Carolyn Davidson by The Forever Man

generous with his praise for her cooking.
    His hand slid the songbook from her grasp, and she glanced up at him in surprise. The closing hymn was over, and he placed the book on the pew, then stepped a few inches closer to her. His pant leg brushed her skirt and his palm cupped her elbow as his head bent, the better for him to speak privately.
    “You weren’t singing.”
    Her breath caught, shivering in her chest, and she wished fervently—just for a moment—that she was at home, feeding the chickens or milking the cows or even carrying those dratted apples to the fruit cellar.
    “Are you all right, Johanna?” The teasing note was gone, a worried tone taking its place.
    She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just wondering what we do next.”
    He glanced over his shoulder to where the townsfolk were streaming down the aisle and out the door of the small church. Curious glances had warmed his back all through the service. Whispers of conjecture had accompanied the sound of the piano playing, and even now half a dozenwomen were gathering at the back door, their heads together. If he was half as smart as he’d always thought, he’d have arranged for himself and Johanna to show up at the parsonage after church.
    “Pa? Are we goin’ now?” Pete’s loud whisper was impatient.
    Tate bent past Johanna and spoke to the boy. “In a few minutes, Pete. Remember what I told you? Miss Johanna and I need to talk to the parson for a few minutes first.”
    The boy sat down on the wooden pew again, his hands hanging between his knees, his face dark with displeasure. Beside him, Timmy yawned widely and swatted at a lazy fly that had settled to rest on the pew in front of him. He waved his cap at it as the insect circled once over his head, and then cast his attention at the dust motes that floated in the brilliant sunlight from a nearby window.
    “Have you told them?” Johanna asked quietly, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited for the church to empty.
    Tate’s nod was quick, his look a warning as three women made their way back up the aisle to where his family waited.
    “Why, Johanna Patterson, it’s sure good to see you here this morning,” Esther Turner sang out loudly. “Thought you’d forgotten the way to church.”
    Selena Phillips turned an exasperated glare on the woman. “You know Johanna hasn’t got a horse and wagon these days, Esther. It’s bad enough she walks to town and back all week.” She turned wise blue eyes on Johanna, and said quietly, “I’m so glad to see you today, Johanna. You’ve been a stranger lately.”
    Marjorie Jones adjusted her feathered hat, settling it a bit forward on her head and touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “I hear tell there’s gonna be a wedding today. Anybody you folks know?” The look she threw at her friends was all but triumphant. That she’d stolen amarch on them was obvious from the surprise they didn’t even attempt to conceal.
    “You’re gettin’ married?” Esther squeaked. “You and this gentleman here, Johanna?”
    “Well, land sakes alive,” Selena said breathlessly. “As I live and breathe, you couldn’t have surprised me any more if you’d tried, child.”
    “We only just decided yesterday,” Johanna said, aware of the warmth of Tate’s hand on her elbow. And then that hand slid around her back and rested on the far side of her waist, allowing the whole length of his arm to press against her shoulder blades and ribs. She caught a quick breath and glanced at him. He was beaming at her, almost as if he were a genuine groom, anxious for his wedding to begin.
    “Miss Johanna and I are just waiting our turn,” he explained to the three ladies. “Soon as the preacher gets finished with his goodbyes out front, he’s going to come back in here and marry me to this lady. Me and my two boys, that is. She’s agreed to take on the three of us, and try to get us straightened out a bit.” His smile was