The Preacher's Bride. Laurie Kingery
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Gil was staying with his father and sharing in his pastoral duties in preparation for being called to a church of his own soon.
“Good morning, Reverend Gil,” she said, smiling up at him. He had a scholarly looking face, and wore spectacles when he read, but was saved from being too austere by a mischievous cowlick that often popped up at the back of his head despite his attempts to tame it. Any young lady, herself included, would be proud to be seen with the handsome unmarried preacher. But she was not a suitable match for a man of the cloth.
He pushed back a stray lock of chestnut-brown hair that had fallen low over his brow. “I’m glad I saw you coming down to the creek. I hope I’m not intruding on your prayers,” he said.
Faith squelched the urge to laugh at the irony. “N-no, you weren’t.” She’d been thinking, certainly, but not praying. Instead of greeting her fellow worshipers before the worship service started, she’d felt the need for some quiet reflection. “It’s just...so hot inside this morning, even with this,” she said, lifting the ivory-handled fan she had brought with her, “I thought I’d spend a few moments in the shade first. Just looking at the water makes me feel cooler.”
“It is very warm for late April,” he agreed, running a finger beneath his stiff shirt collar. “Why, it’s so hot a farmer told me this morning his hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.” Humor twinkled in his hazel eyes.
She chuckled politely at the old joke, realizing he must feel the heat in his black frock coat and long-sleeved shirt almost as much as ladies did in their heavy layers of petticoats.
A silence broken only by the splash of some fish in the creek below stretched between them. She waited, but he seemed content just to gaze at her.
She heard the first few notes of “Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus” waft toward them from an open window in the church. “Was there...was there something you wanted to say to me?” she prompted.
He blinked. “Oh, yes, of course, Miss Faith. I was merely wondering if—” He took a deep breath, as if gathering himself for a great leap, and went on, “If you might like to join me after church for dinner at the hotel.”
She stared at him. She could not say his asking her out was a total surprise. She’d thought he had his eye on her for a while now. His invitation was both the fulfillment of a dream and the one thing she must not agree to, and she wanted to accept almost more than she wanted her next breath. But having dinner with him today would be the first step in a courtship, and for Gil’s sake, she must not begin something she could not rightly continue.
The congregation began to sing, and she glanced once more toward the church. There wasn’t time to think of a way to decline his offer in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
“Perhaps we could discuss it more after church, Reverend Gil?” she asked. “We really should join the others inside.” It would be harder after the service to get a private moment with him—in the short time he’d been in town, he was already very popular with the congregation. Hopefully during the sermon, she could think of an acceptable excuse to decline Gil’s wonderful invitation.
Or find a way to justify accepting it, a rebellious voice within her insisted.
He sighed, darting a glance back over his shoulder at the church. “You’re right, of course, Miss Faith,” he said in that pleasant deep voice of his that curled so appealingly around her heart. “All right, then, we’ll talk after church. I’ll meet you under that old gnarly live oak in the back of the churchyard.”
Faith nodded as she took his proffered arm, savoring his nearness. They really should go in separately, so no one got any mistaken ideas that the two of them were courting. But Gil’s invitation suggested he wouldn’t mind at all if it looked that way, and somehow she couldn’t bear to let go of his arm.
Faith felt every eye on them as she let him escort her down the aisle between the rows of pews. She could almost hear the speculative hum rising in the brains of those who liked to be in the know.
Her father and mother looked up from their hymnbook and beamed delightedly at Gil as he stopped with Faith by the pew they were occupying. He acknowledged them with a smile as Faith settled herself next to her mother, then he strode on toward the front of the church.
Her mother cast a sidelong glance at her. Faith knew she was full of questions, but fortunately, she could not ask them now. Safe from parental curiosity for the present, Faith opened her mouth to sing the next hymn along with the rest of the congregation.
After they finished singing, Gil rose and strode toward the pulpit. “Good morning, congregation,” he said, taking hold of the pulpit with both hands and grinning as they returned his greeting. “In just a moment Papa will bring us the message, but I wanted to remind you of next Saturday’s wedding—our first in our new church building. Isn’t that exciting?”
A chorus of murmured agreement arose from the congregation, and Faith knew everyone was remembering the smoldering ruin of the old church, burned to the ground by a band of evil men last summer. The town had worked diligently to rebuild it, and it had been completed just before Thanksgiving.
“Miss Caroline Wallace and her fiancé, Jack Collier, have asked me to remind everyone the whole town is invited,” Gil went on. “The ceremony begins at one o’clock, and the reception afterward will take place in the church social hall. It sounds like a wonderful, blessed time will be had by all, so let’s all plan to attend and support the new couple as they begin a life together.”
Caroline and Jack, sitting on the opposite side of the aisle from Faith with Jack’s twin daughters, waved at the folks around them, radiating happiness.
What a good, generous man Gil Chadwick is, Faith thought, as he returned to the front pew and his father took his place at the pulpit. Gil seemed genuinely happy for the engaged couple, yet a good many people in Simpson Creek knew that not too long ago, Gil would have preferred to announce his own upcoming wedding with Caroline. It was apparent he’d been taken with Caroline when he’d first arrived in Simpson Creek, but had unselfishly kept her company only as a friend until Jack realized he’d better get off the fence and propose to Caroline or risk losing her.
Faith knew some of the other members of the Spinsters’ Club were interested in capturing the interest of the bachelor preacher before he was called to another town and left Simpson Creek. Gil wouldn’t be single for any longer than he wanted to be.
“Our text comes from ‘So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God,’” Reverend Chadwick said.
He looked a little pale, Faith thought, and thinner than he had been. As he’d moved to the pulpit, his steps had been halting. Perhaps, like some elderly folks, he didn’t sleep well, or suffered from some ailment.
His son had taken over the pastoral calls to outlying ranches that Reverend Chadwick had once made, but once Gil was pastoring his own church, the old preacher’s congregation would have to realize they would have to come visit him, rather than the other way around. No doubt some woman of mature years would have to be found to keep house for the old preacher, for his wife had been dead for a score of years or more.
Reverend Chadwick raked a hand absently through his thinning, snowy-white hair. “H-hearing...by the w-word of God,” the preacher repeated. “What d-does that mean, cong-congregation?”
Was she imagining it or was Reverend Chadwick having trouble speaking? His words suddenly sounded slurred, thick. He’d always been the most eloquent of men, his delivery smooth and polished.
Faith saw she was not alone in noticing something was wrong. Dr. Walker, sitting at the other end of the same pew, leaned forward, an expression of concern furrowing his features. Beside him, his wife, Sarah, bit her lip worriedly.
“Obviously...it means spending time...r-reading the Bi—Bi—” He stopped, and looked around in bewilderment, as if he could not find the familiar word. He looked to Gil as if entreating his help. His mouth seemed to droop on one side.
“Papa?” Faith