The Preacher's Bride (16 page)

“I am not easily downtrodden,” she whispered against his finger. “Besides, since you are putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of the Gospel, should not the rest of us sacrifice our comfort as well?”

His eyes took on a spark. He moved a step back, lifting his finger, leaving her lips barren for his warmth. “I would expect the slanders and attacks against myself. But I cannot bear it against a helpless woman.”

“Helpless?” She straightened her shoulders, the light in his eyes suddenly igniting a spark in her. “Brother Costin, I am far from helpless. My attacker may have caught me off guard these times past, but not again.”

“Then you are not afraid of another attack?”

“I may not be much, Brother Costin.” Her blood pumped with the passion of her words. “But if I am anything, I am a strong woman.”

His flashing eyes locked with hers.

“I won’t cower. And in this we are alike, are we not?”

He said nothing for a long moment. Then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I don’t deserve your help, Elizabeth. But I am beholden to you for choosing to come back, even against the danger, against the slanders, and against the possible ruination of your reputation.”

Her next word and breath stopped short. What had he said? Did he think she was choosing to remain his housekeeper? “No. You’re mistaken—”

“Methinks you are altogether too humble.”

“No. You’ve misunderstood me.”

Mary stiffened and released her.

Turmoil rolled through Elizabeth. She had come to say good-bye and had somehow made them believe she was back to stay. What had happened?

Mary stood by her side rigid and silent. But John had turned away. He scooped Johnny into his arms and tousled the boy’s hair.

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say, how to begin to explain the true nature of her visit that morning.

Mary’s hand grasped her arm in a tight, biting grip, and Elizabeth realized the girl knew—this beautiful blind child could see what none of the others did.

“It’s a victory for me to have you stay.” John reached for a wedge of dry cheese on the table. “ ’Twill not be what my enemies are expecting, and it’ll teach them they can’t harass me into doing what they want.”

He took a bite of the hard cheese and gave the rest to Johnny. When he turned to face her, he looked at her too innocently. Had he realized her true plan also?

“By standing strong with me, you will fight this battle against those who would stop the Gospel from being preached.”

She cocked her head at him. Now was it his turn to persuade her? After he’d goaded her to agree with him?

“Therewith, if we give in to our enemies, they’ll continue to control the minds and wills of the commoner, and by so doing, effectively keep from them the truths of salvation.” His voice echoed with passion. “We must, each one of us, take up the cause and stand firm.”

How could she disagree now, when she’d already pleaded the very same case? Turbulence wove through her. “But I must think of Samuel—”

“And Samuel must do his part too.” He set Johnny down and reached for Betsy, who stood before him with outstretched arms. “If he allows you to remain as housekeeper, then he will have a hand in the saving work of God. Surely you, Elizabeth, with your eloquent tongue, could convince Samuel of this?”

His tone dared her. She shook her head. “You are the one with the eloquent tongue today, Brother Costin. You have me talking in circles. But the truth is, I cannot defy Samuel.”

John was quiet for a long moment before setting Betsy down. He gave her a pat and then stalked past her toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and pinned his gaze upon her. “Man’s efforts shall not stop me from carrying on the work to which God has called me.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were irreversibly drawn to him. The fire within him spread to her, a powerful force. The Spirit of God was with John Costin in a mighty way.

How could she oppose him? Was she foolish to even try?

Chapter
18

Agony churned in Elizabeth’s stomach. The day was almost over and she’d yet to say good-bye.

She straightened the kink in her back and glanced up from the gooseberry bush. Her gaze traveled around the yard, making a count of the children. She passed over John leaning against the doorframe of his forge. But then she looked back and her heart flipped. He had narrowed his eyes upon her and was chewing on a long piece of grass.

How long had he been watching her?

She wanted to squirm and at the very least smooth the loose hairs back under her coif. Instead, she turned away and reached back into the bush, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sudden quiver of her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him push away from the shack. He tossed the sliver of grass to the ground and started across the yard toward her.

She ducked her head, glad for the wide hat that hid the heat in her face.

“Are there many left?” Behind her his voice was low.

She leaned into the thickly set branches. “This will be the last picking.”

The gooseberry bushes tangled with the hedgerows along the edges of the cottage plot and separated the Costins’ from the neighbors’. Johnny and Betsy had helped her harvest the first ripenings, but now their hands couldn’t reach past the sharp spines for the last of the crop. So she’d given them the task of cleaning the cow’s pen and transporting her droppings to the garden to mix into the soil for the winter.

Elizabeth plucked the fuzzy green cluster brushing against her fingertips.

The intensity of John’s gaze on her back sent a rush of warmth through her blood.

“I’m sorry about the attack, Elizabeth. When I find out who is responsible, first I’ll beat up his face, then when I’m done with his face, I’ll take a whip to his back.”

“ ’Tis not God’s way to seek revenge. ’Tis not our Puritan way either.”

“Methinks it will not be revenge. It will be the discipline he needs for his evil deeds.” His voice hinted at humor, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he wore a half grin.

Her heart flipped upside down.

“You’re a hard worker, Elizabeth.”

“ ’Tis nothing less than God desires.” His praise warmed her and strangely added to the turbulence that had rumbled through her soul all day.

He knelt beside her and reached into the gooseberry bush. The thin linen of his shirt pulled taut across his arms—the same arms that had carried her up the stairs of her home and cradled her so tenderly.

She tore her gaze away from him and focused straight ahead. Her fingers fumbled to find another berry.

“Mary was never very strong.” He stretched his arm deeper into the spiky branches.

Surprise jolted her, and the cluster at her fingertips slipped away. Would he speak to her of his late wife?

He stared into the thick hedge, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with pain.

“She always struggled to accomplish anything.” His voice grew tight, and he stumbled over his words. “When I started preaching, I had to be gone longer. And this left her with more to do than she could handle. She grew weaker.”

Elizabeth sat back on her heels and savored the wonder of the situation . . . John Costin was baring his soul to her.

“I knew if I stopped, I could help her more, but she wouldn’t let me. She said it was God’s purpose for me, that he had gifted me in a great way, that I must do His will even if it meant more hardship for her.”

“She was indeed a godly woman.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “After the baby was born, she couldn’t regain the little strength she had left. She was just too frail.”

He fell silent.

Mary’s song to Thomas drifted through the branches of the ripening apple tree. The sweetness of the girl’s voice tugged at the strong thread of compassion woven through every fiber of Elizabeth’s body.

She gazed at the wrinkled fabric of John’s sleeve. Did she dare reach out and touch him, to show him she truly cared? Her hand twitched, but she couldn’t seem to make it move.

For a long moment they both sat motionless. Finally Elizabeth peeked again at John. He stared unseeingly ahead.

Her mind reeled. He’d unburdened his soul to her, and she had to say something. “Some are more fit for heaven than for this life. And no matter what we do to help them, therewith God brings them home to Him. He desires them more than we do.”

As if sensing her gaze, he turned to her, his eyes dull with grief and guilt. “I did not wish her to be one of those more fit for heaven.” His voice was low and raw.

Elizabeth nodded.

He jabbed his fingers through his wind-tossed hair and shook his head. “You are strong, though, Elizabeth. And you will do well.”

“Do well?”

“You will do well as a wife.”

Elizabeth ducked her head. Why was he talking to her about this now?

“If I were to marry again,” he continued, digging into the mound of gooseberries in the basket. He lifted his hand and let the berries slide through his fingers. “I would choose someone like you this time.”

Her heart lurched to a stop. Like her? Truly? Irresistibly, her gaze lifted to his.

“I know not when I will remarry—if ever.” His eyes lit up with warmth but also crinkled at the corners with firmness. “I am too busy to concern myself with such matters right now. My focus is solely on the work of God.”

She swallowed hard, trying to push down her rising anticipation.

“But if I ever needed to find a wife, I would favor a woman of your strength and diligence, as well as your honest and pure heart. And you have a way with the children . . .”

Something unspoken in his eyes reached out to her, as if he were asking her something he knew he shouldn’t. Was he asking her to wait for him?

Her heart fluttered back to life and propelled forward in spurts. He couldn’t be. ’Twas only her imaginings.

He didn’t linger for her response. He pushed himself off the ground and ambled back to his forge.

She could only stare after him, speechless and more confused than ever.

* * *

By the time she reached home that evening, her father and Henry had already made the loaves, molded them, and set them to their last rise.

She wasn’t surprised to find Samuel waiting inside, watching her father and Henry filling the oven with the gorse, preparing to fire it up to the high temperature needed for baking the bread.

“I was just on my way to get you,” Samuel said.

“ ’Twas no need, Samuel.” There never had been. But she hadn’t been able to convince him of that, and now it was over.

Was it over, though?

She stood in the doorway and dragged in a deep breath of the rising yeast.

Trepidation besieged her anew, as it had all day. She had considered her surrender to Samuel’s wishes permanent. Hadn’t she given him her word that today would be her last day at the Costins’? Even though she hadn’t said good-bye to the children, she couldn’t let that dissuade her from doing what she knew she must.

She must marry Samuel Muddle.

And yet at the sight of his bulky frame taking up space in the middle of the bakehouse, she could think only of John, his intense blue eyes, which clouded with the depth of his passions but also cleared to sparkle with mischief. His entire being radiated energy and power. When he spoke, or worked, or even when he was just thinking, he was fervent and alive and interesting.

She couldn’t deny Samuel was a good man. He had a kind heart and had always treated her with utmost consideration. But compared to John, Samuel was like flat bread—bland and lifeless. Could she partake of him the rest of her life, now that she had nibbled on a different kind of relationship—a relationship with a man like John Costin, full of rich texture and flavor—like rising bread?

John had told her she would do well as a wife, that he would choose someone like her, that he favored her strength and diligence. He liked her purity and the way she cared for his children. She had been mulling his words over and over, and the pleasure of them warmed her insides.

Had she been wrong to assume the only man who would want her was Samuel? If John Costin would have someone like her, then surely other men would want her too. After all, didn’t Sister Norton tell her she was an attractive girl and to give herself more esteem?

In a secret place inside her heart, she had tucked away the notion that maybe, just maybe, Sister Norton had been right about the other things too. Maybe she was growing to care about John. And perchance he would eventually learn to think about another woman besides his wife. He wouldn’t always be too busy with his ministry. Surely one day he would have time for another marriage.

“Now that you’re home, perhaps you could help me convince Father to let me begin housekeeping for the Costins on the morrow.” Catherine scraped the leftover dough into the trough. “He must have someone to help him. Why not me?”

“Shush, Catherine. It’s too dangerous.” Jane whisked the dough into some water, making yeast for the next day’s bread. “Besides, think about Elizabeth. It must have been a difficult day saying good-bye to the children.”

“I shall be on my way,” Samuel said as he settled his hat onto his head. “I want to speak to Vicar Burton this evening about posting the banns.”

“I didn’t say good-bye to the children.” The words blurted from her mouth before she could stop them.

Samuel’s hand froze on his hat.

Everyone but her father turned to look at her. He continued poking at the gorse with his pitchfork.

“I couldn’t say good-bye.”

“You’ll see them again,” said Catherine. “It’s not like you’re sailing to America.”

“I’m sorry, Samuel.” Elizabeth stepped toward him.

First his eyebrows lifted in confusion, and then they came together in a dark scowl.

“I don’t want to say good-bye to the Costins. Not yet.”

His eyes filled with hurt. “So you’re choosing
him
.”

“I’m not choosing
him
. I’m not choosing
you
. I’m not choosing
anyone
. I’m just not ready to say good-bye.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given you another day.”

“She shouldn’t have had any days to begin with,” Catherine mumbled.

“If you go back, then I won’t marry you.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and released her fear. “Very well, Samuel. If that’s how you feel, then that’s how it must be.”

Catherine gasped. “Elizabeth!”

“I don’t have peace about putting an end to the Lord’s call. Perchance He has more work for me there. I cannot leave them yet.”

“Fine.” Samuel turned and stomped toward the door.

“Hold on now, Samuel, my boy.” Her father tapped the handle of his pitchfork against the floor.

Samuel stopped and faced her father. Hurt and anger shifted across his features.

“There are too many elders who agree with Brother Costin that my Elizabeth should continue. Samuel, my boy, I cannot oppose them and gain their reproach. Ye know that, don’t ye now?”

Samuel’s scowl deepened into a pout. “They’ll do anything for him. He convinces them to do whatever he asks. And now I’ll look like the fool.”

“Samuel, my boy, what if the Lord’s hand is keeping her there longer? How can we meddle with that?”

For a long moment Samuel rubbed his hands on his beard, his gaze fixed on her father.

“Can ye wait for my Elizabeth, my daughter?”

Finally Samuel turned and looked at her, hurt still filling his eyes. “How much longer, Elizabeth? When will you be done with the Costins?”

“I must stay as long as I am needed.” Was this truly God’s answer to her prayers? Was His hand keeping her there? She could only pray it wasn’t merely her emotions from the day.

“Will you give me a time, a day, anything?”

“I can’t.”

“I won’t wait—not without a date.” He huffed then turned again.

“Hold on, Samuel, my boy. Hold on,” her father boomed. “If ye cannot wait for my Elizabeth, then perhaps ye will be happy taking another of my daughters to wife.”

Samuel’s back stiffened. He stopped and slowly turned around.

No!
Her mind shouted the word. But she couldn’t make her lips work to say it.

“What about my Catherine there? She would make a good wife for ye, wouldn’t she?”

Catherine gasped and shook her head. “No, Father—”

His stern look silenced her.

Samuel’s gaze alighted on Catherine, and his eyebrows lifted.

“My Catherine is younger, but she has been speaking of marriage and has been eager for it.”

Dismay widened Catherine’s eyes.

Elizabeth knew she ought to say something to thwart her father’s plan, anything to keep from losing Samuel to Catherine. But she stepped back against the wall and let the shadows of the room swallow her.

Samuel took in Catherine’s fresh young beauty. His eyes widened.

Catherine shook her head, but again their father stopped her with one look.

Elizabeth’s heartbeat crashed against her ribs. Surely Samuel would not give her up so easily?

“Think on it, Samuel, my boy. And if ye want to marry my Catherine in place of my Elizabeth, then I will give ye my permission and blessing.”