Free Whispers on the Wind (A Prairie Hearts Novel Book 5) by Caroline Fyffe Page A

lifted the large fruit jar of fall leaves, arranged just so. She positioned the container, accented by a few cattails collected from the banks of Shady Creek, on one side of the church’s altar. The room was quiet. The only illumination streamed through the six rectangular windows, three to each side, that ran the length of the simple nave.
    She rotated the jar, careful not to spill water on the snowy-white altar cloth she’d just laid down. After a long scrutiny through discerning eyes, she turned the adornment back to its original position.
    “It’s simple, Lord, but the best I can do this time of year. Hope ya like it.”
    When the door opened, she turned. Reverend Wilbrand, wearing brown trousers and a light coat, stepped inside and stopped. “Violet? What a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to find you here this early.”
    “Just dressing the church for tomorrow’s service.”
    The reverend came forward. Although he was in his midforties, the preacher’s face always reminded her of a mischievous boy’s. He was tall and trim. Had come to Logan Meadows some ten or twelve years back, passing through on his way to Washington. When he’d discovered their preacher had taken sick and died, he stayed on.
    “Don’t you usually do this in the afternoon?”
    “Ya know me pretty well, don’t ya, you young whippersnapper?” Sentiment swirled in her breast. Would anyone miss her after she’d passed?
    He cocked his head and chuckled. “Yes. I think I do.” His astute gaze took in her face. He came closer. “Is something wrong, Violet? Are you feeling well?”
    She straightened her spine, despite the bolt of lightning it caused, putting on a good front for the reverend. “I’m as fit as a fiddle, as you can see.” She pointed to the broom, dusting rags, and jar of lemon oil she’d left next to the wall after she’d given the pews a good polishing, and the floor a thorough sweeping. “I jist wanted ta get done a mite early. No sin against that, last time I checked—though things may have changed?” She narrowed her eyes at him. No youngster was going to boss her around, even if he was the preacher. “I have some bakin’ ta do later on.” And I’m movin’ slower than a turtle this week. When Pansy crowed this morning, I had ta force my ol’ bones from the warm covers. Right then and there I knew iffin I didn’t start early, I might not get finished on time.
    He put his hand on her shoulder. “You need to let the other ladies help you. I know a handful have offered more than once. Susanna, Hannah, Brenna, Tabitha, just to name a few, but you always turn them down. It’s not a crime to grow older, Violet. Or to ask for some help.”
    “I don’t do it for them, I do it for the Lord!” She gazed at the ceiling, imagining a multitude of angels looking down at her from puffy white clouds. “He and I have a standing date. I’m not givin’ that up for nothin’.”
    The patient look on the reverend’s face almost made her scowl, but that wouldn’t be right in the house of worship.
    “I’m not asking you to give it up, Violet. All I’m saying is let the others help. Have you ever thought that you might be robbing them of their chance to do something for God? Maybe they’d like to have a standing date, too.”
    “Let ’em do something else. This job will be open soon enough.”
    She hadn’t meant to sound so crotchety. It was just that she wanted to live her days out until the end her way. If she stopped doing, and being, and saying, what kind of life would that be? Not one to contemplate in her way of thinking.
    Reverend Wilbrand took a deep breath, and slowly turned a circle. “Everything looks very nice. Like always. Thank you for all you do.”
    That was better. She nodded. “My pleasure, Reverend. Now, I best put these things away, and get on to my other errands. Time’s a-wastin’.”
    With her basket of eggs over her arm, Violet took the little dirt path that led down the hill from the