The Preacher's Wife. Cheryl St.John

took a sheet from the basket. “Of the three of you, your eyes are most like his. Yours lend themselves to green sometimes, though. Like today, in that pretty green calico dress.”

      Anna looked down and wrinkled her freckled nose. “This old thing was Abby’s.”

      “You’re fortunate to have sisters who wore such nice clothing and took good care of it.”

      The child cocked her head. “Papa says some little girls don’t have nice dresses at all, and they would love to have hand-me-downs.”

      “Your papa’s right.”

      “He says it’s foolish to buy new dresses, when we already have perfectly good ones that fit me soon enough.”

      Josie understood the practicality of reusing their clothing, but she also knew the pleasure of having a new dress. “Surely you’ve had a new dress.”

      “I get one for my birthday every year. And one when school starts. But people saw Abigail wear all these other ones.”

      “You won’t have that problem now, will you?” she asked. “You’re meeting all new people, and they won’t know someone wore that dress before you.”

      Anna smiled her charming missing-tooth smile and all was well for the rest of the afternoon.

      

      That evening, Josie prepared their meals and served the reverend and his houseguest in the study. Samuel thanked her, and she met his eyes. Grace Hulbert’s brash curiosity came to mind immediately. If Grace could see the pain that Josie read in his eyes, she wouldn’t be thinking of him as though he were a prize horse up for sale to the highest bidder.

      Josie ate in the kitchen with the girls. They were just finishing when Sam carried in his and the reverend’s dishes. “You’re an excellent cook, Mrs. Randolph.”

      She looked over at him with a raised brow.

      “I mean Josie. Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. Mrs. Hulbert brought pie for your family.”

      He set down the plates. “That was kind. Why don’t we have it later this evening? Girls, I’d like you to help Mrs. Randolph with the dishes.”

      “Shouldn’t we work on our studies?” Elisabeth asked.

      “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Make sure your clothing is ready, and then, after our family time, you may enjoy the evening any way you like.”

      Elisabeth looked at Josie. “Our Sunday dresses need to be pressed.”

      “I’ll get out the irons for you,” Josie answered.

      “I don’t know how to iron,” Elisabeth replied.

      “It’s not difficult. I’ll show you how.”

      “I know how to sprinkle,” Abigail added cheerfully.

      Elisabeth cast her father a beseeching look.

      “Thank you,” he said to Josie. “Elisabeth is a quick learner. And she will help with her sisters’ dresses, as well.”

      Elisabeth’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir.”

      “Papa?” Abigail asked. “When you go calling at a farm, can I come with you? Mrs. Randolph said the parishioners are mostly farmers, an’ I want to see their animals.”

      “Of course you may come, Abby.”

      “Will Elisabeth come that day, too?”

      He blinked, but didn’t pause in replying, “We’ll talk about it. After your dresses are pressed, I’d like the three of you to get your wraps and come for a walk with me.”

      “At night?” Anna asked.

      “Night is when you can see God’s heavens most clearly,” he replied.

      “Yes, sir,” they replied one at a time.

      Josie kept the stove hot and set two irons on top. Abigail sprinkled their dresses and, using Elisabeth’s dress, Josie showed them how to press the collars and sleeves first, then the bodice and lastly the skirts. Elisabeth did an adequate job on her sisters’ clothing, and they carried their dresses upstairs and hung them.

      The girls came down with capes and bonnets, and the Hart family swept out of doors, leaving the house silent.

      Sam held Anna’s delicate hand in his, feeling the weighty responsibility of protecting these daughters he loved so well. He’d never felt so inadequate or so incomplete, and he didn’t like it. He’d been very careful laying plans for safety and finances, and so far he’d seen most of his puny plans thrown back in his face.

      So far, Josie had been the best thing that had happened to them since they’d left home. He didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness or overload her with their additional care. Her kindness and selfless generosity was like a healing balm to his conscience, and he hoped her attention would be healing for his daughters, as well.

      “While we are guests in the parsonage, I want the three of you to help as much as you can. Mrs. Randolph already cares for Reverend Martin’s needs, and we are an added burden. Your mother and I didn’t prepare you for this life. I know that. She took care of you, and things were easy in Philadelphia. I told you it would be an adventure coming west, but I didn’t tell you about all the difficulties. On top of everything else, your mother’s absence is an exceptional hardship.”

      “We’ll help, Father,” Elisabeth assured him.

      “We’ll do everything we’re asked, and make our beds and wash dishes,” Abigail agreed.

      “I like Mrs. Randolph,” Anna said. “She’s real nice, and she smells good.”

      “Mrs. Randolph is a very kind lady,” Sam agreed. He appreciated the woman’s warm concern and easy affection for his children. Surely the Lord had brought her and his daughters together to ease their way through this life transition.

      He considered the possibility that Anna—and perhaps even Abigail—would come to lean on her and then have another heartbreak when they moved on. It could likely happen in the weeks that they would be here.

      But an unexplainable assurance convinced him that her attention and warmth were exactly what the girls—all three of them—needed right now. He didn’t doubt that God could use Josie to help their family, if she was willing. And she certainly seemed willing.

      “I’m going to take care of you,” he said with heartfelt conviction. And he would. He was all they had now, and he was going to do everything he could to protect them and see that they had a good life.

      Chapter Five

      After turning down the reverend’s bed, Josie brought him a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. “I guess I’ll be going.”

      “Take your leave if you have something to do, Josie. I’ll be fine. Otherwise, sit and have coffee with me.”

      She didn’t need to be asked twice. Josie got herself a cup and settled on a comfortable chair.

      “They fill this place with life,” Reverend Martin commented, referring to his guests.

      Her smile came readily. “That they do.”

      “That’s how I’ve felt about your being here these last couple of months,” he said. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to hear someone in the other room and have conversation at meal time. I’ve enjoyed having a companion.”

      “It’s been no hardship. I was glad to do it.”

      “I know you were.” He sipped coffee, then set down his cup. “I’ve been thinking about something, and I just can’t get the idea out of my head.”

      She studied him and waited. He’d lost weight, and the pain had etched a few lines beside