The Preacher's Bride. Laurie Kingery

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      Chapter Six

      A broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a faint resemblance to Prissy turned from where he had been conversing with young Dan Wallace. “Yes, Cousin?”

      She nodded pointedly at Polly, who had been stopped by Mrs. Detwiler just before she had reached Gil. The old woman appeared to be complimenting her on her dress. Polly smiled and bent her head to listen, but her gaze kept darting over Mrs. Detwiler’s head toward Gil.

      “Remember what we talked about?” Prissy called, nodding meaningfully toward Polly.

      “You want me do that right now? But Dan and I were just talkin’ about my new sorrel stallion...”

      Hands on her hips, Prissy stomped her foot with exasperated impatience. “I wanted you to do it several minutes ago. Hurry!”

      Faith could see the conversation Gil, Mayor Gilmore and his lady was about to conclude, but she still didn’t know what Prissy expected Anson to do.

      “Prissy, what are you up to?” Faith asked.

      “I told Anson to distract Polly, so she wouldn’t plaster herself to Reverend Gil like I’m afraid she’s about to do,” Prissy said, not taking her worried eyes from her cousin, who was still ambling unhurriedly toward Polly.

      What had Prissy told her cousin to do? Faith watched, fascinated, as Anson reached Polly and Mrs. Detwiler and favored both women equally with one of his dazzling smiles. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the way Mrs. Detwiler’s eyelashes began to flutter and how Polly’s whole face brightened.

      Faith stared. “What can he be saying to them?”

      Prissy giggled. “It’s a pleasure to watch a charming man at work, isn’t it?”

      Faith saw Mayor Gilmore and Mrs. Fairchild leave Reverend Gil’s side, hand-in-hand and beaming. Then Gil looked around as if searching for someone, appeared startled as he saw Polly near him, then visibly relaxed as he saw that her attention had been snagged by Anson. Gil resumed peering over the room, then his gaze stopped as it landed on her.

      Milly chuckled. “Looks like the coast is clear for you, Faith, dear. Go to Gil now.”

      Faith’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? I can’t—”

      “Oh, yes, you can,” Prissy whispered, giving Faith a nudge.

      Gil started toward them.

      “Looks like you won’t have to move an inch, Faith,” Sarah murmured. “Ladies, I think the rest of us need to go get some punch.”

      Before Faith could say something to keep them with her, the three ladies deserted her, chuckling all the way to the punch bowl. Some friends! Then she reminded herself they didn’t know how strongly—or why—she was trying to resist flirting with the very man who now approached her with a smile that threatened to melt her steely resolve.

      “Miss Faith, you’re looking lovely today, if I may say so,” Gil said as he reached her side.

      Don’t blush. Don’t let him see how much the compliment affects you. But she might as well have spoken to the wall as to her body, for she felt the color flooding her cheeks and her pulse kick into a gallop.

      “Why, thank you, Reverend Gil,” she managed to say. And you look like the handsomest man that ever walked the streets of Simpson Creek. “Uh...th-that was a lovely wedding sermon you gave.”

      His smile broadened and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Thank you,” he responded. “My very first, you know.”

      She nodded. “But not your last, I’m thinking,” she said, nodding toward Mayor Gilmore and Mrs. Fairchild.

      He glanced back at them. “Yes. It will feel a little odd, marrying a couple who are so much older than myself. I’m sure they wish my father could do it,” he admitted.

      His humility touched her. As beloved as Reverend Chadwick was, his son must feel he had very large shoes to fill. “But surely he could sit by you in his wheelchair, and perhaps lay his hand on them in blessing,” she said. She had seen the old preacher do that, had even been the recipient of such a blessing. Yet she had lost her ability to believe.

      He blinked. “What a good idea. What a wise woman you are to think of that.”

      Faith felt her heart warm at his appreciation, even if she felt she didn’t fully deserve it. “At the rate he’s going, he may even be able to say some words of blessing by then. His other nurses have told me he’s been practicing saying the names of things all day long.” She looked over to where Gil’s father was sipping punch, his wheelchair next to the table where Louisa and the Wallaces were sitting.

      Gil grinned proudly. “He’s determined,” he agreed. “I asked him if he was getting tired, but he shook his head. I think he takes strength from being around his congregation.” He paused, his attention caught by something at the bridal table. “Oh, look, they’re cutting the cake. Would you like a piece, Faith?”

      Faith nodded. She would enjoy Gil’s company for now, for a wedding reception was not the time or place to explain her difficult truth to him. As they walked side by side to the table where the pieces of cake were being laid out, she saw with some amusement that Anson Tyler was still in earnest conversation with Polly, and Polly appeared to be having the time of her life. She seemed to have forgotten all about speaking to Gil Chadwick.

      Once they’d obtained their slices of cake, plus an additional one for his father, they sat down at the table with his father, and told Louisa they would stay with Reverend Chadwick so she could circulate for a while.

      Sitting here with Gil and his father, conversing with some of the older married couples sitting nearby, Faith pretended she didn’t see the group of younger women gathering near the bride in an open area of the hall.

      Milly came over to their table. “Get up there, Faith. Caroline’s about to throw the bouquet,” she said.

      “Oh, no thanks, I’m fine here,” Faith demurred. “I’m helping the reverend with his cake.” She had no wish to take part in the tradition ritual, especially in view of her resolve about Gil.

      Sarah had come to join her sister. “Go on, Faith. Are you a true spinster or not?”

      “I don’t like making a spectacle of myself. Let Polly win,” she muttered, feeling Gil’s gaze on her. “You know how much she wants to.”

      Faith saw Reverend Chadwick frown crookedly, then, with his unaffected left hand, make a shooing motion. She could hardly refuse the old preacher’s urging without looking like a spoilsport.

      “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Polly,” Prissy said, joining the others. “I СКАЧАТЬ