Page 40 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

Lizbeth pushed the bedroom curtains aside.

Sunday morning light spilled in and she wondered if that was cause for the strange sensation that had woken her with a quickening of her chest. She’d heard a train’s long low whistle just now, along with the piercing dawn, waking once again to thought of William.

She didn’t know what the day might hold, but she meant to keep her mind and heart open to it.

Perhaps the Sunday service would hold the growing clarity that she craved.

She turned and reached into her carpetbag when a knock sounded at the door.

“Lizzy?” Hattie called. “It’s me. I have tea and toast for you, along with a message.”

Still in her nightgown, Lizbeth peeked around the door. “Why good mornin’.”

Her friend smiled. “For you.” She passed over a wooden tray where cinnamon and butter melted atop thick toasted bread.

“Eat this. We usually have a quick breakfast since my husband likes to get to church early.” She winked.

“And Pa said that he’s got to tend to a little business after church so you and I can fix a quiet luncheon. ”

“Of course. I can lend you a hand.”

Hattie smiled again. “I’ll leave you to get ready. See you downstairs.”

After dressing quickly, Lizbeth checked her appearance in the narrow mirror.

Her best white blouse was neatly pressed and tucked into the waistband of her striped skirt.

She had tied her lace sash in a bow and wound a ribbon around her braid, as fancy as she’d felt when boarding the train just three days before.

Lizbeth took another bite of the sweet toast along with a sip of creamy tea.

She heard a clock chime eight times as she slipped downstairs.

Reverend Coburn was already at the door, placing a hat on. “We mustn’t be late. Do come along. Come along all.”

“Church is just across the way,” Hattie explained as Lizbeth joined the parade in the doorway.

Lizbeth draped a shawl around her shoulders and followed the others out into the crisp morning and the wondrous sights of Stroudsburg.

Brick buildings stood closer together than kerchiefs pinned to a line.

Wagons and carriages rattled by and the children who played along picket fences were scrubbed clean, all dressed for Sunday service.

Trees, planted in neat order, stood bare of leaves, reaching toward a clear sky.

Lizbeth soaked it all in as she walked down the brick path.

Hattie walked arm in arm with Reverend Coburn, looking the picture of a new bride.

Her coloring was more vibrant and she’d begun wearing her hair in the latest fashions, much like the Gibson Girls Lizbeth had spotted in the copy of McCall’s magazine that Mrs. Jorgensen had bought for the train ride.

Lizbeth didn’t know if the changes in Hattie were due to her new position as a minister’s wife or simply the warmth of wedded bliss.

To her surprise, Hattie fell back a few steps to link arms with Lizbeth. “I thought we might walk a spell.”

Lizbeth squeezed her friend’s arm. “Always. You seem happy. I’m so glad for you, my friend.”

Hattie gave a soft sigh. “I believe I am, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Oh, we get on well enough. But in a sensible sort of way.”

Lizbeth nodded. In truth, she hadn’t seen a touch between the new couple’s hands, or a lingering gaze of any kind.

Reverend Coburn sought his wife’s opinion on matters of the cottage, from the food they served to the way he trimmed the garden, and Hattie took pains to admire his handiwork while showcasing her own.

But was that the end of their contented bliss?

“At times there’s a peculiar sort of strain, but I imagine that will change in time,” Hattie admitted.

“Love blossoms gently sometimes.”

“That it does.” Hattie squeezed her arm. “I suppose that’s it. My husband and I are slowly learning to understand one another. It’s a bit clumsy at times, but most new things are.”

Lizbeth gave what she hoped was an understanding smile. “If I were in a new marriage, I imagine I’d have a fair bit to sort out too.”

“It isn’t always easy. But we work at bein’ considerate. And I believe more will grow in time.”

“That’s a good way to think of it.”

Lizbeth pondered Hattie’s words as she trailed her now up the narrow churchyard path.

She hoped for a marriage one day that was rooted in admiration and tenderness.

If not, then the poets of old had it all wrong and Lizbeth knew nothing of what to expect if affection ever came knocking.

Had she grown too idealistic? Would time quiet such longings within her?

Perhaps it wasn’t about heart-pounding awareness but about what Hattie had with Reverend Coburn—polite sensibilities. But Lizbeth had a memory of something akin to the quickening of heart that she longed for. She just wasn’t ready to admit who the man had been.

At the church door, Hattie led them inside and down the aisle where she showed the Jorgensens and Lizbeth to a front pew.

Lizbeth sat, still pondering the ways of a husband and wife.

Hattie folded her hands in her lap as she watched her husband take his place at the pulpit.

There, Reverend Coburn coughed and cleared his throat.

Lizbeth watched the exchange, yearning for a man who took a bright interest in what she had to offer, just as she would do for him.

Yearning for sincere fervency and even passion with a future husband.

It was why she had refused Reverend Coburn.

As for William, she had felt a spark. She’d simply been distrusting, and in truth, rather blind.

Lizbeth pondered the different encounters.

William had demonstrated not only his sincerity, but his depth of character several times now.

It was William who had lent her his own copy of Jane Eyre .

William who had wanted to know what in this life brought her joy.

With Reverend Coburn it seemed about the convenience and necessity of marriage.

Lizbeth blew out a slow breath, hoping to ease the ache in her chest. Those days were behind her and the novel with its soul-stirring love story was ready to be returned.

When a man entered the aisle beside her, she was about to move aside when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. A familiar stance. All beneath a wool flatcap.

“Mr. Drake!”

Someone shushed her and Lizbeth’s cheeks heated for more reasons than one.

William looked at her in earnest, his surprise as evident as her own.

A mutual shock that had them both frozen in place.

His handsome face was cleanly shaven, eyes bright in the morning light.

In the silence that followed a person behind them coughed.

A baby whined. With William the only person left standing in the entire church, he indicated a need for the space beside her, sitting as soon as she inched over though there was scarcely room for them both.

“William, please,” he said in a low tenor. The first words he’d said to her since he confessed his affection for her. His desires. As real as ever, seated beside her now, smelling of evergreen with his coat sleeve brushing her arm.

Lizbeth swallowed hard, and at the pulpit, Reverend Coburn called the congregation to attention.

William removed his flatcap and set it in his lap.

He wedged a briefcase beneath their seat.

The space between them only narrowed as they rose for the first hymn.

Lizbeth fumbled with the hymnal, dropping it with a clatter.

Several people glanced their way. From where he stood above them all, Reverend Coburn arched a bewildered brow.

Hattie looked at her in surprise. Lizbeth pinched her eyes shut a moment and before even a note could be sung, she sent up a prayer for rescue.

A prayer that was gently answered when William retrieved the hymnal and balanced it open between them so that she might find the page.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Although he stood a fair deal taller than she, he held the book low enough that she could read the stanzas with ease.

Here she’d been pondering the difference between passions and polite affection and now this man who had offered her his heart, his being, and his future stood beside her.

The man who had once taken great pains to express his love for her, who had asked her to share a life with him, and who she had quarreled with instead.

Lizbeth fought to keep her breath steady.

With him silent beside her, she braved a glance up to his face.

His focus rose straight ahead. Lizbeth searched for the words to the hymn’s chorus but they blurred on the page.

It seemed the English language was failing them both.

Her hands shook at her sides. William shifted his stance.

“That must be what Pa’s business was about today,” Hattie whispered from her other side. “I didn’t know it’d be Mr. Drake or I’d have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t be.”

The congregation sang on until at last, Reverend Coburn bid everyone be seated. Lizbeth twined her nervous fingers together and was nearly about to sit on them when William reached into his vest pocket.

He pulled out a small Bible and offered it to her. “Sometimes it’s nice to hold something during a long service,” he said softly.

“I’m worried I may drop this one too.” Just like the hymnal and his beautiful novel.

He gave a small smile. “Hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

Their fingers brushed as she took it. Bowing her head, Lizbeth searched the tiny book for the Psalms, finding the place. Leaning back, William folded his hands in his lap and kept his focus on Reverend Coburn.

Never had Lizbeth tried to sit so still.

Never had she been so aware of a person beside her.

His hair was cropped short again. Neat as ever.

His whole demeanor from his crisp collar to his tailored suit bespoke composure except his feet, which he shifted nervously every few minutes.

The nearness of him frayed her every thought, and it was a sweet relief when a faint breeze trickled in through the open window and across their pew.

She took a deep breath, as did he. As Reverend Coburn preached on, Lizbeth suddenly heard only William’s words from that day in the meadow.

Never have I encountered a woman who has so enriched my world as you. Who has so made me long to enrich the world of another.

Lizbeth’s gaze lifted to William’s face once more. He was looking at her now. His gaze was steady, pensive, and full of regret. His eyes lifted back to the pulpit as Reverend Coburn led the congregation in a benediction of thanksgiving. Of reverence... and of peace.

At sermon’s end, William was as eager to rise as he was to linger.

The same kind of torment of his mind the last two months, but now, the subject of his heart was seated beside him.

As people rose and exited the building, he tarried.

What to say? Lizbeth handed the Bible back to him.

He accepted it, this token he’d received from his late mother, and one he always carried on a Sunday, no matter where life took him.

A piece of home. Now he’d had the honor of sharing that piece of home with Lizbeth.

He leaned just near enough to the woman beside him to be heard.

“Thank you for letting me share the seat beside you.” He pocketed the Bible, and excused himself to speak with Mr. Jorgensen.

No sense lingering near her any longer than needed.

He had no wish to make her feel uncomfortable. Not ever again.

He’d come here to speak frankly with Mr. Jorgensen and yet here he was, still unsteady after the shock of seeing Lizbeth.

His heart still thrummed to have claimed the seat beside her.

To have enjoyed her company if only for the stretch of a single morning.

He longed to find a way to tarry with her longer, but there would be time enough for that.

Perhaps he’d even be brave enough to seek a private audience with her.

Say the few things he’d needed to get off his chest.

First, to clear his head and speak to Jorgensen. The man must have stepped out while William was speaking to Lizbeth. William carved his way through the crowd to the cool of noon, searching.

“Mr. Drake!” Mr. and Mrs. Jorgensen strode up to him, arm in arm. “A pleasure to see you, my good man.” Jorgensen tipped the brim of his top hat. “You came in earlier than I’d anticipated. Very glad to have you!”

“I have business at the Chess Creek mine tomorrow, not far from here, so I figured it was the best day to travel to Stroudsburg. The train arrived early this morning and since I can’t check into the hotel until this afternoon, I decided to join the service.

” It beat sitting alone on a bench at the depot. “I’ll be here just one night.”

“Good, very good. I hope you’ll join us for luncheon.”

A dozen desires and worries worked through his mind and William recalled the advice he’d given his best friend on Christmas Eve.

Own your actions. Own the consequences.

That guidance remained no less true for him.

“Of course. Thank you.”

He could spend an afternoon making small talk then still carve out the chance to speak with Jorgensen of business. As for Lizbeth, by grace, this could be his chance to smooth things over between them. If that went well, then perhaps he and she could even find a way to part as friends.