Rebecca (54 page)

“Reverend, I knocked, but no one—”

He rose with the aid of his cane and waved aside her apology. “What is it, Mrs. Reed?”

“It is Mrs. Albion. She wants to talk to you about the new altar cloth she is making.”

“Have her wait in the parlor. I will be there shortly.” When the housekeeper nodded and closed the door, he looked at Mariel. “Will you stay while I deal with this?”

Unwilling to lose her chance to flee from this uncomfortable situation, she said quickly, “You are busy. I can return at a later date.”

“I won't be long. Five minutes.”

“I can come back.”

He stepped closer to her. When he took her fingers in his hand, she looked from them to his mysterious eyes. The gentle stroke of his thumb across her palm sent strange sensations through her. He lifted her hand and sandwiched it tenderly between his own.

“Mariel, don't leave when we are unsettled with one another. That happened yesterday. We are going to be working together while I am in Foxbridge. Must we argue all the time?”

“Probably.” She dimpled as her sense of humor reasserted itself. “I argue with everyone else I work with.”

“So I have heard.” He became serious as he asked again, “You will wait?”

“Yes.”

He squeezed her fingers gently. His face mirrored his reluctance as he released them. “It will take no longer than five minutes. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

Mariel watched as he walked to the door. He moved so smoothly with his cane, she could forget it except for times when it hit the door with a hollow sound or when it brushed her skirt. She whirled about to look out the window past the sofa. Wrapping her arms around herself, she regarded the activities on the green.

Children chased a hoop and played with a ball. Two women with baskets of laundry resting on their hips talked soundlessly. A man staggered from the direction of the village pub, which bore the odd name of “Three Georges.” In front of the parsonage, she could see her automobile and a carriage she assumed belonged to Mrs. Albion.

She did not know the woman, although she was well acquainted with her husband, for he served with her on the school board. Mr. Albion fought every idea she expressed. He denounced her outlandish plans, as he was fond of calling them. To her thinking, he disliked everything she said simply because she was a woman. He made no effort to hide his opinion that women should stay in their homes and serve their husbands and raise children.

Thinking of the intractable Mr. Albion always brightened her spirits. She so enjoyed baiting him at the meetings, just the anticipation of the next time brought a wicked smile.

She wandered around the study, noting the changes Ian had made: only small things which evaded the casual eye. Photos of people she did not recognize rested on the fireplace mantel. New pieces of bric-a-brac shared the cluttered spaces on the few tables between the chairs.

By the desk, her dress brushed against pages hanging over the edge. She did not utter her curse, which would have been out of place in a parsonage. Bending, she scooped up the papers, which had fluttered in every direction, and sat in the nearest chair as she tried to put them in order.

Her eyes widened as her attention was caught by a phrase in the bold handwriting. Flipping the page, she saw a date on the top of it. This must be Ian's sermon for the coming Sunday. She glanced at the crossed-out words and the insertions. Never had she thought about the work necessary to lecture a congregation on the need for a sinless life.

Although she knew she should not be reading it, his words captured her imagination. That he would be preaching a lesson from the Book of Ruth about the special love of a parent for a child deepened her interest. Since her early adolescence, she had been delighted by the romantic tale of a poor widow who finds, through her mother-in-law's intervention, the man of her dreams.

Leaning back in the chair, she read through the first page. She smiled at a sally she knew would be enjoyed by the members of the church. Reverend Tanner never would have thought to lighten his dolorous lessons with levity. She put the first page on the table in front of her and searched for the next one. Concentrating on following the arrows moving sentences from one part of the page to the other, she paid no attention to the passing of time.

“Enjoying it?”

She whirled as if she had been caught in a crime. “Ian! I—I—” She tried to choke out a few coherent words. “The pages fell. I picked them up, and—and—”

With a laugh, he sat in the chair next to hers. “So what do you think?”

“What do I think?” she repeated witlessly.

“About my sermon?” He pointed to the pages. “What do you think of it?”

Lowering the page she had been reading, she met his eyes for the first time without rage or trepidation. In a serene voice, she said, “I think it is wonderful.”

“Do you?”

“Fishing for compliments, Ian? I wouldn't have told that if I didn't mean it!”

He leaned forward to fold his arms on the back of her chair. “You wouldn't, would you?” Pointing to one of the most rewritten areas, he asked, “What did you think of this part?”

“You want my opinion on your sermon?”

In the exact tone she had used with him, he retorted, “I would not have asked you, if I did not want to know.” He smiled when she chuckled. “You are an intelligent woman, Mariel. You must be if you like my sermons.”

While they laughed together, she did not think about the harsh words they had traded less than a quarter of an hour before. They discussed the sermon with the ease of longtime friends. If she startled him with her Biblical knowledge, or if she was surprised by his liberal attitudes to many things Reverend Tanner thought should never be changed, neither spoke of it.

Their heads bent closely together over the pages. Taking a pen from the desk, Ian marked her comments next to his words. When they were finished, he folded the crumpled papers and placed the sermon back on the blotter. The letter opener secured it, so it would not fly away again.

When he offered her another cup of tea to replace the one she had not tasted, she accepted happily. From the discussion of his sermon, it was an easy transition to her work in Foxbridge. He seemed very interested in her position on the school board and her ideas to better the school.

“It is not easy,” she concluded. “Many people resist anything that is new. Unfortunately, the other members share their opinion.”

“Nothing good comes easily. I—” He paused as he heard shouts from across the green. “School is out.”

“Already?” She looked at the small watch pinned to the bodice of her blouse. “Look at the time. Ian, I have taken your whole afternoon.”

“And I have made you late for your meeting.”

She shrugged. “I can get there very quickly in the automobile.” As inspiration struck her, she asked, “Would you like to go for a ride in it, or do you think the dignity of your office would be compromised?”

He laughed with young-hearted enthusiasm. “I suppose I should be concerned with my safety in such an infernally modern machine, but … why not?”

“I suggest you wear something other than your ministerial blacks. The dust is worse than a carriage.”

As he stood, he remembered her reason for coming into the village. “What about your meeting?”

She smiled mischievously. “The Ladies' Aid Society will delight in my absence. I was going to demand a report on the fair last fall. The ones in charge are delaying because they used the funds inappropriately.”

“They stole them?” He could not hide his astonishment.

“Borrowed might be a kinder way to phrase it. You should not be so shocked, Ian. They will replace it, but they can't do it all at once.” She glanced at his outstretched hand as he offered to help her to her feet, unsure if she wanted to touch him. Knowing she had no choice, she put her fingers on his palm.

He drew her slowly from the sofa. As he had done on the porch, he examined her face minutely. This time he acted as if he wanted to memorize her features. She found nothing to say as she was wrapped in a warm cocoon of unfamiliar feelings. Standing here with Ian made her happy.

Already, she discovered, he had created sensations within her she had not guessed she could feel. No one else could rile her so quickly or soothe her fears with a gentle smile. That she had known him only a day seemed the strangest thing of all. It was as if he had been a friend forever.

“Shall we go, Mariel?” he asked with what sounded like regret.

She wondered if she had done something wrong. She had done nothing. Perhaps she should have said something, but when she gazed into those everchanging eyes, she thought only of how fathomless they were, like the sea they resembled.

“Of course. Let me get my coat in the hall. Do you have something to wear?” She colored as she realized what an inappropriate question that was.

“Do you always blush so much?”

“No!”

He put a single finger to her cheek. “You should. Every emotion is lovely on you, Mariel. Even embarrassment.” With a smile, he moved toward the door. “I will get my coat and meet you on the porch.”

Overwhelmed by his compliment, and the way her heart leapt at it, she went into the hall. Mrs. Reed popped out of the parlor as Mariel was putting on her driving mackintosh. She wondered if the housekeeper had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Even as she told herself that was an unjustified thought, she soothed her conscience by reminding herself they had spoken of nothing unseemly.

“The biscuits were wonderful. Don't tell Mrs. Puhle I told you that. She wants her kitchen at the Cloister to be the best in the shire.”

The housekeeper smiled at the joke they had shared often in the past. When she started to speak, unease bright on her face, she seemed to think better of it. She scurried toward the kitchen at the back of the house asIan's uneven steps could be heard through the ceiling.

Staring after her, Mariel tried to guess what had caused Mrs. Reed to act so strangely. Certainly there could be nothing wrong with her calling on the new minister or offering him a ride in her automobile. As she did so often, Mariel decided she did not care what another thought. Surprisingly, today, she was enjoying Ian's company and did not want the day to end so soon.

By the time Ian came onto the porch, Mariel was seated in the driver's seat. She smiled as he eased himself onto the narrow seat. Inserting the ignition key, she released the brake. The car started with a sound not unlike a swarm of bees. Her passenger put his hand on the wrought iron decoration near the seat as the automobile lurched into motion.

He watched, fascinated, as she shifted the car easily. The car turned smoothly onto the shore road and wound its way up the hill. Mariel waved gaily to a group of people walking along the path. She drew to the center so the cloud of dust in their wake would not cover the pedestrians.

“So what do you think?” she asked, taking her eyes from the road momentarily.

“It's wonderful!”

She laughed. “I felt the same when I rode in it the first time. As soon as I drove it, I knew I must have one for my own use. I guessed you to be a fellow adventurer.”

“Adventurer?”

“That does not offend you, does it?” she teased. “Perhaps it is not a virtue for a minister to be daring. I was raised to scoff at anyone who shrank from trying something new.”

He leaned back on the comfortable velvet cushions. Except for having no horses to pull it and the stick in her hand, this vehicle resembled a standard buggy. It had been many years since he went for a ride with such a pretty lady.

Angrily, he forced those images from his head. He did not want to think of the past when he could enjoy Mariel's company. Nothing he did could change what had been. To wallow in rage at what was over would taint the present.

When he noted the dimming of the smile on her face, he realized she thought his anger was directed at her. Again he saw the gentle, sensitive Mariel she tried to hide. He thought of what she had said, so he could give her a joshing reply.

“I have not been adventuresome recently.” He offered her his most friendly smile. “I guess I have never considered what a minister should or should not do differently from other folks. Perhaps because temptation has not come my way.”

“No?” she asked in disbelief. “You must have lived a most boring life. Temptation comes my way often.” Her eyes crinkled in malicious joy as she added, “Usually at the school-board meetings when I feel the urge to tease one of the other members.”

Their laughter drifted in the dusty wake of the automobile. The few people they met did not seem awed by the machine. Horses appeared more frightened of it than humans. Ian noted she was careful to pull to the far side of the road when they met another vehicle. She did not want to cause some hysterical beast to bolt, tipping its cart into the dirt.

Ian listened with concealed amusement as she pointed out, with sharp commentary, the various landmarks along their path. No one could accuse Mariel Wythe of trying to spare someone's feelings by hiding her opinions. When her comments varied from those of others he had met, he noted what she said and why. He was coming to see that she formed no opinion haphazardly. If she liked or disliked something, it was because she had thought out every side of the issue.

Mariel stopped the automobile on the section of shore road nearest the cliffs beyond the Cloister. Trees clung tenaciously to the soil on the windswept plateau. Hardy stalks of marsh grass waved like a second sea. The marsh ran from the road nearly to the edge of the land, which dropped into the ocean. Although the walls of the Cloister could be seen in the distance, no other signs of human habitation were visible.

Pulling off her goggles, she placed them on the seat. It took her almost a minute to undo the hat and coat. Shrugging them off, she rose to step onto the running board. When she saw Ian in front of her with his arms out as if to help her from a carriage, she smiled and put her hands on his shoulders.