Read Online A Time for Everything by Mysti Parker - Free Book Online Page A

she
sang from her organ bench. Beau mouthed the words, but he never
really sang. He couldn’t hear over the women crowing to his left
anyway. He stopped moving his mouth and listened to Portia
singing.
    “ Though like the
wanderer,
    The sun goes
down,
    Darkness be over
me,”
    Her eyes were closed, and though her
singing voice wasn’t perfect, it was pleasant and soft. Maybe an
octave lower than Claire’s used to be.
    “ My rest a
stone;
    Yet in my dreams I’d
be
    Nearer my God, to
thee!”
    Tears escaped from the corners of her
eyes by the time the song ended, drawing him ever closer to the
conclusion that he was indeed the heartless one, not Portia. Beau
fumbled for his handkerchief, but Harry found his first. Portia
took the cloth and dabbed her eyes. Beau started to ask her if she
was all right, but Harry wrapped one arm lightly around her
shoulders and whispered the question instead. She sniffed and
nodded.
    Adjusting the shirt collar that
suddenly seemed too tight, Beau forced himself to focus on the
pulpit.
    Once the hymns were sung, the service
dragged on for an eternity. The preacher bellowed his usual fire
and brimstone while a few stray, “Amens,” arose from the
congregation. Portia stared at her lap most of the time and fiddled
with her gloves, nodding and glancing up as Harry whispered to her.
Ezra’s head drooped down to his chest, while Jonny had fallen fast
asleep on his arm by the time the preacher started losing his
voice. An onerous snore from the old man finally stalled the
sermon.
    The preacher snapped his Bible closed
on the pulpit. “Well, now,” he said, dabbing the sweat from his
brow and smacking his fleshy lips, “let’s all be dismissed for
dinner on the grounds.”
    With Beau bottlecapping the row, he
had to go first, so he stepped into the aisle and stood aside to
let the others out. Harry, with his hand flitting over the small of
Portia’s back, led her toward the doors. Ezra and Jonny ambled out,
both of them yawning and rubbing their eyes.
    He tried to follow right behind them,
but the town gossips, led by Mrs. Peabody, crowded in front of him.
He hoped Harry could at least keep Portia out of their talons long
enough for them to settle apart from the crowd and have a peaceful
meal.
    The preacher slapped him on the back
before he could make his escape. “Brother Stanford, what’s all this
about a young lady coming to your home? Should I
assume…?”
    “ No, you shouldn’t.” At
the preacher’s taken-aback look, Beau added, “We’ve just hired her
on as a housekeeper and tutor for Jonny. She’s a war widow from
Brentwood and had nowhere else to turn.”
    That last part was a stretch, but he
figured God didn’t mind a little stretching when the moment called
for it so long as the basic truth remained intact.
    “ I see, I see. Confederate
or Federal?”
    Beau crossed his arms. When would the
time come that such distinctions weren’t needed? “Confederate,” he
admitted, hating the feel of that word on his tongue.
    The preacher slapped Beau on the back
again, this time hard enough to make him wheeze. “Glad to see your
Christian charity extended even unto thine enemy. You Stanfords
have always done good in the sight of God, no matter what other
folks say about it. Why, where would Harry Franklin and them
Negroes of yours be without y’all? Speakin’ of… looks like Harry
might have taken a shine to her.”
    One more backslap, and he
elbowed past Beau and out the door. Nothing moved that man faster
than the prospects of cold chicken, molasses, and hoecakes. With
his back stinging from the repeated assaults, Beau continued down
the aisle and over the threshold, ignoring a few people who scowled
at him on the way out. He couldn’t let Portia face all those
biddies alone. Not alone, of course.
Harry’s taking care of her. The thought
didn’t bring him any comfort. He wasn’t sure why, except that
Harry’s intentions weren’t always good, especially