Free The Maverick Preacher by Victoria Bylin Page B

in an orphanage. You take care of your boarders.”
    “Of course I do. They’re my friends.”
    “It’s more than that,” he said. “I hurt Emily, but she didn’t crawl into a hole and feel sorry for herself. She came west to make a new life. You’ve done the same, Adie. You’re both survivors.”
    She put her hand to her mouth and coughed. “If you’ll excuse me, I should do the dishes.”
    Josh had pressed her as far as he could. “I’ll help.”
    She stood. “No, thank you.”
    “Really, I’d like—”
    “No,” she insisted. “You’re a paying guest.”
    Josh knew about drawing lines. This one annoyed him. From what he’d observed, Adie worked harder than the Blue family servants. “Your other boarders help. So can I.”
    She looked peeved. “Not tonight.”
    “Then tomorrow.”
    “Fine.” She stood and headed for the door. When she reached the threshold, she turned. Her shadow spoke to him in a hush. “I hope you find your sister.”
    “So do I.”
    She stepped into the house, leaving behind the scent of rosewater. Josh hadn’t smelled rosewater in years. It took him back to his mother’s sitting room where she’d read stories to Josh and Emily every night.
    His sister felt close, or was it Adie’s presence he sensed? Josh didn’t know, but he had a confession to make. Deep down, he envied Adie Clarke. She had a home and a son, good friends and a belly that didn’t hurt. Tonight she’d sleep in a clean bed. Tomorrow she’d bake bread. In the past year, Josh had ridden in the rain, slept in muddy caves and eaten snake for supper. He lived with an ulcer and a craving for opium. Like the Apostle Paul, he’d learned how to abase and abound, how to live well or humbly depending on the Lord’s provision.
    He wanted to say that he’d learned to be content in all things, Paul’s declaration to the Philippians, but he couldn’t make that claim. Tonight he felt a longing for the soft timbre of Adie’s voice. He liked her far more than was wise for a man destined to leave. With an emptiness he didn’t want to admit, he sat in the swing, bowed his head and prayed for Adie, Emily and all the women of Swan’s Nest, but especially for Adie.
     
    Adie went to the kitchen, saw that her friends had done the dishes and headed to her room. She needed to hold her son to chase away thoughts of Emily Blue. As she climbed the stairs, she thought about Josh’s description of his sister and how he’d compared Adie to Emily, calling them both survivors. Maggie had called herself a survivor with pride. Adie would have described her just as Josh had described his sister. Her friend had overcome everything except death.
    As Adie neared her bedroom, she heard a creak from down the hall. She turned and saw Pearl looking pale and afraid.
    “Are you okay?” Adie asked.
    “Can I speak with you?”
    “Of course.” She went to her room with Pearl, lit the lamp and checked Stephen. His little chest rose and fell in a soothing rhythm. No colic tonight. Relieved, she turned to the bed where Pearl was lying on her side to ease the pressure on her back. She looked as round as the moon.
    “I’m scared,” she said.
    “Of what?”
    “Giving birth.”
    “You’ll do fine.” Adie sounded confident, but she knew the risks. So did Pearl.
    “I want you to promise me something.”
    Adie flashed to Maggie lying on soiled sheets. Ashen and weak, she’d made the same request as Pearl. She’d asked Adie for a promise. “What is it?”
    “If something happens to me—”
    “It won’t.”
    “It could and we both know it.” Pearl sounded strong, even wise. “If I don’t survive the birth, I want you to give the baby to my father. I don’t want Frank to even see my child.”
    Adie gripped her hand. “I promise.”
    “My father’s a good man.”
    Adie wasn’t so sure. Reverend Oliver had taken Dean’s word over his daughter’s. He struck her as stern, but Pearl loved him. “I’ll do whatever you