Page 11 of The Preacher's Wife
They walked down the hall to the rectory office in silence, both lost in their own thoughts for the moment. It was something he’d always appreciated about their relationship. Now settled behind his desk, Reverend Fitzgerald replaced the father role. Hubert felt himself straighten without thought. The Reverend leaned forward with his fingers steepled.
“Hubert, I know you sent a letter to Ingrid Chapman. She’s also a family friend. Tell me why you think you’re prepared to have a wife and what your intentions are.”
Taking a deep breath, Hubert wiped his sweaty palms against his thighs and met his father’s gaze straight on. “I have already established a church in Sterling. There is a nice growing congregation there. We do not believe that church leaders are required to take a vow of celibacy. I would like a helpmate and partner for the journey of life that I am on.”
“And if she refuses your offer?”
“I met her this morning, sir. She invited me to have dinner with you and Mother. Something clicked inside me, and I feel like I am destined for this relationship. It is almost as if God has already blessed it.”
His father gave him a slight nod, but his expression remained serious. Hubert could sense that something was weighing on his mind, and he knew that eventually it would surface if he just waited patiently.
“I am sure that you are eager to return to Sterling. However, I would like you both to spend a day or two getting to know each other before I officiate.”
“Yes, sir.” They stood to make their way back to the parsonage.At least there was one less thing to discuss over dinner,he thought with a sigh of relief.
“You know your mother is going to want grandchildren quickly.”
“Yes, sir. Can I get through the marrying part before Mama names any children?”
A firm hand patted his shoulder. “You can try, son. You can try.”
His father’s smile conveyed his approval, and the room erupted in laughter. It had always been that way ever since he could remember.
When things were serious, his father would become stern; when the mood shifted, they would all laugh together.
It had been almost three years since Hubert had last visited home, but it was comforting to see that some things never changed.
As they emerged from the church, Althea stood in the courtyard clutching a basket. Hubert didn’t hesitate to pick it up, finding comfort in knowing his parents were by his side as he headed to dinner with the woman who would soon be his wife. But first, he needed to convince Prudence that this morning’s mishap was just a misunderstanding, and he had no intention of offending her.
He waved to those who called out to him on the short walk, noting that the new merchant hadn’t removed the Easton name from his sign yet, and that the Soiled Doves saloon seemed quieter somehow.
Sterling didn’t have a saloon or a brothel. Hubert wondered how long they could keep it that way. It was something that the group had talked about, wanting to keep the drinking, violence and sinning as far from Sterling as possible.
Though, like all good things, the enemy would one day find a way in. It wasn’t like they could shut their town off from therest of humanity. Hubert wouldn’t want that, anyway. He really needed to quit getting lost in his thoughts. They had arrived; the sound of his mother knocking on the frame of the screen door pulled him back to the moment.
Prudence was even prettier than she had been earlier in the day. Now in a soft blue dress, and her dark hair curling over her shoulder. Hubert felt his palms grow damp, mindful not to let them touch her when she reached out for the basket.
“Weren’t you chattier when we met earlier?” she teased him.
Hubert’s heart raced as he watched her lips curve into a slow, enchanting smile. He could feel the intensity of her gaze on him, her blue eyes sparkling with an indescribable emotion. His throat tightened, and he could only manage a small nod in response.
Maybe dinner wasn’t such a good idea, lest he choke on his tongue and die before finding out what it was like to kiss her. Inside the house, he hung his hat on the peg, trying to calm his rapid breathing as he listened to Prudence and his mother exchange stories about their day.
“She is pretty. A little leery, but I like her,” his father murmured behind him.
“What do you mean?” Hubert led the way into the main room and started adding more wood to the fireplace. It was a simple task, and he could focus on the words while he moved.
“She says she’s not running from anything. When she arrived, she had a copy of your letter and a letter from Mrs. Chapman. But there’s a fragility there. I expect the first time you raise your voice, she’s going to disappear.”
Hubert chewed on that thought. The marshal’s wife was jumpy, but healing came more and more each day. Charlie’s wifehad settled the further she got from her brother. “I don’t raise my voice.”
He pushed up from the floor and turned, looking directly at his father. The man, one he’d never heard raise his voice unless it was at the pulpit, should know that.
“You are your father’s son, and you have my mannerisms. Don’t push her to sit in the front row like your mother does, and eventually she’ll open up to you.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, then Prudence’s head appeared. “Are you ready for supper?”
Nodding, they both moved to follow her, only to have her scurry ahead and disappear before they’d made it back to the hall. Hubert shook his head, acknowledging that his father was correct. “I see what you mean.”
