Leora: Bride of California (American Mail-Order Bride 31) by Kit Morgan

father wasn’t able to help him.”
    “Oh, he helped him all right. He … taught him things. It’s almost as if the man can see. Schools for the blind have wanted my father to come teach for them, but he won’t leave his practice. Others started to come, wanting him to do things for them, too. Write books, teach. It was like living in a circus.”
    “Is that why you left?”
    He nodded. “Yes. My parents were hoping I’d take over the family practice and become a doctor. But I like what I’m doing here.”
    “And they don’t approve?” she asked. She was learning a lot about him and liked it.
    “It doesn’t matter if they approve or not,” he said. “What does is that I’m fulfilling my calling.”
    “Calling?” she whispered. “So that’s why you became a preacher?”
    He nodded as he pulled her into his arms. “And I’ve never regretted a single moment of it.”
    “But what about your parents?”
    “What they do with their lives is their business,” he said. “I’m happy that my father is able to help so many people. I’m just not as happy with some of the people who seek that help. He’s glad to give it, mind, but I remember a time when someone threatened Mother’s life to try and force Father to help them.”
    Leora gasped. “That’s horrible!”
    “It was frightening. I was just a child. They were outlaws camped outside of town. My father would’ve helped them regardless – they didn’t need to resort to violence …”
    Leora could only stare. There was something in his eyes that told her there was more to the story. But she decided not to press him for it – at least not now. She wiped her hands on her skirt, squared her shoulders and turned to the corner. “Looks like I’d better get to work.”

Six
     
    They worked until noon, when Theron’s parents showed up on the front porch of the parsonage. Leora had been so intent on organizing the piles in the corner that she’d lost track of time, so Theron had left the office to go make sandwiches. She washed the dust and ink from her hands, dried them, then walked over to the worktable where Theron was preparing lunch. “Should I make some soup?”
    He smiled. “No, this is good enough for my folks.”
    She looked at Theron’s father sitting at the kitchen table next to his wife, thumbing through a book. He was a handsome man, simultaneously intense and gentle. He didn’t talk much but instead studied his son, brows knit together in concentration as if having a conversation with himself. Mrs. Drake, on the other hand, looked around the kitchen as if mentally picturing where she would put things.
    Leora felt a twinge of panic. What if they wanted to stay awhile? What if they didn’t go on to San Francisco right away? The thought made her nervous and she dropped a knife.
    “Careful,” Theron warned. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
    Theron’s father watched them a moment, then looked at his wife and took her hand. Leora witnessed their eyes softening, and smiled at the tender exchange. “I’m all right.”
    Theron gave her a single nod then turned to his parents. “I could make us some tea.”
    “Whatever you want to do, dear, but water is fine with us,” his mother said.
    Leora brought the plate of sandwiches to the table and set it down, then went to a nearby hutch where she knew the dishes were kept and pulled out four plates.
    “There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Drake said. “We can just as easily eat off napkins.”
    “No trouble,” Leora said as she brought the plates to the table. She hoped the woman wasn’t going to counter everything she did.
    “Well, if you insist. I was just trying to spare you the dishes.”
    Leora smiled at her, one plate held in midair. Maybe she was wrong about Mrs. Drake. She set the plates out, then fetched some napkins.
    “Go ahead and sit down, dear,” Mrs. Drake said. “You must be famished after all the work you did this morning.”
    Leora nodded. “I am a little hungry.”