A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(68)

The chuckles turned to outright laughter.

Del joined in, even while tears pricked her eyes. Was this really all she had to do—ask for help from her neighbors? Perhaps . . . or perhaps the Lord had needed to humble her first, show her she could be content with what she had while still persevering for what would be best.

“Thank you, ladies. You have given me much hope tonight.” She drew a shaky breath. “I know you all need to get home to your families. Shall we work on these ideas and meet again, say, next Friday at the same time?” She caught the eye of Larkspur, who nodded. “Let me close us in prayer.”

After the ladies left, Del stayed to straighten the benches with Lark and Lilac assisting. Darkness fell earlier now, and it was already pitch-black outside. She was grateful for the lamplight they had inside the church.

Once everything was ready for the service on Sunday, the Nielsens stepped outside and headed toward their wagon.

“Wait a minute, I’ll be right back.” Del ran back into the church and headed for the bookshelf to pick up a couple of books.

“How was the meeting, Miss Nielsen?”

She looked up to see Rev. Pritchard in the open doorway. She glanced past him, wondering if he’d seen her sisters in the yard. Surely he had.

“It went well, thank you.” She put the books she needed into her satchel. “I think we may actually be getting close to raising a new schoolhouse and getting out of your way here.” She tried to lighten her tone.

He stepped down the aisle toward her. “You haven’t been in my way at all. It’s been a joy to share the space, and with my other church in Antelope Creek, I’m not here much. But I’m glad for you. I know how you’ve longed for that schoolhouse. What is the plan?”

“A school raising.” Del adjusted her shawl. “Mrs. Caldwell suggested it.”

“What a splendid idea.” The young minister’s eyes lit behind his spectacles. “Gather the community to build it rather than waiting for enough workers. I should have suggested that myself.” He hesitated, then stepped closer, sobering. “Perhaps I would have if—if I didn’t so much enjoy the chance to see you more often.”

Oh dear. Del gripped the handle of her satchel. Lord, show me what to say here.

“Miss Nielsen.” Rev. Pritchard cleared his throat and coughed slightly. “I’ve been wondering. Would you permit me to—to call on you?”

Del looked up into his eyes, so earnest, so full of goodwill. He was a good man, the best. Most young women would consider her a fool not to jump at this chance. And yet . . .

She shook her head. “I’m honored, Reverend, truly. You have my deep respect and admiration. But I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship at present. I hope you can understand.”

His brow furrowed under the unruly shock of hair. “Not interested in general? Or not interested . . . with me?”

Del’s heart twisted. But she must be honest. “Both, I’m afraid.”

The light went out of his eyes. “I see.”

They said awkward good-nights, and Rev. Pritchard snuffed the remaining lamps. Del stepped outside and headed to the wagon to join her sisters. They rode home under the starlit sky, Lark and Lilac chatting about the meeting. Del had trouble keeping her mind on the conversation, though.

She had been right to refuse the minister, she knew that. Not only for Lilac’s sake but because Del didn’t care for him as he desired. And yet, a part of her heart had warmed, knowing a young man could still show interest in her all these years after Everett.

And now, whatever chance had been there was gone. Interesting that she was more relieved than sad.





20


The pain was lessening.

RJ pounded shingles atop the boardinghouse roof, almost afraid to form the thought. Afraid if he actually put words to it, he would find the notion only his imagination, that the searing agony in his eye socket would rear its head once more, uglier than ever.

And yet it had been four days since he felt the need to take opium in order to sleep. Surely he wasn’t making that up. Adam had been applying the salt-mud poultices to his scar each evening for more than a week, and implausible though he might have thought it, the stuff appeared to be as healing as the elderly Pawnee woman had said.

He swung his leg down to find a foothold and clambered down the side of the building to fetch more nails. The walls were all closed in now, the roof nearing completion. Soon they’d be ready to work on finishing the inside, at least to the degree the Nielsen sisters wanted before they opened. To welcome travelers before Thanksgiving—that was their goal.

The crisp October breeze cooled the sweat from RJ’s neck, and he dipped a cup of water from the barrel. A beautiful day, a job he enjoyed, and a growing freedom from pain. Perhaps he could hope for a new life in Nebraska after all.

He scanned the building site and his men, working steadily. He had a good group now, after having to fire one more for drunkenness on the job, just not as large a force as he’d like. Not to finish the boardinghouse well in such a short time. He’d heard a number of potential workers had arrived on today’s train in response to Mr. Young’s advertisement but hadn’t seen any yet. He needed to check that out.

At the end of the day, RJ stopped at the Jorgensens’ mercantile on his way back to the Brownsvilles’. He kept forgetting to ask about the availability of the rooms next to the store, but now that he was feeling better, he might as well find out. Forsythia and Adam were nothing but gracious, but with Jesse and Climie also living under their roof, the place did get crowded at times.