Refining Fire (10 page)

“Pastor Walker, I am touched by your consideration, but we have many years of experience, and God himself has provided His Spirit as our counselor.” She moved to the tea cart. “Would you care for more tea? My sister and Mrs. Gibson must get back to their work, but you may stay on and speak with Abrianna, if you desire.”

Was she dismissing him? He didn't want to leave them on a negative note. “Thank you, but no more tea. I had hoped for a few minutes to speak with Miss Cunningham. I do hope that I haven't offended any of you.” He chose his words carefully. After all, these women were some of the church's best financial supporters. It was a pity, especially given they didn't understand their place, but he would find a way to soothe their riled souls. “I have found our discussion to be quite enlightening and hope to again one day visit you.”

“We would happily receive you,” Mrs. Madison offered without a hint of a smile. “It is our desire to know you better.”

He nodded. “I wish each of you a good day.”

One by one the ladies left him to the company of Miss Cunningham. Ralston turned to her and smiled. “Thank you for receiving me today. I wanted very much to answer that list of questions you had for me.” And put her in her place at the same time.

“Well, please do take your seat. I don't wish to strain my neck staring up at you.” She set aside her now empty plate. She produced her list from her pocket. “I suppose a lot of people wouldn't consider such matters important, but I feel that in order to decide if you are an acceptable leader for our church, we should be clear on your theology.”

He frowned, unwilling to take directions from her. “Do you not trust your deacons and elders to learn that?”

“Of course, but I feel it's also my responsibility to test the spirits. After all, that is what the Word says. We are to be wise as serpents.” She cocked her head. “I do wish you would sit. I'm getting a pinch in my neck looking up.”

He decided it would be best to humor her. He'd learned early on to assess the people in his congregation and divide them into two groups: those he could easily manipulate and those he could not. She was clearly in the latter group. “I find you quite interesting, Miss Cunningham. You have a boldness about you that might shock a lesser man. I can say confidently that I like you and hope you feel likewise about me.”

“I don't know about that.” She gave a shrug. “I cannot say whether I like you or don't. We haven't known each other long enough. I've heard you speak only the one time, and while it was interesting to hear of your life and calling, I found the shortness of your testimony did little to give me true insight.

“I suppose it is possible that you had been instructed by the elders to be brief. Was that it? I know sometimes men tend to limit such things, lest the speaker bore their listeners. Maybe they felt you needed to speak briefly and with minimal theology.” She looked at him as if it was finally his turn to answer.

Ralston held his temper in check. She was obviously headstrong and had too long been allowed to speak her mind unchecked. Even so, her aunts were wealthy women whose money was needed. He forced a smile. “I shall endeavor to answer each of your questions, Miss Cunningham.”

Abrianna joined the other ladies for the evening meal. It seemed that Pastor Walker was the subject of much discussion, although she would just as soon forget about the pompous man.

“Well, I thought he had lovely diction,” Aunt Poisie finally said, “for a Texan.”

“He acted in a rather secretive manner at times,” Aunt Selma said, shaking her head. “His temperament reminds me much too much of Mr. Gibson.” She put her hand to her throat. “You don't suppose he read Darwin, do you?”

Abrianna didn't much care what he read. She'd been completely put off by his belittling attitude. His answers to her questions suggested that he felt women in general were of very little value to the church. He hadn't come right out and said as much, but the implication was there.

“I suggest we spend time in prayer for our new pastor and for the church,” Aunt Miriam suggested. The table of young ladies nodded. “We will soon enough see what his beliefs are, not only in his teachings, but even more so in his daily actions.”

T
hane nervously paced and awaited Militine's arrival. March second had not come soon enough as far as he was concerned. This was the first time he'd anticipated the fireman's ball and was most anxious.

“Here we are,” Miss Poisie announced. She would, of course, accompany them this evening. Militine walked in behind her, and Thane felt the breath catch in his throat.

“You look beautiful.” She was a vision in blue silk and lace. Her hair had been swept atop her head with all sorts of curls.

“Abrianna provided the gown and accessories. They were given to her by Lenore.” She smoothed down the folds of the voluminous skirt with her gloved hands. “I feel out of place,” she said, her voice low, “but Abrianna assured me that I will be happier dressed according to what's expected.”

He chuckled. “I think every woman at the dance will wish she were you.”

“Only because she will be on your arm,” Miss Poisie said, smiling. She was wearing a simple navy blue gown with a lovely piece of lace draped around her shoulders. “Shall we go?”

Thane held out his arms. “I shall escort you both with great
pleasure. Miss Poisie, do promise that you'll give me at least one dance.”

Miss Poisie giggled like a schoolgirl and Militine smiled. For Thane it was shaping up to be a wonderful night.

The short drive by carriage to the Frey Opera House, where the dance was to be held, gave Thane little time to converse. The traffic was quite heavy as carriage after carriage vied for close parking. Thane paid a young man to watch his borrowed carriage. The boy looked familiar, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was one of Abrianna's orphans. He had no time to ask, however, as Miss Poisie started to alight from the carriage.

“Let me help you, Miss Poisie.” He took firm hold of her arm and helped her to the ground. Next he reached up to help Militine. She hesitated only a moment, then smiled and took his arm.

“Just look at all the beautiful people,” Miss Poisie whispered in awe. “It's been a long time since I've gone to a public dance. The ladies are all dressed so regally.”

“They also dress beautifully for the school's annual ball.”

“Of course they do, Mr. Patton,” she replied, “but I always see those young ladies ahead of time. Even in the planning stage while they are still attempting to figure out what they will make for themselves to wear. This is almost like Christmas morning and unwrapping new gifts. One is never certain what will next appear.”

She was such a dear old woman. They all were. They had treated him like family since he first became friends with Wade. Escorting the ladies into the building, Thane paused to give over his top hat to an awaiting steward. The orchestra had begun to play as they made their way to the dance room.

“Now, you two don't mind me,” Miss Poisie said, moving to take a chair by the wall. “I will visit with some of the other chaperones while you dance and enjoy the evening. Do mind
your manners, Mr. Patton. I am expecting you to be a perfect gentleman.”

He nodded and led Militine to the edge of the dance floor. “I doubt very much she'll get perfection, but I shall endeavor to do my best.”

“I don't expect you to be perfect,” Militine replied. “I certainly am not.”

“You seem nearly so to me.” He smiled, hoping his casual nature would put her at ease. “Would you care to dance?”

“I suppose we should. After all, that is why we've come.” She flashed him a smile and added, “Although I'm just as content to stand here and watch the others.”

“No, no. That will not do. You are clearly the most beautiful of all the women here and must be shown off.” He swept her amidst the other waltzing couples, and they began to dance.

“You told me you weren't any good at this,” he teased as they made their way around the room. “You dance quite well.”

“It isn't my favorite thing to do.” She met his gaze, and her dark brown eyes seemed to look right through him.

“What is your favorite thing to do, Miss Scott?”

“Please, don't call me that. I'm just plain Militine.”

“There is nothing plain about you, Militine. I know you think yourself so, but you are an amazingly beautiful woman. I have always found your dark hair and eyes to lend themselves to something of the exotic.”

“Unlike red hair?”

He laughed. “Red hair has never bothered me one way or the other. I know there are those like Abrianna who find it something of a curse but not me. It's just hair. One day it will most likely turn white.”

“Did your father's hair do that?”

The question was innocent enough, but Thane was caught off guard. “I don't know. He didn't live long enough to see that.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that.” She looked away.

“It's all right. I'm the one who's sorry. This evening is meant for light-hearted fun.” The waltz concluded and a polka began. Instead of dancing, Thane led the way to the refreshment table. “I'm parched after just one dance. How about you?”

Militine glanced at the punch. “Yes. I'd like a cup, please.”

Thane handed her one and then took one for himself. “Would you like some cookies, as well?”

“No. This is quite enough. I'm afraid if I eat anything, I won't be able to breathe. Abrianna . . . well . . . she snugged me in this dress pretty tight.”

“I can't imagine that you needed all that much snugging. You're not that big. In fact, I was going to say that you seem much thinner than when you first arrived at the school.”

“I am that,” she agreed. Turning to watch the dancers, she shrugged. “I think it's all the hard work. Not that I didn't work hard at home, but . . .” Her words trailed off.

“Militine. That's a really unusual name. How did you come by it?”

For a moment she said nothing, and Thane worried he'd made a mistake by getting so personal.

“I'm a compromise.” She looked up and smiled. “My mother wanted to name me Millicent, and my father insisted on Christine after his mother. So they came up with Militine, and that makes me a compromise.”

“I would never think of you as a compromise.”

She frowned and once again looked away. “I'm . . . I'd rather we talk about something else.”

Thane couldn't help but want her to continue. She rarely spoke about her childhood or home prior to coming to Seattle. He had tried on more than one occasion to speak to her about it, about the fact that they obviously shared tyrannical fathers, but that would mean he'd have to talk about his past, as well.

We're quite the pair. She won't talk about
her past, and I won't talk about mine. Seems
there's very little we trust each other enough to share
. But surely there was a way to get beyond that obstacle.

“So what do you think of Abrianna's food house?”

Militine still refused to look at him. “I think anything Abrianna wants to accomplish, she will. She has amazed me since we first met.”

“I've never known anybody who could talk more than she can. Wade and I used to count the words she could say without drawing a breath. It got to be pretty high, so we stopped.” He put down his empty punch cup and reached for hers. “Would you like more?”

“No. I'm fine. Thank you.”

He placed her cup beside his, then extended his arm. “I believe a quadrille is next. Would you like to join them?”

She shook her head. “I'd rather wait. Do you mind?”

He looked across the room at the couples gathering in groups of eight. “Not particularly. I'm not much of a dancer.”

“You dance perfectly well. I'm afraid . . . well . . .” She heaved a sigh and finally looked him in the eye. “You probably already know that I'm not comfortable in large crowds, especially around . . . around . . . other men.” She paled a bit. “I'm sorry. If you'd rather take me home, I'll understand.”

Thane led her away from the dance floor not far from where Miss Poisie sat completely engrossed in a conversation with another matron. “You don't have to apologize, and I don't want to take you home. I don't care if we dance or not. I'm just happy you agreed to come with me. I hope you'll feel up to dancing the fireman's waltz with me. They reserve one especially for the men who are volunteers.” He gave her hand a light pat as she continued to hold on to his arm.

“I'd be honored.”

She trembled under his touch. “Are you cold?”

Militine shook her head and pulled away. “No. I'm just rather anxious.”

He reached out and took one of her gloved hands in his. “Don't be. I won't let anyone hurt you.” He paused for a moment. Had she heard him? “Militine?”

She looked into his eyes. “Yes?”

“I mean it. I won't let anyone hurt you. I don't know what has hurt you in the past, but I won't allow it to happen again.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment Thane thought surely she would open up and tell him some troublesome secret. But she didn't.

They spoke very little throughout the evening, and when the fireman's waltz was called, Militine looked to Thane and smiled. He led her into the sea of dancers and proudly claimed her as his partner. The music began and Thane joined his hand to hers. He pulled her close enough to put his gloved hand on her waist.

For a time they were lost in the music and motion. Thane had never known a greater pleasure. Militine, too, seemed pleased. She never missed a step or came down on his toes. For all her supposed discomfort, she was quite accomplished.

“You know you are very good at this.” He enjoyed teasing her.

“I have a good partner. Mrs. Madison says that any young woman might dance well in the arms of a man who knows well what he is doing.”

Thane couldn't help but laugh. “I don't know about that, but at least I haven't made a fool of myself . . . at least not yet.”

The music ended, and once again the call went out for a quadrille. Thane didn't bother to ask Militine about dancing. He knew what her answer would be, and it seemed only right to spare her the embarrassment. They weren't quite off the dance floor, however, when a tall stranger approached them. The man was at least a head taller than Thane, and his shoulders seemed twice as wide.

“Pardon me, but don't I know you?”

Thane shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“No. I meant the young lady.”

Thane felt Militine stiffen. She glanced to her right, as if looking for an exit. Thane tightened his grip on her arm.

“I'm sure we've met somewhere before,” the stranger declared. “I don't forget eyes like yours, so dark and beautiful.”

“Excuse me, but you are annoying the lady. If she knew you, I'm sure she'd say so.” Thane pulled her a tad closer. “Now, if you'll excuse us.”

“I didn't mean any disrespect. I thought to pay the lady a compliment and figure out where we'd met.” It was clear he remained puzzled. Thane could also see that he wasn't trying to be a threat to either of them.

“I understand. However, we are expected elsewhere.” Thane drew Militine along with him. She walked as if frozen stiff. He didn't know what the problem was. She didn't like to deal with men in general, and especially not strangers. How Abrianna had ever convinced her to help at the food house was a mystery, but perhaps with her trio of friends at her side, Militine felt safe.

“Please take me home,” she whispered as soon as they were away from the man. The pleading look on her face left him no choice. “Of course I will. Let's get Miss Poisie, and we can leave.”

But before they could even reach the older woman, Militine began to sway on her feet. Thane steadied her and got her to the door just before she collapsed, sinking against him in a dead faint.

“And then she just passed out in my arms,” Thane told Wade hours later in Wade's cozy quarters.