Read Online 3 Service for Two by Kate Kingsbury - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
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might be correct in that thought,” Baxter sighed. “And more’s the pity. I just hope it doesn’t happen in my time.”
The clip of the chestnut’s hooves slowed, and the trap jerked to a halt, bouncing Cecily on the hard seat. She waited for Baxter to climb down, then followed him, ignoring his outstretched hand. Her point made, she glanced up as she stepped by him. “Thank you, Baxter. I will see you after the service.”
In the sunlight his eyes looked the color of silver. “Very well, madam,” he answered, his voice stiff and formal. Then, very slowly, he gave her an exaggerated deep bow from the waist.
Resisting the urge to give him an equally deep curtsey, she lifted her chin, and for the second time in two days, marched into the church to attend Dr. McDuff’s funeral.
This time the service went off without a hitch. Phoebe arrived promptly, apparently having recovered from the vapors of the day before. Even Madeline was punctual for a change. Algie was his usual dithering self, taking twice as much time as needed to deliver the eulogy, most of which was lost to the greater portion of the congregation.
His request for everyone to stand took several people by surprise, including Madeline, who appeared to have her head somewhere in the clouds. Cecily had to give her a sharp nudge, while Phoebe tutted audibly enough for Algie to hear. His guilty start caused him to lose his place, giving the rest of the mourners time to rise to their feet while he found it again.
By the time he looked up, the shuffling of feet on the cold stone floor had ceased, and he was able to deliver his short sermon in silence, except for a few sniffles from the ladies.
Cecily felt like crying herself as the service came to an endand the coffin was lifted from its large resting place at the altar. She had known Dr. McDuff all her life. He had been more than a doctor; he had been a friend and advisor. For a moment she concurred with Mrs. Chubb’s conviction that the new doctor would be a poor substitute.
Then she scolded herself. That was an outdated attitude, and the poor man deserved better. She, for one, would accept the new doctor with open enthusiasm and hope that his initiation into the village life would be brief and as pleasant as possible.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched the procession bearing the coffin until it was out of sight. She was among the first to file out after them, and as she did so, followed by Madeline and Phoebe, she saw P.C. Northcutt enter from the side door and make his way down to speak to Algie. He carried a bundle under his arm, done up in a crude wrapping of newspaper.
Burning with curiosity, Cecily was forced to keep walking out of the church and into the graveyard behind. For a moment she forgot about the constable as she passed the end of the path that led to James’s grave. She planned on visiting it after the burial, since she hadn’t done so the day before.
Resolutely she kept on walking, determined to save her tears for James’s eyes only. She didn’t really believe Madeline’s assertions that James could see her when she stood by his grave. But the notion gave her a small measure of comfort nevertheless.
The mourners waited for several minutes by the grave, stamping their feet in the snow-covered grass amidst some muttered speculation, before Algie eventually trotted out from the church. Cecily was frustrated to see the constable leave, then forgot about him again as her dear friend was laid to his final rest.
Algie’s voice faltered to a stop, and at last the funeral was all over. Trying to shake the heavy depression that had settled upon her, Cecily made her way to the comer of the graveyard where James lay beneath a gnarled elm. In the summer the leaves had sheltered him from the sun, but now the barebranches allowed the golden rays to slice across the gleaming white headstone.
Even now, she found it difficult to look upon that raised mound of earth, knowing James lay
The clip of the chestnut’s hooves slowed, and the trap jerked to a halt, bouncing Cecily on the hard seat. She waited for Baxter to climb down, then followed him, ignoring his outstretched hand. Her point made, she glanced up as she stepped by him. “Thank you, Baxter. I will see you after the service.”
In the sunlight his eyes looked the color of silver. “Very well, madam,” he answered, his voice stiff and formal. Then, very slowly, he gave her an exaggerated deep bow from the waist.
Resisting the urge to give him an equally deep curtsey, she lifted her chin, and for the second time in two days, marched into the church to attend Dr. McDuff’s funeral.
This time the service went off without a hitch. Phoebe arrived promptly, apparently having recovered from the vapors of the day before. Even Madeline was punctual for a change. Algie was his usual dithering self, taking twice as much time as needed to deliver the eulogy, most of which was lost to the greater portion of the congregation.
His request for everyone to stand took several people by surprise, including Madeline, who appeared to have her head somewhere in the clouds. Cecily had to give her a sharp nudge, while Phoebe tutted audibly enough for Algie to hear. His guilty start caused him to lose his place, giving the rest of the mourners time to rise to their feet while he found it again.
By the time he looked up, the shuffling of feet on the cold stone floor had ceased, and he was able to deliver his short sermon in silence, except for a few sniffles from the ladies.
Cecily felt like crying herself as the service came to an endand the coffin was lifted from its large resting place at the altar. She had known Dr. McDuff all her life. He had been more than a doctor; he had been a friend and advisor. For a moment she concurred with Mrs. Chubb’s conviction that the new doctor would be a poor substitute.
Then she scolded herself. That was an outdated attitude, and the poor man deserved better. She, for one, would accept the new doctor with open enthusiasm and hope that his initiation into the village life would be brief and as pleasant as possible.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched the procession bearing the coffin until it was out of sight. She was among the first to file out after them, and as she did so, followed by Madeline and Phoebe, she saw P.C. Northcutt enter from the side door and make his way down to speak to Algie. He carried a bundle under his arm, done up in a crude wrapping of newspaper.
Burning with curiosity, Cecily was forced to keep walking out of the church and into the graveyard behind. For a moment she forgot about the constable as she passed the end of the path that led to James’s grave. She planned on visiting it after the burial, since she hadn’t done so the day before.
Resolutely she kept on walking, determined to save her tears for James’s eyes only. She didn’t really believe Madeline’s assertions that James could see her when she stood by his grave. But the notion gave her a small measure of comfort nevertheless.
The mourners waited for several minutes by the grave, stamping their feet in the snow-covered grass amidst some muttered speculation, before Algie eventually trotted out from the church. Cecily was frustrated to see the constable leave, then forgot about him again as her dear friend was laid to his final rest.
Algie’s voice faltered to a stop, and at last the funeral was all over. Trying to shake the heavy depression that had settled upon her, Cecily made her way to the comer of the graveyard where James lay beneath a gnarled elm. In the summer the leaves had sheltered him from the sun, but now the barebranches allowed the golden rays to slice across the gleaming white headstone.
Even now, she found it difficult to look upon that raised mound of earth, knowing James lay
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