Page 3 of The Preacher's Wife
That sounded just silly.
When she finally reached them, the words that flew from her mouth had heat, and crimson colored her cheeks just as fast.
“Mrs. Chapman!” The women stopped in their tracks, their heads turning to take in Prudence’s arrival. Their gazes flicked between her and each other, a silent conversation passing between them before settling back on Prudence with raised eyebrows. Without thinking, Prudence’s cheeks flushed deep red as the words tumbled from her lips. “Are you really a matchmaker? I’ll marry whomever is in that letter you were talking about.”
“Ingrid, I don’t know how you do this!” The tall woman stood with hands on her hips, her foot coming down with a loud stomp. Prudence furrowed her brow, tilting her head in confusion at the sudden outburst.
“Let’s not just stand here gawking at each other.” Finally, Mrs. Chapman broke the silence and ushered them into the cafe, requesting a small table for their group. Once they were seated, Mrs. Chapman’s mother resumed control of the conversation.
“Let’s start over, shall we? I’m Mrs. Aland, and this is my daughter, Ingrid Chapman. You are?”
Prudence blew out a breath and tried to calm herself. It wasn’t working well, though. “My name is Prudence Underwood. I heard you talking in the postmaster’s office. I need your help if you really are a matchmaker, although I’ve never met one before.”
Mrs. Aland sat stiffly in her chair; her eyes narrowed as she studied Prudence. Prudence shifted nervously under the scrutiny, wondering what was going through the older woman’smind. Mrs. Chapman tipped her head to the side and gave Prudence an assessing look, causing her stomach to twist with apprehension.
She blew out another breath. “I need to leave Boston and would very much like to have a destination and a plan when I do so. I was at the postmaster’s shop to drop off this letter in response to an ad in the paper when I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. If you could please tell me more about the man you were speaking of earlier, I may have a solution to both of our problems.”
This time, both women smiled. There was even a bit of mischief in Mrs. Chapman’s eyes. Prudence accepted a cup of tea as she waited for one of the women to say something.Anything.
Instead, they appeared to be having a silent conversation, a unique skill for certain. She couldn’t help but stare, even knowing that they were probably judging her and could even send her back home to Papa.
“You were looking for a matchmaker?” Mrs. Chapman finally spokebefore adding a sugar cube to her tea and stirring mindlessly.
“Yes, ma’am. I read that there is a woman who runs an agency, and she is interested in settling the west with proper helpmates.” Prudence nodded. Facts were something that she was comfortable talking about, feelings not as much.
“You need a husband?” When Prudence nodded, Mrs. Chapman seemed to bounce in her chair before clapping and looking back at Ms. Aland. “This is what I was talking about, Mamaí. Miss Underwood does not know me in the least. She is looking for a husband and to be a helpmate. She is not mousy or too colorful and would be a perfect match.”
“Now, Ingrid, you don’t—”
“Oh, but I do,” Mrs. Chapman cut her mother off, attention shifting back to Prudence once more. “I am not a matchmaker, but I can help you with your predicament.”
“But the letter…”
“Was written by a friend, and my husband forwarded it to me since I’ll be in Boston for a bit.”
“Here!” Prudence quickly pushed her letter across the table, unable to wrap her mind around how quickly things had flown out of her control. “This is what I was going to send.”
Mrs. Chapman opened the letter, quickly scanning it as her mother read over her shoulder.
Prudence had lived in Boston her whole life, and her father had been the Reverend for just as long, if not longer. When her mother died four years ago, it had become very clear to her that people either loved and respected her father or feared him, which came with its own sort of respect as well, she supposed. Now she sat and awaited judgement all on her own standing.
“What makes you so sure that you want to marry the man we were talking about?”
Prudence sat straighter and gave a quick sweep of the room and patrons, afraid that her father might pop up from behind someone.Ridiculous, she thought.
Clearing her throat, she looked at the ladies on the other side of the table. “I have been praying for a solution to my situation, and today I decided to leave my home. One way or the other, and despite my father’s opinion. There you were, and the letter you have will at least give me a destination.”
Mrs. Chapman looked up from the letter, her deep eyes peering straight into Prudence’s soul. “Are you currently in danger or trouble? I can’t help but notice the mark on your cheek.” Prudence immediately lifted her hand, shame filling her.
Mrs. Aland nodded. “Or in a delicate way?”
Prudence shook her head. “No, ma’am.” Maybe they didn’t know who her father was.That would be refreshing.
Mrs. Chapman folded the letter and handed it over to Prudence. She took a small sip of her tea and placed her cup on the saucer. Pulling a letter from her pocket, she placed it on the table near the middle. Folding her hands, she leaned forward to address Prudence.
“The letter you see there is from a young minister in Colorado looking for a wife who has faith and a yearning to serve the Lord.”
Prudence let her mind drift over the words. An involuntary shudder shook her body. She truly didn’t want to live with a man like her father.
