Beloved Counterfeit (32 page)

Even as Micah laughed at the image, he looked forward to the pair’s arrival with mixed emotions. Less responsibility gave him more time with Ruby and the girls. This much he appreciated, though lately he’d sensed something not quite right with his wife.

While she never failed to respond to him in the dark, her gaze often did not quite meet his in the daylight. Maybe he’d ask Josiah about that. He had far more experience as a husband than Micah did.

Josiah had also sent word that he and Isabelle would be returning early—possibly today. Soon they would be ushering another child into the world, and Isabelle insisted Viola be in attendance for the birth. Micah tapped his pen against the edge of the inkwell then set it aside.

He’d figured to be making those sorts of plans with Ruby by now.

At the sound of footsteps on the front steps, Micah looked up from his corner of the dining table. The boarders, a pair of missionaries awaiting transport to points south, stepped inside, interrupting their animated conversation to greet him, then disappearing upstairs.

Micah returned to his sermon notes but found that his thoughts refused to follow. He chafed at the reminder that nearly three months after the wedding, he was no closer to moving his family to a home of their own, despite the fact Mrs. Campbell had written to say she would be working on a replacement for Ruby.

Though Micah hated to see Ruby working, even now that he’d hired others to do everything but the cooking, he did welcome the security the big house on the hill provided, especially when his militia duties kept him away.

Thankfully, the Seminole threat seemed to have passed, at least in Fairweather Key. Despite their position far south of any attacks, the militia remained vigilant with at least two men on guard at any time. Later tonight, Micah would take his turn despite the fact that the late shifts had begun to be a point of contention in his marriage.

While he didn’t blame Ruby for her concern, it bothered Micah a bit that she didn’t appreciate his willingness as a leader to take on the same duties as those he commanded. At least he assumed that was the issue behind her behavior.

The object of his thoughts passed through the room, and he reached out to snag her around the waist. “Micah Tate, you do carry on,” she said, though she willingly set aside her basket of laundry and landed in his lap.

“Yes,” he said as he kissed her soundly then set her upright again and allowed her to go on her way, “I do, but with good reason.”

Indeed, he had plenty of good reasons for carrying on. Ruby O’Shea—Ruby Tate, he corrected—and her three daughters had brought him a happiness he’d never thought he’d have again.

Which brought him to the choice to revisit the idea of second chances.

His sermon idea—or rather, Ruby’s idea—using the novel
Robinson Crusoe
was so well received back when he’d given it that Micah had decided to use the idea again. This time, however, he planned to add an exercise. So sure was he that this exercise would be beneficial to the parishioners that he told Rev. Carter that he would first try it at home with Ruby.

The prospect of telling her the whole truth about Caroline and the baby so soon into their marriage troubled him, though Micah knew the Lord would go before him to smooth the way for his news. He wouldn’t require anything from Ruby, as he would be telling the congregation the exercise was voluntary though recommended.

Besides, what would she have to confess that he hadn’t already guessed? Somehow she’d fallen in with a man who traveled in a rough crowd. Youthful foolishness was his guess. Love brought three daughters, though the man obviously raised his fists to Ruby more than once.

The idea of anyone inflicting harm on her made him shake with rage.
It’s a good thing he’s dead, or I’d have to kill him.

Micah looked down at his fists then sat back stunned.
Where did that come from?
He obviously had some business to do with God before he could broach the topic with Ruby of her life before she married him.

Better to keep tonight’s conversation centered on him without letting it stray to her. This decided, Micah reached once again for his notes from the earlier sermon. He’d preached this sermon as a man whose wife of only a few days sat in the front row. Staying focused on the topic had been difficult, for somehow he’d become hopelessly besotted with the woman he’d never expected to love.

And it happened in the first hours of their life together.

The door opened again, but Micah ignored it. “Might an old man interrupt?”

He looked up to see Rev. Carter standing in the doorway. Rising to offer the pastor a chair, Micah smiled. “I’d not call your visit an interruption. Do sit.” He waited until the old man had settled in his chair before returning to his place. “I hope you’ve not come to tell me you’ve changed your mind about Sunday’s sermon. I had an idea to do something that I think will be quite effective.”

“Oh no, son,” he said as he placed a stack of mail on the table. “Rather, I’ve come for something else.”

“The mail?” Micah spied a letter sitting atop the stack that caused his breath to catch in his throat. As he gathered his wits and slid the documents aside, he knew there was only one reason Caleb would be receiving a letter from the authorities in Texas.

Micah’s heart sank as Rev. Carter continued to stare.

“Well,” Micah said as he cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter. “I do appreciate the favor of delivering these, though I hate that you went to all the trouble.” Again he slipped a peek at the letter.

“No trouble at all. I happened to be strolling past the mail boat and offered to deliver these as I was already headed this way.” Josiah’s father leaned his cane against the table, and the silver lion’s head caught the light. “Though perhaps you’ll wish I’d chosen to discuss one Sunday rather than a multitude of them.”

“A multitude, sir?”

“It cannot come as a surprise that I would extend the offer of handing over my pastorate to you, Micah,” he said.

“Why now?” was all Micah could manage.

Hezekiah Carter’s brows rose. “In a word, William.” He shook his head. “The boy’s bright. He was headed for school in London when he and Josiah arrived here.”

“I didn’t know that,” Micah said, “though I have noticed the boy’s of above-average intelligence.”

“Indeed, he is,” the pastor said, “and I wish to reward his studious nature by showing him the Continent.”

Unannounced, Josiah Carter stepped into the room and embraced his father. “And to think when I was William’s age you only wanted to show me the door.” Before the reverend could protest, Josiah waved his objections away. “I deserved far worse, Father,” he said, “and I can admit that now.”

Micah rose to shake his friend’s hand. “Welcome back. You’ve been missed.”

“And it appears I almost missed something important here.” He claimed the chair next to his father. “Am I wrong, or are you ceding your spot in the pulpit to my friend Tate here?”

“I am,” Hezekiah said. “And with no hesitation.”

Micah froze, unable to speak. For a moment, he considered tossing the letter from Texas into the fire.

Josiah smiled. “It appears a celebration is in order.”

“Not yet, Son,” Rev. Carter said. “The lad’s not yet agreed.”

“What?” Josiah swung his gaze to Micah. “Well, put the man out of his misery and tell him you’ll do it.”

“I don’t know.” Micah returned to his seat and laid his palm over the stack of letters. “It’s a big job. I wonder if I’m up to it.”

Rev. Carter reached for his cane then pointed it toward Micah. “Promise me you will never lose that feeling of inadequacy, and I’ll hand over the keys to the parsonage this very minute.”

The parsonage.

A home of their own.

Micah swallowed hard and tried to think of what to do next. Of what to say.

“Surely you’ve been praying about the day this would happen,” Josiah said.

“I have,” Micah managed to say. “I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

“Have you told him the rest of it, Father?” Josiah asked.

“Not yet.” Hezekiah leaned forward. “I’ve a further piece of information for you, Micah.” He paused as a look passed between him and his son. “Our Isabelle has made a purchase with the inheritance she received from her late father.” Another pause, this time to tame a grin. “Mrs. Campbell drove a hard bargain, but our Isabelle is now the owner of the boardinghouse. Or rather,” he said with a chuckle, “she and Mary, as the two ladies have been plotting this for quite some time.”

“Isabelle and Mrs. Carter?” Micah struggled to take in all the news. “Why? What possessed her to. . .”

Josiah shrugged. “I advise not to try to logic it out, Micah. Between Isabelle and Mary, the place will be in good hands, though I’m sure they will be looking to Ruby for the occasional recipe and possibly help with the menus.”

“I’m sure she’d be willing to do whatever is asked of her,” he said. “Though she will be the one to tell you that for certain.”

Hezekiah rose, ignoring his son’s offer of help. “We shall consider it settled. You’re already preparing a sermon for Sunday.”

“I am,” Micah said as he stood on shaking legs.

“Then with your permission, I shall make the announcement of your pending pastorate at that time.”

Micah nodded. “I’ll speak to Ruby first, of course.”
And the authorities in Texas.

“Of course,” he said. “And you’ll let her know she’ll be handing her pots and pans over to my wife as soon as the switch can be managed?”

“I will.” He rounded the table to shake Rev. Carter’s hand as Josiah clapped him on the back. “But I must ask, are you certain of all this?”

“I am.”

And with the reverend’s firm assertion, Micah knew his life had taken an interesting turn. Or it might have had his past not caught up with him. Even as he stepped out onto the porch to bid the Carter men good-bye, he was plotting how he might best tell the news to Ruby.

He walked back into the dining room like a man heading for the gallows. Again the fireplace beckoned.

Lifting the letter, Micah held it to the light. It was certainly within his authority to open any correspondence sent to the person in charge. He’d been doing just that ever since Caleb left.

Micah broke the seal and opened the letter, then held it against his chest while he petitioned the Lord to care for his wife and the children he would surely soon leave behind.

His eyes scanned the page.

“No offense found,” he read. “No offense found.” Micah’s heart soared as he read sentences offering him up as a man with whom the state of Texas could find no fault.

“I’m free.” He stood then fell back into the chair as the welcome relief of laughter overtook him.

“What’s so funny in there, Micah Tate?”

Ruby. He smiled as his laughter faded to a chuckle. He should tell her all of it, but where to start?

In one brief conversation, all his prayers had been answered. Well, he decided, almost all of them.
But there will be a babe soon enough.

Micah returned to his sermon notes then gave up his studies and leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes.
Lord, I am a man truly blessed.

“Sleeping on the job, are you?” Ruby ruffled his hair as she passed by again, well aware of his habit of praying during the sermon preparations, which were coming at regular intervals of late.

“Research for Sunday’s sermon. Also, I’m pondering answered prayers.” Micah paused. “Might I count on some time with you after dinner? I could use your listening ear on both topics.”

“Yes, of course,” she said as she swiped at her forehead with the corner of her apron. “Something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said. “I’m merely in need of a bit of sermon help.” He swiveled to face her. “If you’re agreeable, that is.”

Ruby nodded and went back to her work. “I’ll see the girls are in bed early.”

True to her word, Ruby had the twins settled and Tess sleeping soundly well before their usual bedtime. “How did you do that?” he asked when she returned to their bedchamber and closed the door.

“Prayer,” she said. “And a promise to begin reading
Robinson Crusoe
to them as soon as their papa was finished with it. Which I told them I would ask you about tonight when we had our special conversation.”

Papa.

His mind hung up on that word and took in very little of the rest, though he did manage a nod and a murmur of agreement.

Papa.

Micah grinned as he thought of moving his family of five—soon to be more, he hoped—into the parsonage. It had taken Maggie and Tess very little time to warm up to him. Carol, however, still maintained a distance that only the rarest of smiles could sometimes breach.

Likely she’d not be thrilled to know her mother associated her with the other two traitors, as he’d overheard Carol call them when they referred to Micah in fatherly terms. She alone of the three maintained that her father would someday return for her, though both Maggie and Tess had assured him their father had drowned when his boat was sunk.

Micah found it troublesome that Ruby did not correct Carol, though he’d thus far kept his peace on the matter. Once Carol decided he was not a stranger to be ignored—or worse, an interloper who meant to take her mother away—then perhaps they would broach the topic of what to call him. After that, they would tackle the subject of her father’s death.

“Micah?”

He turned to find Ruby already at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. “Yes, sorry,” he said as he moved to push her fingers away and do the work of allowing her hair to fall about her shoulders.

She looked up, eyes narrowed, then captured his hands with hers. “Micah Tate. You didn’t want to work on a sermon at all, did you?”

The question brought him to a dilemma. No, he didn’t; not anymore. Nor did he want to even discuss the good news with her at this moment. Indeed, the thought on his mind was singular and bordering on desperate.

Yet there was no putting this off.

Micah slipped from her grasp then knelt before her. “Ruby, I’ve been working on another sermon about how God forgives us even though we tend to hold things against ourselves.” He looked up at her. “Perhaps you remember the previous one.”