Betsy's Return by Wanda E. Brunstetter

Papa’s dog crouched in the bushes near the front porch of their cottage. She was relieved to see that Bristle Face wasn’t hurt, but from the way he whined and crawled to her on his belly, she could tell something had traumatized him. It had made her wonder if the poor animal had gone over to the parsonage and been chased off by Pastor William’s disagreeable housekeeper.
    â€œYou’d better stay put today,” Betsy warned Bristle Face. “If you don’t, I’ll ask someone to build you a cage.” She shook her head as she walked away, realizing she’d been so busy with laundry and mending jobs all week she’d forgotten to ask the pastor about finding someone to put a fence around their backyard. I’ll do that sometime this week, she promised herself.
    Returning to the house, Betsy found her father sitting on the sofa with his Bible lying open in his lap. It seemed as if he was always reading God’s Word. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the buckboard to church today?” she asked. “There’s still time for me to hitch up the horse.”
    He shook his head. “I’d rather walk. The fresh air and sunshine are good for me; the doctor said so.”
    â€œAll right then, but we still have plenty of time before church starts, so let’s not be in a hurry getting there.” Betsy touched his pale cheek. “Those dark circles under your eyes lead me to believe you didn’t sleep well last night.”
    â€œI’ll be fine.” Papa closed his Bible and stood. “Shall we go?”
    She nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
    As Betsy and her father headed to church, she became more concerned, because he had to stop every few feet in order to catch his breath.
    â€œMaybe we should go back and get the buckboard,” she suggested. “Or better yet, why don’t you stay home from church today and rest?”
    He shook his head. “And miss hearing you sing?”
    Betsy smiled despite her growing concerns. Ever since Mama had died, Papa had doted on her. Guess maybe he spoiled me a bit, too, she mused, gripping her father’s arm a little tighter as they proceeded down the street.
    They were nearly at the church when Betsy halted. A trickle of perspiration rolled down her forehead and onto her nose. “Papa, do you think anyone in the congregation will get the wrong idea when Pastor William and I sing our duet?”
    He stared at her like she’d taken leave of her senses. “Of course not, Betsy. Think of all the times you’ve sung with other people in our church, including me.”
    â€œBut I wasn’t sharing a song with a handsome, single minister.”
    Papa raised his bushy eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m not handsome?”
    â€œCertainly not. You’re the most handsome man I know.” She smiled up at him. “But seriously, some people might wonder why the minister chose to sing with me. There might be those who will think there’s something going on between Pastor William and me.”
    Papa grinned. “Is there something going on?”
    â€œAbsolutely not. We barely know each other, and I have no intention of—”
    â€œYou deserve to be happy, daughter. And when I’m gone, you’ll need to begin a life of your own.”
    She patted his arm. “I have a life, right here with you.”
    â€œI appreciate your devotion, but it’s past time for you to find a husband and start a family of your own.”
    Betsy shook her head. “If the Lord was going to give me a husband, I’m sure He would have done so by now. I’m thirty-one years old, Papa, and no man has ever shown the slightest interest in me.”
    â€œWhat about Mike Cooper? He seemed interested for a time.”
    â€œPuh! It was me who was interested in Mike, not the other way around. He only had eyes for Kelly, and I was a fool to throw myself at him