Just Above a Whisper (14 page)

“Look at our verse in Proverbs 28. I’ll read it to you. ‘He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be an abomination.’” Douglas read this from his Bible and then looked at the folks gathered before him. “That’s pretty serious, isn’t it? But we need to hear those serious words to remind us how dire it is when we have unrepentant hearts toward God.

“You might be tempted to say you’ve heard enough on repentance, that I preach about it too much, but think about your life this week. How did you do with keeping God in the center of your life? Or did you push Him out of the center for sinful, selfish pursuits?”

Douglas smiled at the people before him, the folks he loved so well. He wanted nothing more than to see them be strong in Christ, repentant and changing. He kept his closing remarks brief.

“Let me just read the verse for you one more time. God says it so much better than I do. ‘He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be an abomination.’

“Let’s work on memorizing that this week, shall we? Let’s remember how delighted God is with ears, and ultimately hearts, that are attuned to hearing the law.”

The cleaning was done. Reese had not needed help, but in the last day and half, her muscles had begun to ache. She felt she knew every inch of the Kingsley home and couldn’t think of a room, closet, or hallway that she didn’t like. It was the most wonderful house she’d ever seen. A small part of her hoped that a family would be coming, one that would be looking for help in a few years’ time, and she could come back each week and work here.

Reese shook her fanciful head a little and stood closer to the kettle she was trying to boil in the preparation room off the buttery. She had lit a small fire so she could wash herself before going home. For some reason, what she was working on today had been especially dirty, and after dinner she’d brought her clean dress with plans to wash and change.

A lone candle burned on the mantel above. Reese didn’t need a lot of light to get the job done, and when she had warm water, she took delight in scrubbing herself. Her hair needed washing too—she would see to it tomorrow—but for now, a bath over the basin would have to do.

She didn’t dawdle. She’d already missed tea with Mrs. Greenlowe. In her efficient way, she was soon climbing into her clean dress. She was starting to pin her dress when the door suddenly opened. Reese’s heart lurched, but she kept her head, reaching for the fireplace shovel with its long handle.

“You can’t come in here,” she said to the man who had started to come through the door. “This is a private home. If you’re looking for lodgings, you’ll have to try the tavern farther down on the green.”

For a moment the man didn’t react. Reese squared her shoulders since her dress was not fully pinned at the back and made ready to raise the shovel, but the man simply thanked her, and backed out the door.

Reese wasted not a second after the door closed. She blew out the candle, rushing to the window to see if he had lingered, pinning the dress as she went. Trembling that she might actually be forced to use her makeshift weapon, Reese stepped outside a moment but found all quiet in the moonlight.

Reese relaxed. He’d moved on his way. She went calmly back inside and finished cleaning up behind herself, gathered her things, and exited through the very door the man had tried to use. Starting the walk home, Reese smiled at the job she’d done, thankful and a little sad that it was over.

Not until she was well past the edge of the house and down the green did the man emerge, another man with him. They had been standing in one of the sheds by the barn. They stood together, not speaking, and watched her walk out of sight. Only then did they head back to the house and slip quietly inside.

Six

Reese woke up sore but with a fine sense of contentment filling her. Last night Mrs. Greenlowe had been pacing on the porch by the time she arrived, but Reese had warned her that she planned to work until the job was done. Reese smiled when she thought of Mr. Jenness checking on her in the morning—he had formed the recent habit of coming by before the bank opened— and finding the house locked and her not in attendance.

Reese was just about to crawl from bed when the door opened slowly. Mrs. Greenlowe’s face peeked in, and she met Reese’s eyes.

“Are you still alive?” that lady asked.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 7:00!” Mrs. Greenlowe announced this fact as if a crime had been committed.

“You’re not going to let me be lazy, are you?”

“You’ve never been lazy a day in your life! I’ve got a great big breakfast ready to go on the table, and you need to come and eat.”

“I’m coming,” Reese responded obediently and told God, much as she did every day, that He’d certainly been looking out for her the day He sent Mrs. Greenlowe into her life.

“With the house done, where will he send you?” the landlady asked as soon as Reese prayed.

“I’ll find out, I guess.”

Eggs, ham, corn muffins, and skillet potatoes were pushed her way. Her coffee cup was refilled before it was half empty, but Reese did not hurry. She had until the bank opened today and wasn’t going to rush; it would be the first time since Sunday she didn’t feel the pressure of hurrying to work.

“Did you hear about the kitchen fire at Berglunds’?” Mrs. Greenlowe asked.

“I heard the commotion in the middle of the day yesterday but didn’t know whose house it was.”

“Well, that’s Lillie Jenness’ aunt, you know–her great aunt. Don’t be too surprised if you find yourself over there helping out and getting covered with soot.”

“You might be right. Was anyone hurt?”

“Not that I know of,” Mrs. Greenlowe said, no compassion or concern in her voice. “Where Lillie got her clean streak, I don’t know. Opal Berglund couldn’t be a worse housekeeper. I think she burns her kitchen down at least three times a year. If she would keep it neater, she wouldn’t be setting towels and whatnot on fire.”

It wasn’t a nice thing to say, but Reese felt herself laughing. Mrs. Greenlowe had that effect on her. In fact, she was still chuckling a little when she started for the bank building.

Conner Kingsley woke slowly, not disoriented about where he was but still surprised that he was actually here. It had been a long time. His eyes roamed the room, taking in the familiar sights even as he felt his mind rushing backward in time.

Pushing the covers off, Conner sat up on the edge of the bed. He didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with those thoughts right now. He was weary from the trip that ended up being by coach and not train, and he had other things to think about. He was certain that Troy was up, so he dressed and went in search of him. Taking the back stairway that led directly to the kitchen, Conner found him there.

“Do I smell coffee?” he asked, his voice its usual whisper.

“You certainly do, and if I can find a bowl to mix them, I’ll start the eggs.”

“Where did you find eggs?”

“Unlike some people who slept until after 7:00, I’ve been all over town already this morning.”

“Good for you,” Conner said dryly. “Did you hit several chicken coops or just one?”

“No, I came across a woman who was headed toward her chicken pen with a basket over one arm. I offered her honest coin for a dozen, and she was delighted.”

Conner smiled at Troy’s smug look and peeked into the pan.

“This won’t work without butter.”

Troy handed him a small crock.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Conner said, staring down at the butter and knowing he would have gone hungry this morning if it hadn’t been for Troy.

“You didn’t shave,” Troy suddenly noticed.

“I’m not going to the bank today,” Conner explained. “I realized last night before I fell asleep that it might be best to let you go on your own.”

“Why is that?”

“I just think I should lie low for a time. The Kingsley name always has an effect on people, and even though Dalton said I was coming, you can explain to Mr. Jenness that I’m seeing to other things right now.”

Troy’s look was skeptical. “It’s not as though you can walk around town and not be noticed, Conner.”

“True.” Conner was too large a man not to agree. “I might ask you to deliver a letter later today and have someone come to me.”

“I can do that.”

The men went to work in earnest on the breakfast, and in a short time they’d eaten their fill. Troy had been truly resourceful in the time he’d spent.

“The house is impressively clean,” Conner noted before Troy could exit for the bank.

“Do you suppose that was her last night?”

“Our indentured servant? Probably.”

For a moment, the two men looked at each other in silence.

“I’ll see to it, Conner,” Troy assured him before exiting by way of the front door. Conner quietly thanked him, praying that today would be a success in more than one way.