Free Love's First Bloom by Delia Parr

the village,” she said, disappointment edging her words. She stared down at the water flowing beneath the bridge.
    He chuckled. “No, not yet. It won’t be long before folks take notice, though, unless those flowers you plant don’t bloom until fall.”
    “How did you know that I—?”
    “I slip out here to the bridge early in the morning to think and pray a bit when I’m having trouble with my sermon, which is how I came to see you over there for the past few days. I’m usually gone by the time most folks even start their day and before you cross the bridge on your way home.”
    “But not today,” she noted.
    “Perhaps we’re both a bit … unsettled,” he offered.
    When she looked over at him, she saw that he was leaning against the railing now and had dropped his gaze to stare at the waves below.
    “My wife, Wealthy, passed six years ago tomorrow. As the date approaches, I’m afraid it’s still a difficult time for me, even though I know with all my heart that she’s safe and happy again now,” he whispered.
    Ruth was surprised by the pain that laced his words. Even this long after her death, he was still pining for his wife. She now understood why the childless widower had not remarried, although she could not explain why the women she had overheard gossiping about him did not know why their efforts to attract his attention had been in vain.
    He cleared his throat and gazed at her. “Being strong of faith doesn’t mean we don’t grieve or question God’s will. It just means we have to learn to trust Him more completely, which our faith helps us to do. I still struggle with trusting Him, just as everyone else does when their lives seem overburdened. Just as you must do. I know it’s still difficult to accept your husband’s recent passing and how hard it must be to be forced to accept the charity of relatives, but you still have your precious Lily to love and to hold and to remind you of the love you once shared with her father. God will help you. Trust in Him.”
    Trust in Him .
    Those were the very last words her father had spoken to her in the final moments before she left with Capt. Grant. She missed him desperately. How she longed to hear the whisper of his voice when he said farewell each morning before he took to the streets. Or the sound of his boots when he cleared off the mud before he entered the house at the end of the day to share supper with her.
    She fought the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks by clenching her jaw and taking long, slow breaths of air, and her throat tightened with guilt. Deceiving others in the village about her true identity might be necessary, but deliberately withholding the truth from a minister, especially this very kind minister, was even more difficult.
    Her conscience trembled, striking chords of need that tempted her to put her trust in him. But fear that she would somehow put her father’s fate at risk forced her to keep her secret to herself. “Yes, yes I do have Lily and … and family to take us in. Your words are very comforting. I think perhaps,”
    she added with sincerity, “you’ve found the heart of your message for this week’s sermon after all, since trusting in God is quite often a challenge for any believer.”
    When Rev. Haines finally glanced over at her, his smile was back. “Perhaps I have. Thank you.”
    She cocked a brow.
    “For listening to an old man’s troubles and reminding me to trust that He would guide me to the message He wanted me to share with the congregation this week,” he explained, then offered his arm. “Come. I think it’s time for both of us to get started on the rest of our day. Let me walk you partway home, at least. I promised Spinster Wyndam that I’d drop by for breakfast, and I don’t want to be late.”
    She took his arm and they started across the bridge. “I don’t think I’ve met her yet.”
    “She’s been a bit sickly of late, but I have no doubt you’ll meet her soon,” he