The Preacher's Wife. Cheryl St.John

      “Won’t mind a bit.” He nodded, took the things she handed him and headed out.

      “You certainly made a fool of yourself, Josie,” she said in irritation, then turned back to the stove.

      A few minutes later, Abigail and Anna arrived wearing clean dresses. Their freshly washed hair was arranged in loose waves down their backs.

      “Well, look at the two of you,” Josie said, hands on hips and a smile spread across her face. “Aren’t you lovely. I’ve never seen hair so pretty and shiny in all my days.” Her own dark hair was wavy and never tended to stay where she pinned it.

      Anna beamed.

      “Our mama had pretty hair,” Abigail told her.

      “If you girls take after her, she must have been beautiful.”

      “She was,” Abigail agreed.

      “Are you flattering my sisters?” Elisabeth asked.

      Josie turned to the oldest Hart sibling now standing in the doorway. “I complimented them. I see you’ve worn your hair loose today, too. I like the way it shines.”

      Elisabeth gave Josie an unreadable glance and took a seat at the table.

      Josie prepared a tray and carried it in to where Reverend Martin sat propped in bed, clean-shaven.

      “Breakfast smells wonderful,” he told her.

      She rinsed out his shaving supplies in the clean water left in the pitcher, then carried the supplies from the room.

      By then, Samuel had returned with the empty enamel basin.

      “Looks like there are quite a few towels to launder today,” he said, glancing at the basket in the corner. “I can take them when I go into town.”

      “That’s not necessary. I’ll do them,” she said. “Monday is my usual laundry day. The girls can help.”

      Elisabeth’s eyes widened. “But we’re in a town now. You can send them out, can’t you?”

      “I don’t pay for services I can do myself,” Josie answered in surprise. Most preachers earned only a modest income. Reverend Martin kept a strict budget. She glanced at Samuel, now regretting she’d spoken so quickly. Perhaps the Harts had family money. She had no business questioning his expenditures.

      “My wife took care of the domestic chores,” he explained. “But I see no reason why my daughters can’t learn a bit of self-sufficiency. They’ll need the skills sooner than later.” He looked at Elisabeth. “This morning while I’m in town, I want the three of you to take directions from Mrs. Randolph. I’m sure she’ll be fair about dividing the duties according to your ages and abilities.”

      Elisabeth’s cheeks darkened and she refused to look up at Josie or her father. “Yes, sir.”

      “Yes, sir,” the other two echoed.

      “What can I do, Mrs. Randolph?” Anna asked with bright enthusiasm. “I’m a good helper.”

      “We’ll find you a suitable chore,” Josie replied, and then gestured for Samuel to take a seat. “Please.”

      She served the meal she had prepared, and the reverend said grace before they ate.

      Elisabeth didn’t speak or raise her gaze the entire time.

      “Do any girls or boys live by here?” Anna asked.

      “There’s a family down two houses,” Josie replied. “Susanna Maxwell is probably about your age. How old are you?”

      “I’m nine,” Anna replied proudly. “Can I see your room?”

      Josie glanced up. “I don’t live here,” she explained. “This is the parsonage. I have my own home a few blocks away.”

      “Oh.” Anna set down her fork. “How come you don’t eat with your family?”

      Elisabeth finally raised her gaze in interest.

      Josie touched her napkin to her lips. “I’m a widow.”

      Anna glanced from her father to Josie with a puzzled expression. “What does widow mean?”

      “It means my husband died,” Josie replied.

      Anna seemed to consider that for a minute. “Are you a widow, Papa?”

      He held his mouth in a grim line, but he answered, “‘Widower’ is the term for a man.”

      “Why?”

      “You’ve asked enough questions for one meal,” he said. “Let Mrs. Randolph finish her breakfast.”

      “Yes, sir.” Anna picked up her fork.

      Sam explained that he’d be back that afternoon and what their choices were. “When I return, I’ll expect you to have decided whether or not you’re coming with me when I go calling.”

      Anna sat on the edge of her chair and beseeched her father with eyes open wide. Her eagerness to say something forced Josie to hold back a laugh.

      Samuel set down his cup. “What do you want to ask, Anna?”

      Her expression showed her relief. “Who’s gonna help me with my letters and numbers?”

      Elisabeth and Abigail glanced at each other. Apparently their mother had guided their lessons.

      “Until we move on to Colorado and get you settled in a school, Elisabeth will help you.”

      Anna frowned at her older sister. “She doesn’t do it the way Mama did.”

      “Regardless, she will be your helper over the summer. You will answer to me if she reports you’ve given her any difficulty. Understood?”

      His youngest daughter sat back meekly. “Yes, sir.”

      He strode from the room.

      Elisabeth was an efficient yet silent helper. After the meal was cleaned up, Josie got out the washtubs and heated water. She showed the girls how to make proper suds, scrub the towels and sheets on the washboard, then rinse and run them through the wringer. Anna thought the wringer was great fun, though she needed help to turn it as thick material was fed through.

      Elisabeth was the tallest as well as the most precise when it came to hanging the laundry to dry, so she helped Josie while Abigail moved the baskets and handed them clothespins. Elisabeth performed the task capably, spacing the garments just so, using the same number of pins for each neatly stretched sheet.

      “You do such a perfect job,” Josie told her. “I’d never know you hadn’t done this a hundred times before.”

      Without a word, Elisabeth clamped the last wooden pin to the final pillowcase and wiped her hands on the apron Josie had loaned her. Josie knew the girl would have much preferred her father pay to have the task performed, but that wasn’t because she was lazy. Her work had proven that.

      At noon Josie sliced ham and cheese for sandwiches. Samuel hadn’t returned yet, and she invited the girls to eat in the study with the reverend. From the pleased look on his face, their young guests were just the medicine he needed. Several church members had been faithful visitors and he’d even held a Wednesday-evening study at the house the past few weeks, but months of pain and inactivity had grated on the man who was accustomed to being active and independent.

      “Maybe there’s a skillful checker player in our midst today,” Josie suggested.

      Reverend Martin’s amused gaze shot to hers. “Your implication has been recorded.”

      Glad to see him in a cheerful mood, she laughed and a discussion of who would play checkers ensued. “Do you like bread pudding?” she finally asked to deter the subject.

      “I love it,” Abigail replied. “Mama always