2

By Sunday Militine felt able to once again deal with church and the idea that God existed and cared for her well-being. There were certainly worse things to ponder, and today was a day of rest. There would be no tiresome cooking and sewing classes, nor studies on table settings and flower arrangements.

Abrianna arrived at her door just as Militine secured a warm wool bonnet. “Goodness, but it’s cold outside. I’m not looking forward to walking to church. Aunt Miriam told Aunt Poisie and Aunt Selma that the weather has given her a great determination to purchase one, possibly two, carriages.”

“That would be quite an expense. Carriages aren’t cheap. But I would prefer them to traipsing through the snow. I hope she will buy them immediately. As tiny as you are, you might well disappear in a snowdrift.”

Abrianna put a hand to her breast. “To ne’er be discovered until spring thaw.”

Militine smiled and pulled on her gloves. She seriously doubted her friend could keep quiet that long. “I suppose we shall just have to walk arm in arm and help keep each other warm. Shall we?”

Abrianna wrapped her hand around Militine’s. “We shall.”

Their sense of ease had returned, letting their previous argument about God wait for another day. Militine liked that about Abrianna. The young woman could get so very passionate about various subjects, but her love of those around her always helped to temper her outbursts. At least after the first two or three times.

Abrianna’s friendship meant a great deal, however. Militine had never had a friend before arriving at the school. Coming to Mrs. Madison’s had been an act of desperation, but surprisingly it had proved to be a blessing. But she doubted it would last.

As they did every Sunday, Wade Ackerman and Thane Patton arrived early to walk with the ladies to church. This had been a common practice for as long as Militine had been on the premises, and Abrianna declared it to have gone back much further than that. Mrs. Madison and the other ladies considered it inappropriate for women to travel unescorted by a male. The city was a dangerous place, and unaccompanied females were asking for trouble, according to the matron of the bridal school. But Militine had found more danger from a violent-tempered father than the strangers in Seattle.

Abrianna once asked about her parents, and Militine hadn’t known how to respond. She could lie and say they were both dead, as Abrianna’s parents were, or she could tell the truth and risk someone learning about her past. The lie seemed easier.

“Come, ladies,” Mrs. Gibson directed. “Let us form a proper line for our sojourn.” Mrs. Gibson was a dear friend to Mrs. Madison and her sister, Miss Poisie. Together the trio kept the school running in an orderly fashion, training each student on the details of how to better prepare themselves for matrimony.

Mrs. Madison and Miss Poisie appeared bundled from head to toe in navy wool. “It is quite cold today, and with the snow there are bound to be accidents. I implore you to walk slowly and in pairs. Hold fast to one another so if one slips, the other may help her up, just as Ecclesiastes says.”

“Or both will end up on their backsides.” Abrianna was well known for her comments, and while she barely whispered this to Militine, Mrs. Madison’s frown made it clear she’d overheard.

“We will practice care,” Mrs. Madison stressed.

As they journeyed, Militine noticed the shoveled path. It didn’t go unnoticed by the older women.

“I suppose we have you two to thank,” Mrs. Madison said, looking to Wade and Thane.

They grinned and shrugged. “Might have been angelic beings making sure you could get to church on time,” Thane commented.

“Angelic beings, eh?” Mrs. Madison smiled. “Or decent young men. Either way, we are thankful.”

By the time they reached the small stone church, the girls around her were chatting and giggling up a storm as they did every Sunday, despite Mrs. Madison’s suggestion that the walk be spent in reflection and prayer. However, once they entered the church, the ladies were all respectful and silent. Militine followed the others inside and took her seat. Only a moment later one of the elders rose to the pulpit.

“I am sorry to say we have suffered a great loss in the life of the church. Pastor Klingle has gone home to be with the Lord.”

The old ladies of the Madison School gasped. “God rest his soul,” Miss Poisie declared.

“Amen,” Mrs. Gibson and Mrs. Madison murmured, their usual response to the younger woman’s blessing of the dead.

Gasps, sniffles, and whispered words were heard throughout the sanctuary. Militine exchanged a glance with Abrianna, whose expression suggested deep sorrow. She pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule and twisted it between her hands. Militine’s thoughts and emotions floundered. Should she say something? Perhaps wrap an arm around her friend? Abrianna and the old ladies had always spoken with great love for the aging pastor. No doubt this would hurt them deeply.

“We know our dear brother is in a much better place,” the elder continued, “however, our pain is certain. Pastor Klingle was a solid man of God who did much to lead this congregation in truth. We will miss him.” The man coughed as if to clear the emotion from his voice.

Militine glanced around the room. She felt uneasy with her own lack of emotion over such sad news.

“The funeral service is scheduled for Wednesday. I know we will each want to say our final good-byes. The church will be open at noon and the funeral held at three o’clock. That will give time to view the deceased prior to the service. The elders and deacons met and it was agreed to ask the Reverend Swanson from the Lutheran church to officiate at the service, as he and Pastor Klingle were the best of friends.”

Murmurs of approval traveled throughout the congregants. “The pastor will be buried beside his wife in the church graveyard. However, there will be no outdoor services due to the cold.”

After this another man led the congregation in several hymns and then they had a time of silent prayer before church was dismissed. Militine knew the loss of the pastor and the upcoming funeral would be the topic of discussion for the day. The older ladies of the church barely waited for the final amen before coming together to make plans for their part in the arrangements.

“I am grieved to the depths of my soul,” Abrianna declared. She had taken out a handkerchief shortly after the announcement, but only now did tears come. “I will sorely miss Pastor Klingle. I’ve known him all of my life. Why, there has never been another man in the pulpit while I’ve come to this church. How will we ever find anyone so kind and knowledgeable? The man was a paragon of godly love and wisdom.”

Wade joined them, Thane close on his heels. He patted Abrianna’s shoulder. “I know you’ll miss him. We all will. Pastor often came by the shop just to see how I was doing.”

She sniffed. “He was so good to help me with the friendless and old sailors. They trusted him, you know. But of course, who didn’t trust him?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Militine marveled at the sense of loss felt by the parishioners. Abrianna wasn’t the only one crying. Some of the men, pillars of the community and church, were also damp eyed. It was hard to understand the impact of one man upon so many.

Wade put his arm around Abrianna. “They’ll learn to rely on another. God will surely send us another pastor. It might take time, but trust can be earned. Right now we need to focus on what we can do to be useful to the church.”

“Of course.” Abrianna wiped her eyes. “I will endeavor to be brave and strong.”

“I’ve never known you to be anything else.”

Wade was right. Militine had never known Abrianna to be anything but a rock of strength. Maybe that was what troubled Militine at times. Abrianna seemed to have a clear understanding of how to face life’s challenges in a bold and sure manner. No doubt the redhead would declare this had everything to do with her faith in God.

Militine shrugged. Maybe it did.

“What was that for?” Thane asked.

Militine met his blue-eyed gaze. His handsome face rather startled her. “What?”

“You shrugged. I just wondered what that was for.”

“I don’t suppose it really matters. Sad thing for the pastor to die. I know there are many who will miss him.”

“But you aren’t one of them?”

“I don’t feel that I knew him all that well. After all, I’ve only been here a little over a year. Frankly, some of his sermons left me feeling . . .” She shook her head. When did she become so blunt and opinionated? “It’s not important. I won’t speak ill of the man. I’m sure he did his best.”

“But at times you felt God more a tyrannical judge than a loving Father? Someone to be avoided rather than embraced?”

She looked at Thane and marveled he could be so astute. “Why would you say that?”

He stroked his neatly trimmed red beard. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve seen something in your eyes—a look that reminds me of myself. Maybe that’s why I enjoy your company so much.”

Militine’s face grew hot. He enjoys my company? She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and the few times Thane had singled her out for conversation at the receptions or dinners at the school, Militine had thought he was only being gentlemanly.

Mrs. Madison signaled to her ladies that it was time to depart, so there was no chance of pressing the matter. Militine fell into step beside the other silent women, her arm looped with Abrianna’s. Their attitudes were vastly different than on the journey there.

“But at times you felt God more a tyrannical judge than a loving Father? Someone to be avoided, rather than embraced?”

How very strange that Thane should so clearly speak her heart. Her own father was exactly as Thane suggested. Especially when it came to avoiding rather than embracing. She shuddered, almost feeling the blows of her father’s belt upon her back.

Coming to Seattle a year earlier had been a risk for Militine. She had actually hoped to put a greater distance between her and the life she’d hoped to forget. Her father and mother had settled about sixty miles northeast of Vancouver some thirty years ago to set up a trading post. Her mother ran the post most days while her father trapped and journeyed out for supplies. Other children had been born to the couple, but only Militine had survived. Much to her father’s displeasure, for he saw little value in a daughter.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Mrs. Madison to take her on at the school. Apparently she liked to have references and detailed accounts of her students. Militine could offer neither. Finally she threw herself on the mercy of the elderly trio and begged for their help. She confessed a sad and tragic past that included the death of her mother and her father’s descent into alcohol. She hinted at the brutality she’d received but nothing more. They would have rejected her for certain had they known everything. As it was, they told her that there would be strict rules to adhere to and a great deal of work to accomplish. Militine agreed to do whatever was required, and it hadn’t been easy.

She knew that the purpose of the school was to teach household management skills to young ladies with the intent of making them better prospects for marriage. However, for Militine that had never been the reason for attending. The Madison Bridal School seemed the perfect place to hide, especially if you were a woman who had no intention of marrying. No one would have expected her to seek refuge in a place such as this.

Abrianna had let Militine know early on that the way to progress to the place where suitors were allowed to court you was to be accomplished in your various duties. There were lessons in etiquette and elocution, French, sewing, cooking, and of course household arranging and cleaning. Militine could hold her own at most of the basic things, but she didn’t want anyone to know, and early on had taken on the pretense of extreme clumsiness. This, coupled with her genuine lack of knowledge where etiquette and speaking were concerned, seemed to vex Mrs. Madison and her cohorts. She had heard them whisper that next to Abrianna, she was their greatest challenge.

She smiled, content to be exactly that. For however long she could make this situation last, Militine intended to be very nearly untrainable and greatly lacking in bridal qualities.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Abrianna declared, appointing each of her confederates to their appropriate seat around the table. “I know the others are busy discussing the funeral dinner and such, but this is also of utmost importance.”

Militine had no idea what her friend was up to, but feeling sleepy after a large Sunday dinner, listening to Abrianna lecture might well lend itself to dozing. On the other hand, with Abrianna, a person could count herself lucky if the lecture didn’t involve a dead body or a socially unacceptable exploit. Only time would tell if good fortune had smiled on them.

Wade and Thane sat opposite the two ladies and looked at Militine as if she might have answers. She shook her head and turned to Abrianna, hoping the vivacious woman would shed light on the subject quickly.

“I know I’ve kept you all in the dark about my new venture,” she began. “I wanted to make absolutely certain I had the proper funding in place before coming to you for help.”

“Great,” Wade said, nudging Thane, “she’s got a new venture, and she needs our help.”

Thane nodded. “And she has funding.”

“Oh, don’t sound so forlorn.” Abrianna squared her shoulders. “It’s not like this will be surprising to any of you. You know my passion for helping the poor?”

“I know your passion for stripping years off our lives as you sneak around at night when you think no one knows. Good grief, Abrianna, is this going to be more of that?”

Militine smiled at Wade’s question but ducked her head so that no one would see her reaction. She felt just as he did. Abrianna was never one for obeying the rules of society, but it would have helped everyone’s peace of mind if she would have at least given those rules a brief nod.

“No, and that is why I believe you will fully support me in this endeavor. As you know, I have long felt God’s calling on my life to assist the poor and needy. I believe God made it clear in the Bible that this is the responsibility of all mankind—not just the few who are seeking His calling on their lives. Though I do realize not everyone wants to hear God’s calling lest they have to do something about it.” She paused and appeared thoughtful.

“I suppose there are those who don’t want to know for fear they will not be up to the task. Honestly, I don’t mean to sound harsh and judgmental. I do sympathize with those who are fearful, but—”

“Abrianna,” Wade interrupted, “could you just get back to the subject at hand? What is your new venture, and what does it have to do with us?”

“Well, Wade Ackerman, if you’ll just give me time, I’ll get to that.” Abrianna folded her hands and rested them atop the table. “God has provided a means for me to be truly helpful. I’ve been working with Lenore and Kolbein.” She paused and looked to Thane. “You remember them, don’t you? Lenore has been my dearest friend for many years, and Kolbein Booth is the man she married last September. He’s a lawyer.”

“I remember.” Thane exchanged a glance with Wade. “Honestly, Abrianna, it’s not like I live in a cave somewhere. Just because I’m not always hanging around here doesn’t mean I don’t know about things. Besides, I helped with the move here and know that the Booths live just down the street. I’ve encountered you and Mrs. Booth on many occasions.”

“Good. I’m glad you recall them. Sometimes it’s been my experience that men are less observant about such things. I don’t understand if it’s because they have a great deal on their minds or they simply don’t care.” She looked at Militine. “Remember, I was mentioning the other day how Kolbein has trouble remembering the names of the young ladies here at the school and how that really surprised me? After all, he is a lawyer and you would think such a duty would require a good memory. Of course, Aunt Selma says it’s probably because he came to us by way of Chicago. She’s absolutely certain that town is full of degenerates and ninnies, although Kolbein truly seems to be neither.”

“Abrianna, please!” Wade’s exasperated tone made it clear he’d reached the limit of his patience.

“I apologize.” She offered Wade a sympathetic smile. “I am given to the details, you know. Anyway, as you all may know, Lenore and Kolbein both come from money. And both have tender hearts when it comes to helping those in need. I have managed to convince Lenore that, with proper funding, I could extend considerable help to the poor of Seattle.”

“In what way?” Wade’s expression showed great concern.

Militine held her breath. With Abrianna a person could never be certain as to what would come next, but no doubt it wouldn’t be a simple matter.

“Lenore is giving me a substantial sum of money so I can rent a little building down near the wharf. It is quite close to where you work on the boats, Thane.” She hurried on, not waiting for any comment or protest, as was Abrianna’s fashion. Militine had come to expect this as much as the others and didn’t try to stop her.

“I have already spoken to the owner. He will allow us to paint it and fix it up in order that I might run a food house for the poor. Given its location, the old sailors will find it quite convenient, and it won’t be that far removed from the more destitute parts of town. Those folks might also find it easy to locate. All that is required is some cleaning and mending.

“That’s where you three come in. I will need help preparing the place, and then, of course, I know my aunts would feel better if I could have one or both of you men present when I’m actually there feeding the poor.”

“Is that what they said?” Wade fixed her with a stern look. “Or is that what you’re hoping will be the case?”

Abrianna had the decency to squirm a bit in her chair. Militine had seen the young woman manipulate situations and cajole people to accomplish most anything she desired, but she didn’t seem to be able to push Wade around.

“I feel confident,” the redhead began, “that your presence will assure them of my safety. They truly trust you, Wade. You, too, Thane, and I figure you both have to eat lunch just like the rest. I plan to serve only the noon meal, you see. And—”

“Abrianna.” Wade’s tone was one of an insistent father with a child.

Militine smiled at Abrianna’s reaction. She crossed her arms against her chest and sat back in the chair. “All right. I haven’t told them yet. I wanted to make sure I had your support first. If I don’t have your help, then I’ll need to find someone else, and given the fact that Pastor Klingle has just died and his funeral will be the focus of our attention for this week, I wanted to secure your assistance before things got out of hand.”

For a moment silence fell on the room, something most unusual when Abrianna was present. Militine could see that Abrianna was fighting the urge to say more. Instead, she toyed with a loose curl and kept her eyes lowered.

“A food house,” Wade finally said.

“On the docks,” Thane added.

Militine laughed aloud. “So much for keeping it socially acceptable. Nevertheless, I’m happy to help. Anything that gets me out of here and away from the grueling work of setting a proper table and hosting tea parties is fine by me.”

“I suppose she’ll do it with or without our help.” There was resignation in Wade’s voice. “I’m guessing too that you’ll do it with or without your aunts’ approval.”

Abrianna surged forward. “Oh, but I’m sure they will approve if you are at my side. Aunt Miriam has always supported helping the poor. She is the first one to say it is our duty. I think that is why she doesn’t chide me for taking extra food from the larder for the destitute. Wade, you know that you have always been my aunts’ most trusted confidant. If you were to show your support and stand at my side when I share the news, I believe they would quickly rally to the cause.”

Thane nudged Wade. “You do know she’s not going to drop this. We might as well give in and consent. Otherwise she and Miss Scott here will just sneak out in the dead of night to fix the place up, and then instead of a noon meal, she’ll be feeding folks at midnight.”

Wade gave a heavy sigh, and Militine almost felt sorry for him. Once again Abrianna had created chaos where they might otherwise have had a dull and peaceful life.

“Very well. We’ll help you fix the place up and come for noon meals. However—” Wade paused and pointed his finger for emphasis—“you are to do nothing without speaking to me about it first. Promise me.”

Abrianna jumped up from her chair and hurried around the table to hug Wade. “Of course I promise. I’ll speak to you about everything.”

Militine could see the doubt in his eyes. They both knew Abrianna well enough to know that this was just the beginning of what might well turn out to be a most arduous and complicated endeavor.