8

Why, Brother Mitchell, we weren’t expecting you.” Aunt Poisie handed Abrianna a basket of mending. “Take this, dear, and tell Sister that the elder has come to call.”

Abrianna did as she was instructed, wondering if the deacons and elders had finally found a new pastor for the church. It was nearly the end of February, and already some in the congregation were talking of leaving.

Finding her aunt in the kitchen instructing a group of girls on the fine art of rendering lard, Abrianna announced the elder’s arrival. She put the basket aside as Aunt Miriam turned the lessons over to Liang.

“Ladies, I want you to give Liang your utmost attention. She will continue the lesson, and I expect each of you to be able to perform your own rendering, so be diligent in your learning. Remember, this is a task that requires your constant attention. You could suffer a terrible burn from the popping lard, and we wouldn’t want anyone to get marred for life.”

The girls nodded and murmured among themselves as the petite Chinese girl took charge. Abrianna fell into step behind her aunt.

“Honestly,” Aunt Miriam declared, “I shall never get used to people just dropping in to call without waiting for the appropriate time. These newfangled ways of doing things seem completely foreign to me.”

“Do you suppose the elders found a minister?”

“I do hope so. God knows we have prayed very hard for it, and it would be completely to His glory.”

“I agree. I only hope they’ve done a thorough job regarding his experience and theology. It would be a pity to have a man in the pulpit who did not hold with all the teachings of the Bible.”

“I hardly believe the elders would overlook that matter, dear.”

They entered the parlor and the man rose, as did Aunt Poisie. “Brother Mitchell has wonderful news. The deacons and elders have found a new man for our pulpit.”

“I will withhold judgment on the wonder of such news until I hear more,” Aunt Miriam said. “Where is Selma?”

“Oh, Sister, don’t you remember, she accompanied Miss Lenore and her mother on a shopping trip?”

Abrianna remembered well enough, because she had been upset that Aunt Miriam wouldn’t let her accompany them. Instead, she had chided Abrianna about neglecting her household chores for those of the food house and demanded she remain at home. Now, Abrianna wasn’t quite as disappointed.

Aunt Miriam nodded and took her seat. “Of course. I quite forgot. Now tell me, Brother Mitchell, about this new pastor.”

“He comes with strong recommendations from his seminary as well as from the church he recently pastored. He had already given them notice, saying he knew God was calling him elsewhere, and this was before our inquiry as to his consideration of our church.”

“It certainly seems as though the Lord was making provision, where he was concerned,” Aunt Miriam declared. “How old of a man is he?”

“Thirty. But before you concern yourself with his youth,” Brother Mitchell said, “I will say that he has been preaching since he was twenty. He attended seminary at a young age and excelled in all of his courses. Former teachers declared him to be their most brilliant student.”

“That is all well and fine,” Abrianna interjected, “but what does his congregation say about him?”

Brother Mitchell pulled a letter from his pocket. “I will read to you a portion of what the men of his church wrote to me.” He scanned the first page of the letter and began to read. “‘Pastor Walker is a most astute young man. He makes serious study of the Bible and has proven to preach in a direct manner that goes straight to the point. He is good to visit the sick and offer encouragement to the dying. In these last ten years we have known him to make many converts for the Lord and to baptize over forty people.”

“That’s four people a year.” Everyone stopped at Abrianna’s comment. She shrugged. “Seems to me that is a fairly low number when you consider the overall amount of time.”

“She makes a good point,” Aunt Miriam said. “I cannot say I’m overly impressed.”

Abrianna gave her aunt a nod. It felt good to point out something and have her elders esteem it. So often they considered her troublesome and difficult, and it did her heart good to receive their approval.

If only I could better fit their idea of what I should be. But that would surely take a miracle.

“Where is he from, Brother Mitchell?” Aunt Poisie asked.

“Texas. He was born and raised there and attended seminary there, as well.”

“Oh dear.” She looked most vexed. “How are we ever to understand him? Sister, do you recall that Texan who came here several years ago looking for a bride?” She looked back to Brother Mitchell. “We could scarce understand a word out of his mouth.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Those Southerners speak in a most peculiar manner. I fear I would never be able to follow the sermon.”

“Sister makes another good point,” Aunt Miriam said, fixing Brother Mitchell with an inquisitive look. “Do you know if his speech will be understandable to the common man?”

“I do. He arrived in town two days ago, and I have been privileged to have many conversations with him. While he does have something of a drawl, he is quite distinct in his speech, and I believe you will find him to be rather charming.”

“Is he married? Does he have a family?” Abrianna pressed. It was possible her questions might cause Aunt Miriam to dismiss her, but for now she would dare to ask. It was important to know the man’s personal background as well as his current situation.

“He is single. He has devoted himself completely, at least to this time, to God. He told us that he had not yet felt God release him to marry.”

“My beloved captain Jonathan, God rest his soul, once told me the same thing,” Aunt Poisie said in a most thoughtful manner. She pulled out an ever-ready hankie and dabbed her eyes. “He said that he was so long married to the sea that he could not marry me until he gave her up. He was to have sold his ship and married me, but on his final journey he was lost at sea.”

“Tragic,” Brother Mitchell said.

“So very sad,” Aunt Miriam agreed. “However, we must not dwell long on the past, Sister. Especially now when Brother Mitchell has so much to tell us about Pastor Walker.”

Poisie’s brows knit together. “I knew a young man named Walker once. Of course, he wasn’t from Texas, but perhaps they are related.” She looked to Abrianna, as if for her agreement, but already Aunt Miriam was taking the floor.

“I believe we as a congregation should give the man a set time to be tested. After all, we need to know for ourselves if the man is of sound character and motivation. Many a man may say he is a man of God and even get others to write on his behalf, yet be nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“We, too, had considered this.” Brother Mitchell put the letter back into his pocket. “The elders and deacons agreed that we would call him for a six-month period. At the end of that time we would let him know if we wished to retain him as our permanent pastor.”

This was great news to Abrianna. She had hoped there would be thorough consideration to the man’s character and methods, along with his theology and general interaction with the congregation. She clapped her hands together.

“That is a wonderful plan. I think too often people rush into decisions without giving them to God in their entirety. The very nature of man is to deceive, and I would be remiss if I didn’t stress the importance of being completely thorough. You might not remember it, but only two years ago there was that scandal in Tacoma, where a man who claimed to be a man of God bilked a large number of people out of their savings. I don’t believe he was ever caught, and we could perhaps find ourselves in the same position. I don’t recall, but that man might have been a Texan, as well.”

“Oh my!” Poisie waved her handkerchief under her nose. “That would be too tragic to bear.”

“Ladies, that’s quite enough.” Aunt Miriam smiled. “We have good men of God in our church, and I’m certain they will investigate everything wisely. We will leave it in their hands.”

Brother Mitchell seemed to puff up a bit, but such a declaration didn’t impress Abrianna. There were far too many examples of men duping others. Why, the Bible was full of such reminders.

“All I know,” Abrianna couldn’t help but add, “is that even David—a man after God’s own heart—sinned and deceived. He was also responsible for the murder of another. Wouldn’t it be awful if we were to bring in a pastor who was a murderer?”

“Goodness, Abrianna, you do let your imagination run wild.” Aunt Miriam gave her a look of reproof, and Aunt Poisie gave a small gasp.

“Sister, she is correct. The Bible tells us not to put our trust in man. Even our dear elders and deacons fall into that category. Our trust must be in God alone.”

Aunt Miriam heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. “I believe we are all in agreement about that. Furthermore I believe Brother Mitchell would dismiss any man who turned out to be a murderer.”

“I would hope so.” Abrianna crossed her arms in exasperation. “Preferably before he murdered again. I would hate for us to be known as the church where a murderer held the pulpit.”

Aunt Poisie bobbed her head. “Oh, indeed!”

Everyone else much anticipated the Sunday service, but Militine was indifferent. One pastor was pretty much the same as another, and she had little love for anyone who declared her to be a terrible sinner bound for hell. Although, what if they were right? She stole a glance at Abrianna. She was always completely absorbed in church. Could I ever be so devoted? Could I ever believe like she does? A sigh escaped her, and for a moment she feared someone might have overheard, but no one seemed concerned and she shrank back a bit more into the pew.

They sang the regular hymns and offered the usual prayers before Brother Mitchell took to the pulpit to introduce Ralston Walker. The young pastor was a tall, very pleasant-looking man, but otherwise Militine judged him to be no different from any of the other men in her life. Worthless.

Well, there was Thane, who continued to be increasingly kind. There was no way of knowing his purpose in being so, but her guard was up, and she wouldn’t be fooled. It was better to distrust all of them than to trust a few good ones only to have a bad one slip through.

Pastor Walker spoke of his background, telling the congregation about growing up the son of a cotton planter who was now deceased. His mother too, had gone to glory, leaving behind four sons and a daughter and numerous grandchildren.

Militine tried her best to appear interested. The last thing she wanted was for someone to notice her boredom and bring it to Mrs. Madison’s attention, so she did her best to mimic those around her. If the old ladies nodded, she did the same. If Abrianna appeared thoughtful, Militine gave her head a little cock to one side, as if truly considering the words. Of course where Abrianna was concerned, she was probably assessing the situation for purposes that went beyond Militine’s interest. No doubt she would barrage the new pastor with questions later.

There was to be a celebratory dinner after the service, which would give the congregation an opportunity to get to know the new pastor better. Militine almost felt sorry for the man, knowing that Abrianna would not be satisfied until she queried him about everything but his shoe size. Then again, knowing Abrianna, one’s shoe size might well have some unknown indication of spiritual well-being.

Wouldn’t that be a wonderful gift? To be able to understand and recognize someone’s spiritual qualities and know the truth of it. Militine smiled. If I understood things like that, I might not feel so misplaced or vulnerable. She immediately sobered at that thought. Vulnerable. All of her life she had lived in fear of one thing or another. To protect herself she had hidden her feelings deep, causing most people to think her hostile or intolerant, when, in fact, she was just plain afraid.

The service came to a conclusion, and everyone stood as Brother Mitchell offered the benediction. Militine earnestly wondered if God was really listening.

“Did you make something for the feast?” Thane’s question startled her out of her thoughts.

Apparently the amen had been said, for people were moving to the fellowship hall. “I’m sorry. I was rather deep in thought.”

“Not in prayer?” he asked. His blue eyes sought her face for the truth.

“No. Not in prayer, but I’d rather you keep that between you and me.”

He smiled. “I’m happy to keep your secrets. Anytime.”

While his statement was kind, Militine knew he had no way of knowing what an ugly job that could be. If she were to tell him all of her secrets, she had no doubt he would have nothing more to do with her. Not only that, but Mrs. Madison would probably remove her from the school.

“Some secrets are best never shared,” she whispered, thankful that Thane didn’t seem to hear. She put it behind her. “But as for your question, I did make a pie. It turned out looking rather nice, but the inside could be absolutely abominable.”

“Like some people,” he said with a questioning look. “When it comes to pie, I tend to be quite adept. Point me in the right direction.”

She laughed, and when he extended his arm, she took hold of it. To do otherwise would only cause a scene, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“I’ve been thinking.” They followed the others toward where the dinner would be held. “I wonder if you might agree to accompany me to the fireman’s dance.”

“What?” Her knees went weak.

Thane was undaunted. “There’s a fireman’s dance coming up, and I need someone to accompany me. I figure you and I are quite comfortable together, and perhaps it would be fun for us to share an evening.”

“I . . . uh . . . I’ve never thought about such a thing.” That wasn’t entirely true. Many had been the time she’d longed to just be a normal young lady courting a respectable young man.

“Well, think about it. I’ll need to get Mrs. Madison’s permission, and the dance is this Friday.”

She didn’t know what to say. He was looking at her with such innocent hopefulness that she hated to say no. “Mrs. Madison would require I have a chaperone.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied, looking even more enthusiastic. “Perhaps Abrianna could come with us. I know the boys would love to have another female to dance with, and she can talk the ear off anyone who doesn’t want to dance. The way I see it, everyone wins.”

There didn’t seem to be any way out of the invitation without hurting his feelings, and Militine had no desire to do that. Thane had been kind to her—a good friend. “Very well. If Mrs. Madison agrees to let me go, I will attend the dance with you, but be warned of two things. I’m not very good at dancing, and Mrs. Madison will most likely insist it be her sister who accompanies us.”

“I saw you from the pulpit.” Ralston Walker stopped the young redheaded woman who’d watched him so intently throughout the service.

“I’m certain you did,” she declared, putting her hand out. “It’s hard to miss me with all this red hair, and we always sit very close to the front. I’m Abrianna Cunningham.”

He frowned at her openness. “Have you long attended this church, Miss Cunningham?”

“All of my life. I held great love for Pastor Klingle.”

“It sounds as though he was a fine man of God.” He was ready to move on and speak to someone else. It was never good to give too much time to any woman. They always wanted to talk about the silliest things.

Abrianna Cunningham seemed to study him with a critical eye, however, causing Ralston to linger. What was it she was about?

“Pastor Klingle was a very good man, a godly man who lived by the words he spoke. It won’t be easy for you to win over the hearts of the people, given their deep respect and love for him.”

Her directness offended him, but he knew it would never do to offer a harsh rebuke on his first day. “You are certainly a woman who speaks her mind. Are your parents here with you today?”

She shook her head. “My parents are dead. I was adopted by Mrs. Madison. She and her sister and Mrs. Gibson have acted as my aunts for all my life. I have no other family.”

“So you’re a part of the Madison School for Brides? I heard about that from Brother Mitchell.”

“It’s the Madison Bridal School, and yes, that is my home. As I recall, your parents are also deceased.”

“Indeed. I see you were listening.” He saw her reach into a small reticule and pull out a piece of paper.

“I was listening and hoping you would answer most of the questions I’d compiled.”

What a meddlesome young woman. “You have a list?” He forced a smile.

“Indeed. I didn’t want to forget anything. It’s very important to me that you be scrupulously investigated.”

He raised his eyebrows and had no trouble wiping the smile off his face. Her words took him by surprise. “You are but a woman. Do you not trust that your deacons and elders would be complete in seeking a pastor for this congregation?”

“I don’t put my trust in men, Pastor Walker. That is reserved for God alone.”

She wasn’t in the least bit cowered by his rebuke. Ralston wasn’t used to females stepping into the roles he believed belonged solely to men. Perhaps it was because she was brought up in a houseful of women without a male authority to guide her.

“I must say, I’m not used to such an outspoken woman. In my family and indeed my church, women were to remain silent.”

“You’re the one who approached me and started this conversation,” Miss Cunningham countered. “However, if you feel intimidated by women, perhaps it would be best to put this discussion aside.” She eyed him with a look of disapproval. “I doubt, however, that it will bode well for you. There are a great many women in this congregation, and I’m certain I won’t be the only one with questions.”

She left him at that, and he was thankful. He wasn’t at all sure what he would have said had the conversation continued. Miss Cunningham would be a challenge. The thinking of strong-willed women these days had caused problems to creep up throughout the country with issues of property ownership, voting rights, and demands of education. Ralston wasn’t about to stand for that kind of thing in his church. As their leader, he would make it clear that women had a place, and it wasn’t in a position of authority.