shoulder, encouraging her to relax. Then she pulled the covers up to Honor’s neck, tucking her in as if she were a small child.
“Jethro was visiting his former in-laws, Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Fields, in Falling Rock, when the grave diggers told him about your aunt’s death, Miss McCall. Ordinarily, Reverend Fields would have been the one to visit the gravesite, but he’s been a little under the weather the last week or two. So Jethro went in his place.”
“I don’t know Reverend Fields, but I’m sorry he’s sick,” Honor said. “And I hope he’s feeling better now?”
“Yes, let’s pray so.”
After Mrs. Peters left the room, Honor started thinking about Jeth again. Was he the man who had stood in the vestibule of the church on the morning she stole the money? Did Jeth know she was a thief? If so, why had he played innocent and acted nobly? There must be a reason.
She needed to leave Hearten as soon as possible. She couldn’t go on being a burden to these good people much longer.
It was Honor’s plan to move to Pine Falls. She had a lot of money to pay back. But first, she needed to find a job.
From the edge of the bed, she glanced out the open window. Jeth and his mother were in front of the boardinghouse, sitting in a wagon. A moment later, the team of brown horses started down the dirt driveway, Jeth at the reins.
A gust of wind rattled some papers on the table at the foot of the bed, sending them spinning. The vase of flowers stopped them from whirling to the floor. Honor crawled to the end of the bed, gathered the papers, stacked them, and placed a book on top, to keep them from scattering again. She was turning away when her eye fell on the title at the top of the first page: “Sermon for Sunday.”
Had the sermon been left deliberately? Was Reverend Peters hoping to convert her? More likely, it was an oversight. Still, she wondered….
Honor glanced toward the bedroom door. If she was going to leave now, this might be her best opportunity to get away without being noticed.
Swinging her legs around, she rose out of bed. When her feet touched the soft rag rug, she felt as if the carpet had grown wings and was about to fly away. To keep from falling, she grabbed the bedpost and waited for the wave of dizziness to disappear.
Several moments later, the flying carpet became a rug again, and she reached for her tan dress. Pulling the garment from the hook on the wall, she saw that it had been cleaned, freshly ironed, and smelled faintly of rosewater. She buried her nose in the sweet scent, grateful for Mrs. Peters’s kindness. Honor’s shoes, bonnet and shawl were on a shelf by her dress—and those items, too, had all been cleaned.
Honor still felt slightly woozy. Jeth had said Dr. Harris wanted her to stay in bed for a week. For a moment she was tempted to follow medical advice and climb back under the covers. But no, if she planned to make her escape, she had to do it now.
Jeth and his mother were indeed generous to have done so much for her. Aunt Harriet had always valued giving thanks, and Honor couldn’t leave town without writing a thank-you letter.
After quickly buttoning up her dress and gathering her bonnet and shawl, Honor went downstairs. In the entry hall, she noticed dark wood paneling. A small maple desk stood against one wall, and writing materials lay on the desktop. Honor sat down to write.
Dear Reverend and Mrs. Peters,
You have been more than kind to me, and I appreciate all you have done. But it is time for me to leave now. I hope to have left on the noon stage by the time you get back.
Yours truly,
Honor McCall
The minute she stepped out the door and onto the wide, front porch, a rush of cold wind whipped around the corner of the big, old house and slapped her in the face. The air smelled like rain. For a moment, she doubted her strength, and her resolve weakened. Perhaps she should have stayed in bed.
Another norther must have blown in while she was
“Jethro was visiting his former in-laws, Reverend and Mrs. Andrew Fields, in Falling Rock, when the grave diggers told him about your aunt’s death, Miss McCall. Ordinarily, Reverend Fields would have been the one to visit the gravesite, but he’s been a little under the weather the last week or two. So Jethro went in his place.”
“I don’t know Reverend Fields, but I’m sorry he’s sick,” Honor said. “And I hope he’s feeling better now?”
“Yes, let’s pray so.”
After Mrs. Peters left the room, Honor started thinking about Jeth again. Was he the man who had stood in the vestibule of the church on the morning she stole the money? Did Jeth know she was a thief? If so, why had he played innocent and acted nobly? There must be a reason.
She needed to leave Hearten as soon as possible. She couldn’t go on being a burden to these good people much longer.
It was Honor’s plan to move to Pine Falls. She had a lot of money to pay back. But first, she needed to find a job.
From the edge of the bed, she glanced out the open window. Jeth and his mother were in front of the boardinghouse, sitting in a wagon. A moment later, the team of brown horses started down the dirt driveway, Jeth at the reins.
A gust of wind rattled some papers on the table at the foot of the bed, sending them spinning. The vase of flowers stopped them from whirling to the floor. Honor crawled to the end of the bed, gathered the papers, stacked them, and placed a book on top, to keep them from scattering again. She was turning away when her eye fell on the title at the top of the first page: “Sermon for Sunday.”
Had the sermon been left deliberately? Was Reverend Peters hoping to convert her? More likely, it was an oversight. Still, she wondered….
Honor glanced toward the bedroom door. If she was going to leave now, this might be her best opportunity to get away without being noticed.
Swinging her legs around, she rose out of bed. When her feet touched the soft rag rug, she felt as if the carpet had grown wings and was about to fly away. To keep from falling, she grabbed the bedpost and waited for the wave of dizziness to disappear.
Several moments later, the flying carpet became a rug again, and she reached for her tan dress. Pulling the garment from the hook on the wall, she saw that it had been cleaned, freshly ironed, and smelled faintly of rosewater. She buried her nose in the sweet scent, grateful for Mrs. Peters’s kindness. Honor’s shoes, bonnet and shawl were on a shelf by her dress—and those items, too, had all been cleaned.
Honor still felt slightly woozy. Jeth had said Dr. Harris wanted her to stay in bed for a week. For a moment she was tempted to follow medical advice and climb back under the covers. But no, if she planned to make her escape, she had to do it now.
Jeth and his mother were indeed generous to have done so much for her. Aunt Harriet had always valued giving thanks, and Honor couldn’t leave town without writing a thank-you letter.
After quickly buttoning up her dress and gathering her bonnet and shawl, Honor went downstairs. In the entry hall, she noticed dark wood paneling. A small maple desk stood against one wall, and writing materials lay on the desktop. Honor sat down to write.
Dear Reverend and Mrs. Peters,
You have been more than kind to me, and I appreciate all you have done. But it is time for me to leave now. I hope to have left on the noon stage by the time you get back.
Yours truly,
Honor McCall
The minute she stepped out the door and onto the wide, front porch, a rush of cold wind whipped around the corner of the big, old house and slapped her in the face. The air smelled like rain. For a moment, she doubted her strength, and her resolve weakened. Perhaps she should have stayed in bed.
Another norther must have blown in while she was
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