children starts sniffling.”
“But you cannot live in fear.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “No. I know the truth of that. Still . . . I’m afraid.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Cast your cares upon the Lord.”
“I’m trying to,” she whispered, allowing his embrace to reassure and comfort her. “I’m trying.”
Reverend Chamberlain snapped open his pocket watch and glanced down at the time. The Ladies’ Aid Society would be in the midst of their meeting, but if he entered the church quietly, he could be in and out without being observed. At least that was his plan. He silently chastised himself for leaving his sermon notes at the church when he’d attended last night’s meeting. If he hadn’t had to go searching for Reggie at the last minute, he wouldn’t have laid them down.
No sense blaming the child for her inquisitive nature, he decided. At her age, he, too, would have been off exploring the nooks and crannies of the church. However, he had become concerned when, after a good ten minutes of searching, he’d not located his daughter and been required to enlist the aid of several church members. After another period of searching, Mr. Emory had located Reggie in a narrow crawl space off one end of the sanctuary. Of course, Reggie hadn’t understood all the excitement. After all, she had followed her father’s instructions and had remained inside the church. On their way home, Justin attempted to explain his concerns but had finally given up.
Reggie was correct; she hadn’t disobeyed. Next time he would have to issue more explicit instructions, he decided as he carefully opened the church door and tiptoed across the wooden floor of the vestibule.
He could hear the muffled voices of the women drifting from inside the sanctuary. From the sound of the animated voices, he doubted their meeting would soon be over, and he exhaled a sigh of relief. He took another step toward his small office but stopped short. Had he heard someone utter his daughter’s name?
As surreptitiously as a cat stalking its prey, Justin padded back to the sanctuary doors and placed one ear against the cool, hard wood.
“Well, I can’t tell you the depth of my irritation when Rachel came home from town and told me she’d seen the preacher’s daughter going door to door selling cakes and pies,” Nancy Sanders proclaimed.
“ Our cakes and pies?” another woman asked in a sharp voice.
“Well, of course, our cakes and pies. Do you think the preacher or that wretched child can bake?”
“She’s not wretched, Nancy. Unkempt, perhaps, but I believe she’s surely a sweet little girl underneath it all. You need to remember that she hasn’t had the advantages of your Rachel. Growing up without a mother’s influence and training has surely been difficult for the girl—and her father.”
Justin couldn’t determine who made the comment, but his lips curved slightly upward. At least not all of them considered Reggie to be wretched.
“Well, he certainly doesn’t appear interested in doing anything to help the girl. He brushes off every attempt that Rachel and I, as well as these other ladies, have made to assist him,” Mrs. Sanders responded. “And now he’s permitting the child to venture about town selling the pastries we baked for them.”
“She even attempted to sell some of them to Mrs. Whidden at the mercantile. When Mrs. Whidden questioned her, the child stated Elinor Brighton had made the suggestion.”
“Do you suppose she’s set her cap for the preacher and fears that her baked goods can’t compare to ours?” Nancy Sanders inquired.
“Elinor? She’s no more interested in finding a husband than I am,” another woman replied.
“You’re already married, Nettie,” someone said.
“Exactly my point. I’m not looking for a husband, and neither is Elinor Brighton. She’s been twice widowed and has hardened her heart against such matters.”
“I say the entire situation is pitiable and a poor
“But you cannot live in fear.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “No. I know the truth of that. Still . . . I’m afraid.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Cast your cares upon the Lord.”
“I’m trying to,” she whispered, allowing his embrace to reassure and comfort her. “I’m trying.”
Reverend Chamberlain snapped open his pocket watch and glanced down at the time. The Ladies’ Aid Society would be in the midst of their meeting, but if he entered the church quietly, he could be in and out without being observed. At least that was his plan. He silently chastised himself for leaving his sermon notes at the church when he’d attended last night’s meeting. If he hadn’t had to go searching for Reggie at the last minute, he wouldn’t have laid them down.
No sense blaming the child for her inquisitive nature, he decided. At her age, he, too, would have been off exploring the nooks and crannies of the church. However, he had become concerned when, after a good ten minutes of searching, he’d not located his daughter and been required to enlist the aid of several church members. After another period of searching, Mr. Emory had located Reggie in a narrow crawl space off one end of the sanctuary. Of course, Reggie hadn’t understood all the excitement. After all, she had followed her father’s instructions and had remained inside the church. On their way home, Justin attempted to explain his concerns but had finally given up.
Reggie was correct; she hadn’t disobeyed. Next time he would have to issue more explicit instructions, he decided as he carefully opened the church door and tiptoed across the wooden floor of the vestibule.
He could hear the muffled voices of the women drifting from inside the sanctuary. From the sound of the animated voices, he doubted their meeting would soon be over, and he exhaled a sigh of relief. He took another step toward his small office but stopped short. Had he heard someone utter his daughter’s name?
As surreptitiously as a cat stalking its prey, Justin padded back to the sanctuary doors and placed one ear against the cool, hard wood.
“Well, I can’t tell you the depth of my irritation when Rachel came home from town and told me she’d seen the preacher’s daughter going door to door selling cakes and pies,” Nancy Sanders proclaimed.
“ Our cakes and pies?” another woman asked in a sharp voice.
“Well, of course, our cakes and pies. Do you think the preacher or that wretched child can bake?”
“She’s not wretched, Nancy. Unkempt, perhaps, but I believe she’s surely a sweet little girl underneath it all. You need to remember that she hasn’t had the advantages of your Rachel. Growing up without a mother’s influence and training has surely been difficult for the girl—and her father.”
Justin couldn’t determine who made the comment, but his lips curved slightly upward. At least not all of them considered Reggie to be wretched.
“Well, he certainly doesn’t appear interested in doing anything to help the girl. He brushes off every attempt that Rachel and I, as well as these other ladies, have made to assist him,” Mrs. Sanders responded. “And now he’s permitting the child to venture about town selling the pastries we baked for them.”
“She even attempted to sell some of them to Mrs. Whidden at the mercantile. When Mrs. Whidden questioned her, the child stated Elinor Brighton had made the suggestion.”
“Do you suppose she’s set her cap for the preacher and fears that her baked goods can’t compare to ours?” Nancy Sanders inquired.
“Elinor? She’s no more interested in finding a husband than I am,” another woman replied.
“You’re already married, Nettie,” someone said.
“Exactly my point. I’m not looking for a husband, and neither is Elinor Brighton. She’s been twice widowed and has hardened her heart against such matters.”
“I say the entire situation is pitiable and a poor
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