Read Online The Widow's Touch (A Whimsical Select Romance Novella) by Tamara Ternie - Free Book Online Page A

walked behind her husband’s coffin as it was carried in the transparent, horse-drawn funeral carriage to the Timmons Family Cemetery.  A large crowd followed behind them for the mile march, and many who were in attendance had barely known him.  Eloda supposed more showed up to scrutinize her actions than in paying their respects, as Jonathon and Jack had earlier described.
    They reached the cemetery and it had taken twelve gentlemen to lift her husband from the carriage to his burial ground.  At one point they nearly dropped him and the spectators gasped.
    Aside from the wind that rustled the dresses of the women, silence reigned in the cemetery when Reverend Tilden walked to the casket that sat near the open grave. 
    His eulogy was surprisingly brief.  And more to her astonishment lacked a single insult or accusation in her direction.  She suspected Jonathon had a hand in keeping him in check, which she was thankful.
    A nudge to her rib remind ed her that she needed to show some sign of grief.  Eloda looked at Jack and rolled her eyes in response, but used the handkerchief in her hand and dabbed at invisible tears.  She surmised it wasn’t enough when Jonathon elbowed her from the other side, hard.
    As the final prayer left the minister’s lips, Eloda fell to her knees and laid her body over the top of Peter’s coffin.  Loudly, she moaned, “Peter!  Oh, Peter!” she called out at his casket and caressed her hands affectionately over the smooth curves of his ornately crafted casket.
    Eloda heard Jonathon tell a gentleman next to him, “She has been inconsolable since she’s been incarcerated.  It was then and there she realized that Timmons, her dear loving husband, was truly gone from her life forever.  Rather sad, it is,” he said, woefully.
    She wailed again, loud.
    “The poor, dear widow,” the man painfully exclaimed.  “I had no idea!”
    “Yes, even I could no longer turn my back against her.  She crie s day and night and prays to God that he will somehow return to her.”
    S he heard the man that Jonathon addressed relay the information to the man next to him, and the next fellow after that, and it wasn’t long before she heard the multitude of people humming with saddened, exaggerated stories of her grief.
    Eloda wailed out again , and one by one, people approached and offered their respects and laid their hands comfortingly on her.  She accomplished her task.  With one last agonizing howl, Eloda fell over in a shammed, dead faint. 
    Only seconds passed that the aroma of spice neared and she felt Jack lift her into his broad, muscular arms.  She overheard a man offer his buckboard carriage wagon to him, and Jack placed her in the seat next to himself.
    “Go on and get,” the older gentleman’s voice said.  “Take care of the poor, dear widow.  I’ll fetch the carriage later.”
    “The shows over,” she heard Jack chuckle after they rode a short distance.
    “How did I do?” she asked , excitedly, and raised her head from its previously slumped position.
    “I think it worked,” he smiled.  “Even the preacher’s wife sh owed her concern for you.”
    “And what of the jurymen?” she asked .  “Did they take notice too?”
    Jack shrugged and looked hesitant . “They appeared mighty somber and didn’t look overly affected.”
    “Well,” she sighed, “We’ll know for sure in a couple days when the trial begins.  As rumors have caused their hatred for me to begin with, perhaps enough people will find me in better favor and it’ll work in reverse.”
    “ Are you ready for the trial?” he asked.
    “I believe so.  Jonathon has given his very best on it.  He’s filed , argued, and disputed each pretrial motion with vigor.  If he can convince the jury that Peter died of natural causes, all should be well.”
    Jack slowed the horses until they completely stopped.  He turned around and looked at her and worry shadowed over his eyes.  “No, are you ready for it,