34

Martha? Is that you?”

She turned to look back over her shoulder, nudged her hood back, and flashed the biggest smile of her life. “Thomas!”

When Russell Clifford turned about, he also loosened his grip, enough to allow Martha to free herself so she could face Thomas. As he hurried toward them, she leaned on the branch for support.

He locked his gaze with hers. Concern etched his face. “What happened?”

“Just a silly accident. I turned my ankle.”

“You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he countered. He took her arm to help support her and acknowledged Russell with a cold stare.

Clifford offered a curt nod, but did not extend his hand. “Mayor Dillon. Looks like Widow Cade and I aren’t the only ones arrivin’ late for meetin’.”

“Indeed. And properly locked out as well,” Thomas noted.

“Locked out?” Clifford turned and tested the door. With a grunt, he put his shoulder to the door, but it would not budge. He raised his hand to knock.

“Don’t,” Thomas cautioned. “Apparently Reverend Welsh is not having one of his better days. You knock and interrupt the service, and he’ll have you down in front listening to a diatribe so fierce you’ll wish you had listened to me.”

Clifford kicked the door and spun around. He glared at Martha, but dared not approach her with Thomas as her protector. “I have to get inside. We both have to get inside.”

“Obviously, that’s not going to happen now,” she argued. “We can . . . we can slip inside the moment the service is over and catch everyone before they leave. Or . . . or if not, don’t forget that Nancy will have to come out that door. When she does, we’ll both be here waiting for her. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but . . . but at least you’ll be with your wife again. Isn’t that what you want more than anything?”

Before Russell could respond, Thomas scooped her up into his arms and nearly stole her breath away. “I have to wait for the Misses Lynn. We’re leaving for Philadelphia as soon as the services end. If you insist on staying, then you’ll wait in the sleigh with me. At least there are blankets to keep you warm and you’ll be off that ankle. Mr. Clifford, you wait by the door. As soon as Nancy comes out, bring her over. Widow Cade is in no condition to stand and wait, especially in this weather.”

He gave Clifford no time to argue, or Martha, for that matter. He simply carried her off toward his sleigh and left the younger man standing at the door. She snuggled close and laid her head on his chest. “Thank you.”

He looked down at her and smiled. “I had a feeling you might need rescuing. Is your ankle really sprained or is that just a ploy, part of the ladies’ plan, too?”

“Plan? What plan?”

When he chuckled, again and again, the sound in his chest rumbled against her ear.

She swatted his arm. “No, it’s not part of the plan. I fell and twisted my ankle,” she admitted, although she was careful not to tell him she thought an angel had pushed her.

When he reached the sleigh, she saw that the sisters’ trunk, as well as one apparently for Thomas, had been strapped to a platform attached to the back. Their treat basket sat on the second seat. Thomas settled her up front, layered several blankets over her lap and legs, and got in beside her.

He nodded toward Russell Clifford, who stood with his back braced against the door. “I have a feeling he’s about to feel the full wrath of the sisterhood here in Trinity.”

Her eyes widened, and she tilted her chin. “Did you say sisterhood? That’s an odd term.”

He chuckled again. “I overheard Eleanor talking to Mrs. Clark about it. After I got a glimpse inside that meetinghouse today, I got an inkling of what she meant. When I found out you weren’t inside, I suspected you might need some assistance when you arrived.”

“You are a blessing to me,” she whispered. “Truly a blessing.”

He took her hand. “Does that mean you’ve reconsidered my proposal? The congregation is assembled. I’m sure Reverend Welsh wouldn’t mind—”

“No. I mean yes. But no . . . not . . .”

He cocked his brow. She realized the stitches had been removed, leaving only a thin scar that sliced through his brow. “I’ve never known you to be indecisive. Which is it going to be? Yes. No. Or not?”

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath before gazing into his eyes. “Yes. I’ve thought about your proposal. A great deal. There are certain . . . certain possibilities I’d like to discuss with you.”

The corners of his lips began to shape a smile.

“They’re just possibilities, mind you. I can’t marry you today because . . . because I want some time to think them through.”

His lips stretched into a small smile, but he did not interrupt or offer her any assistance as she struggled to explain herself.

“When you come home in February, I’d . . . I’d like for us to talk again.”

He caressed her cheek. “About these . . . possibilities.”

Her heart began to race. “Yes.”

“And if we can reach some sort of accord, then you’ll marry me?”

She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sweet sensations on her cheek that he was creating with just the touch of his fingertips. “Yes.”

“Yes. Yes what?”

She cocked her head. “Yes. I’ll marry you. If we reach—”

He kissed her silent. It was just a gentle kiss. Enough to let her know he would wait for her to be sure. Enough to let her feel the power of his enduring affection. Enough to reassure her that the obstacles between them were not insurmountable. And just enough to let her know his patience would be stretched thin by next month, when he returned.

When he ended the kiss, he looked at her with his gray eyes twinkling. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She felt a blush that started in her toes and traveled to the tip of her nose. “Actually, I thought that was quite . . . lovely,” she admitted, although if anyone had seen them kiss, she would have been hard-pressed to control the gossip that would follow.

He chuckled and pulled her into his embrace. “I was talking about making the decision to accept my proposal. Even if it is conditional.”

“I’m not sure I can marry a man so smug and so sure of himself,” she teased as she relaxed in his embrace. “Rather than simply basking in the glory of your triumph, maybe you could tell me about your plans to help Fern.”

The next hour passed quickly enough.

Despite the mound of blankets, the cold was sorely aggravating Martha’s ankle. To keep her mind from focusing on the pain, she tried to imagine Aunt Hilda’s great joy today, as well as Victoria’s as she greeted old friends and shared her future plans with them.

Sitting next to Thomas, enjoying his protection and companionship, as well as his account of the plans he had for helping Fern, Martha could scarcely believe she had actually questioned the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. Whatever the future held, whatever changes took place, she knew she could face it all with Thomas by her side and her faith to sustain her.

When the congregation once again raised their voices in song, she recognized the closing hymn. Apparently, so did Thomas. He stiffened, too. “Should we get down so we can get closer?” she asked.

He still held on to her hand. “We’ll have a better view from here.”

He was right. His sleigh was parked at such an angle that they would be able to see everyone as they emerged from the meetinghouse. Also, being seated in the sleigh provided the added advantage of height so they would have a panoramic view.

The moment the door opened, she caught her breath for a moment. “What are you going to do when he brings Nancy over to us?” she asked. She was not even certain Nancy would agree to come over or if that was part of the plan.

Thomas grinned. “Just watch.”

She looked back at the meetinghouse. Several children, as usual, piled out first, followed by several men she recognized as farmers from up on Double Trouble Creek. To her surprise, the first woman she saw was Nancy. Her hood was pushed fully forward. Martha could not see Nancy’s face, but she recognized her by that awful, garish ribbon trimming her cape.

Clifford immediately rushed forward to speak to his wife. Martha turned back to Thomas. “I told them to take off that ribbon!” she whispered. “He found her right away.”

“Look again,” Thomas suggested.

She glanced back, blinked to clear her vision, and blinked again. But the images remained the same. Only then did she realize that the sisterhood in Trinity was much larger, and much more powerful, than she could ever have imagined.