Free Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] by A Suitor for Jenny Page A

and fringe bangs. Though the mother was rather plainly dressed, there was nothing plain about Elizabeth’s outfit. Her navy blue knee-length dress was edged in lace and tied in back with a full bow.
    Old man Applegate glared at Jenny as he ambled past them, but he smiled at Sarah. “I see you’re still wearin’ your bustle in front,” he called.
    Sarah laughed. “’Fraid it’s gonna stay that way till September,” she called after him.
    “Is that when your baby’s due?” Jenny asked. “September?”
    “Sure as shootin’ is. Only three more months to go.” Sarah looked Jenny square in the face. “It’s hard walkin’ into a new church and all. But you’ll find us friendly as a swarm of bees.”
    Jenny wasn’t sure if Sarah meant that in a good or bad way, but she couldn’t help but smile. The preacher’s wife was as plain talking and straightforward as her dress. “It’s been a while.”
    Sarah regarded her with clear blue eyes. “Before I met Justin . . . Reverend Wells . . . I hadn’t stepped foot inside a church for sixteen years.” She glanced at the building, a fond look on her face. “Didn’t think I belonged here either.”
    Jenny stared at her. “I didn’t say I didn’t belong here.”
    “You may not have said it, but you sure do look it,” Sarah said.
    From inside the church came the sound of a piano. The tin roof vibrated, sending a hapless raven into the air, screeching in protest.
    “Come with me.” Sarah linked her free arm around Jenny’s, giving her no choice but to comply. Without another word, she walked Jenny into the church like she had every right to be there.
    All eyes were on the two women as they made their way down the center aisle. Gloved hands muffled whispered voices, but no amount of feathers, veils, or plumes could hide the disapproving stares from Rocky Creek’s small but opinionated female population.
    Jenny took her place next to Mary Lou. Sarah and Elizabeth sat on the other side of her.
    “It’s about time you got here,” Mary Lou said, sounding strangely flustered. Next to her, Brenda gave a shushing sound.
    Jenny glanced at Mary Lou’s red face. Was it possible that her sister felt as awkward at coming to church as she did? But why? What did Mary Lou have to worry about? It wasn’t as if she had done anything wrong.
    After a few moments of silence, the pianist pounded the ivory keys again, and the choir stood. The choir consisted of a motley group of men. Most of them didn’t seem to know a high C from a cow’s moo. One singer, however, saved the day, his resonant voice rising above and eventually drowning out the other voices.
    Jenny recognized the prominent singer. If she recalled correctly, his name was Mr. Barrel. He had presented himself as a potential suitor and was one of the few men whose writing skills met her criteria. However, his unfortunate choice of a profession disqualified him, as did his finances. With a voice like that, he should have been a singer rather than a barber. His bank account couldn’t have suffered any worse.
    After the singing stopped, Reverend Justin Wells took his place behind the podium. He was a tall, handsome man who managed to combine a commanding air with a humble countenance.
    “Welcome on this glorious day the Lord has made,” he began. “I see some new faces out there.” He looked straight at Jenny. “Strangers to the town, but not to God. No one is a stranger to God.”
    Jenny’s face grew hot. Was she that easy to read? Both the pastor and his wife were able to accurately guess her discomfort. What else could they guess? Were her secrets not safe?
    Feeling exposed, Jenny glanced around. Her gaze inadvertently locked with the marshal seated on the other side of the aisle. He acknowledged her with a slight nod as if he, too, guessed the reasons for her reluctance to be there.
    Cheeks burning, she quickly pulled her gaze away. For the rest of the service, she focused on Reverend Wells, looking