eleven

Abe shifted and gave his fullest attention to his hat, which he was twisting in his hands.

The soft kissing noises between Pete and Arabella never failed to embarrass him—or to drive the temperature of his body to unbearable levels. He liked to blame the heat of the three brick ovens set into the outer wall. After hours of being heated by coals, the ovens reached temperatures hot enough to bake dozens of quartern loaves as well as rolls, which Pete, his father, and his assistants prepared every night.

Now, at the break of day, Pete’s young assistant was finishing up the work of delivering the loaves and rolls while Pete cleaned up the bakeshop. Although the other workers had already left and were likely abed, Pete usually lingered until Arabella came down to begin baking cakes.

Abe had hoped to find Pete alone, but he’d walked in only to find the two locked in an embrace. He cleared his throat.

“Ten more minutes, Pastor Abe,” Pete said between kisses. “Can you give me ten minutes with my wife?”

“Peter Kelly,” Arabella said breathlessly as she slipped out of his grasp. “I am surely worth more than ten minutes of your time.”

“You’re worth an entire day.” Pete lunged after her.

Laughing, she grabbed a baking pan and held it between them. Her eyes sparkled with love and desire and contentment.

Again, Abe dropped his gaze to his hat, and he smiled at the memory of his banter with Zoe from earlier when he’d put on his shirt in place of his trousers. He’d never laughed like that with anyone else. Certainly not with Lizzy. In fact, he was sure Lizzy would have been mortified if she’d been in Zoe’s place and probably would have ignored him until he’d straightened himself out. And then she would have pretended the incident never happened.

Not so with Zoe. She’d made him feel as though he’d won a prize for making her laugh. And she’d come right over and helped him without any hesitation.

“Just one more kiss,” Pete pleaded.

Arabella laughed softly. Abe glanced up in time to see her lean in and accept another kiss.

All he could think about was Zoe and how much he wanted to kiss one of her smiles—those smiles that lit up her eyes and made them irresistible.

Pete’s eyes opened, and he caught Abe watching them.

Abe dropped his attention to a small mound of flour on the floor, but not before he saw Pete’s lips curl into a devilish grin.

“You need to get yourself a wife. And soon.”

“About that . . .” Abe said.

Pete stilled. “About what?”

“About getting a wife . . .” After leaving his cabin, Abe had decided it was too early to visit the bishop. So he’d headed over to the bakeshop. Usually Pete was the one asking him for advice and needing the rescuing, but this time, Abe desperately needed to talk with someone.

“You finally wrote and invited Lizzy to come?” Pete asked.

Abe wished there were a way to retract that letter he’d sent to Lizzy last autumn. She would surely think him pathetic once she got it. “Actually, I received a letter from Lizzy yesterday—”

“And she said she misses you so much that she’s coming regardless of how you feel?”

“No—”

“Then she’s demanding you return home?”

The anguish Abe had been trying to hold at bay returned with full force, barreling into him so that he slouched inside his coat. “She fell in love and married someone else.”

The bakeshop turned suddenly silent, magnifying the clopping of a passing horse and carriage.

“I’m sorry,” Pete started.

“I got married last night.” Abe blurted the words before he lost his courage.

Again silence descended so that the thumping of footsteps in the overhead living quarters echoed around them.

Abe couldn’t look his friend in the eyes. He didn’t want to see the censure sure to be there. He stared instead at the misshapen brim of his hat.

“Married?” Pete found his voice, and it was laced with humor. “You’re serious?”

Abe didn’t find any humor in the situation. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Pete studied his face, his eyes widening, until a smile broke free. “You’re married.”

“Yes.”

Pete crossed to him, slapped his back, and enveloped him in a hug. “Congratulations, my friend. It’s past time.”

How could Pete so easily accept the news and congratulate him without knowing any of the details? Surely if his friend knew more about the circumstances, he’d show some concern.

“After remaining celibate for so many years, it’s no wonder you were in a hurry.” Pete pulled back with a laugh. Arabella chastised Pete under her breath for his ribald comment even as Abe felt his ears turning hot and red.

“Can’t believe you’re up early this morn and out of bed.” Pete’s grin spread wider. “With Arabella, I couldn’t bear to—”

Arabella snapped a towel at him and gave him a mortified and pleading look.

Pete’s gaze softened into an apology.

Abe used the opening to get to the point of his visit. “I think the marriage was a mistake.”

His friend’s attention shifted to him again, and this time all humor disappeared. Abe relayed the events from meeting Zoe and their working together to care for Violet to Herman Cox’s death and the unexpected arrival of Lizzy’s letter last night.

“I wasn’t in the right frame of mind,” Abe said. “I actually don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to the marriage.”

“If she’s willing to help an orphan, then she sounds like a perfect woman to me.” Pete winked at Arabella.

“She does sound positively kind and compassionate,” Arabella added. “Especially if she’s agreeable to caring for an infant. ’Tis surely no easy task she’s taken on.”

“I have no question regarding her compassion,” Abe said. “She’s most certainly kind and sweet and caring.”

Pete’s brows lifted. “If you like her, then what’s the problem?”

Abe honestly didn’t know what the problem was—except that Zoe wasn’t Lizzy.

“Oh, I see.” Pete scrutinized Abe’s face. “You’re not attracted to her.”

Abe hesitated. How could any man not be attracted to Zoe? She was a ravishing beauty. He had only to think of how she’d looked this morning, sitting in the chair, trying not to watch him groom himself. Even with her wrapped in the blanket he’d insisted she use, he’d been intensely aware she was attired in only a nightgown. The few times he’d caught her looking at him, her eyes had been wide with a curiosity that only made him want to sit down and spend more time with her.

“Mayhap Arabella can give her some beauty tips,” Pete suggested.

“It’s not that. She’s actually the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.” It was the truth. But he couldn’t base the marriage on physical attraction, could he? He’d counseled many men not to make intimacy the foundation of a relationship. There needed to be much more, including friendship, shared goals and interests, and a common faith in the Lord.

“It’s clear you’re already smitten.” Pete clamped his arm.

“I barely know her.”

“You like her. Otherwise you wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to marry her.”

“I didn’t jump.”

“You leapt.” Pete’s grin was playful. And infectious.

Abe smiled in return. “So you don’t think I should get the marriage annulled?”

“Annulled? Absolutely not.” Even though Pete’s smile remained in place, his words took on a serious undertone. “Honor the commitment you made before God. You married her. You told her you’d love and cherish her until death. And now you need to follow through.”

The words drove into Abe like a spike into stone, shattering his last resistance. Pete was right. He’d taken vows before God. He couldn’t set aside those vows just because he’d woken up in the morning scared and uncertain.

No, whether for good or bad, he’d spoken binding words to Zoe. What was done was done, and he needed to accept it. He had to move forward with his choice.

“Thank you for your advice,” Abe said. “You’re right. I need to honor my marriage commitment.”

“You’re the wisest man I know, Pastor Abe.” Pete began to untie his apron, which was coated with flour. “I have no doubt you’ll figure this all out in a way that pleases God.”

Abe prayed Pete was right. After leaving the Lord out of his planning last night and muddling things, he had to involve the Almighty moving forward.

Abe started toward the door. He was married. He was staying married. And now he needed to let Zoe know. She’d obviously sensed his confusion this morning, which hadn’t been fair to her.

“Bring your wife by.” Pete followed him, unwinding the long apron strings that wrapped around his waist. “Then I can tell her everything she’ll have to put up with.”

“She will indeed have to put up with a sinful man.”

Pete socked Abe in the arm. “I’m only teasing. You’re a good man, and she’s blessed to have you.”

“I know nothing about how to behave around her. She likely already thinks I’m an imbecile.” His thoughts returned to the shirt incident.

“You need to woo her.”

“Woo her?”

“Do things that will make her fall in love with you, just like I did with Arabella.”

“Isn’t it enough to provide for the needs of her and the baby?”

“Mayhap”—Pete’s voice dripped with sarcasm—“if you were her father.”

Abe paused at the door and squirmed at the notion of attempting to make Zoe fall in love with him. He wasn’t a man given to the outward displays Pete relished. The closest he’d ever gotten to being romantic with Lizzy was copying a line of poetry from a book. He couldn’t imagine Zoe wanting him to spout poetry. “What kinds of things should I do?”

“Spend time getting to know her. Find out what she likes. Be charming like me.”

Arabella gave an unladylike snort as she cracked eggs into a mixing bowl.

“Admit it,” Pete called to her. “You fell in love with me because of my looks and charm.”

She tossed the eggshells into a wooden bucket at her feet. “I fell in love with you because you saw me the way no one else ever has—as a valuable woman.”

“And because of my charm.”

Abe opened the door and stepped outside, relishing the nip of cool morning air against his overheated cheeks.

“Well, if it isn’t Holy Man, the wife stealer” came a voice from Abe’s left. Before he could make sense of the comment, a fist pummeled into his cheek with a smack that sent him reeling backward. Pain clouded his vision, and he might have fallen except that Pete steadied him.

The attacker swung again.

“Hey!” Pete released Abe and blocked the hit. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Abe grabbed Pete’s shirt and yanked him out of the fray, blinking hard to regain his vision and see through the pain. But Pete broke free with both arms swinging, connecting first with the stomach and then nose of none other than Dexter Dawson.

Two of Dex’s friends stepped out of the shadows of the nearby public bathhouse and began to cross over, hands on the pistols holstered at their belts.

Abe had seen too much violence in the mining camps to allow the fight to continue. He and Pete could very well end up dead, or at least injured. Steeling himself, he grabbed Pete again and hauled him away from Dex. “Hold on now. Let’s solve our differences peacefully.”

Pete’s shoulders rippled, but thankfully he didn’t attempt to go after Dex again. Rather, the two stared at each other, their eyes shooting anger.

“What’s going on?” Abe winced at the throbbing in the side of his face.

“You stole my wife.”

“Zoe?” Abe’s question came out in a puff of white against the chill of the air.

“I told her to meet me at the church last night at seven. When I got there, the reverend said I was too late—that she’d married you.”

“That’s right. She asked me to marry her and I accepted.” He replayed the events of last evening when Zoe had approached him in the sanctuary where he’d been kneeling. Why had she asked him to marry her if she’d come specifically to marry Dex? Maybe she’d been desperate for another option. Although she hadn’t seemed desperate. . . .

“Or maybe you convinced her to change her mind.” Dex’s voice was a snarl, and he took a step toward Abe.

Pete stiffened, and Abe tightened his grip on his friend. If Pete let loose again, Dex’s friends would surely let loose with their pistols.

“She proposed to me,” Abe said again, but less certainly. “Will you marry me?” Hadn’t those been her words—or something similar? What if she’d merely been asking him to perform the marriage ceremony between her and Dex? What if he’d been the one to mix everything up? It was certainly possible considering his state of mind.

“Everyone round here knew I planned to marry her.” Dex’s tone was unrelenting, his expression deadly. “And now everyone knows you stole her from me.”

“I didn’t steal her intentionally—”

“Pastor Abe couldn’t steal something that wasn’t yours to begin with.” Pete’s voice was as hard as Dex’s.

The traffic on the street had halted, and the altercation was drawing the attention of passersby. Men stood in open doorways and peered out windows, likely expecting more fists flying, if not a gunfight.

Abe could only imagine Bishop Hills’s reaction once he learned of the showdown. The bishop was already angry enough. This altercation would be just the excuse the bishop needed to send him back to England and put an end to his career aspirations.

He had to find a way to solve this problem with Dex peacefully. And immediately. “There are still plenty of other bride-ship women looking for husbands.” He spoke as congenially as he could, although he couldn’t in good conscience wish Dex upon any woman, bride-ship or not.

“I don’t want anyone else.” His words came out in a low growl. “I want Zoe Hart.”

A flame sparked in Abe’s gut—the same feeling he’d had the day of the funeral, when he’d seen Dex talking with her. “If she’d wanted you,” Abe blurted before he could stop himself, “don’t you think she would have waited for you to arrive?”

“Not with you putting on your airs and feeding her lies.”

The burning in his gut swelled, as if needing release. This was a new sensation, one he didn’t quite know how to handle.

“Give her back to me, Holy Man,” Dex demanded.

Abe’s muscles tightened with an unfamiliar need to swing out and hit the man. With Pete straining to break free from his grasp, Abe was tempted to release him and join his friend in the fight. But a whisper of warning rose in his soul, the warning that he needed to use God’s strength and wisdom instead of giving in to the flesh.

With a silent prayer for help, Abe straightened his hat and then his clerical collar. “Zoe chose to marry me, not you,” he said loudly and clearly enough that everyone around could hear him. “She’s my wife now. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

He shoved Pete toward the bakeshop door, then spun and strode down the wooden sidewalk away from Dex and his men. He kept his spine rigid and his sights straight ahead, waiting for the blast of a gunshot, his body tensing in readiness of the pain that would follow.

But the only sound was the hard thump of his boots. He could feel not only Dex’s eyes following him, but everyone else’s too. He didn’t let his stride falter. Or his resolve.

For the first time since leaving the church last evening, he was relieved he’d married Zoe—relieved she was with him and safely away from Dexter Dawson and others like him. The trouble was, Dex wasn’t the kind of man who easily accepted defeat, and Abe had the feeling he hadn’t heard the last from him.