36
Cassie stood on the lawn near Jacob the next morning after church, accepting the good wishes of her friends. Rosemary kissed her cheek and whispered, “You’re perfect for each other. I know you’ll be happy.”
“Thank you. I think so too, or I wouldn’t have said yes.” Cassie smiled and stepped back, glancing over Rosemary’s shoulder to look for Reverend French. Her joy at the prospect of marrying Jacob contrasted sharply with Wash and Becca’s uncertainty. She’d made up her mind to talk to the reverend today, and talk to him she would.
Spotting him across the churchyard, she excused herself and headed in his direction. Tension fluttered in her chest. How did one talk to a preacher? The parson in the church she’d attended with her family was old and crotchety. As a child, she’d done all she could to avoid him.
Reverend French apparently noticed her approaching, because he paused and smiled at her. His graying hair ruffled in the slight breeze that fluttered the ribbons on her bonnet.
“Miss Haddon, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. I wonder if you have a minute? I have a matter I’d like to discuss.”
“I’m sorry. I promised my wife we’d leave right after services to visit our son and his wife.” Regret tinged his voice.
She bit her lower lip. “I understand. Forgive me for bothering you.”
“You’re no bother at all. I’d be pleased to meet with you tomorrow afternoon. Can you come to the parsonage at one o’clock?”
The hour he named was her busiest time. As soon as Jenny finished with the noon meal, Cassie had to get pies in the oven for the customers in the grocery. She knew she could manage the bakery with Becca’s help, but wondered how she’d explain her absence without raising the young woman’s hopes.
She considered his request for less than a moment. “Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you.”
Now she had to tell Jacob of her planned absence from the kitchen. She blew out a long sigh. Lately all of her actions turned into knotted balls of yarn.
Lifting her rose chintz skirt above the narrow toes of her Sunday shoes, she crossed the lawn to Jacob’s side and blurted out her news. “I’m meeting with Reverend French tomorrow at one. Becca can take care of the baking for an hour or so.”
“Shouldn’t we go together to discuss our wedding?” He stared at her with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, yes, absolutely. But this isn’t about us.”
He took her arm and turned toward the brick pathway that led behind the church, stopping when they reached the shade of a willow tree next to the burial ground. “You’re going to talk to a preacher and it’s not about us? I don’t understand.”
“Wash and Becca have no one to marry them. She told me there’s no Negro preacher in Noble Springs. So I plan to ask Reverend French if he’d perform the ceremony.”
“You’re going to be disappointed.” He gathered her hands in both of his. “Why would he listen to such a request?”
“I have to try. How would you like it if we couldn’t get married because we didn’t have a preacher?”
“That’s different. We could always go to another town.”
“They can’t travel easily the way we can. If Reverend French refuses . . . well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
He shook his head. “My Cassie. When you’re determined, I’d better not stand in your way.”
Mindful that they stood in a churchyard, she squelched her desire to wrap her arms around him and rest her head against his chest. He was the kindest, most honest man she’d ever known.
Cassie dumped flour and salt into a mixing bowl, then added chunks of lard. As she sliced two knives through the mixture, Becca leaned over the table to watch.
“You got a lot of git-up-and-go for a Monday. What’s the hurry? This don’t have to be done before noon.”
“Maybe not, but I want to leave for a while after the dinner hour. If I get the pies ready early, you won’t be left with extra work to do.” She smiled to herself, thinking she’d dodged any further questions.
Jenny sauntered over to them. “You leaving again today? You were gone almost all afternoon on Saturday.” She winked. “Marrying the boss has its advantages.”
Cassie’s face burned. She enjoyed being in the kitchen with Jenny and Becca and hadn’t considered how they’d view her new status.
“That’s not the case. I can’t change today’s commitment, but from now on please treat me like you always have. I’ll be here the same hours you are.”
“I was teasing you.” Jenny gave her a brief hug before returning to the bacon sputtering on the range.
Sometimes teasing contained nuggets of truth. Cassie took a steadying breath while she sprinkled water over the flour mixture. Jenny had become almost like a beloved aunt, although a peppery one, over the months in Jacob’s kitchen. She couldn’t allow misunderstanding to come between them.
She glanced up and caught Becca watching her. “When you have time, could you please peel those peaches and cut them up for pie?” She pointed to a flat wooden box filled with a single layer of ripe fruit. The tantalizing fragrance made her mouth water.
Grinning at Becca, she added, “You could slice a few to go with our breakfast, if you want.”
“Yes, missy, I’ll do that for sure.” She sent her a rare smile.
Satisfied she’d warded off a problem, Cassie fluffed the flour and water together until the texture looked right, then patted balls of dough into disks. She worked without ceasing while Jenny and Becca served breakfast to the morning customers. Before noon six pies cooled on a shelf and she began work on three orders.
Her shoulders ached from tension, but she didn’t stop. Kitchen aromas changed from bacon and eggs to fried steak and onions. By the time Becca carried the final serving plates to the noon diners, Cassie had all her orders ready for the oven.
She flopped on a chair and undid the two top buttons on her bodice. Her body sagged. Fanning herself with an old newspaper, she glanced at the wall clock over the doorway to the dining room.
Twelve thirty-five.
She jumped to her feet.
After removing her apron, she smoothed her hair and refastened her buttons. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Please mind the pies, Becca. They should be ready in forty minutes or so.”
She sensed the two women gazing after her as she left the kitchen. Please, Lord, let me bring back good news.
Reverend French’s wife answered Cassie’s knock. “The reverend is expecting you. I’m Clarissa French. Please, come in.”
She stepped into the spacious entry. The wood floor shone in the sunlight flowing through the open doorway. A mirrored hall tree reflected a comfortable sitting room on her right. The house smelled of coffee and fresh-baked cookies.
Mrs. French closed the door. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to his study.” With brisk steps, she proceeded to a room at the rear of the house.
Reverend French stood when she entered. “Please have a seat, Miss Haddon.”
She chose an armchair upholstered in a floral fabric. To her surprise, Mrs. French took the chair next to hers.
Apparently noticing her expression, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Sometimes it’s easier for young ladies to talk to another lady, so my wife keeps me company.”
A flush warmed her face. “I . . . I’m not here because I’m in any trouble.” She hesitated. How best to explain her errand? Now that she faced Reverend French her resolve wavered.
He rested his hands on the surface of his spotless desk. “There’s nothing you can tell us that the Lord doesn’t already know. Please don’t be nervous.”
In spite of his compassionate expression, her heart thrummed. She straightened her shoulders to remind herself she was now bold Cassie. “A friend of mine wants to get married, so she needs a preacher.”
“Why doesn’t she come to see me instead of sending you?”
“She didn’t send me. In fact she doesn’t know I’ve come.”
He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Can you tell me a bit more about this . . . friend? Why are you here in her place? Is she ill?”
“No, sir. She’s a Negro.”
She heard Mrs. French gasp.
“And her intended? He is Negro also?” His face remained serene, as though he heard requests like hers every day.
Cassie relaxed a bit. “Yes, sir. They both work for Jacob West.”
When she said Jacob’s name, a gentle smile lifted the reverend’s lips. “I’ve seen the two of you at church. You make a fine couple.”
“You’ve noticed? I thought with so many people there you couldn’t keep up with everyone.”
“I’d be a poor pastor if I didn’t pay attention to my congregation. The Lord sent me to minister, not give Sunday speeches and ignore you the rest of the week.” He chuckled before turning serious. “So you’d like me to marry them?”
“There’s no Negro preacher here. You’re their only hope.”
Mrs. French leaned forward to face her husband. “You can’t do it, Ethan. A colored couple in our church! What would the ladies in the Missionary Society say? They’d drop over in shock.”
“You’re right, I know.” His bristly gray eyebrows furrowed when he looked at Cassie. “We have a mixed congregation here, Miss Haddon. Not everyone supported the abolitionist cause, although many did, myself included. But some of our members were and are firmly on the side of the Confederacy. I have to tread a fine line.”
“Does that mean you’re saying no?”
“It means I’ll pray about what to do and let you know what answer comes to me.”
She rose. “I see. Thank you for listening.”
A sodden lump of disappointment weighted her insides. There were some things all the determination in the world couldn’t fix. Wash and Becca’s dreams were one of them.