But no. She could do this. Shewoulddo this.
Her neglected Bible needed opening, and her dry soul needed a bit of refreshment.
When she entered the building, the pianist began an introduction to a hymn.
Taking a seat in a pew in the back, she dared not look at any of the curious eyes staring at her. As soon as she was situated, the rest of the congregation stood and began to sing.
All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well,
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.
Eliza studied the back of the small crowd as they finished the hymn, and then everyone took their seats again. Her eyes widened. Not one of the women was wearing anything fancierthan a bonnet. And here she sat with what Devin called one of her monstrosities on top of her head.
If the massive thing hadn’t been seriously pinned into place, she might consider taking it off here and now.
And her dress. Granted it was the plainest one she owned, but it was a great deal fancier than any of the other attire in the room.
Heat rose to her face. She forced herself to swallow down the desire to escape. She was in church after all. The place where everyone was equal before God. It didn’t matter what one wore, right?
A large man with a weathered-looking Bible in his hand frowned at the congregation as he read from the Scriptures. His voice boomed in the small space, as he emphasized a lot of negative words from whatever passage he was preaching from—he jumped from one to the other without giving any references. She flipped around in her Bible and finally gave up.
Eliza frowned. The way he spoke left her... beaten down.
This service wasn’t encouraging at all.
In fact, it made her enormously uncomfortable.
She flipped to the Psalms and focused on the soothing words instead. She’d already been on edge before coming in here, and his yelling wasn’t helping at all.
But the more she focused on the page, the more her eyes drooped.
Perhaps she should have gone to bed a bit earlier last night. All she wanted now was to stretch out on the long wooden pew and close her eyes.
She blinked rapidly. That wouldn’t make a very good impression, now, would it?
Lifting her gaze back to the preacher, she studied him.
If she saw him on the street, would he have the same stern expression? If she didn’t know he was a preacher, she wouldsay by first impression that he was an angry and unhappy man.
That wasn’t fair. Was it?
How did someone know that a person loved God? By how they acted? How they treated people?
