Chapter 12

Mira thought she'd be glad to get off the train, but instead, her legs started to tremble as soon as her feet were on the depot's platform. Each step was taking her farther from what she knew into what she didn't.

While Gordon went to see about their trunks, Mira clutched her coat tight around her and huddled against the depot wall. She wanted to hide in its folds from the sideway glances of the people around her. Their unsmiling faces seemed to indicate they were sure she had gotten off the train at the wrong place.

Maybe she had, but she'd told Gordon she wanted to be here. She claimed to be ready to go to his Sourwood. Ready to teach school. Ready to get married.

Married. Perhaps she'd lost her reasoning powers.

To tamp down her panic, she stared out at the snow that was deeper here than in Louisville. Inches deeper. She'd noticed when the countryside along the tracks had changed. Houses farther apart. Big stretches slid by with no houses at all. Just trees or fields with cows and horses, some nothing but skin and bones as if snow had hidden their grass for too many days.

Gordon shared his food with her. She tried to refuse, but he claimed he had more in his poke than he could eat. When she gave him a funny look, he said calling a sack a poke was mountain talk. He claimed such talk would eventually be second nature to her too.

That didn't seem likely, but the closer the train got to Jackson, the more Gordon changed from the preacher she'd heard on Sunday to sounding like the people climbing aboard at the little towns along the tracks.

A few men greeted Gordon like an old friend. Gordon introduced her each time, but she was relieved he didn't share their plans. Even so, the men eyed her and grinned. They seemed to guess without being told and clapped Gordon on the back as they called him Preacher.

She had been so worried about the whole idea of marriage that she hadn't once thought about what it would mean to be a preacher's wife. Pastor Watkins's wife back at her church practically shone with goodness and love for everyone, while getting whatever needed doing done.

Right now, standing next to this depot while daylight dimmed as the sun slid out of sight, Mira couldn't imagine being anything like Mrs. Watkins with her confident smiles and certainty about the Lord's path for her. Mrs. Watkins wouldn't be trembling here in the shadows, hardly able to swallow, much less smile.

In fact, Mira wasn't sure she could even force a smile out on her face. Maybe ever again. At least not a real smile. On the train with Gordon holding her hands, she had started to believe she was doing what the Lord wanted. But now, without Gordon beside her, fear built until each breath took effort.

What if something had happened to Gordon? He'd been gone forever. The train had left. The tracks were empty.

She tried to gather her courage. Gordon wouldn't desert her. He'd hinted that he cared for her. Already. Something the Lord put in his heart. But not in hers. Maybe she should pray that he would, but the very thought seemed unfaithful to Edward.

She shook her head a little. Edward had been gone five years. More than five years. But hadn't she promised him her love forever when they planned their life together? That he died before they could marry didn't wipe that love from her heart.

Had Ruth promised the same kind of love to Naomi's son and that was why she clung to Naomi instead of returning to her people? Perhaps she, like Mira, had no people to take her in, or did she love Naomi that much? Enough to do what Naomi said to make Boaz want to marry her?

Mira had never met Gordon's mother. She should ask him about her. If she ever saw him again. Her heart beat a little faster as the shadows deepened toward evening.

"Stop borrowing trouble." Mira could hear Miss Ophelia's voice in her head. "Your young preacher will return. Brace up."

That last command was Miss Ophelia's exact words before Mira left for the train station. She'd squeezed her hands in what was almost an affectionate gesture and told her to brace up.

While a few minutes ago she thought she might never smile again, she did smile as Gordon came toward her. Whether she could imagine loving him right now, she needed him in this unfamiliar world.

He had found a man with a truck to take them to his preacher friend's house.

"You will like the Haskells." He led her around the depot to where the truck waited. "Stella loves everyone and everyone loves her."

Another preacher's wife to expose Mira's shortcomings.

The trunks were already loaded. Gordon helped Mira up into the truck's seat. "This is Mr. Wilson. Mira Dean."

"How do you do, sir," she said.

The man might have smiled, but she couldn't be sure since his face was all but hidden by a bushy red mustache and beard streaked with gray. "Don't know the last time I was ever called sir, but welcome aboard, little lady."

She tried to keep her knees away from the gear shift sticking up from the floorboard. That pressed her legs tight against Gordon.

"You headin' to Preacher Haskell's for him to tie the knot between you'ns?" the man asked.

Gordon touched her arm lightly, perhaps sensing the man's words made her heart want to jump out of her chest. "Thinking on it. Come morning."

"You best let him go ahead and fix you up proper tonight. Gonna be a cold one." He looked over at Mira. "Could be you'll need to do some cuddling to keep warm."

Even though the light had to be too dim for the man to see the flush burning her cheeks, he still let out a raucous laugh. She was relieved when he braked and slid to a stop in front of a white frame house.

They went up the stone pathway to the porch, where Reverend Haskell flung open the door when Gordon knocked.

"Gordon." A smile engulfed his face as he looked from Gordon to Mira. "And you've brought a friend. Your new schoolteacher, I presume."

Again, the smile Mira had thought lost forever at the depot found her face. In his faded blue shirt with red suspenders holding up his pants, the preacher looked like someone's grandfather. Or maybe everyone's grandfather.

Before Gordon said the first word, the man yelled over his shoulder. "Stella, come see who's here. Gordon and his schoolteacher."

A woman, a matching image of a kindly grandmother with a plump waistline and gray hair, hurried into the room, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Well, don't keep them on the step, Bill. Let them in." The woman's smile was even bigger than her husband's.

The man moved back, and Gordon ushered Mira inside. "This is Mira Dean, soon to be Mira Covington."

Mira's smile stiffened as she stared at Gordon, whose smile was almost as big as the Haskells' as he murmured, "Sorry, Mira. I guess I'm just excited."

"I would think." Mrs. Haskell pulled Mira into a hug. "I couldn't be happier for the both of you." She pushed Mira back but grabbed her hands. "Don't be shy, dearie. We're the same as family."

Mira moistened her lips but couldn't think of the first thing to say. Nobody seemed to note her loss for words.

Mrs. Haskell looked over at her husband. "Best find your marrying Bible."

Reverend Haskell chuckled. "Now, Mama, hadn't we better let them shed their coats before we start the marrying?"

With her face burning like fire, Mira wanted to pull her hands free and run out the door. But where would she run to?

Gordon laughed too. "You can wait to get your marrying Bible until morning, Pastor Bill. Mira and I need time to catch our breath after a long day coming from the city. I hope you can put us up for the night."

"You know you're always welcome here," Reverend Haskell said. "Stella will stir up something tasty for supper."

Mira found her voice. "Don't go to any trouble, Mrs. Haskell."

"Never you mind about that. And no Mrs. Haskell for you. Call me Aunt Stella. Everybody does."

Mira stared at the woman and blurted out, "I don't have any aunts."

"You do now. And I have a new niece." The woman shook Mira's hands a little.

"You have a few dozen nieces and nephews, don't you, Aunt Stella?" Gordon said.

"More like a few hundred," Reverend Haskell put in.

Mrs. Haskell let go of Mira's hands and turned to grab Gordon in a hug. "And this nephew has been too long gone from our house. I'd ask what you've been up to, but I guess I can see that plain enough. Appears you've been some busy." She stepped back to look over at her husband. "Bill, help the boy get his trunks in here while I finish up supper. Then he can tell us where he found his beautiful, blushing bride-to-be."

After Gordon and the preacher headed outside, Mira wasn't sure what she should do, but she needn't have worried. Mrs. Haskell hadn't forgotten about her.

"Throw your coat over the nearest chair, dearie, and come along. You can set the table while I put another potato in the pot."

As Mira followed her toward the kitchen, she thought of how different, yet how alike she was to Miss Ophelia. Both women expected people to do their bidding. Miss Ophelia didn't bother with smiles along with her instructions, while Mrs. Haskell didn't look as if she knew what a frown was.

Smiling must be contagious. Despite being in a strange place with the unsettling prospect of getting married hanging over her head, the corners of Mira's lips turned up. Her heart felt lighter as she went into the warm kitchen with pots bubbling on the stove. A pan of apple peels and a rolling pin rested amid a scattering of flour on a biscuit board on the cabinet.

"You can wash up at the sink. Just pump on that handle there. Soap's in the dish."

After Mira did as told, Mrs. Haskell waved her toward a small china cabinet. "Get the plates with roses. We'll be fancy tonight."

By the time they finished off the last bites of apple cobbler, the Haskells had found out everything worth knowing about her. Except how the thought of being married to Gordon seemed right one minute and a dreadful mistake the next.

But it turned out Mrs. Haskell guessed that too. After Mira helped wash the dishes, the woman showed Mira to a small bedroom. Mrs. Haskell settled in a small rocker by the window and pointed her to a footstool, the only other place to sit other than the bed.

"While the men have preacher talk in the parlor, we can have some woman talk here."

Mira scooted the stool a couple of feet away from the rocker, but she was still right at Mrs. Haskell's knees when she sat down.

The woman smelled of apples and fried ham. She wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead with the tail of her apron. "That kitchen gets hot as Hades."

"Everything was delicious."

Mrs. Haskell flapped air toward her face with her apron. "Bill likes to eat and so do I. I guess you can see that." She chuckled. "It's been a while since either one of us had much of a waistline. Maybe you can fatten up young Gordon a bit. He's so skinny he could dodge raindrops."

"I'll do my best."

"They don't have electric over in Sourwood. I'm thinking Gordon doesn't even have a stove yet. You might have to do fireplace cooking."

"Fireplace?"

"Don't fret." Mrs. Haskell patted Mira's knee. "The women there will help you. Folks like helping the preacher and his missus out." She sat back and rocked a minute without saying anything.

Mira let the silence settle around them while she imagined stirring pots hanging over an open fire.

All of a sudden, Mrs. Haskell leaned forward in her chair, closer to Mira. "I have the feeling something more than what to cook for supper might be concerning you some."

"Oh?" Heat warmed Mira's cheeks as she pretended not to know what the woman meant.

The woman sat back again as she peered at Mira. "I'm thinking all this is sort of rushed for you."

"It has been sudden. I hadn't seen Gordon for years before last Sunday." Mira wanted to look away from the woman, but something about her eyes held Mira's gaze.

"And I'm gathering you hadn't given him the first thought through those years. Or even back when."

"I had plans to marry someone else. So I paid the other boys little attention." Mira did look down at her hands then.

"What happened?"

"He died."

"Recently?"

"Years ago."

"I see." The woman rocked back and forth a few times before she went on. "I love young Gordon like a son. He's a good man."

"He is." Mira looked up at her again.

"Is that why you agreed to marry him? Because he's a good man?"

"I'm glad for that, but no. The Lord closed every other path to me. This is the one left open." Mira would not speak of how the desire to have a child had pushed her to insist on the marriage she had thought so ridiculous a few days ago. She could have accepted a way to be Sourwood's teacher without marrying Gordon.

"The Lord's will." Mrs. Haskell nodded. "Sometimes the path he picks for us can take courage. I'm sensing you have some trepidation as you think on the days ahead." She stared straight at Mira. "And the nights."

"Yes." Mira could not deny that.

Mrs. Haskell smiled slightly. "I remember feeling some the same, forty-plus years ago on the eve of my marriage to Bill. My mother, dear woman that she was, told me the Lord made man and the Lord made woman and the design was perfect as only the Lord can make perfection. He aimed for two to join in holy matrimony to become as one. It's a blessed union that will grow stronger with every year you share."

"I hope so."

"Do more than hope. Pray." She leaned forward again and cupped Mira's face in her hands. "That is a duty of a preacher's wife. If you will do that, the Lord will put love in your heart and scatter your worries like chaff in the wind."

"I can pray."

"Of course you can." She stood up. "I watched Gordon tonight. Love for you is already tickling his heart. Your union will be blessed."

"Thank you." She hesitated, then added, "Miss Stella."

The woman shook her head with a smile. "I'll pray that someday you'll be ready to claim me as aunt." She gave her a quick hug, said good night, and left her alone.

Once in bed, Mira stared into the dark and repeated Miss Stella's words aloud. "Your union will be blessed." She needed to believe that.