The Matrimony Plan (7 page)

“I hope they annoy him to death,” she muttered and promptly tripped over a tree root. Why didn’t this town
install real sidewalks? Why didn’t they pave their roads? Pearlman was so backward.

She kept to the shadowed side of Elm Street, somewhat hidden beneath the stately trees that had given the street its name. Tall hedges lined many of the yards, affording cover from prying eyes inside the estates. If no motorcars passed, she’d get home unscathed. She hurried along. There were only two more blocks to go. She’d slip in the servants’ entrance and run upstairs. She’d wash, change and hurry to the barn. With luck, she’d find Robert eager for intelligent conversation after a trying afternoon with Sally and Eloise.

“Hey, sis, what happened to you?” Blake had driven his car up to her so quietly that she jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Blake, what are you doing here? It’s not polite to sneak up on people.”

He slowed the car to a crawl, keeping pace with her walking. “Want a ride? You look like you fell in the river.”

She kept her focus dead ahead as she plodded up the hill. “I did not fall in the river, and I don’t need your help.”

He laughed. “You and the reverend go swimming?”

He’d seen her? Her cheeks heated. “Certainly not.”

He laughed. “Loosen up, sis. You could use a good swim.”

“I do not swim, especially not with the new minister.”

Blake was grinning like an idiot, taking far too much pleasure in her discomfort. “Then why’d you run out of the parsonage’s backyard?”

Oh, no. He had seen her, and if he’d seen her, others might have, too. By supper, it would be all over town. “Don’t tell anyone. Please?”

His grin grew wider. “You and the reverend have a little romance going? Beattie says—”

“I don’t care two pins what Beatrice says. She’s wrong. There’s absolutely nothing between us. Understand?

Nothing.” She could not say that strongly enough. “Never ever in a hundred lifetimes.”

He chuckled. “That bad, eh?”

All those years of teasing rushed back: too skinny, too tall, didn’t look like a Kensington, must have been switched at birth. Every stupid taunt Blake had thrown at her during childhood returned. “Stop it. Just stop it.” She wasn’t going to cry. She bit her lip and stiffened her spine.
A lady always maintains her composure
. But a sniffle escaped.

“I’m sorry, sis. Let me give you a ride home.” He stopped the car, leaned over and opened the passenger door.

Felicity relented. She really didn’t want to walk past the Neidecker house looking like this. Besides, she could pester Blake about Robert. She slipped into the car and closed the door.

“So what did happen?” Blake put the car in gear.

Felicity should have known he wouldn’t give up. “A dog. Slinky, to be precise.”

“Slinky got you all wet? That had better not be dog urine soaking into my seats.”

“It’s not dog urine,” she snapped. “It’s wash water, if you must know.”

Blake snorted, tried to stifle it when she glared at him, and then roared the minute she looked away. “You tried to bathe Slinky?”

“Gabriel, uh, the pastor, is taking him in.”

“Gabriel?” Blake’s tone intimated something more than dog washing had gone on.

Well, she’d put an end to that kind of thinking. “Slinky needs a new home. Yours would do.”

“That mutt?” Blake cast her a disparaging look. “If I get a dog, it’s going to be a hunting dog, purebred.”

Figures. He was just like Daddy. She crossed her arms. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“What’s the hurry? Anxious to have Mother yell at you?”

“No.” She tossed her head and stared out the passenger window. Blake could be such a brother sometimes. He also couldn’t be trusted to keep a secret. If she told him she wanted to talk to Robert, he’d blab it to Beatrice and Jack Hunter and even Robert. Still, she needed to know where to find the man.

“What’s going on this afternoon at the airfield?” she asked casually.

He shrugged. “We called it a day, what with the dinner party tonight.”

“Robert, too?”

If Blake thought it odd she used Robert’s given name, he didn’t remark on it. “Of course. We’re all invited to the Hunters’.”

That meant the talk would center on the airfield and flight school. At least Darcy and Jack Hunter wouldn’t try to match some girl with Robert…she hoped.

“Did Sally and Eloise stop by?” she ventured, exposing her hand.

Blake thankfully didn’t put two and two together. “Couldn’t say. We were out in the field.”

Thank goodness
. Felicity sighed with satisfaction. She’d have another chance tomorrow.

“We’re here.” Blake pulled into the circular drive, stopping at the front door where Mother was sure to see her.

“Couldn’t you have dropped me in back?” she huffed as she got out.

Blake just grinned. “No way to sneak past old eagle eye.”

She heaved a sigh and slammed the door shut. “I suppose you’re right.”

With a tip of the finger to his cap, Blake said, “Pick you up tonight at seven.”

“Tonight? Do you mean I’m invited, too?” she stammered, but he was already driving away.

Oh, dear. If she was attending dinner at the Hunters’, she had a lot to do. She only had a few hours to wash off the doggy smell, dry her hair and put together the perfect outfit to attract a Newport man.

And she had to pray that Robert hadn’t yet heard what had happened at the parsonage that afternoon.

That evening, Gabriel couldn’t concentrate. The day had passed without a word from Kensington or any of the Church Council. He’d like to assume his position was secure, but there were still three days before Sunday. He could receive notice at any moment.

He sat at the rolltop desk in the study and leafed through the Bible looking for the proper verse, but the words swam before his eyes. The meaning muddled in his mind. His sermon, full of fire that morning, stagnated.

He couldn’t get Felicity out of his mind: her green eyes, her ebony hair, her tall and slender shape. He scrawled poetic lines in the margins of his sermon like an infatuated schoolboy.

How ludicrous. She’d run away the moment he drew close. Her father had practically threatened him. Gabriel didn’t relish seeing what the man did with those nine guns. He pitied the poor buffalo, king of the African plain, taken down by a small bullet. Gabriel had witnessed his share of the cruel unfairness in this world. That was one reason he came to the ministry, and one reason he chose to pastor in a small town. Justice should prevail.

But what justice is there in denying a child the companionship of a pet? He’d glimpsed Felicity’s painful longing when she talked about her brother’s dog. She must have had a lonely childhood. The age gap would have kept brother and
sister from playing together. Add to that an emotionally distant mother, and it was natural she’d both yearn for affection and fear it wouldn’t last.

He rubbed his face. “Gabe, you’re getting soft.”

That’s what Dad would say. Mom would reach over and pat his father on the sleeve with a “now Edmund.” The scold would inevitably accompany a peck of affection. How Gabriel longed for such a partnership, so in step with each other that one look or word communicated everything. But he’d fallen for a woman who hid her feelings behind snobbery.

Dad would know what to do. Though Edmund Meeks was nearly forty years older, Gabriel missed him. Those years had given him a wealth of wisdom not found in younger fathers. Dad had never been one to fuss about money or social standing or what people thought. He’d have found the Kensingtons absurd and shared a good laugh. He’d know exactly how to crack the shell around Felicity’s heart.

Gabriel sighed. His entrance into the ministry was the only thing that had puzzled his father.

“It’s a hard life, son,” Dad had said. “Lots of heartache and strife and disillusionment. Don’t think you can escape it. Every human flaw in greater society can be found in a church. In my opinion, you’d get more satisfaction working with Mr. Isaacs and the orphans.”

At the time, that seemed hard to believe. Gabriel had chafed with frustration over increasing regulation of orphan placement. The older children were hard to place, and many ran away to a life on the streets. More than once Mr. Isaacs had pulled a girl from prostitution or a boy from thieving only to lose them again to the same vices.

If only Gabriel could find a place with hearts big enough to take in those children, a place like his parents’ home. At first he’d agreed with Dad that his place was with the orphans, but then he’d heard the call to minister in Pearlman.

He couldn’t explain it; he just knew he had to go. He imagined the apostles James and John had faced similar disbelief when they told their father they were abandoning fishing to follow an itinerant preacher. Dad let him go, but Gabriel knew he worried for him.

“I’ll be all right, Dad,” he whispered aloud.

The quiet parsonage didn’t answer. Even Slinky yawned.

Gabriel glanced down at the dog, which had settled patiently at his feet. “I don’t suppose you can help with my sermon?”

Slinky lifted his head, pricked his ear and gave Gabriel an eager look.

“All right. I suppose a walk will do us both good.”

He shut the Bible, turned off the lamp and went to the kitchen, where he’d left the rope. He’d have to get a proper leash tomorrow. After getting Slinky ready, he headed out into the still though not silent night. Frogs trilled their mating calls in an escalating chorus. The river raced and splashed over rapids.

Gabriel walked through the park, shadowy at late dusk. Someone giggled in the pavilion, so he skirted around it, hoping the female voice didn’t belong to Felicity. Horrible images of Blevins kissing her came to mind. He shook it off and headed downtown. Better to be amongst those going to the cinema or strolling the sidewalks, but Main Street didn’t prove any easier to take.

A young couple held hands before a store window. Their attention was so devoted to each other that they didn’t notice him. With meaningful glances, they pointed out which furniture they’d buy after they married. How he wished he had someone to love, someone who looked to him with adoring eyes, someone who would discuss the mundane details of everyday life.

“It’ll be difficult to find a wife,” his mom had said when
he announced that he was entering the ministry. “It takes a special woman to bear the burden of a minister’s wife.”

Felicity Kensington certainly didn’t fit that mold. She’d never be able to summon the sympathy and compassion necessary for the position—or the patience. Chances were she’d end up like her mother. He shuddered and walked past the young couple.

At the corner, Slinky barked and tugged him toward the alley.

“What is it, boy?”

Gabriel gave him the lead. At the head of the dark lane, the dog halted, hair bristling as a deep growl rolled from within. Fear ran its cold finger down Gabriel’s spine.

He couldn’t see a thing now that dusk had turned to moonless night, but he could tell that something was wrong.

He let his eyes grow accustomed to the dark. As he dropped to his haunches to pet Slinky, he kept his eyes open and ears alert.

He heard the noises before he saw anything—a creak, creak, creak of a heavily laden cart or wagon and then a jingle, like glass tipping against glass.

“Who’s there?” he whispered.

The sound stopped.

He stared into the inky black. Was that a cart ahead of him or a pile of garbage? But the creaking didn’t resume, and with no moon, he couldn’t see.

Then he remembered Kensington’s guns and the trophies hanging from his walls. Gabriel was alone and unarmed. That sound might have been nothing, a delivery cart or a cat rattling the garbage. Or it might have been a man who’d gladly put a bullet through his head, someone like Branford Kensington. Whichever it was, he could do nothing on his own.

“Come on, Slinky,” Gabriel whispered, urging the dog backward. “It’s nothing,” he said more loudly.

His legs shook, and his heart raced. He’d get the sheriff to investigate. Even if the thieves or smugglers were gone by the time the law arrived, Gabriel would have served notice. Kensington might convince the Church Council to fire him, but Gabriel would go down swinging.

He backed out of the alley more certain than ever that he was needed here. God had sent him to Pearlman for a reason. On Sunday morning, his congregation would hear why.

T
o Felicity’s relief, just three couples attended the Hunters’ dinner, and none were her parents. Daddy would have monopolized conversation, and Mother would have invariably chased away prospective suitors. Tonight, Felicity had Robert all to herself. Still, talk of the airfield dominated conversation during the meal.

Afterward, everyone gathered for charades in the small living room. Jack and Darcy claimed the ragged loveseat, while Blake and Beatrice took most of the faded sofa. Robert offered Felicity the chair, the newest of all the furnishings, but she perched instead beside Beatrice. That isolated Robert to her left, where no one could steal his attention.

After Jack Hunter pantomimed an airplane, which his wife guessed in seconds, Blake stymied everyone with
Knute Rockne
.

“No one would ever guess that,” Darcy protested.

“Why not? It’s a person, place or thing. Anyone could see this meant
newt
.” He pantomimed short legs by extending his hands from his armpits. “Add to that
rock
plus
knee,
and you have Knute Rockne. Easy.”

“For football players,” Felicity challenged. She loved charades, but Blake always came up with the most impossible
phrases, usually having to do with football, which he had played in college.

Her brother pouted.

“Now that’s a charade anyone could guess,” Felicity jabbed.

Everyone chuckled, and Blake mockingly bowed.

Next Robert leaped to his feet. “My turn.” He twirled one end of his mustache as if deep in thought.

“Dandy,” said Beatrice.

Darcy laughed.

Felicity scowled at both of them. Robert might be a bit overdressed but better that than the chronically underdressed Jack Hunter. “He hasn’t begun yet, have you, Robert?”

“That’s right,” Robert said brightly, unfazed by the barb. “Ready?”

When everyone nodded, he held up one hand, curved into an arc. Felicity wrinkled her nose, trying to guess what he could mean. No doubt it would be something to do with engineering, considering Jack Hunter had chosen aviation and Blake football.

“Oh, oh,” she called out before anyone else. “What’s that instrument called that draws circles?”

“A pencil?” said Blake.

Everyone laughed, but Robert shook his head and indicated he’d start over. He then laid his head on his folded hands and closed his eyes.

“Sleep,” said Beatrice.

“Slumber,” Felicity guessed.

Robert shook his head and held up two fingers for the second word and proceeded to mimic a shoeshine. Within moments, the group had narrowed it to
shine
.

“Something shine,” said Beatrice.

Dozens of guesses followed, but in the end no one could fathom what phrase Robert was acting out.

“It’s
moonshine,
” he finally said in exasperation. “My hand was supposed to be the moon. When you didn’t understand that, I tried to indicate it was at night. See? Moon plus shine.”

“You said two words,” Darcy cried out. “Moonshine is only one.”

Beatrice had turned rose pink. “I’m not sure it’s proper.”

“I don’t see why not,” Robert said. “It’s a thing. No one put any restrictions on which words we could use.”

He looked around the room for support, but Blake couldn’t go against his wife, Darcy supported her best friend and Jack Hunter had to agree with his wife. That left Felicity.

“Robert’s right,” she said quickly. “No one said we had to use certain words.”

But the convivial atmosphere had been destroyed. Beatrice examined her skirt. Darcy whispered something to her husband, and Blake looked oddly lost.

Robert, however, didn’t seem to notice their discomfort. “Guess one of you ladies is next.”

“I—I’m not feeling too well,” Beatrice said, touching her slightly swollen belly.

Darcy hopped up. “You’re not sick, are you? Jack, I told you roast beef was too heavy.”

“No, no.” Beatrice shook her head. “It’s the baby.”

Darcy gasped. “Are you having pains?”

“Oh, no. It’s just normal queasy stomach.”

“That’s my cue.” Blake rose and helped Beattie to her feet. “I think we’ll call it a night.”

Jack Hunter stretched. “Just as well. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Felicity watched with growing alarm. She still needed to ask Robert for help with the stained glass window. “Already? It’s not even dark yet.”

“I can come back for you, sis,” Blake offered as Beatrice
gathered her bag and took her leave. “It’ll give you a few more minutes.” He grinned and winked.

She scowled at him. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Blake,” said Robert as he helped Felicity from the sofa. “It’s a lovely evening. I’ll escort your sister home.”

Felicity smiled in triumph. A long walk offered ample opportunity to gain both Robert’s assistance and his interest.

The goodbyes took so long that by the time they reached the street, the sun had dipped below the trees and dusk spread its filtered light over the town. Crickets and frogs hummed their night chorus, and cool calm settled in, a perfect night for romance.

Robert extended an arm. “Shall we?”

She should have felt a thrill, but his somewhat nasal tenor grated on her ears. Gabriel’s warm baritone was much more pleasant. Robert reeked of perfumed hair treatment whereas Gabriel smelled of soap and fresh air. Gabriel was always proper and polite, whereas Robert…

Stop this.
She wanted to marry Robert, not Gabriel.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, patting her gloved hand.

“Nothing important.” She smiled up at him. Up. Of course. Robert was taller than Gabriel, a decided virtue. “Were you born in New York?”

“Philadelphia.”

She wrinkled her nose. “But I thought your family was from New York City.”

“True, true, but technically speaking, I was born in Philadelphia. My mother was visiting family at the time.”

“Ah.”

After that, conversation lagged. Felicity couldn’t figure out how to transition to her question, and Robert peered down every side street and alley. When he stopped to survey
the lane beside the cinema, she had to ask what he was doing.

“Just getting the lay of the land.” Again he patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention to you.”

“That’s quite all right.” She smiled, but again conversation languished.

They ambled down Oak Street, together yet miles apart. Dusk quickly darkened into night, and the first stars appeared, bright pinpoints in the velvet sky.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?” she mused.

He nodded. “I’ll be able to get a good day’s work in tomorrow if it doesn’t rain.”

Just like a man to think of work instead of romance. A rebuke rose to her lips, but criticism would not win his heart. She held her tongue as they approached Elm Street and the parsonage. The parsonage. She couldn’t walk past Gabriel’s house with Robert. She slowed her steps, and he stopped, dropping her hand to withdraw a cigarette case from his jacket pocket.

“Do you mind?”

Though she shook her head, she minded very much. The body was a temple that shouldn’t be defiled by vices like drinking and smoking. If he truly cared for her, he’d see her displeasure and put it away.

He lit the cigarette.

She looked away to hide her disappointment. The rooftops faded in the waning light, and the church steeple was barely visible.

Do it now.

“I was wondering,” she began as he blew out a cloud of smoke, “if you might help me with a project.”

“What sort of project?” He peered into the gloom.

She shook off a chill. “I’m heading the committee to
replace a plate glass window in the church with stained glass, and it occurred to me that I should get your advice.”

“I’m no artist.”

“That’s not what I meant. I have an engineering question.” At least she thought it was an engineering question.

“Ask away.”

She took a deep breath. “Do I need to worry about the size of the window?”

He flicked an ash to the ground. “Do you mean because of the added weight? Well, I’d need to see the structure. Stained glass is considerably heavier. It’s thicker, you see, and then there’s the lead. I’d need to take some measurements and run the calculations.”

“You could come to worship this Sunday.”

He ground out the butt with his heel, leaving the ugly remnants in the street. “That’ll work.”

Relief flooded through her. He was a Christian. “The service begins at ten o’clock.”

“Ten o’clock.” His gaze drifted back to her, and the tips of his mustache twitched in the faint light.

“Ten o’clock,” she breathed.

Darkness improved his appearance. The years melted away, and the painfully bright clothing was muted. She could learn to love him in such light.

He held out his arm again. “Mind if we walk on the far side of Elm?”

That would take them past the parsonage and the park. She swallowed. Gabriel might be home. He might see her with Robert.

“I—I,” she stammered, but she didn’t have a good excuse. “All right.”

“Wonderful.” He led her across the street. “The park is so lovely.”

The park? Her heart pounded a little harder. Lovers met in
the park. If he suggested the park, he must already love her. She glanced at the parsonage, which thankfully was dark. Gabriel must be out for the evening. Nothing could stop her plan.

She squeezed Robert’s arm, and he inclined his head toward her.

“Ready?” he asked.

She smiled up at him. “There’s a pavilion a little farther into the park.” She could just make out its shape.

“Sounds perfect.” He led her into the darkness.

The pudgy young deputy refused to budge from the chair behind his spotless desk. “I’m sorry, Reverend. Sheriff Ilsley isn’t here.” He took a form from a file. “You can make a report.”

Gabriel was losing patience with the procedurally minded deputy. “Don’t you understand? The crime is in progress now. If we wait until the sheriff returns, it’ll be too late.”

“Your name?” The deputy poised his pen over the form.

“Gabriel Meeks, but there’s no time to waste. There are bootleggers bringing liquor into this town.”

“What makes you think that?” the deputy said lazily. “Do you have evidence?”

Gabriel swallowed his exasperation. Precious minutes were ticking away. “Only what I heard. The sound of bottles being unloaded in the alley behind the drugstore.”

The deputy looked disgusted. “Most drugs come in bottles. Maybe that’s what you heard.”

After five minutes of such nonsense, Gabriel realized he was getting nowhere. Either the deputy had no intention of getting up from his desk, or he was colluding with the bootleggers.

“Never mind. I’ll speak with Sheriff Ilsley tomorrow.”

The deputy looked up in surprise. “Then you don’t want to file a report?”

“It can wait.”

Gabriel let the door slam shut behind him but felt little satisfaction in the noise. Slinky got up and cocked his head expectantly. Sighing, Gabriel untied his rope leash and headed back to the parsonage.

What would convince the law to act? The sheriff might be more willing than his deputy, but then again he could be pressed from the same mold. To ensure action, Gabriel needed evidence. To get evidence, he needed to find the bootleggers’ route into town. He had a good idea where that might be.

Gabriel cut through the parsonage backyard. He’d make his way to the river, then downriver to the fence at Coughlin’s land. The man said out-of-town criminals broke it down. That’s where the bootleggers were bringing in the whiskey. They took it downriver by boat and then supplied the back alley speakeasy, which locals called a blind pig, at night. If he was fast enough, he might catch them.

After closing the far gate, he and Slinky made their way through the woods. The dog happily tugged at the rope while Gabriel tried his best to hold him back. The moonless night made navigation hazardous, and more than once on his way to the river he stumbled over a root or rock.

This whole thing sickened him. Prohibition was supposed to put an end to the scourge of drink. Instead, it lived on under cover of darkness. He expected it in big cities, but not here. Why didn’t God-fearing citizens rise against it? Why did they let it happen under their noses? Well, they wouldn’t anymore, not after he unveiled the crime and its instigators.

He picked his way to the river path, Slinky pulling steadily on the rope. Thank goodness the mutt kept quiet. Barking might alert the rumrunners and send them
scampering. On the other hand, a good bark or two could interrupt the operation and keep liquor out of the hands of people like Robert Blevins.

Gabriel recalled the smell of whiskey on the man’s breath. His gut twisted at the thought of that pompous engineer holding Felicity close—maybe even kissing her.

He shook away the image. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would treat her with respect, someone who would honor her the way God intended a man to honor a woman.

Suddenly Slinky froze, bristling, and a low growl came from deep inside, just like it had at the alley. Gabriel halted, the hair on his arms and neck standing on end.

A light breeze rustled the leaves around him. The river chattered below, not twenty feet away. An owl hooted. And then, quieter than even those sounds, Gabriel heard the clink of glass or metal, the grunt of men and a murmur of low voices.

He’d caught them. It must be exactly like he thought. The liquor came down the river by boat, was unloaded on Coughlin’s land and then shipped to the blind pig under cover of darkness.

He crawled forward to get a better view, taking care not to snap any twigs. The woods were even darker than the park, where light from town allowed a man to see the dim outlines of trees and the pavilion. Here, he saw nothing.

Realizing any further progress was bound to alert the bootleggers to his presence, he halted and tried to calm his hammering pulse.
Lord, help me expose the truth
.

He waited but saw and heard nothing for a long time. His eyes gradually began to pick out dim shapes, and his ears heard yet more rustling.