Schulze, Dallas (30 page)

***

Bishop had gotten into the habit of lingering over his coffee on
Sunday mornings.
That
was where he’d gone wrong, he saw now. If he
hadn’t had that second cup of coffee, hadn’t taken time to savor an
unaccustomed feeling of contentment, he would have been out of the house before
Lila and the children were up. As it was, he’d been a sitting duck.

Seeing him sitting at the kitchen table, Angel ran up up to him,
her face lighting with that easy affection that he found so disconcerting. He’d
done nothing to earn that affection, but that didn’t seem to matter to her. She
leaned against his knee and smiled up at him.

“We’re going to church,” she told him.

“Are you?” Looking at her was like looking at a miniature replica
of Isabelle. The same china-blue eyes and pale skin, the heart-shaped face and
cupid’s bow mouth. But the chin was not her mother’s. Isabelle’s chin had been
as soft and gentle—as weak— as the rest of her features. Purely feminine and as
delicate as the rest of her, Angel’s chin showed promise of stubborn
determination. For her sake, he hoped it wasn’t a false promise. The world had
sent Isabelle running back to the smothering security of her childhood home. He
didn’t think this child of theirs would run from anything.

Either of their children, he amended as Gavin came into the
kitchen just ahead of Lila. God knew, his son would probably stand toe to toe
with a grizzly if the mood struck him. He felt a sense of pride at the thought,
a feeling so unfamiliar that it took him a moment to recognize it for what it
was.

“How come you’re not dressed?” Angel’s question dragged Bishop out
of his unaccustomed introspection.

“Not dressed?” He glanced down at his black pants and white shirt,
confused by the question. “Dressed for what?”

“For church,” she clarified, giggling with amusement at what she
deemed a silly question.

“Church?” he repeated blankly.
Church?
“I don’t go to
church.”

“But aren’t you going to go with Lila and Gavin and me?”

“I haven’t gone the last few weeks, have I?” he said, hoping that
would be answer enough.

“That’s ’cause we wasn’t settled into a house,” Angel told him,
looking surprised that he didn’t realize that himself. “That’s what Lila said
when I asked how come you weren’t going with us.”

“She said that, did she?” He glanced at Lila, who was busy putting
together a cold breakfast for the four of them. She met his look but offered no
help. He returned his attention to Angel.

“I haven’t been to church in quite a while,” he said, stalling for
time.

“Don’t you
want
to go to church so you can go to heaven?”
Still leaning against his knee, his daughter looked up at him, her big blue
eyes questioning.

Now, how was he supposed to answer that one? He could hardly tell
Angel that he didn’t believe going to church guaranteed your ticket to heaven,
anymore than he believed not going guaranteed your ticket to hell. Church was
good enough for most folks and certainly he wanted his children to be raised
with a respect for the Lord’s teachings. But he didn’t feel the need for it
himself.

Unconsciously he glanced at Lila for help, but she was busy spreading
butter on the slices of bread she’d just cut. Though she said nothing,
something in the set of her spine told him that she was waiting for his
response. He looked back at Angel.

“I haven’t really given going to heaven much thought,” he
admitted.

Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect

O of surprise. “You should always think about heaven, Daddy.
Grandmother said it was never too soon to start worrying ’bout your immoral
soul.”

“Your
immortal
soul,” Lila corrected briskly. Her eyes met
Bishop’s for a moment. “Though I suppose, in some cases, either word would
suffice.”

“But don’t you
want
to go with us?” Angel asked. Her voice
held an edge of hurt that went straight to Bishop’s heart. But go to church?

“I—”

“Of course he wants to go,” Lila said, setting a plate of sliced
and buttered bread in the middle of the table. A jar of jam hit the table with
a militant thud. Though her words were directed to Angel, her eyes were on
Bishop’s face. “Your father wants to set a good example for you and your brother.”

Bishop felt the jaws of the trap closing about him. He could still
refuse, of course. He was master in his own house, wasn’t he? And he certainly
didn’t have to go to church unless he chose to do so. He glanced at Gavin and
caught the knowing look in his son’s eyes. Clearly, Gavin didn’t believe for a
minute that his father gave a hoot in hell about setting a good example for his
children. The boy was too damned old and too damned cynical for his age.
Bishop’s jaw knotted with irritation as the trapped clanged shut over him.

“I’ll change clothes,” he said.

So here he was, sitting on a pew that felt as if it had been
carved of solid granite, listening to a sermon intended to save his immoral
soul, as Angel had put it, and he still wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to be
here. Worse, he had the feeling that, by coming to church today, he’d set a
precedent of some kind and that he’d be expected to spend every Sunday morning
in church, courting entrance to heaven.

He glanced at Lila and the children, who were seated to his left.
Angel sat next to him, her hands clasped in her lap, her small face still as
she listened to the minister’s words. Gavin was on her other side. Though his
expression was as still and calm as his sister’s, Bishop could feel the restlessness
in the boy. When he was Gavin’s age, he’d have thought it a sad waste of a nice
spring day to be spending it inside a church. His mouth curved in a sympathetic
half smile before his gaze shifted to Lila, who was seated on Gavin’s other
side.

Bishop’s smile faded, his breath almost catching in his throat at
the sheer beauty of her. A sunbeam had found its way through one of the narrow
windows that perched high up on the church walls. Where the light fell across
her hair it seemed to catch fire. In contrast, her profile was as pure and
graceful as an ivory cameo. Wearing an elegant dress of deep-gold silk, her
hands neatly clasped around a prayer book, her green eyes intent on the
minister, she looked untouched and untouchable. Only the sensual fullness of
her mouth belied the purity of the image.

Bishop thought suddenly of the last time he’d been in a church,
the day he’d stopped Lila’s wedding. She’d looked exquisite that day, also. The
cobweb-fine lace veil had skimmed over her fiery hair, falling almost to the
floor, a fragile frame for her slender body. Clad all in white, she’d looked as
pure and virginal as a nun. For a moment, he’d thought that Susan’s letter had
been wrong, that his own memory was mistaken. He couldn’t possibly have touched
this woman, have held her in his arms and felt her come apart with pleasure
beneath him. But then he’d seen the remembrance in her eyes, the guilty
knowledge— and the plea that he not do anything to tumble her world into chaos.

There had been an instant, hardly more than a heartbeat, when he’d
considered turning and walking away—out of the church, out of her life. But
even as the thought occurred to him, it had been drowned out by a wave of
possessiveness so powerful that it had been a knife in his gut. She was his.
He’d been the one to feel the fragile surrender of her maidenhead; it was his
child she carried within her. She was his by right and he had to claim her.
Looking at her now, he knew that he’d make the same choices again. No matter
what the cost, now or in the future, he had to have her.

Discomfited by the intensity of his own thoughts, Bishop was
relieved to realize that the service had come to an end. He rose with the rest
of the congregation, aware of the attention he was attracting. Most of the
glances were simply curious—after all, it was the first time the citizens of
Paris had seen their sheriff set foot inside the church—but a few of the looks
coming his way held more than a touch of indignation, and he knew the Lord
would be taken severely to task by some for not striking him down with a bolt
of lightning the moment he dared set foot on hallowed ground. After all,
everyone knew he’d broken more than his fair share of the Lord’s rules,
starting with thou shalt not kill. And would probably do as much again, if it
came right down to it. The fact that the town had hired him precisely because
of his skill with a gun was not excuse enough, according to some.

Bishop’s shoulders shifted uneasily. He didn’t give a tinker’s
damn what the townspeople thought of his sudden religious leanings, but he’d
never much cared for finding himself the center of attention. He was more
comfortable staying in the shadows. He was startled to feel Angel slipping her
hand into his. Glancing down at her, he saw her giving him a concerned look, as
if she’d picked up on his uneasiness and was trying to reassure him. The idea
of
her
trying to reassure
him
startled a smile out of Bishop that
surprised several people who thought they knew him.

Progress down the aisle was slowed by the necessity of everyone
stopping to greet the minister, who stood on the step outside the doors. Bishop
watched as Joseph pressed Lila’s hand between his, his face lighting in a
smile. His liking for her was plain to read. It seemed that, in the short time she’d
been in Paris, she’d made more of a place for herself than he had in all the
months that had gone before.

Joseph shook hands with Gavin, who looked as uncomfortable as his
father felt and then leaned down to say hello to Angel, who returned his
greeting with such adult composure that it was hard to remember how young she
was. Then Bishop was face to face with the minister.

“It’s good to see you, Bishop,” Joseph said as they shook hands.

“And you, Joseph.” He could say that honestly enough. He liked
Joseph Sunday. It was the man’s profession that caused him a bit of uneasiness.

“I believe this is the first time you’ve joined us.”

“I’ve never been much of a churchgoer,” Bishop admitted
uncomfortably.

“Your wife is a strong-willed woman,” Joseph said, his eyes
twinkling with laughter. Obviously, he was under no illusions about Bishop’s
religious leanings.

Bishop glanced to where Lila stood talking to some other women.
When he looked back at Joseph, his expression was rueful. “That she is.”

***

Lila saw Sara Smythe making a beeline for her across the church
yard. A quick glance around told her that there was no graceful escape route
open. Bishop had been waylaid by Clem Lyman. The two of them stood talking near
the church steps. She could hardly leave without him. Besides, living in a
small town, her path was bound to cross Sara’s regularly. She could hardly make
it a habit to run every time she saw the other woman. Forcing a welcoming
smile, she moved forward, taking Gavin and Angel with her.

“Sara, how nice to see you. And what a lovely dress.”

“Thank you.” Sara glanced down at her deep-blue silk gown with its
discreet pleated trim and touches of lace at collar and cuffs. The simple style
suited her ample figure. A glance at Lila’s elegant gold silk gown, softly
draped across the front and trimmed with a row of jet buttons, made her mouth
tighten. “I think restraint in dress is the hallmark of a true lady, don’t
you?”

Lila wondered if she was being subtly accused of flashy dress. “I
believe I’d put kindness and good manners ahead of dress,” she commented.

“But the way one dresses is a reflection of one’s true nature,”
Sara stated in a tone that brooked no argument,

“It seems to me it’s more frequently a reflection of the contents
of one’s purse.”

Sara’s mouth tightened and her dark eyes flashed with irritation
but she allowed the subject to drop. “I was quite surprised to see your husband
here,” she said, glancing to where Bishop stood talking to Clem Lyman.

“Were you?” Lila raised her brows in question. She followed Sara’s
eyes and saw that a couple of other men had joined them. She wondered if it was
her imagination that Bishop looked surprised and a little uneasy to find
himself a part of the small group.

“Well, he hasn’t exactly been a regular member of the congregation,”
Sara said with delicate sarcasm. “In fact, I believe this is the first time
he’s attended a service at all.”

“Really?” Lila laughed indulgently. She would have given a great
deal to be able to wipe that smirk off Sara’s face, preferably with the flat of
her hand. She reached down to twitch one of the ribbons that held Angel’s
flaxen hair in place. “You know how bachelors are. They’re inclined to be
careless about such things. Obviously, now that he has a family to consider,
things have changed. I’m sure you can understand his concern that his children
have a proper upbringing.”

“Naturally.” Sara cast a fond look at William who stood off to the
side, talking to Gavin and young Joseph. “Nothing is more important than making
sure one’s children receive the proper guidance when it comes to the Lord’s
teachings. Still, I can’t deny that I’m more than a bit surprised by his
presence at the services today.”