Free Autumn Winds by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

all that time alone with this handsome fellow when the storm blew him in. Was it wrong to want to prove to Ben Hooley that she was the woman he’d be happier with? While it was the man’s place to do the courting, surely it was the woman’s place to put good ideas in his head about where and when . . . and how that might come about.
    “I surely do appreciate your kindness,” their guest replied. In the light from the lanterns, his face took on the soft shadows of the autumn night as he smiled at them. “With the cooler weather—and considerin’ how I’m to be at Hiram’s place first thing tomorrow—a gut night’s rest will be to my advantage.”
    “And ya won’t have far to go for your breakfast, either!” Rachel smiled. “That’s one more thing the bishop won’t like so much, but then, we’re offerin’ hospitality like Jesus said we’re to do, ain’t so?”
    “Hiram aside,” Mamma remarked—as though aside was exactly where she wanted to put him—“we’re happy to let ya stay there, after the way ya repaired the café’s window. I’m still goin’ to pay ya for that—”
    “And I’m still refusin’ your money, Miriam. You’re feedin’ me all this gut food and now puttin’ me up for the night,” Ben pointed out. “A man can’t ask for better than that.”
    Rhoda gazed into the evening, smiling. She imagined escorting this fellow to the little nest above the smithy . . . being the one to make sure he was up and around in time for breakfast . . . cooking his favorite foods and pouring his coffee in the morning. Tomorrow might be a fine day to wear the new burgundy dress she’d made last week.
    “We end our days with a Bible passage, Ben,” Mamma said, interrupting Rhoda’s thoughts. “Would ya be so kind as to read for us tonight? Always gut to hear the Lord’s word in a man’s voice, considerin’ it’s just us girls here now.”
    Rhoda stopped short of rolling her eyes. Why was Mamma seeing herself as a girl, when she was forty? “I’ll fetch the Bible,” she said, rising from the chair beside Ben’s. “Anybody want more of that cake, or maybe a cup of tea?”
    Mamma and Rachel shook their heads, but when Ben held her gaze with a mischievous grin, Rhoda laughed. “Catchin’ up on all the bedtimes when ya didn’t have a little somethin’ sweet?”
    He chuckled and looked away. “You could say that, jah . I’ll be pleased to read from the Lord’s word tonight,” he added. “Are ya followin’ a certain book? Wantin’ to hear anythin’ in particular?”
    “You pick!” Rachel said. “We do like Dat did, lettin’ the Gut Book fall open and puttin’ our finger down with our eyes shut. Seems our Bible’s so cracked and creased, we do a lot of repeatin’, though.”
    As she caught the screen door against her backside, Rhoda’s mind raced. Now that Micah and Tom—and the bishop—were gone, it felt so nice and cozy to be on the porch with Ben. Soon the chill of the October nights would drive them inside again for their evening devotionals . . . and by then, who knew what might become of Ben Hooley? Would he finish his jobs and drive on down the road?
    She intended to see that he did not leave them. Why couldn’t she be the one who gave this fellow the best reason of all to stay?
    Rhoda put a thick slab of the coconut cake on a plate, with a fork. She ran her finger quickly through the gooey part that stuck to the cake platter, closing her eyes over the sweetness of sugar, butter, and coconut—cake as only Mamma could make it, and far better than the bishop deserved for his birthday. More like the wedding cakes they’d been baking for a lot of brides around the district, and soon for Rachel and Micah . . .
    And why not for me? I got baptized years ago. Have traveled these back roads in many a rig after singin’s, and still haven’t found a fella I want to live with . . .
    She picked up the big Bible from the table in the front room and returned to the porch.