Fifteen

Silas arose from a troubled sleep to a world washed new and blanketed in sunshine. It was out of balance with the sense of foreboding in his chest. The vigor that usually surged through him on a Sunday morning eluded him. As he dressed in his starched shirt and freshly pressed suit, he felt as if he were donning armor, one piece at a time.

He glanced out the window across the lawn to the church. How odd that the storm clouds had cleared from the sky yet still seemed to hang over the cupola.

Lord, I don’t believe You want to force me to choose between the church and Willow, and I pray that You would go before me, that You would work in the hearts of the congregation so that a choice isn’t necessary.

Sherman regarded him with solemn eyes from the bedroom doorway. That cat was like another conscience with his penetrating stares.

And Lord, if I’m misreading everything, then please open my eyes. Show me what to do, and give me the strength to do it. Make me willing to sacrifice my desires to Your will.

Unable to face the idea of breakfast, he strode across the wet grass to open up the church and prepare for the service.

❧

Willow ignored the tea tray on the dressing table. “Francine, I want to know what you’re up to. Where are you going on a Sunday morning all dressed up?”

“I can’t see how that’s any of your affair.” The squashing reply came in an airy voice.

Willow picked up her Bible and purse. “I’m going to church. Will you be here when I get back?”

Francine shrugged and skewered her cartwheel hat to her hair with a couple of wicked-looking hatpins. “I don’t know. Depends on what happens this morning.”

The tickle of unease that had flitted through Willow’s chest when Francine rose early that morning developed into a nubby-fingered fist prodding her innards. “What are you up to?” she asked again.

“I would think, rather than poking your nose into my affairs, you would be wise to look out for your own. Why don’t you give some thought to the dismal performance you put on yesterday? I’ve never seen anything so hideous as you standing poker stiff in Philip’s arms. You were supposed to be declaring Jane’s love for Mr. Rochester, but you sounded more like you were reciting the times tables. I was so embarrassed I could hardly keep watching you from the wings.” Francine rolled her eyes and touched her nose with a powder puff. “Even Clement commented on your wretched performance. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he didn’t replace you as Jane, since it’s obvious you can’t work with Philip any longer.”

Willow’s throat lurched. Yesterday had been awful, but she hadn’t been able to help it. Every time Philip stepped onto the stage, her flesh crawled, and she wanted to run away.

“It isn’t as if he didn’t apologize to you,” Francine said. “And very nicely, too, in front of the entire cast and crew. You’re the one who won’t forgive, for all your pious talk. And you engaged to a minister.” Her thrust went deeply, as she must’ve known it would. A triumphant little smile played around Francine’s lips, and she straightened from the mirror with a supercilious arch to her brow. “You’re going to be late to church if you don’t hurry.”

Willow glanced at the clock, picked up her hat, and left. But Francine’s accusations followed her every step of the way to the church, as did the sense of foreboding she’d awakened with.

❧

Silas tried to quell his rioting nerves as he left the anteroom to his office and stepped into the sanctuary. He placed his Bible and notes on the pulpit and took his seat as parishioners arrived and got settled. The church organist played the prelude, and he scanned the congregation. Tension painted the air, pulling on his thoughts, stealing the peace he usually encountered before a Sunday service.

Congregants continued to file in. The Mackenzies entered, Jesse and Matilda, David and Karen with Celeste and the baby, Sam and Ellie with Phin and Tick. They came all the way to the front and filled an entire pew. Jesse wore a foreboding expression, and David and Sam only a little less so. While it warmed Silas’s heart to know they were ready to fight for him, he grieved that such a stand was necessary.

Behind the Mackenzies sat a row of miners. When he met their eyes, they nodded and smiled. Ned and Mrs. Meeker sat with them.

The Drabbles arrived, and between husband and wife strode the portly figure of Reverend Archibald Sash. Mrs. Drabble’s mouth wore a pinched, rhubarb smile, and Reverend Sash looked sternly out over his gray whiskers.

Proper etiquette dictated that Silas should rise and greet the district supervisor, but halfway out of his seat, he froze, staring at the doors.

Willow was as fresh and beautiful as always. She stood in the doorway, scanning the crowd.

Jesse, with an agility that belied his years, left his seat and went to Willow’s side. Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her to the front row to sit with the Mackenzies in their already-full pew.

Silas could almost see the daggers flying from the Drabble pew across the aisle. Willow, sweetly bewildered, sat between Jesse and Matilda, smoothed her skirts, and sought Silas’s face. Her smile, tremulous at first then more confident, warmed him through. Just seeing her settled his nerves and made him think there was nothing they couldn’t conquer together. They would get through today and have all their tomorrows waiting.

He broke eye contact with Willow, gathered his thoughts, and remembered he was supposed to greet Reverend Sash. Halfway down the steps to the Drabble pew, he halted once more, his attention drawn by a commotion in the foyer.

Laughing, talking, and jostling, a dozen people entered the sanctuary and filed into the last rows. Francine Starr and Philip Moncrieff led the group, the first time any of the actors besides Willow had come to the church. Even from this distance, Philip’s bruises stood out, much as Silas’s had when he’d checked his eye in the mirror this morning.

His glance went to Willow, who had turned to look at the noise. Her mouth opened, and she gripped the back of the pew. Clearly, she hadn’t known they were coming. What did they want? Clement Nielson brought up the rear, his hands shoved into his pockets and his tie askew.

Quickly entering behind the actors, Kenneth and Alicia Hayes slipped in, both beaming and self-conscious, their hands linked. They slipped into the back pew opposite Francine and company. Hardly an empty seat remained in the church.

The organist finished the song, and silence descended. Silas, suddenly aware that he stood halfway between the platform and the rail, shook his head and retreated. He’d greet Reverend Sash after the service. He couldn’t take any more shocks before his sermon.

When he reached the pulpit, he forced a smile and laid his hands on the cover of his Bible already waiting there for him. “Good morning.” With all the turmoil in his mind, his voice sounded far away. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to welcome you all to church this morning, especially our guests. The Reverend Archibald Sash is with us this morning, as well as several other visitors.”

The back door opened, and Silas found himself staring into the eyes of the last person he’d expected—the Reverend Doctor Clyburn Hamilton.

❧

Silas couldn’t say how he got through the sermon, not with his father’s eyes boring into him from the back where he’d slid into the pew alongside Kenneth and Alicia. Mrs. Drabble continued to glare at him from the front row, and Francine and Moncrieff laughed and whispered constantly. He could hardly find a safe place to rest his gaze and had to settle for staring at the back wall for much of the service. With the tension mounting in the congregation, he doubted they were listening anyway.

At last they finished the final hymn. Silas closed his hymnal, but not a soul moved toward the exit. Something was afoot, and Silas’s breath shortened as Jesse Mackenzie rose and turned to address the congregation.

“Friends, it has come to my attention this morning that we have a matter to discuss as a church body. I know we have a lot of visitors, some of them quite distinguished.” He nodded to Reverend Sash, who inclined his head. “If any of you visitors don’t want to stay for an impromptu congregation meeting, now’s the time to skedaddle.”

No one moved. Silas stayed in the pulpit, not knowing what to do. Jesse hadn’t told him anything about a congregational meeting. What could’ve occurred between last night and this morning? What must his father and Reverend Sash be thinking?

“This morning one of our board members came to my house early with an accusation against someone in this church. If these rumors are true, the person they are against must be dealt with. If they are not true, then the person who has started the rumor and those who have carried it on must be dealt with.”

Silas’s knees trembled. Jesse’s voice commanded attention and brooked no argument. He continued. “First, Pastor Hamilton knows nothing of these rumors. I thought it best not to disturb his sermon preparations this morning by telling him something that would undoubtedly upset him and is probably not true in the first place.”

Mrs. Drabble sputtered and jerked. “Not true? I have it on good authority.”

“That remains to be seen, and you’ll stay quiet until you’re called upon.” He pointed to Mr. Drabble. “Walter, keep her quiet, or you’ll both wait outside.”

His sharp tone set Mrs. Drabble back into her seat.

Silas cleared his throat. “I don’t know what this is all about, but I’m sensing whatever it is has the potential to cause some heated debate. I would suggest we open with prayer, and then, all of us need to take it upon ourselves to remain calm and to weigh our words carefully.”

“Good idea.” Jesse resumed his seat.

Silas swallowed, trying to moisten his dry mouth. “Lord, we ask Your guidance on this meeting. We ask that whatever is said and done here would glorify You and unify this church rather than divide it. Amen.”

Before Jesse could take over again, Silas stepped around from behind the pulpit and descended the steps to stand in the aisle. “I’m glad we’re having this meeting, because there are a few things I need to address. Jesse?”

“Go right ahead.”

Silas turned to his congregation, trying to ignore the runaway train feeling coursing through his body. “As you are all aware of by now, I have been courting Miss Willow Starr for the past few weeks.” He flicked a glance at her pale face and lustrous eyes. “I realize some of you have a misconception about the work Miss Starr does. These misconceptions have taken hold in your minds and caused some of you to form opinions based upon lies, not facts.”

Aware of both Sash and his father, Silas took a deep breath and forged on. “Miss Starr is an actress. She is a talented thespian who has studied her craft and worked hard to achieve her success. She is also a fellow believer. A sister in Christ, and a woman of high moral character. She is not, as some have claimed, a loose woman, a charlatan, or deceiver. I happen to love Willow Starr, and I’ve asked her to be my wife.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Silas ignored them and held out his hand to Willow. She appeared dazed, but rose and edged past Jesse. When their fingers locked, Silas’s heart surged. He turned Willow to face the church and put his arm around her waist. “She has graciously consented to marry me, and I’m thrilled. She will be an excellent helpmeet for me and a wonderful addition to our church.”

Mrs. Drabble jolted to her feet. “Never. Never while I live and breathe will a woman of her type live in the manse. You have been duped, Reverend Hamilton. I have it on good authority she has had more than one illicit affair in her lifetime and has, even since arriving in our fair city, been seen cavorting with a man in a cabin south of town.”