Kansas Courtship by Victoria Bylin

Author:Victoria Bylin [Bylin, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General, Religious
ISBN: 9781426850622
Google: UGASvTtwS0MC
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2010-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Zeb walked into church five minutes late and slid into the back pew. He figured Cassandra would be seated up front with the Logans. When he didn’t see her, he scanned the middle seats and spotted her with Percival. Zeb wished he’d dragged himself out of bed sooner. Cassandra and Percy were seeing too much of each other. If Clint didn’t wise up, she’d be headed back to Boston as Mrs. Percival Walker, a thought Zeb loathed.

He also loathed church and attended for one reason. It was easier to sleep in the back row than it would be to explain his absence.

He never had liked Sunday services. As a boy, he’d been bored and fidgety. As a man, he knew the weaknesses of his character and didn’t need to be reminded. He stumbled every day, though not as badly as he’d fallen in Boston. After Frannie left, he’d disappeared for three days and done things he deeply regretted. There hadn’t been any pleasure in that darkness, only a numbness that had burned like fire in the light of dawn. He’d been ashamed of himself and hadn’t stumbled since, at least not in that way. No one knew about that ugly time, not even Will. He supposed God knew, but the Almighty didn’t seem to care. At least he hadn’t struck Zeb dead, which at the time seemed preferable to living without Frannie.

The hymn ended with a tremulous amen and the congregation sat. As the air stirred, he smelled lavender. He looked to his right and saw Nora seated four feet away. Her eyes were riveted to the pulpit, but the blush on her cheeks indicated she’d noticed him.

He had to wonder…did she like the shelves? He’d planed the wood himself and had a splinter in his thumb to prove it. He’d tried soaking it, but it hadn’t come out. He’d gone after it with a sewing needle and picked until it bled, but the sliver wouldn’t budge. The annoyance seemed fitting. His conscience also had a splinter, the kind that wouldn’t come out until he apologized. He’d hoped for a note from her, something to acknowledge the peace offering. Judging by the tightness of her mouth, she didn’t have that note in her pocket.

Zeb faced forward. He’d given her a gift, a nice one. Did she want his pride, too? She couldn’t have it. He refused to grovel in front of anyone.

Reverend Preston stepped to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, let us pray…”

Zeb bowed his head out of habit, not humility. He heard words like charity and neighbor, but he felt neither charitable nor neighborly. If Dr. Mitchell wanted to make peace, it was her turn to bend.

Reverend Preston cleared his throat. “Please stand for our next hymn, ‘Just as IAm.’ It’s number eighteen in your hymnals.”

The book was sitting to his right. So was Nora. When he reached for it, so did she. Their hands stopped in midair just inches apart over the black leather. Zeb’s gaze traveled up the sleeve of her brown dress to the high collar, past her jaw to her blue eyes.

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