Wild Lands by Nicole Alexander Page A

try to live my life honestly,’ her gaze met his, ‘as expected.’ Kate could tell by the expression on his face that her answer had not pleased him, but it was the truth.
    The Reverend placed the bible carefully next to a bundle of birch sticks on the table. The swatch stung the skin painfully when applied with some enthusiasm. Kate had never used it, although her mother had been quite fond of the punishment. ‘I did not realise that temptation was rife within our household. I am remiss, my child. I have done you a disservice.’
    â€˜Not at all. I believe that there is a right way and a wrong way to live one’s life, but I don’t believe in an all-knowing God and I certainly don’t believe in your church’s beliefs. What is the point, after all?’ asked Kate.
    The Reverend grasped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.
    â€˜God did not save my father from an early death,’ Kate continued. ‘Nor it appears will he intercede on my mother’s behalf. We only have ourselves to rely on, Reverend. The insubstantial will not feed us or clothe us or care for us when we are ill, no matter how glorious you make him sound, no matter how terrifying. I do believe that for some the idea of such a figure may be a comfort, and I certainly agree that the reciting of words at burial must be done, if only to bid farewell to our loved ones and offer our respect. But if your perception of a good Christian soul is reliant on your beliefs then I am certainly not a member of your flock and I never professed to be one.’
    â€˜I understand entirely, Kate.’ His tone grew silky. ‘You have your mother’s enquiring mind and with regard to her own gradual understanding and acceptance of the faith she herself required tutorship. We spent many an hour together in fellowship.’
    â€˜I have no doubt,’ Kate replied sarcastically.
    â€˜One’s faith is extraordinarily important.’ He edged slowly aroundthe table. ‘The Great Almighty offers guidance, hope, salvation. I am the way,’ he said loudly, ‘the truth and the light.’
    The children playing at the rear of the building paused briefly in their game to look at the two adults.
    â€˜I can help you. You must let me help you.’ The Reverend held her gaze, the intensity of which was quite mesmerising. He clasped Kate’s hands between his. ‘I have great admiration for you, Kate. You are your mother’s daughter, strong-willed, bright, but sensible enough to know your place in the world, to understand your shortcomings, to know where you belong.’ He paused, tightening his grip. ‘I have always favoured a woman’s obedience and duty. These characteristics are so much more attractive than fleeting beauty. And I see in you a strength that your mother didn’t possess. A strength that would allow you to sit with me and talk of our Lord with an open mind.’
    Kate pulled her hands free of his clammy grip.
    â€˜But such instruction is for another time. For now we have other matters to attend to.’ The Reverend cleared his throat. ‘In short I am delighted to offer you the positions of schoolmistress, housekeeper and your mother’s room in my household. And all that that entails,’ he finished bluntly, wetting his lips.
    â€˜My mother is not yet dead.’
    The Reverend tilted his neck skyward to the bark ceiling. ‘God’s will be done.’ Above them a large furry spider scurried along a wooden beam. ‘In truth I have for some time found her bed cold.’
    Kate’s fingernails bit into the palms of her hands. ‘I am not –’
    â€˜Miss, Miss Carter.’ Young Thomas Prescott was grim-faced as he ran down the aisle.
    â€˜Think on this, Kate. Where else will you go? Who will take you in?’
    â€˜There are black kids outside, miss. See?’ A grubby finger pointed through the open shutters, to where two