Free Jewel of Gresham Green by Lawana Blackwell Page B

slowly, pressed both fists behind her hips to quell the dull ache. But it’s not kind to a woman’s back .
    Luke straightened just as slowly and began carrying his shovel over to the potting hut. “Fine work, Mrs. Phelps.”
    “Thank you, Luke.” She looked up at the sound of the kitchen door. Andrew was descending the stone steps.
    “Hallo, beautiful!” he called.
    “Aw, Vicar . . . most kind of you,” Luke said from the shadow of the hut. “But I fear my nose is too big.”
    Andrew squinted in his direction, chuckled. Julia laughed, as well. The moment was made funnier by the fact that Luke was most times contentedly stoic.
    The rider had been Jack Sanders, Andrew said as he drew closer with a piece of paper in hand. Julia’s breath caught in her throat. Laurel, little Abigail, Ben? Grace and Thomas? Philip and Loretta? Telegrams never brought good news. But Andrew did not look grim; in fact, he still wore the smile left over from Luke’s quip.
    “What is it?” Julia asked.
    “Well, a mystery. We’re to give the servants the day off and wait.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “That’s what it says.”
    She took it with her dirt-stained fingers. To the word, it said, Give servants day off. Wait for delivery .
    “Did Jack say who sent it?”
    “All he knew was that it originated in the Liverpool office, just after opening this morning.”
    They knew not a soul in Liverpool. The fact that it was the main shipping terminal in Britain meant it could be someone newly arrived from overseas. Just Friday past they had received a letter from Laurel, saying they anticipated returning to England in January if Ben’s project was concluded upon schedule. And the Clays were not due to arrive for eighteen more days.
    “What shall we do?” Julia asked.
    “I’ve given Dora and Wanetta the remainder of the day off. Dora’s about to set out for the lending library and to visit her parents. Wanetta asked me to inform Luke.”
    He turned again toward the hut. Luke was coming back through the door with pruning shears in hand.
    “Did you hear, Luke? Take the day off.”
    “Why, thank you, Vicar,” he said, and ducked back into the hut. As he entered the garden again, without the shears, he said, “I’ll fetch Lucas. It’s a fine day for fishing.”
    “I wouldn’t plan on that, good man. Wanetta said something about a long overdue visit to your mother.”
    “Ah.” Luke shrugged and started for the kitchen steps.
    “Poor Luke,” Andrew said when the door closed behind him.
    “And poor Lucas,” Julia said. Mrs. Smith was a self-absorbed woman, hedged about with complaints.
    “Poor Mrs. Smith,” Andrew added. “To conduct yourself in such a way that it’s a chore for your own children to visit.”
    Julia thought of Philip once again.
    The sympathy in Andrew’s expression melded into anticipation. “I wonder who sent it. We didn’t expect our adventures to begin so soon, did we?”
    He was as pleased as a dog with two tails, almost giddy. She narrowed her eyes. “What have you cooked up, Andrew Phelps?”
    He put a hand to his heart. “On my life, I’m as in the dark over this as you are.”
    Whatever was going to happen, she should not meet it with dirt beneath her fingernails. She went upstairs in the empty house, washed up, and changed into a simple gown of raspberry muslin shot with blue.
    “What shall we do now?”
    “Sit in the garden and wait, I suppose.”
    And thus they shared a bench, watching Vicarage Lane, as if that would cause the mystery person or persons to materialize. The village was as serene as usual. Cows lowed on their way from milking to pastures. Childish voices were raised in play. River grasses rustled on the banks of the Bryce. A breeze sifted through the leaves of the chestnut tree shading the front gate.
    “I should get my novel,” Julia said, thinking of the half-finished copy of Wilkie Collins’ The Woman in White in the parlor. “Shall I bring your sermon notes?”
    He