Colorado Dawn (52 page)

W
illow battled the diving swallows in her middle as she made her way downstairs to the hotel foyer, smoothing the skirts of her pale pink dress and fingering her single strand of pearls.

Francine came behind her, wearing the diamonds and an elaborate evening gown that showed off her tiny waist and curving bosom.

Silas met them at the foot of the stairs and led them to the dining room.

The restaurant, lavishly appointed with chandeliers, crystal, china, and pristine linens, buzzed with conversation. Discrete waiters threaded through tables with laden trays.

“You look beautiful. That’s a very becoming dress.” Silas’s look was appreciative and just a hint possessive, sending a thrill through her. He bent to whisper in her ear as he held her chair. “And I’m not just saying that. You take my breath away.” He hadn’t even looked at Francine.

“Men, aren’t they funny?” Francine smoothed her bodice and opened her fan. “Of course you wouldn’t know that dress is not exactly the latest fashion, but Willow insisted on wearing it tonight. I try my best, but…” She spread her hands as if she couldn’t possibly be blamed for any of Willow’s shortcomings.

The confidence his compliment had given her drained from Willow like an audience leaving a theater.

A waiter handed them each an enormous handwritten menu in a leather cover.

“Hmm.” Francine sniffed, though she’d eaten in this same dining room daily and knew every dish on the menu. “I suppose this establishment isn’t terrible, but when I think of some of the fine restaurants I’ve dined in…Have you ever been to New York, Reverend Hamilton?”

“Please, call me Silas, and yes, I’ve been to New York several times.”

“Really? I’m quite impressed. So far, I haven’t found a really well-traveled male in Martin City. Are you perhaps from somewhere back East?”

“Ohio originally. On Lake Erie. More recently my family hails from Philadelphia.”

Silas smiled at Willow, sharing a private moment of remembrance. He didn’t seem inclined to open up to Francine about his father the way he had to Willow, and she cherished his trust in her.

Francine spent the meal being charming and carefully edging Willow out of the conversation. Silas proved adept at including her, and when his hand came under the tablecloth to clasp hers, she wanted to laugh. He had caught on quickly to Francine’s ways and didn’t seem inclined to be blinded by her charm.

The waiter poured their after-dinner coffee. Would Silas tell Francine he was now courting Willow, or did he think Willow should be the one to share that information?

“Why, hello, Reverend Hamilton. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” A matronly woman Willow recognized from church that morning—she’d taken considerable time greeting Silas after the service—stopped by their table. A man and younger woman—a daughter?—stood behind her.

Silas rose, placing his napkin on the table. Though he smiled at the newcomer, Willow had the feeling it was forced. “Mrs. Drabble, good evening. Have you met the Starrs?”

The woman’s eyebrows rose until they nearly collided with her hairline. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” An edge to her voice caused Willow to doubt any pleasure the woman might be claiming.

Silas let his hand rest on Willow’s shoulder in a possessive gesture. “Have you had a chance to attend the theater? Willow is truly amazing as Jane Eyre, and Francine will delight you in her role as well. Willow, Francine, this is Mr. and Mrs. Drabble and their daughter, Alicia.”

Mrs. Drabble’s upper lip twitched like she’d just smelled sour milk. “Of course I haven’t been to the theater. A young man asked only a few days ago if he could take Alicia to the theater. He left with no doubt as to my feelings on the subject of such idle entertainment. I’m shocked you admit to attending.”

Willow knew that look and that tone. There were some who felt female entertainers were synonymous with fallen women, that they did more than sing, dance, or act for a living. Her cheeks reddened, but she held her composure.

Francine rolled her eyes and seemed to be sizing up the other woman. If it came to a war of words or worse, Willow’s money was on Francine to win.

A bemused smile took hold of Silas. “Why should it surprise you that I would enjoy an evening’s entertainment and culture? I enjoy a good thespian endeavor as much as the next man, minister or not. I’m expecting to attend several more times before this play has finished its run here in Martin City.”

Mrs. Drabble gaped, not unlike the trout Willow had landed earlier that day. The resemblance caused a giggle to shoot out of her, and she tried to disguise it as a cough. From the stormy look the woman shot at her, Willow had to assume she’d failed.

Her eye caught that of the young blond woman beside Mrs. Drabble, and she nearly giggled again at the mischievous light there. Something about Alicia Drabble appealed to Willow, and she thought they could easily be friends.

Mr. Drabble checked his watch. “I think it’s time to go, dear.”

When he had led his wife away, Willow relaxed.

Francine sipped from her cup. “A member of your congregation, I take it?”

“Yes, he serves as a deacon and she as a deaconess.”

Willow swallowed. Silas didn’t seem at all worried about how his courting her might affect his church, and he knew them better than she did, but she couldn’t help the uneasy feelings coursing through her.

Francine placed her napkin on the table. “Thank you for a nice evening, Mr. Hamilton, but Willow and I should be going. We need our beauty sleep after all.”

Silas pulled out her chair then Willow’s and walked them to the base of the stairs. He held on to Willow’s arm, letting Francine go up first. “I hope you have pleasant dreams. I’ll call on you soon.” His fingers squeezed her arm, and he took his leave.

Once in the hotel room, Francine eyed Willow. “You surprise me. Playing paddy fingers with the local preacher? Still, I guess you’ve found a way to amuse yourself for the next few weeks before we go to New York.”

Willow unclasped her necklace and laid the pearls in their velvet box. She moistened her lips and swallowed, staring into the mirror on the dressing table.

“You are just amusing yourself, right?” Francine marched over and grabbed Willow’s shoulder, turning her around. “Dally all you want, but don’t let it go to your head. The entire company is counting on you. You heard Clement. Without you, there will be no New York City. If I thought for a minute you were serious about Silas Hamilton…” She searched Willow’s face, then tipped her head back and laughed. “Of course you aren’t. Nobody would turn down New York for a backwater preacher, no matter how handsome he is.”

A week after his dinner at the hotel, Silas drew his chair up to the Drabble table. Time for pouring a little oil on the water.

“I’m so glad you could make time to visit. You’ve been so busy. Why, I even stopped by the parsonage twice in the evening this week only to find it dark.” Mrs. Drabble set the last serving dish on the table and took her place across from Silas.

Walter Drabble bowed his head, mumbled a few words of prayer, and grabbed the soup tureen.

Alicia sat next to her mother, as pretty as always, but she reminded Silas of a porcelain doll, closed off and aloof. He knew it wasn’t fair to compare her to the vibrant, glowing Willow, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Where Willow experienced life around her, Alicia seemed merely to observe. And yet, he chided himself. Perhaps Alicia was only unresponsive to him, as he was to her. Perhaps if she truly came to care for someone, she would come alive to that man, and he would see her as Silas saw Willow.

You’re getting fanciful. You’re seeing the world all rainbows and music. And all because of Willow
.

“Aren’t you hungry, Reverend Hamilton?” Beatrice held out the plate of roast beef, inviting him to take a portion.

“Oh yes. I’m sorry. It smells wonderful.”

“Alicia made it.” Beatrice beamed. “She’s such a good cook, and she took such pains when she knew she was preparing dinner for you.”

Alicia closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow breath. She picked at her food, rolling the creamed peas and onions on her plate with the tines of her fork.

Mrs. Drabble smoothed her hair toward the coil on the back of her neck—hair so black it must surely owe its jetty tones to artifice? “You didn’t say where you were during the evenings this past week. Has someone fallen ill? Are you visiting parishioners?”

Silas finished chewing the tender roast and swallowed. “The members of the church seem to be in remarkably good health. I haven’t had much visitation, and I’ve accomplished much of that during the day. I find evening visitation of the sick to be too disruptive to the household.”

“I see. But if you weren’t visiting, where have you gotten to at night?” Beatrice fixed him with a stare that said she wasn’t going to give up until she knew his whereabouts.

“Actually, I’ve been enjoying the theater this week.” Willow had left tickets for him at the office for any night he could come, and both times he could make it, he’d taken Willow out afterward to the hotel restaurant for coffee and long talks. He was already plotting when he could free his schedule up to see her again. If it wasn’t for Mrs. Drabble’s insistence and his twinges of guilt at avoiding her, he would be in the front row of the theater right now.

Mrs. Drabble sniffed. “Reverend Hamilton, you’re young, so I’m sure you will appreciate the guidance of those with a bit more experience of life than you. I think, as someone who feels, well, a certain motherly regard toward you”—she cast a fond glance at Alicia then back to Silas—“I think I must caution you against your current actions. The theater isn’t the best place for a pastor to be seen. As to socializing with those actors and actresses…” She stopped, shook her head as if any imbecile should know the dangers, and continued. “It casts a rather bad light on the church. You know as a pastor you are called upon to represent the church in the community. To have you frequenting that establishment and fraternizing with those people besmirches our reputation.”

Silas held on to his temper. “Mrs. Drabble, I assure you there is nothing objectionable in the play, and the cast members are fine, upstanding people. Perhaps if you came to see the performance and spent some time with the actors, you’d see there’s no harm in it. Several of the congregation have attended the play.”

“You’re leading them astray with such an attitude. They are partaking in questionable entertainment only because of your example.” Her mouth puckered like she’d bitten into a green apple. “You act as if there is nothing wrong with such entertainment or the people who purvey it.”

“That’s because I do believe there is nothing wrong with it or the people. I would encourage the members of the church to see the play. It will edify and enrich, broaden their perspectives, challenge their minds, and give them much enjoyment, not to mention the interaction with others in the community.” His voice had risen, and he strove to modulate his tone.

Walter ignored the conversation, shoveling food into his mouth and keeping his eyes on his plate. Alicia’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall behind Silas every few seconds as if willing the evening to be over soon.

“As to the people, I find them delightful.”
Especially Willow
.

Mrs. Drabble put on her most patient face.

Silas gritted his teeth and took a firm hold on his tongue. Mrs. Drabble being annoying and opinionated was hard to deal with, but Mrs. Drabble being patient and instructive was worse. Much worse.

“I only caution you because I care. I understand what it is like to be young and to have your head turned by someone unsuitable.” Here her glance shifted to take in Alicia, and she frowned. “It’s hard to be objective when feelings become entangled. One might get the wrong idea if you were to keep company with one of those actresses I saw you dining with.”

“Mrs. Drabble, thank you for your concern, but—”

“Now, hear me out. One must be so careful when one is in a position of leadership. If you were to become…entangled with an actress, even only in rumor, it would damage your reputation. Someone might get the idea you were actually courting one of those girls with the idea of marrying her. The person you marry must be suitable not only to your personality but to your position. After all, Caesar’s wife must be above reproach, and bright is the light that shines upon the throne…or in this case, the pulpit.”

He inhaled deeply and set his fork on his plate. “Mrs. Drabble—”

“Now, I know it’s hard, but if you’ll just listen to reason, there are plenty of nice girls in the church. As you know, I’ve cherished the notion that you might find Alicia more than pleasing. She would make a lovely minister’s wife. She has a spotless reputation—I’ve seen to that. She can cook and clean and sew, and she’s excellent with children and organization. And I’m sure you would agree she’s more than passably pretty.”

Silas pushed his chair back.

Alicia stepped in before he could say something. “Mother, that is enough.” She rounded on Silas. “Why don’t you tell her to keep her nose out of your business? Mother, I have no intention of marrying Silas Hamilton or anyone else you might try to push me at. Silas must be weary of it, and I know I certainly am.”