Free Stealing the Preacher by Karen Witemeyer

Timid at first, her breathy tones slipped softly into the morning air. She twisted her head to peer behind her, making sure no one was within earshot.

    “‘For the love which from our birth, over and around us lies.’” Joanna’s voice grew stronger as she entered the churchyard. The words brought her mother to mind as well as her God, and her heart swelled as she moved into the chorus. “‘Lord of all, to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise.’”
    Her gaze caressed the trees by the church walls as she sang the second verse, the lyrics proclaiming God’s glory in his creation. Joanna’s voice grew bolder as she climbed the steps. Swept up in the moment, she turned around and truly raised her song to the heavens.
    “‘For the joy of human love; brother, sister, parent, child. Friends on—’”
    “‘Earth and friends above,’” a rich, masculine voice sang from behind. “‘For all gentle thoughts and mild.’”
    Joanna gasped and spun around.
    Crockett Archer, eyes twinkling, stood in the chapel entrance.
    Heat flooded her cheeks. Would she forever be embarrassing herself in front of this man? And how had he even come to be here? A dozen questions raced through her mind, but they all dissolved on her tongue as the handsome parson ignored her distress and continued singing, his deep baritone resonating through her.
    “‘Lord of all, to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise.’”
    She expected him to stop after the refrain, but he continued unabashedly on to the final verse and turned to her, silently urging her to join him.
    Unable to resist, and not really wanting to, Joanna shyly added her melody to his, while returning her attention to the sky, away from Brother Archer’s all-too-penetrating stare.
    “‘For thy church that evermore lifteth holy hands above.’” Gradually, she increased her volume until she matched his, finding an amazing freedom in singing without reservation. “‘Off’ring up on every shore her pure sacrifice of love.’”

    When they came to the final refrain, she switched from the melody to a line of harmony and closed her eyes as the blend of notes reached into her very spirit. “‘Lord of all, to Thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise.’”
    The final chord hung in the air between them, the memory of its sound filling the silence. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, then Brother Archer murmured a quiet, reverent “Amen.”
    The Lord had blessed her with another gift, Joanna decided. A perfect moment to treasure in her heart.
    Brother Archer turned to her then, a rascal’s grin curving his lips. “Surprise.”
    That was stating it mildly.
    Joanna darted a smile up at him, amazed at how comfortable she’d grown beside him as they sang. Usually her encounters with men left her acutely aware of her shortcomings, despite their efforts at politeness. But Brother Archer was different. Instead of kindly overlooking her flaws, he acted as if he were completely unaware of their existence.
    “What are you doing here?” Joanna blurted, needing to change the directions of her thoughts before she could examine them too closely.
    The parson winked at her. “Granting a birthday wish.”
    Joanna’s breath caught. Does he mean . . . ? Is he . . . staying? Her heart hammered wildly in her breast until logic asserted itself. The man had a job waiting for him. Whatever his reasons for returning, she’d be foolish to read too much into them.
    Brother Archer took her arm and led her into the small entryway. “After I wired the elders in Brenham, they responded by asking me to hold up in Deanville until they could meet and decide on a new plan. So, since I won’t be delivering my sermon there this morning, I thought it might be nice to deliver it somewhere else. To someone who might appreciate it more than the pillows in my room at the boardinghouse.”

    He grinned at her with such sincerity and good humor that Joanna felt guilty over the