillion pounds.”

  She knew better. The man liked looking dapper too much to let himself go.

  “Hey, I was thinking. We need to pick us a minister; wouldn’t it be against the rules for me to marry us?”

  “Haven’t thought of that.”

  Aunt Iris filled the kitchen’s doorway, Isaac right behind her. “Well, I did. Talked with Tracy last night and made you two a dinner date with him this afternoon at the Bistro, twelve sharp.”

  “What about Samuel Baylor?”

  “Won’t do if you’re a stickler on being legal. He’s not even licensed, much less ordained.”

  “Tracy will work fine. He’s a good man.” Faith jumped to her feet. “Y’all want eggs?”

  Auntie didn’t, her hired man did. Then like Asa loved getting his hands wet, the dear went to cleaning up while she and Aunt Iris got out the list. The octogenarian took to the phone while she and Asa helped Isaac with the chores. Midmorning, she pulled Asa to the side. “The kid’s got it. His friend’s coming over to help him ride the twos. What say we short stop Highlands on the way to the Bistro and get an estimate on the material for our room.”

  “Have you called Samuel?”

  “Not yet. Let’s see if we can afford the material first.”

  He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. “You are so my completion.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Levelheaded, watching every dime. That isn’t me, but hey, it is exactly like the Lord.”

  She grinned. “Come one. Let’s step it off one more time, then we’re gone.”

  Twenty and two days, such a short time, yet so long. Could it be possible, how could she know? Sure seemed like she did. Appeared that love, like an elusive butterfly, went and landed on her heart. How totally awesome that God sent this too-good-to-be-true man. She loved that he called her his completion. Was he hers?

  How would he act the first time she told him no, that they couldn’t afford something he had his heart set on? Should she ask for a prenuptial agreement, or was that like crossing your fingers before you said I do? What if he considered selling land—or worse, the breeding stock—an answer to the first little bit of money trouble that bit them?

  And, would he insist on babies right away?

  Twenty-two days didn’t seem long enough.

  She amazed Asa. For each question the old guy at the lumber yard asked, she had the answer. Rafters instead of trusses, pier and beam not slab, paneling instead of sheetrock. On and on
the two went, ending with asphalt shingles instead of metal roof. The man handed her a piece of paper with everything listed. He was one cool old dude. The bottom number surprised Asa, way smaller than he’d expected.

  “Thank you, Mister Gilbert.” Faith flashed a smile; he loved it that she never showed her best one except to him. Looked like love to him. But even if it was, she might not be aware of it.

  Her shoulder bumped into his yet again, and she nodded toward the front. “Come on.”

  How could something as simple as her arm against his send shivers up his spine then through his heart? Seemed to him that she must like touching him or she wouldn’t keep doing it all the time.

  TURN THE OTHER CHEEK

  “What did you say?”

  She faced him. “I didn’t say anything. Why?”

  “I thought…” He shook his head. “It was so real.”

  “What was?”

  “Turn the other cheek.”

  “What? Why?”

  Exactly, what did God mean and why would He tell him that? Asa grinned—maybe she was about to slap him—and shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s get. What’s next?” He opened the front door for her, then right there in the parking lot next to his car stood DeWayne Carter in the flesh.

  Oh. God’s missive became a little more defined.

  The oaf cocked his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Well, well, so we meet again, Preacher, ’cept this time, I’m stone cold sober.”

  “DeWayne.” Asa refused to allow his mouth to say ‘good to see you.’ Wouldn’t do to lie.

  Carter stared for a second then turned his gaze to Faith. “Girl, what are you doing with this lunatic Bible thumper?”

  “Go on, DeWayne, get out of here. Let us be.”

  “No can do, darlin’.”

  “I am not your darlin’, Dewayne Carter. You’re delusional, and you best be watching out, or you’ll be in a straightjacket before you know it.”

  Dumb jerk threw his head back and bellowed then regained his straight face too soon for his funny bone outburst to be genuine. “Word is you’re marrying this freeloader, but… Cain’t be true ’cause you promised me.”