Read Online A Time for Everything by Mysti Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Mysti Parker
Ads: Link
street, emptying their burdens of Lebanon’s townsfolk.
Women and children filed into the bright white Presbyterian church
with the newly rebuilt steeple. Of all the town’s structures, this
one came first on the list of repairs after the war.
Men congregated in groups of twos and
threes on the sidewalk, chatting before the church bells sent them
to their seats. Like every Sunday since Beau’s return, most of them
cast bitter glances his way and turned their backs toward him.
They’d never forgive him for joining the Federals. But he couldn’t
have lived with himself had he not. If he and his family had to
forever endure the town’s disdain, then so be it, though
resurrecting his business would be even more difficult without
their support.
Harry jumped out and helped Portia
down. He offered his arm, and she took it lightly before they
strolled inside the church together. Beau watched them until they
disappeared into the darkness beyond the doorway.
Ezra climbed out with Jonny at his
heels and turned back to Beau. “Still glad Harry’s making her feel
welcome?”
“ Couldn’t be
happier.”
Beau flicked the reins and drove the
carriage behind the church to park. At least he had answered
honestly. If Harry and Portia took up together, he’d be happy for
them. Harry had been single for long enough and needed a decent
woman to straighten him out, not to mention a relationship between
the two would prove she wasn’t conspiring with Ezra.
When Beau stepped through
the church doors, Mrs. Murphy was warming up the organ with the
dulcet chords of “ Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord
God Almighty. ” Portia and Harry were
already standing in place at the traditional Stanford bench — right
side, third row from the front. Jonny and Ezra filed in beside
them. The place was packed — a sea of black for those still in
mourning, with a little color thrown in by those who were more
fortunate.
Some visitors occupied the
old widows’ bench on the second row. The little hunchbacks squeezed
in by Ezra, mumbling and grumbling about being ousted from their
favorite roost and having to sit beside those “Yankees.” The only space left for
Beau was on the aisle end beside Portia. He considered turning back
to endure the service while standing beside the door, but Ezra
spotted him and waved for him to come sit.
He could either squeeze in beside this
young woman he wasn’t quite sure about or risk a slew of stares
from the rubbernecked congregation all morning. He chose the
former, and with hat in hand, stepped in beside Portia. She glanced
up at him. He acknowledged her with a quick nod before she averted
her eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, and she gripped her Bible with
trembling hands. Maybe he really had ruffled her feathers. Why did
he suddenly feel so guilty about it?
From the pulpit, the pastor sang with
his throaty bellow, waving his hymnal along with the organ music.
The congregation joined in.
“ Holy, holy, holy, Lord
God almighty
Early in the morning, our
song shall rise to thee!”
Beau’s eyes drifted back to Portia and
took in a few more details. Not bad-looking, certainly. The yellow
print dress she wore was probably her best gown, but she had taken
good care of it. Strands of honey-brown hair had escaped her bonnet
to lie on the nape of her neck. She couldn’t be much taller than
Jonny. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
“ Holy, holy, holy,
merciful and mighty
God in three persons,
blessed Trinity!”
He felt the stares before he found
their source. Sure enough, the town gossips, young and old, had
honed in. Soon as he turned his head toward them, they looked away.
Portia was about to be the talk of the town — a young widow living
without a chaperone in the Stanford home. So scandalous! He pinched
his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. Even the war hadn’t
silenced these busybodies.
The preacher hollered, “Page 152 —
Nearer My God to Thee!”
Mrs. Murphy’s round jowls shook as
Women and children filed into the bright white Presbyterian church
with the newly rebuilt steeple. Of all the town’s structures, this
one came first on the list of repairs after the war.
Men congregated in groups of twos and
threes on the sidewalk, chatting before the church bells sent them
to their seats. Like every Sunday since Beau’s return, most of them
cast bitter glances his way and turned their backs toward him.
They’d never forgive him for joining the Federals. But he couldn’t
have lived with himself had he not. If he and his family had to
forever endure the town’s disdain, then so be it, though
resurrecting his business would be even more difficult without
their support.
Harry jumped out and helped Portia
down. He offered his arm, and she took it lightly before they
strolled inside the church together. Beau watched them until they
disappeared into the darkness beyond the doorway.
Ezra climbed out with Jonny at his
heels and turned back to Beau. “Still glad Harry’s making her feel
welcome?”
“ Couldn’t be
happier.”
Beau flicked the reins and drove the
carriage behind the church to park. At least he had answered
honestly. If Harry and Portia took up together, he’d be happy for
them. Harry had been single for long enough and needed a decent
woman to straighten him out, not to mention a relationship between
the two would prove she wasn’t conspiring with Ezra.
When Beau stepped through
the church doors, Mrs. Murphy was warming up the organ with the
dulcet chords of “ Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord
God Almighty. ” Portia and Harry were
already standing in place at the traditional Stanford bench — right
side, third row from the front. Jonny and Ezra filed in beside
them. The place was packed — a sea of black for those still in
mourning, with a little color thrown in by those who were more
fortunate.
Some visitors occupied the
old widows’ bench on the second row. The little hunchbacks squeezed
in by Ezra, mumbling and grumbling about being ousted from their
favorite roost and having to sit beside those “Yankees.” The only space left for
Beau was on the aisle end beside Portia. He considered turning back
to endure the service while standing beside the door, but Ezra
spotted him and waved for him to come sit.
He could either squeeze in beside this
young woman he wasn’t quite sure about or risk a slew of stares
from the rubbernecked congregation all morning. He chose the
former, and with hat in hand, stepped in beside Portia. She glanced
up at him. He acknowledged her with a quick nod before she averted
her eyes. Her cheeks were rosy, and she gripped her Bible with
trembling hands. Maybe he really had ruffled her feathers. Why did
he suddenly feel so guilty about it?
From the pulpit, the pastor sang with
his throaty bellow, waving his hymnal along with the organ music.
The congregation joined in.
“ Holy, holy, holy, Lord
God almighty
Early in the morning, our
song shall rise to thee!”
Beau’s eyes drifted back to Portia and
took in a few more details. Not bad-looking, certainly. The yellow
print dress she wore was probably her best gown, but she had taken
good care of it. Strands of honey-brown hair had escaped her bonnet
to lie on the nape of her neck. She couldn’t be much taller than
Jonny. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.
“ Holy, holy, holy,
merciful and mighty
God in three persons,
blessed Trinity!”
He felt the stares before he found
their source. Sure enough, the town gossips, young and old, had
honed in. Soon as he turned his head toward them, they looked away.
Portia was about to be the talk of the town — a young widow living
without a chaperone in the Stanford home. So scandalous! He pinched
his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. Even the war hadn’t
silenced these busybodies.
The preacher hollered, “Page 152 —
Nearer My God to Thee!”
Mrs. Murphy’s round jowls shook as
Similar Books
