Forevermore by Cathy Marie Hake Page A

cleared his throat. “I need to see to the books.” He strode to the study and shut the door.
    Once alone, he sank to his knees by his desk and rested his elbows on the chair. In despair, he folded his hands and bowed his head. “Lord, what am I to do? How am I to follow your will when I can’t see it? Your Word says it is not good that man should be alone, yet you took my Naomi.” Anguish tore at him. “Why didn’t you take Konrad instead and rescue Annie from his cruelty?”

Five
    T hat preacher-man—he’s gotta fine way of thumpin’ his Bible.” Hope curled her arm around Emmy-Lou and thought about how nice and smooth the road was. Most places, the roads bore ruts and holes and bumps. The Stauffers’ buckboard hardly jostled at all. And just to be sure their Sunday-best clothes didn’t get dirty, either her boss or the hired hand had spread a thick blanket in the bed of the buckboard, too.
    “Reverend Bradle is a scholar,” Mr. Stauffer said. “He went to seminary.”
    “Hmm. I s’pose a man could learn a lot there ’bout folks’ souls.” Hope reflected on it for a moment. “Yep. It never occurred to me before now, but it’s the truth. I ’spect there ain’t another place where folks go that makes ’em take stock of their doin’s and shortcomings and decide to change their ways before it’s too late.”
    “The Lord’s Day is good for that.” Phineas stretched his legs across the bed of the buckboard.
    “If’n you stop up yonder, Mr. Stauffer, Emmy-Lou and me can hop down and gather up some posies. That’d be a right nice remembrance to leave, don’t you think?”
    Mr. Stauffer turned and shot her a confused look. “What are you talking about?”
    “You’re the one what brung it up. The preacher man went there, and since Phineas said the Lord’s Day is a fine time to do it, I reckoned ’twould be nice to have flowers to leave.” Hope scanned their surroundings and frowned. “I usually got me a good sense of direction, but I must be mixed up. I thought you was a-gonna turn to the east back at that fork.”
    “There’s nothing there but the cemetery.” Mr. Stauffer sounded like he’d just been forced to gargle kerosene.
    “That’s what I thunk.” Hope wondered what was wrong with her boss. He’d been standoffish ever since Friday.
    Mrs. Erickson tentatively rested her hand on her brother’s arm.
    “You and Hope are talking about two entirely different things. You said seminary; I think she thought you said cemetery.” Annie twisted as best she could. “Hope, seminary is a special Bible college to make men into pastors.”
    “Thankee for tellin’ me.” She let out a short laugh. “No wonder Mr. Stauffer didn’t turn!”
    “I still wanna stop and pick flowers.” Emmy-Lou popped up onto her knees and stuck her head around the bend of her daddy’s arm. “Can we?”
    “No.” Mr. Stauffer’s abrupt tone closed the subject.
    Mrs. Erickson cringed.
    So it ain’t just me who thinks he’s gotten surly. Well, no use dwelling on that. “Can you ’magine being so lucky that you got to go to school to do nothin’ all day but surround yourself with the things of God? That seminary must be a wondrous place. Just like when we was all a-singing the hymns this mornin’. Everybody lifting their hearts to Jesus. ’Magine how tickled God must be that folks go study at a fancy school just so they can preach better. It shorely worked for him. Ain’t never heard me a finer sermon.”
    Nodding, Phineas said, “Parson Bradle has a way about him.”
    “I’d sure be tickled to hear that verse he used until I can recollect it on my own.”
    Phineas gave her the black leather book he’d brought to church. “You’re welcome to borrow my Bible.”
    Reverently, she gave it back. “Can’t read. Never learnt how. ’Twould give me a gladsome heart if’n you’d teach me the verse, though. There’s a place in the Bible that says, ‘Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might