Page 17 of The Preacher's Wife
He made it all sound so simple; frustration was warring with Prudence’s desire to keep the peace. She didn’t need to be coddled. Freeing the blankets, she smiled and carried on as if nothing had happened.
In the living room, she laid out the blankets, the green one first to give the impression of grass. Pillows lined the wooden edge of the settee, and then Prudence put the quilt down as well.
“Sit. I’ll be right back.”
It pleased her to see that he had started the fire and was now settling on the blanket as directed, his long legs reaching for the fire and his eyes drifting close.
Prudence’s desire was to see him in a vulnerable state, with no barriers or masks. However, she hadn’t expected the inner struggle this would create for her. She needed to keep the appearance of being unbreakable, as she had always done. Her heart knew, however, that wasn’t the way to start things in a marriage.
“I’ll be right back. I just want to check on the coffee.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t open his eyes.
She watched him for another minute before going to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two cups that she sat near the hearth.
“Here we go.”
Hubert extended his hand without moving his head, his fingers intertwining with hers. She gingerly stepped over his legs and nestled herself next to him. Reaching behind her, she retrieved the plate, setting it down on the blanket between them as a sort of barrier. He had opened his eyes, and Prudence felt her cheeks flush slightly.
“What’s all this?” He waved his hand over the food.
“This is a light snack while we get to know each other. I wanted us to spend time together, but I don’t really know how to do whatever happens next. If the stagecoach to Sterling is anything like the one I rode out here, we won’t have any privacy to discuss things.”
Prudence couldn’t help but admire the way his fingers delicately grasped a slice of bread, following the movement as it made its way to his mouth. This simple action completely captivated her.
“You are very smart. This seems like a wonderful afternoon. What do you want to know?” Hubert’s eyes search her face as he thoughtfully chewed the open-faced sandwich.
“Let’s start with something easy. You mentioned the wives in Sterling. How big is the community? What is your church like?” Prudence tucked her toes under the quilt, settling onto her side, ready to absorb everything.
“Including myself, there are nine men, four wives, a handful of kiddos and Mama H.”
“That’s Mama Holstead? As in the Mama H, who owns this house?”
“Yes, that’s Charlie’s mama. She came out in December to see the grandbabies and left the house in the care of my mother to use as she sees fit. It’s how they came to put you up here.”
“Your mother, bless her heart. Did they tell you I walked into your father’s church and announced I was his bride in front of a room full of people?” She pressed her hands against her cheeks. “When I realized what I had done, I was mortified. But your mother was so gracious.”
“I heard it mentioned. You’ll have to tell me how you came to that conclusion. Also, whether you would have married my father if he was your intended.”
Prudence shifted herself on the floor and rested her back against the settee. Moving the surrounding pillows to form a little cocoon, she snuggled down and pulled the quilt up to her chin.
“It all happened rather suddenly. Mrs. Chapman told me when I arrived to go to the church. She told me she had sent a wire. When I got off the stage and asked where I could find Reverend Fitzgerald, they sent me up to the church. No one mentioned there were two of you, and there was nothing in your letter to let me know your father was the minister here in Omaha.”
“Mother wrote me a letter letting me know you were arriving. Had I had enough notice, I would have been here to greet you on the stage.” Hubert shifted, adding more wood to the fire.
“I think it was better this way. Everything happened so fast that having a week to myself let me greet you with a better version of myself. Why did you come here instead of to your parents when you arrived?”
“I expected you to be with my parents. Will you sing every day?”
Prudence shook her head. Her singing was not something anyone needed to hear.
“You should. Praising the Lord with your voice and doing something you enjoy are both important.”
“We’ll see,” she deflected.
“Why did you cry during the sermon?”
Swallowing hard, she thought about her answer. Reaching towards the plate, she busied herself with a piece of bread while she gathered her thoughts.
