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He stiffened, prepared to whisk Bonnie away if things got too ugly.
"You've been keeping this precious child all to yourself. You could have brought her to me. I would have taken her in."
He stared at her. "You?"
"Yes, me. Close your mouth and stop looking so surprised. I know what people have been saying. I'm very angry you would think that of me, however. After what happened before." She clamped her lips together and
glanced significantly at the obviously listening people around them.
She was referring to her bedside vigil when his mother had been dying. He didn't know what to say. He'd never thought of taking Bonnie to Mrs. Dobson's house because the woman had always sided so firmly with the town. As a boy, she'd often scolded him for getting into trouble. He drew his eyebrows together. Maybe she wasn't as horrible as he'd thought then. Maybe she'd only been concerned about him.
"Justin?" Bonnie tugged on his coat sleeve. "Don't send me away."
He smiled at her. "You're going to stay with me, honey. Don't you worry. Mrs. Dobson was just offering her hospitality."
The widow nodded. "You're a sweet little girl and a bright spot to my day in the store." She turned to Justin. "I'm teaching her numbers and some ciphering. She's quite intelligent. Now, are you going to stand there like a clod, or are you going to escort me into church?"
He glanced back at the Greeleys openly listening to the conversation, then down at the small woman. "You amaze me, ma'am." He held out his arm. She slipped her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow. "Is that a new hat you're wearing? It's lovely."
She tapped his hand. "Don't you try your sweet talk on me, young man. I'm too old for your wickedness." She paused just inside the church, then pointed. "We'll sit there, next to Megan." She started walking. "No, I'll go in first." She slid into the pew and adjusted her voluminous dress. Bonnie went next and Justin sat on the aisle. He tried to see around Mrs. Dobson to greet Megan, but the widow's hat was too large. He settled for looking at the church.
Not that much had changed in the last seven years. The pews were still backless benches, the pulpit simple. He'd never spent much time in church, but occasionally his mother had made him go. He saw a mousy young woman sit down at an organ. She barely looked big enough to reach all the keys, but when her fingers began to move across the instrument, the music that swelled out through the church was stunningly beautiful.
"That's new," he said to Mrs. Dobson.
She glanced up. "Oh, yes. Megan donated it three years ago. We're fortunate to have our own organ and a minister in residence here in Landing. The other neighboring towns have to make do with occasional visits. We get him three Sundays a month/'
"It's very fortunate," he mumbled. Mrs. Dobson shot him a look, but he ignored her. He would bet his salary Colleen had blackmailed the organ out of her sister. He would pay that amount again to find out how.
Mrs. Greeley and her husband started up the center aisle. As they passed, Justin put his arm around Bonnie.
"Good morning, Anabell and Winston," Mrs. Dobson said. "How are you?"
The couple paused. Justin saw the emotions flicker across Mrs. Greeley's middle-aged face. Finally, she turned toward their pew. "Good morning, yourself, Catherine. We're fine."
"Good." Mrs. Dobson smiled. "You've met Justin, of course, and this is Bonnie."
Anabell Greeley gripped her reticule so tightly, Justin thought she might tear it in two. She inhaled sharply and the color fled her pinched face. Finally, she nodded. "Megan, Sheriff." She gritted her teeth. "Bonnie." Then she turned away and marched up the center aisle, leaving her husband to tip his hat and trail after her.
The widow kept at the people arriving, until the entire congregation had been introduced to the child. Bonnie smiled winningly, showed a select few her precious doll and snuggled close to him for protection when the sharp stares got to be too much. By the time the service started, Justin was too exhausted to do more than listen.
Gene Estes's choice of sermons got his attention, though, when about ten minutes into his preaching the minister started going on about the wages of sin. Justin could feel the stares of the townspeople. Those words were meant for him and little Bonnie. But their impact was lessened by Mrs. Dobson's unmistakable acceptance of the child. She'd smoothed the way.
