Betsy's Return Page 13

  She’d only been scrubbing a few minutes when she felt a strong hand touch her shoulder. Turning, she was shocked to see Bart staring at her in a most peculiar way. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  His lips curved into a wide smile, revealing a set of badly stained teeth. “I was just wonderin’ how come a purty lady like you ain’t married.”

  Before Betsy could think of a sensible reply, Bart dropped to his knees beside her. “If you was my wife, you wouldn’t have to wash for anyone but me, and I’d be the only one earnin’ a living.”

  “I assure you, I’m getting along fine by myself.” She wrung out the first shirt, set it aside, and picked up the second one.

  With no warning, Bart leaned closer, grabbed Betsy’s cheeks between his calloused hands, and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

  She jerked back, reeling from the shock of his kiss and feeling as though it was her mouth that needed a good washing instead of Bart’s shirts. “How dare you take such liberties!” She plucked the rest of his shirts from the water, grabbed the one she’d set aside, and threw them at him.

  As Betsy stood on shaky legs, she shook her finger in his face. “Don’t come back here anymore, Bart Jarmon, because even if I were starving to death, I would never do business with you again!”

  Chapter 24

  William placed his sermon notes on the pulpit and pulled his watch from the pocket of his trousers. He was supposed to meet Betsy here at ten o’clock so they could go over some songs for the service tomorrow; it was already ten fifteen, and she hadn’t shown up.

  Had she slept in this morning and been too tired to come? William smiled as he thought about how tirelessly Betsy had worked to help those who’d been without homes or jobs during the previous weeks of flooding. Betsy had shared her home, her food, and her time, and he’d never heard her complain.

  He gripped the edge of the pulpit, as the truth slammed into him with such force he feared he might topple over. He didn’t know when or how it had happened, but he’d fallen hopelessly in love with Betsy. He’d foolishly lowered his defenses and allowed his heart to open up to this sweet, caring woman with the voice of an angel.

  William whirled around to face the wooden cross that hung between the stained glass windows behind him then folded his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. Heavenly Father, Betsy has given me no indication that she’s anything like Beatrice, yet I’m afraid to trust again. I believe Betsy cares for me, but does she love me? Do I dare let her know how I feel and risk possible rejection? Oh Lord, please show me what to do.

  A door slammed shut, and when William heard the shuffle of feet, it ended his prayer. He turned and was surprised to see Ben Hanson enter the sanctuary, wearing a dour expression. Had something happened? Could there have been another accident on the canal?

  He stepped off the platform and moved quickly toward the deacon. “What is it, Ben? You look upset.”

  The older man clenched his fists, as he held his body rigid. “I am upset, and I need your advice.”

  William motioned to the closest pew. “Let’s have a seat, and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  Ben nodded as he sank to the pew. “Actually, it’s my wife who’s the most upset. And when Freda’s upset, it upsets me.”

  William took the seat beside him. “What’s the problem?”

  Ben folded his arms. “Freda was heading over to see Betsy yesterday morning, and she was about to enter the backyard when she caught sight of Betsy kissing one of the canalers.”

  William’s mouth dropped open, and a muscle on the side of his neck went into a spasm. Surely this couldn’t be true. He couldn’t imagine Betsy kissing any of the rugged boatmen who often used foul language and rarely came to church.

  “I can see by your look of surprise that you’re as shocked as I was to learn of this news.” Ben slowly shook his head. “Kissing a man in broad daylight doesn’t seem like something Betsy would do, but if Freda says she saw it, then it must be true.”

  William cleared his throat. “I’m sure there must be some logical explanation.” There has to be. Betsy can’t be in love with someone else.

  “What kind of explanation could there be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Freda doesn’t think we should continue to allow Betsy to rent our house if she’s going to carry on like that with the boatmen.”

  William lifted his hand. “I can’t believe you would evict Betsy when you haven’t heard her side of the story. Besides, it’s not our place to judge her. Only God has that right.”

  “I told Freda the same thing, but she says....” Ben paused and clasped William’s shoulder. “Will you speak with Betsy about this, Pastor?”

  “I suppose I could.” William stood, hoping Ben would take the hint and leave. If Betsy were to show up soon, he didn’t think it would be good for Ben to be here when he confronted her about what Freda had seen.

  “I think Freda was hoping it would be you Betsy would fall for, not one of the canalers like Bart, who’s so rough around the edges.” Ben shuffled his feet a couple of times and stared at the floor.

  William grimaced as confusion swirled in his head like the raging canal floodwaters. If what Freda said she saw was true, then maybe the reason Betsy hadn’t shown up at the church this morning was because she was too embarrassed by her actions to face the pastor.

  “I’d best be getting back home to Freda. She’ll be anxious to hear how my meeting went with you.” Ben shuffled up the aisle, calling over his shoulder, “As soon as you’ve spoken to Betsy, let me know what she said!”

  For the next several minutes William stood there, feeling too stunned and confused to know what to do. He needed to speak with Betsy, but how should he broach the subject of Freda’s accusation? Should he simply march up to Betsy, tell her that Freda had seen her kissing one of the boatmen, and then demand an explanation? Or should he try to get Betsy to tell him what had happened yesterday morning of her own accord?

  He pulled his pocket watch out of his trousers for the second time and noted that it was now ten thirty. She was obviously not coming. Maybe he should go over to her place and tell her that he was concerned because she hadn’t shown up to practice the songs as they’d planned.

  William started up the aisle and had just reached the foyer, when the front door opened. Betsy stepped inside, her cheeks flushed, and several strands of hair that had come loose from her bun were swirling around her neck.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said with a huff. “I had a little problem with Bristle Face this morning, and it took me awhile to tend to the matter.”

  He felt immediate concern. “Bristle Face? What’s happened to the dog?”

  “It seems there was a skunk prowling around our house last night, and the dog must have gotten in its path.” She shook her head. “I spent several hours trying to get that putrid smell out of Bristle Face’s hair, but the poor animal still reeks, and I’m afraid he’ll have to stay outside for a while.”

  William chuckled. He could just picture that little dog sitting in a tub of water, covered with lye soap and tomato juice.

  “Shall we see about selecting some songs and practicing them now?” Betsy moved toward the sanctuary.

  William halted, leaning against the doorjamb that separated the foyer from the sanctuary. “I ... uh ... need to discuss something with you first.”

  ***

  As Betsy followed Pastor William into the other room, a feeling of dread came over her. He looked so solemn, and the tone he had used when he’d said they needed to discuss something made her wonder if she’d done something wrong. Was he unhappy with the way she’d been playing the organ? She did tend to play a bit loudly, and maybe he thought the music was too lively.

  When they reached the front of the sanctuary, he motioned to the first pew. “Please, have a seat.”

  She smoothed the wrinkles in her long, gray skirt and sat.

  Pastor William took a seat on the sa
me pew but left enough space between them to accommodate two people. He sat there several seconds, staring at his folded hands.

  Unable to stand the suspense, Betsy turned to face him. “Is something wrong?”

  His serious expression sent shivers up her spine. “It has come to my attention....” He paused and cleared his throat. “Someone said that....” He looked away as though unable to meet her gaze.

  “If this is about my organ playing, I’ll try to tone it down some.”

  “No, no, it’s not about that. I ... uh ... someone said that they had seen you the other morning on your back porch with a man.”

  Betsy nodded. “I did laundry yesterday, and several of the boatmen came by in the afternoon to pick up their clean clothes.”

  He stood and moved to stand in front of the communion table. “It was one of the canalers this person saw you with, and you were ... uh ... kissing him.”

  Betsy’s mouth felt so dry she could barely swallow. Someone must have witnessed what had happened between her and Bart.

  “Is it true, Betsy? Were you kissing a man on your porch?”

  Her face heated up. “Bart kissed me, but I did nothing to encourage it. I threw his wet shirts at him and said I never wanted to do business with him again.”

  At first, Pastor William looked relieved, but then he frowned. “If I wasn’t a minister of God, I would march down to the canal, wait for Bart’s boat to come through, climb aboard, and punch him in the nose.”

  Betsy swallowed around the laughter bubbling in her throat. Pastor William was jealous, and he wanted to defend her reputation. What a glorious thought! What a glorious day!

  Chapter 25

  Pastor William continued to stare at Betsy in a most peculiar way, and a shiver started low on her spine and fluttered up her neck. “Are—are you upset because Bart kissed me?” she squeaked.

  His ears turned pink, and the blush spread quickly to his cheeks. “I ... I don’t want to think about any man kissing you—unless it’s me.”

  “Pastor William,” Betsy murmured, feeling more flustered by the moment.

  “I–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I...” His voice trailed off, and his gaze fell to the floor.

  She left her seat and took a step forward. “You what? What were you going to say?”

  Slowly he lifted his head until their gazes locked. “As hard as I’ve fought against it, I find that I’m hopelessly in love with you, Betsy.”

  “You—you are?”

  He nodded. “I was jilted at the altar about a year ago, and the pain and shame of it left me full of mistrust. I’d convinced myself that I could never love or trust another woman, but getting to know you has changed my mind.”

  Betsy swallowed hard and blinked against stinging tears that threatened to spill over. No matter what happened in the future, this special moment would be imprinted on her heart forever.

  “I love you, too,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “What did you say?”

  “I love you, too, Pastor William.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” He chuckled. “But don’t you think it’s time you started calling me William?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “You know what I think we should do?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

  Her hand fit so well in his. It was as if they’d touched like this before, if only in her dreams. “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think we should practice our songs for tomorrow and then go over to the Hansons’ and have a little talk with Freda. She needs to know the truth about what happened between you and Bart, so she doesn’t spread any ugly rumors.”

  “I suppose that would be a good idea. And then I want to pay a call on Sarah and her children. I’ve made a big batch of pork float and thought I would take it there for supper.”

  He smacked his lips. “That sounds good. Maybe I’ll accompany you there, and we can share the meal with them.”

  Betsy smiled. “I’m sure they would appreciate a visit from their pastor, and I would enjoy the company on the trip over there as well.”

  “That’s good to hear, because the two of us have much to talk about.”

  ***

  As Betsy prepared for church the following morning, she burst out singing. “‘Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below. Praise Him above, ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.’”

  In all her thirty-one years, she had never felt so deliriously happy. She loved William, and he loved her. After a suitable time of courtship, he might ask her to marry him. Hearing his declaration of love had seemed too good to be true, and Betsy felt like pinching herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  “William is all I’ve ever wanted in a man,” she murmured to her reflection in the mirror. “He’s kindhearted, gentle, handsome, even tempered, and next to Papa, he’s the finest preacher I’ve ever heard.”

  Betsy reflected on how William had handled things when they’d gone to see Freda and Ben Hanson. He’d said there had been a misunderstanding and that what Freda had actually seen was Bart kissing Betsy, not the other way around. Betsy had then explained her reaction to Bart. Freda had expressed sorrow for jumping to conclusions and explained that she’d walked away after she’d seen them kissing, so she hadn’t witnessed whatever had followed.

  After Betsy and William had left the Hansons’ home, they’d gone to Betsy’s to get the pork float she’d made and then headed in Betsy’s buckboard to the lock tender’s house to see Sarah and her family. They had used that time to get better acquainted. When William had asked if he could court Betsy, they’d discussed various things they might do on a date. Since winter would arrive in a few months and the weather was turning colder, picnics were out of the question.

  “But we can go for buggy rides, take long walks, and go out to supper at one of the restaurants in town,” William had said as he held Betsy’s hand.

  “Come winter, we can go ice skating, sledding, or sleigh riding,” Betsy had happily added.

  By the time they’d reached Sarah’s house, Betsy had been so excited she could hardly contain herself. She wanted to shout to her friend and to all the world that she and William were in love and that he’d asked to court her. But she’d held herself in check, knowing she could share the news with Sarah some other time when they were alone and she wouldn’t embarrass William.

  Betsy pinched her cheeks one more time, grabbed her shawl and Bible from the end of her bed, and hurried out of the room.

  ***

  “You’re going to do what?”

  William pushed his chair away from the table and stood. He didn’t care for the shrill tone of his housekeeper’s voice, and he wasn’t going to stay here and listen to one of her insistent lectures. “I’m going to court Betsy Nelson.” He grabbed his Bible from the kitchen counter and started for the back door.

  Mrs. Bevens jumped up and positioned herself between him and the door. “Where are you going?”

  “To church, and I don’t want to be late.”

  “But ... but we need to talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  She planted her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “I can’t believe you actually want to court that woman.”

  “Her name is Betsy, and I love her.”

  Mrs. Bevens’s normally pale cheeks turned bright pink. “She’s not right for you, William.”

  “I think she is.”

  “There’s been a conspiracy at church to get the two of you together, and I think Betsy is in on it. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if every encounter you’ve had with Betsy wasn’t set up by her or one of her cohorts. I’m sure she’s only after you for your money.”

  William bit back a chuckle. This conversation was bordering on ridiculous. “What money are you talking about, Mrs. Bevens? I’m a poor preacher now. Have you forgotten that?”

  She shook he
r head. “Need I remind you that your family is quite well off. Some day when your father is gone, everything will be yours.”

  “I have a brother, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m sure my parents will see that Robert gets half of their estate after they’ve passed on.” William grunted. “Besides, I’m sure Betsy isn’t interested in riches or prestige, and when the time is right, I’m going to ask her to be my wife.” Before Mrs. Bevins had the chance to comment, William rushed out the door.

  Chapter 26

  Betsy shivered against the cold as she stepped out the back door and placed Bristle Face’s dish of food on the porch. It wouldn’t be long until parts of the canal would have to be drained. Then all the boatmen would look for other jobs during the frigid winter months. Some would find work in the city of Easton, and others would stay near the canal to cut ice or find other jobs that would keep them busy until the spring thaw allowed them to boat again. Betsy wouldn’t have as many customers to sew and wash clothes for, but she didn’t mind. Hopefully she and William would be able to spend more time together, too.

  Sunday after church, he had suggested that the two of them have supper together on Friday evening. That was only a day away now, and she could hardly wait.

  A blast of wind whipped against Betsy’s skirt, and she pushed her thoughts aside. “Here, Bristle Face! Come get your breakfast!” she called, scanning the yard to see where the terrier might be.

  When Betsy saw no sign of the little dog, she clapped her hands and called for him again. A few minutes later, the terrier stuck his head out of a bush where he had obviously been sleeping. He barked, dashed across the yard, leaped onto the porch, and skidded over to his bowl.

  “Slow down,” she said with a chuckle. “You can’t be that hungry.”

  Betsy was tempted to stay and watch the dog eat, but the frigid wind drove her back to the warmth of her kitchen. Once inside she poured herself a cup of tea and was about to take a seat at the table, when she heard a knock at the front door. I wonder who that could be.