“Here, take mine. I can make another,” Amy said, giving him an encouraging smile.
The meal continued with less bickering but an undercurrent of tension that had Amy worrying about what her first church service with her family would be like.
After breakfast, Tim stepped outside to hitch up the wagon. Amy followed, smoothing down her simple dress, her hands trembling. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was about going to church in her new community.
“Ready?” Tim called over his shoulder, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled reassuringly at her.
“Guess I have to be,” Amy replied, mustering a brave front. Her palms felt clammy against the fabric of her skirt.
“Hey, it’s just church,” Tim chuckled. “And after today, it’ll just be another Sunday routine.”
“Hope so,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“Look at it this way,” Tim said as he took the reins and gave her a sidelong glance, “it’s a fine day for introductions.”
“Sure is,” Amy agreed, the optimism in Tim’s tone infectious. She settled into the seat beside him, taking comfort in the warmth of his presence. The children all climbed into the backof the wagon, and Amy sensed there was still friction between George and Beatrice.
Amy stepped down from the wagon in front of the church, her heart lightening at the sight of friendly faces. Elizabeth’s blond hair glimmered in the sunlight, and Susan’s warm smile beckoned her closer.
“Elizabeth! Susan!” Amy exclaimed, rushing over to embrace them both. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Look at you, a breath of fresh air,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Welcome to the community, Amy,” Susan added, her voice rich with maternal warmth.
Their familiar banter helped settle Amy’s nerves. And then she saw Gail, her sister, standing a little apart, her gaze lingering on the oak trees that dotted the churchyard.
“Gail!” Amy called out, hurrying toward her. “I’ve been dreaming of a treehouse for the children. You think you could build one?”
Gail turned, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “Treehouse? I’d love to! But, Amy, I won’t take cookies as payment this time.”
“Deal,” Amy laughed. “How about a day of cooking at the restaurant instead?”
“Perfect! I’m tired of cooking anyway, and we both know you’re a much better cook than I am.” Gail grinned, clapping her hands together in excitement.
As they chatted about the treehouse, Amy’s eyes wandered to the front steps of the church where Hannah stood, her arms wrapped around herself in a self-embrace, speaking earnestly with Amos, the pastor.
“Excuse me, Gail,” Amy said, her curiosity piqued. She made her way to her younger sister, whose presence in such a holy place seemed as out of character as a fish climbing a tree.
“Hannah?” Amy approached cautiously. “What brings you here?”
Hannah turned, a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips. “Oh, Amy, you wouldn’t believe it. Amos and I, we...we got married.”
“Married?” Amy blinked, taken aback by the revelation. “But you and church...”
“He wasn’t even there to meet a woman. He was only there to perform weddings, but I saw him, and well...” Hannah said, her eyes softening as she glanced at Amos.
“Congratulations,” Amy managed, though a knot of concern formed in her stomach. Hannah and faith had always been like oil and water. Could such a union truly last?
“Thank you, Amy,” Hannah replied. “I hope you’ll support us.”
“Of course, Hannah,” Amy assured her, though the doubt lingered like a stubborn shadow. Attraction was powerful, but was it enough to bridge the gap between a skeptic and a pastor? Only time would tell.
The sermon was well underway, the pastor’s voice a gentle hum in the background when Amy caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned just in time to see Beatrice’s foot connect with George’s shin, not with the playful tap of siblings in silent disagreement, but with the sharpness of pent-up frustration. George’s yelp sliced through the pastor’s words, and silence fell like a heavy curtain over the congregation.
Amy felt a blush warm her cheeks as heads swiveled their way, eyes filled with curious disapproval. She stood swiftly, skirts rustling softly against the pew. With a firm but gentle grip, she took Beatrice’s hand, whispering words meant to soothe and scold all at once. “Now, Beatrice, you know that’s no way to act in the Lord’s house.”
“Sorry,” Beatrice muttered, not meeting Amy’s gaze as they made their way down the aisle.
