Refining Fire (9 page)

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.

A
brianna offered a bowl of soup to a man she didn't recognize. “Are you new to us?”

The old man lifted his head and smiled. “That I am. Name's Jay Bowes. I heard about this place and thought it something I should look into. It's a nice thing you're doing here.” He seemed to linger, looking behind him as if to make sure no one else was coming.

“And where are you from, Mr. Bowes?”

“Nowhere important.” He sniffed the soup. “How about you? You live here all your life?”

“I have.” She spied several men entering the building. “I would love to talk more, but I must move you along. We have other hungry folks arriving.”

He smiled. “I'll be around. We can talk anytime you want.”

The regulars knew the routine well. They took up their bread and bowls of soup without comment until the very last man came through. He winked at Abrianna. “I see yar havin' me favorite today.”

“Oh, Captain Jack, I thought of you this morning when I was making the fish chowder. I knew you'd be pleased.” Abrianna couldn't help but feel great affection for the old sea dog. She
had known him for over ten years, and he often brought her something he'd carved.

“Gonna have ya a trinket afore long,” he said with another wink. “I know how ya enjoy 'em.”

“I do.” She laughed. “I'm the only girl in all of Seattle who has her own little wooden menagerie. Honestly, I don't know where you've had opportunity to see all of those animals, but the carvings are wonderful.”

“I ain't seen most of 'em face-to-face,” he admitted. “But I found me a book, and it shows 'em all proper like.”

“That's wonderful. I shall look forward to the next masterpiece.”

The man nodded and headed off to join the others. Abrianna let a sense of accomplishment settle over her. She loved what God had done in this place.

“You look exhausted,” Militine said, coming alongside Abrianna. “Why don't you let Wade take you back early? Thane and I can clean this up, and then he can bring me back to the house.”

Abrianna sighed. “That does sound good. Pastor Walker sent a card saying he plans to call this afternoon. I would like to be there when he arrives.”

“Do I detect some interest in our new pastor?”

“Of course I'm interested. I intend to figure the man out and know what he's thinking. I don't want to see our people lulled into a false sense of peace, only to learn the man is deviously taking the offering to line his own pockets.”

“Surely you don't think he would do that. I mean, he's just arrived.”

It was never wrong to be watchful, and had that church in Tacoma been of the same mind, they might not have known such a disaster. Still, she didn't expect Militine to understand. The girl didn't even like going to church, so why should she care what happened to its people?

“I'll see if Wade agrees to take me back. If he thinks that would be acceptable, then I will go. Otherwise, I'm committed to remaining until we have everything cleaned up.”

Half an hour later, as the clock chimed two, Ralston Walker stood at the door to the Madison Bridal School. He thought the large estate house to be quite grand and could only imagine that it had cost a small fortune. Pity they hadn't thought of what good that money might have done the church. Their little church needed so much work. Perhaps he would need to convince the elders that it would be smarter to rebuild elsewhere.

“Hello,” Miss Cunningham greeted him. “Won't you come in, Pastor Walker?”

“Thank you.” He handed her his outer coat. “It's a rather blustery day.”

She hung the piece on a coat-tree by the door. “Why don't you come into the parlor and get warm. I'll let my aunts know you're here.”

“I thought we were to speak alone.”

She turned back. “I would be happy to do that, but my aunts will consider it bad manners if we do not include them at least for a time. Bad manners are something we do not allow at Madison Bridal School. Surely you are familiar with etiquette, aren't you?”

“To a degree,” he said with a smile. “I don't find etiquette lessons written in the Bible.”

She paused with a look of disagreement. “But of course there are. The greatest of them is written there for all to read and hopefully follow. John 13:34, ‘A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another.'”

“That's hardly an etiquette lesson, Miss Cunningham. That is a command of the Lord.”

“Exactly. It tells us how we are to treat one another. Etiquette does likewise. The Bible is full of such references for treating others as better than ourselves, treating others with kindness and forbearance. Just as I am with you right now. If I were to be rude to you, I wouldn't bother to help you understand. I'd merely tell you that you're wrong, and quite foolish for believing otherwise.” She smiled. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll fetch my aunts.”

He looked after her in dumbfounded silence. He'd never had anyone take him to task in such a manner. Especially where the Scriptures were involved. That this mere slip of a girl, hardly old enough to be a woman, should chide him for his behavior caused him no end of grief. He would wait his time, however, and find a way to put her in her place.

The older ladies came bringing refreshments on a tea cart. They were a funny lot whom he'd gotten to know a little at the church dinner. Mrs. Madison was of medium height and slender weight. She had her gray hair in a fashionable bun atop her head, but it was her piercing blue eyes that held his attention. She didn't miss much. This was one woman who studied the details around her and weighed each one carefully. It was clear that she led this group of addlepated females.

Mrs. Gibson, a well-rounded widow, seemed only slightly more reserved than Mrs. Madison. Neither lady was what he would call obnoxiously bold, but they were opinionated, something he did not think respectable in women. At church they had both found it necessary to quiz him about his prior education and ministerial duties.

The last of the trio, Miss Poisie Holmes was a funny little thing. From what he'd observed at church, she appeared completely subservient to her sister. Short and petite, Miss Poisie had a penchant for bobbing her head and blessing the dead. She seemed harmless enough.

“We are glad you could join us today,” Mrs. Madison said,
bringing him a cup of tea. “When Abrianna told us you had made an appointment to visit, we were quite surprised.”

“And why was that, Mrs. Madison? You are one of my parishioners.” He took the cup and saucer and offered her a warm smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded and Miss Holmes followed behind with a dish of shortbread. “I'll just put this here on the table beside you.”

“Thank you, Miss Holmes.”

She bobbed her head several times and took her seat.

It was apparent that Miss Cunningham was watching him, studying his actions and words. Funny young woman, but if she thought to best him, she had another think coming.

“The elders tell me that you have been most faithful to support the church all these years. I commend you for your good stewardship. I'm certain it has blessed many and the Lord is pleased with your faithfulness.”

When no one uttered a word in comment, he continued. “I feel as though I've found a home.” He smiled and turned on the charm that he'd found worked so well with weak-minded women. “Of course with such lovely ladies and women of faith who not only sing like choirs of angels in the service but also cook dishes that taste as if they came from heaven itself, who could not feel at home?”

“How do you know what food from heaven tastes like?” Miss Cunningham asked.

He swallowed hard, determined to hold back the snide retort that came to mind. “I apologize. It is the quality and taste of which I would expect heaven capable. Of course, we cannot know for certain that such things will even matter.”

“Pastor Walker, we understand that you have studied the Scriptures for most of your life,” Mrs. Madison began. “Perhaps you might tell us what you have found personally most rewarding in such study.”

Her question caught him off guard. Usually people asked why he'd become a minister or whether or not he had ever considered other vocations. Some even asked if he intended to take a wife, but few ever asked about his Scripture study. He could see they were all awaiting his answer, however, and knew he would have to think fast. Hoping to appear humble, he bowed his head for a moment and then looked up with his best look of serenity. At least that was his goal.

“I find that few people care about such deep thinking. I'm pleased to know that you value this matter. It speaks highly of your spiritual maturity, something I often find missing in women.”

He hadn't meant to take the conversation in that direction and quickly worked to interject some additional thoughts. “Perhaps in my experience the women were not nearly so desirous to know God as you three . . . four obviously are. However, since you asked about my reward in such study, I must say that God's Word has opened my eyes to the truth of how He wishes His church to be. God has gifts for the body of believers, and in those gifts we see His completion of what the church is to do and be.”

“And what would that be?” Mrs. Madison stared at him while she sipped her tea.

“Theologically speaking, the church or body of believers has been created to do God's work, to share the gospel and extend the love of God to all mankind. I am certain you are familiar with the diversities of gifts—faith, healing, wisdom, prophecy, and such. The body is a compilation of all those gifts, and with those gifts we see the church made whole. Some of the elders and deacons will teach or will administer. Still others will be prophets and discerners of spirits, both good and evil.

“God, of course, assigns one such as me to head the church. It is my job to be in authority over the rest of the body.”

Miss Cunningham cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but I thought Christ was the head of the church.”

He pushed aside his irritation. “God the Father is head overall, and Christ is head of the entire church. I merely meant that as pastor of a church, I have certain authority.”

This was clearly not going the way he'd hoped. Abrianna Cunningham fixed him with a look that made him begin to perspire. How was it this mere slip of a girl could make him feel so compromised? He'd faced off with lifelong theologians who prided themselves on having memorized the entire Bible and had never felt this way.

“I believe accountability is critical for each of us.” Miss Cunningham looked away after another testing moment and turned her attention to one of the cookies on her plate.

“I suppose we all have our various views,” Mrs. Madison interjected, “however, I am of a mind to agree with Abrianna. The Bible speaks of how we must all give of ourselves to the Lord, to take up our cross daily and follow Him. I believe that we should be not only accountable in our actions but hold others accountable, as well. Particularly those in positions of leadership. After all, the Bible does declare that such people will be held to a higher degree of accounting.”

“Ladies”—he rose from his chair and looked down on them—“I see you are quite knowledgeable.” Never mind that they were also very annoying. He would deal with them in time. “I find your knowledge of the Bible refreshing.” It was a lie, but it would no doubt soothe their womanly pride. “I understand that you have long been without a man in your home. For that I am very sorry. As your pastor, I do worry about your safety and protection. And because of that, I am happy to offer myself as your protector and adviser.”

Miss Cunningham snorted, and Mrs. Gibson gasped. Miss Holmes was the only one who didn't seem upset by his
declaration. Mrs. Madison most systematically took one last sip of tea and set her cup aside. Getting to her feet, she gave him a look that reminded him of a chastising mother.