The Preacher's Bride by Jody Hedlund

Author:Jody Hedlund
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2010-09-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter

18

Agony churned in Elizabeth’s stomach. The day was almost over and she’d yet to say good-bye.

She straightened the kink in her back and glanced up from the gooseberry bush. Her gaze traveled around the yard, making a count of the children. She passed over John leaning against the doorframe of his forge. But then she looked back and her heart flipped. He had narrowed his eyes upon her and was chewing on a long piece of grass.

How long had he been watching her?

She wanted to squirm and at the very least smooth the loose hairs back under her coif. Instead, she turned away and reached back into the bush, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sudden quiver of her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him push away from the shack. He tossed the sliver of grass to the ground and started across the yard toward her.

She ducked her head, glad for the wide hat that hid the heat in her face.

“Are there many left?” Behind her his voice was low.

She leaned into the thickly set branches. “This will be the last picking.”

The gooseberry bushes tangled with the hedgerows along the edges of the cottage plot and separated the Costins’ from the neighbors’. Johnny and Betsy had helped her harvest the first ripenings, but now their hands couldn’t reach past the sharp spines for the last of the crop. So she’d given them the task of cleaning the cow’s pen and transporting her droppings to the garden to mix into the soil for the winter.

Elizabeth plucked the fuzzy green cluster brushing against her fingertips.

The intensity of John’s gaze on her back sent a rush of warmth through her blood.

“I’m sorry about the attack, Elizabeth. When I find out who is responsible, first I’ll beat up his face, then when I’m done with his face, I’ll take a whip to his back.”

“ ’Tis not God’s way to seek revenge. ’Tis not our Puritan way either.”

“Methinks it will not be revenge. It will be the discipline he needs for his evil deeds.” His voice hinted at humor, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he wore a half grin.

Her heart flipped upside down.

“You’re a hard worker, Elizabeth.”

“ ’Tis nothing less than God desires.” His praise warmed her and strangely added to the turbulence that had rumbled through her soul all day.

He knelt beside her and reached into the gooseberry bush. The thin linen of his shirt pulled taut across his arms—the same arms that had carried her up the stairs of her home and cradled her so tenderly.

She tore her gaze away from him and focused straight ahead. Her fingers fumbled to find another berry.

“Mary was never very strong.” He stretched his arm deeper into the spiky branches.

Surprise jolted her, and the cluster at her fingertips slipped away. Would he speak to her of his late wife?

He stared into the thick hedge, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with pain.

“She always struggled to accomplish anything.” His voice grew tight, and he stumbled over his words.

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