Free The Maverick Preacher by Victoria Bylin Page A

and vibrant.
    “Where were you, Emily?”
    “Visiting friends.”
    “Who?”
    “You don’t know them.”
    It had been a clue, and Josh had missed it. He wished now that he’d shown more concern.
    He wouldn’t repeat that mistake with Adie. He wanted her to know he wouldn’t throw stones. Even more important, God loved her. Because of her generosity, the ulcer had started to heal. He wanted to return the favor with food for her soul. He pushed to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to Adie.”
    “Of course,” Bessie answered.
    He filled Adie’s water glass, then carried it to the porch, where he found her on the swing. He’d intended to call her Miss Clarke, but the name no longer fit. In his mind she’d become a friend, a sister like Emily.
    “Adie?”
    “Yes?” She sounded hoarse.
    “I brought you water.”
    As she sipped, he ambled to the railing. The moon and stars bathed the porch in silver light. When he turned around, he saw Adie’s watery eyes. Choking did that to a person, but she looked distraught for deeper reasons. He gentled his voice. “I’d like to tell you about Emily.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you two have something in common.”
    Tears glistened on her cheeks. She looked terrified.
    Guilt stabbed through Josh’s chest. Had Emily sat on a similar swing, weeping with shame for what she’d done? He blinked and thought of the women of Swan’s Nest. Pearl hadn’t once looked up from her plate. Mary had scowled at him all through supper, a sign that she, too, had resentments. Bessie and Caroline looked like sisters who’d walked a hard road. Mostly, though, he wondered about Adie. The thought tripped him like a wire. He didn’t want her to be special, butshe was. She’d fixed his meals and offered him milk. She had a baby who needed a father, a kind heart and a head full of red hair that defied combs and pins.
    Josh had never looked for a wife, nor had he met a woman who inspired such thoughts, at least not until now. Blinking, he flashed back to the times he’d hidden his laudanum bottle. If Adie had found it, she’d have spoken her mind and tossed it in the trash. She’d have held his feet to the fire in a way no one else had dared. Looking at her now, he wondered what it would be like to love a strong-minded woman.
    Two seconds later, he squared his shoulders inside his coat and called himself a fool. Only Adie mattered tonight. Later he’d deal with his wayward thoughts. Hoping to appear relaxed, he leaned against the railing and got back to telling Adie about his sister. “Among other things, you and Emily are both alone.”
    Her lip quivered.
    “You both lost families, either by choice or cruelty.”
    “You’re right.”
    He barely heard the whisper. “I also know you’re brave and kind. So is Emily.”
    She knotted her hands in her lap to hide the trembling. He couldn’t stand being her enemy. “I don’t know who hurt you, Adie. But I know God loves you.”
    “God?” Her mouth gaped.
    “He’s all-powerful. He’s—”
    “You came out here to talk about God? ”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Then why?”
    “I could see Emily’s story upset you.”
    “Just a little.”
    It had been a lot, but he let her keep her dignity. “Peoplejudge a single woman with a child. I know, because I judged my sister. I’ll regret it to my dying day.”
    “Don’t pity me, Reverend.”
    She spat his title. If she didn’t respect it, he didn’t want her to use it. “Call me Josh.”
    She glared at him.
    “Why not?” he asked. “It’s my name.”
    “All right,” she murmured. “I’ll call you Josh.”
    He liked the hush of it, the way it hung between them like fog. In Boston, he’d avoided being alone with women. When he made calls, he’d brought his sister. He didn’t feel that need with Adie. They were equals.
    “You remind me of Emily,” he said.
    “How so?”
    “In spite of being robbed of something, you both put others first. My sister worked