Refining Fire (8 page)

She tried not to feel insulted by his comment. After all, it was true. She was given to talking much and listening little. Aunt Miriam was always chiding her for it. All of her aunts corrected her loquaciousness on a daily basis.

“I suppose the fact that so many people have told me I should refrain from talking so much has given me pause.” She picked up the ledger and took it to Kolbein. “Therefore, I will let the figures speak for me, and I will get back to work.”

Kolbein took the book and reviewed her work. “You've kept very good records here, Abrianna.”

“I pride myself on being accountable.”

Wade laughed out loud. “Since when? You, who sneak about after everyone else is in bed. You, who put herself at risk and tell no one about it unless caught in the act.”

“Why, Wade Ackerman, just moments ago you talked about my great wisdom.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now, which is it to be?”

“It's both.” He threw her a wink. “Sometimes you are quite well behaved, and I think there is nothing to worry about. Then you sneak out to confront would-be murderers—”

Protest rose up and she couldn't keep quiet. “That's hardly fair.”

“Maybe not, but it is true. Deny it if you can.”

He was speaking of one night in particular. One she remembered well. A number of murders had taken place near the school when they were still downtown. One night she'd spied a man in the dark alleyway behind the building. She feared he might be the murderer and wanted only to frighten him away or convince him to turn himself in. As it turned out, he wasn't a murderer but rather a man hired by Kolbein to guard the building.

“Simple and neatly done.” Kolbein handed the ledger back to her. “But Wade's got a point, Abrianna.”

Lenore raised a brow, which seemed to dare Abrianna to deny the truth. Instead, she sighed. “Honestly, I don't know why any of you continue to be my friend, since I'm of such obvious faults. What an arduous task it must be.”

Wade patted her on the back. “It is, but we are pledged to do the job. Aren't we?” He looked to Lenore and Kolbein.

They laughed and she ignored them. Squaring her shoulders, Abrianna shook her head. “I am so . . . fortunate.”

Just then the men started showing up at the door for the noontime meal. “Oh goodness, look at the time.” Abrianna went quickly to retrieve her apron. “You shall all have to wait to rebuke me another day. The friendless have come to eat, and I don't imagine they mind at all that I am given to daring feats.”

W
hy, Brother Mitchell, we weren't expecting you.” Aunt Poisie handed Abrianna a basket of mending. “Take this, dear, and tell Sister that the elder has come to call.”

Abrianna did as she was instructed, wondering if the deacons and elders had finally found a new pastor for the church. It was nearly the end of February, and already some in the congregation were talking of leaving.

Finding her aunt in the kitchen instructing a group of girls on the fine art of rendering lard, Abrianna announced the elder's arrival. She put the basket aside as Aunt Miriam turned the lessons over to Liang.

“Ladies, I want you to give Liang your utmost attention. She will continue the lesson, and I expect each of you to be able to perform your own rendering, so be diligent in your learning. Remember, this is a task that requires your constant attention. You could suffer a terrible burn from the popping lard, and we wouldn't want anyone to get marred for life.”

The girls nodded and murmured among themselves as the petite Chinese girl took charge. Abrianna fell into step behind her aunt.

“Honestly,” Aunt Miriam declared, “I shall never get used
to people just dropping in to call without waiting for the appropriate time. These newfangled ways of doing things seem completely foreign to me.”

“Do you suppose the elders found a minister?”

“I do hope so. God knows we have prayed very hard for it, and it would be completely to His glory.”

“I agree. I only hope they've done a thorough job regarding his experience and theology. It would be a pity to have a man in the pulpit who did not hold with all the teachings of the Bible.”

“I hardly believe the elders would overlook that matter, dear.”

They entered the parlor and the man rose, as did Aunt Poisie. “Brother Mitchell has wonderful news. The deacons and elders have found a new man for our pulpit.”

“I will withhold judgment on the wonder of such news until I hear more,” Aunt Miriam said. “Where is Selma?”

“Oh, Sister, don't you remember, she accompanied Miss Lenore and her mother on a shopping trip?”

Abrianna remembered well enough, because she had been upset that Aunt Miriam wouldn't let her accompany them. Instead, she had chided Abrianna about neglecting her household chores for those of the food house and demanded she remain at home. Now, Abrianna wasn't quite as disappointed.

Aunt Miriam nodded and took her seat. “Of course. I quite forgot. Now tell me, Brother Mitchell, about this new pastor.”

“He comes with strong recommendations from his seminary as well as from the church he recently pastored. He had already given them notice, saying he knew God was calling him elsewhere, and this was before our inquiry as to his consideration of our church.”

“It certainly seems as though the Lord was making provision, where he was concerned,” Aunt Miriam declared. “How old of a man is he?”

“Thirty. But before you concern yourself with his youth,”
Brother Mitchell said, “I will say that he has been preaching since he was twenty. He attended seminary at a young age and excelled in all of his courses. Former teachers declared him to be their most brilliant student.”

“That is all well and fine,” Abrianna interjected, “but what does his congregation say about him?”

Brother Mitchell pulled a letter from his pocket. “I will read to you a portion of what the men of his church wrote to me.” He scanned the first page of the letter and began to read. “‘Pastor Walker is a most astute young man. He makes serious study of the Bible and has proven to preach in a direct manner that goes straight to the point. He is good to visit the sick and offer encouragement to the dying. In these last ten years we have known him to make many converts for the Lord and to baptize over forty people.”

“That's four people a year.” Everyone stopped at Abrianna's comment. She shrugged. “Seems to me that is a fairly low number when you consider the overall amount of time.”

“She makes a good point,” Aunt Miriam said. “I cannot say I'm overly impressed.”

Abrianna gave her aunt a nod. It felt good to point out something and have her elders esteem it. So often they considered her troublesome and difficult, and it did her heart good to receive their approval.

If only I could better fit their idea of what I should be
.
But that would surely take a miracle.

“Where is he from, Brother Mitchell?” Aunt Poisie asked.

“Texas. He was born and raised there and attended seminary there, as well.”

“Oh dear.” She looked most vexed. “How are we ever to understand him? Sister, do you recall that Texan who came here several years ago looking for a bride?” She looked back to Brother Mitchell. “We could scarce understand a word out of
his mouth.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Those Southerners speak in a most peculiar manner. I fear I would never be able to follow the sermon.”

“Sister makes another good point,” Aunt Miriam said, fixing Brother Mitchell with an inquisitive look. “Do you know if his speech will be understandable to the common man?”

“I do. He arrived in town two days ago, and I have been privileged to have many conversations with him. While he does have something of a drawl, he is quite distinct in his speech, and I believe you will find him to be rather charming.”

“Is he married? Does he have a family?” Abrianna pressed. It was possible her questions might cause Aunt Miriam to dismiss her, but for now she would dare to ask. It was important to know the man's personal background as well as his current situation.

“He is single. He has devoted himself completely, at least to this time, to God. He told us that he had not yet felt God release him to marry.”

“My beloved captain Jonathan, God rest his soul, once told me the same thing,” Aunt Poisie said in a most thoughtful manner. She pulled out an ever-ready hankie and dabbed her eyes. “He said that he was so long married to the sea that he could not marry me until he gave her up. He was to have sold his ship and married me, but on his final journey he was lost at sea.”

“Tragic,” Brother Mitchell said.

“So very sad,” Aunt Miriam agreed. “However, we must not dwell long on the past, Sister. Especially now when Brother Mitchell has so much to tell us about Pastor Walker.”

Poisie's brows knit together. “I knew a young man named Walker once. Of course, he wasn't from Texas, but perhaps they are related.” She looked to Abrianna, as if for her agreement, but already Aunt Miriam was taking the floor.

“I believe we as a congregation should give the man a set time to be tested. After all, we need to know for ourselves if
the man is of sound character and motivation. Many a man may say he is a man of God and even get others to write on his behalf, yet be nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing.”

“We, too, had considered this.” Brother Mitchell put the letter back into his pocket. “The elders and deacons agreed that we would call him for a six-month period. At the end of that time we would let him know if we wished to retain him as our permanent pastor.”

This was great news to Abrianna. She had hoped there would be thorough consideration to the man's character and methods, along with his theology and general interaction with the congregation. She clapped her hands together.

“That is a wonderful plan. I think too often people rush into decisions without giving them to God in their entirety. The very nature of man is to deceive, and I would be remiss if I didn't stress the importance of being completely thorough. You might not remember it, but only two years ago there was that scandal in Tacoma, where a man who claimed to be a man of God bilked a large number of people out of their savings. I don't believe he was ever caught, and we could perhaps find ourselves in the same position. I don't recall, but that man might have been a Texan, as well.”

“Oh my!” Poisie waved her handkerchief under her nose. “That would be too tragic to bear.”

“Ladies, that's quite enough.” Aunt Miriam smiled. “We have good men of God in our church, and I'm certain they will investigate everything wisely. We will leave it in their hands.”

Brother Mitchell seemed to puff up a bit, but such a declaration didn't impress Abrianna. There were far too many examples of men duping others. Why, the Bible was full of such reminders.

“All I know,” Abrianna couldn't help but add, “is that even David—a man after God's own heart—sinned and deceived.
He was also responsible for the murder of another. Wouldn't it be awful if we were to bring in a pastor who was a murderer?”

“Goodness, Abrianna, you do let your imagination run wild.” Aunt Miriam gave her a look of reproof, and Aunt Poisie gave a small gasp.

“Sister, she is correct. The Bible tells us not to put our trust in man. Even our dear elders and deacons fall into that category. Our trust must be in God alone.”

Aunt Miriam heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. “I believe we are all in agreement about that. Furthermore I believe Brother Mitchell would dismiss any man who turned out to be a murderer.”

“I would hope so.” Abrianna crossed her arms in exasperation. “Preferably before he murdered again. I would hate for us to be known as the church where a murderer held the pulpit.”

Aunt Poisie bobbed her head. “Oh, indeed!”

Everyone else much anticipated the Sunday service, but Militine was indifferent. One pastor was pretty much the same as another, and she had little love for anyone who declared her to be a terrible sinner bound for hell. Although, what if they were right? She stole a glance at Abrianna. She was always completely absorbed in church.
Could I ever be so devoted? Could I ever believe like she does?
A sigh escaped her, and for a moment she feared someone might have overheard, but no one seemed concerned and she shrank back a bit more into the pew.

They sang the regular hymns and offered the usual prayers before Brother Mitchell took to the pulpit to introduce Ralston Walker. The young pastor was a tall, very pleasant-looking man, but otherwise Militine judged him to be no different from any of the other men in her life. Worthless.

Well, there was Thane, who continued to be increasingly
kind. There was no way of knowing his purpose in being so, but her guard was up, and she wouldn't be fooled. It was better to distrust all of them than to trust a few good ones only to have a bad one slip through.

Pastor Walker spoke of his background, telling the congregation about growing up the son of a cotton planter who was now deceased. His mother too, had gone to glory, leaving behind four sons and a daughter and numerous grandchildren.

Militine tried her best to appear interested. The last thing she wanted was for someone to notice her boredom and bring it to Mrs. Madison's attention, so she did her best to mimic those around her. If the old ladies nodded, she did the same. If Abrianna appeared thoughtful, Militine gave her head a little cock to one side, as if truly considering the words. Of course where Abrianna was concerned, she was probably assessing the situation for purposes that went beyond Militine's interest. No doubt she would barrage the new pastor with questions later.

There was to be a celebratory dinner after the service, which would give the congregation an opportunity to get to know the new pastor better. Militine almost felt sorry for the man, knowing that Abrianna would not be satisfied until she queried him about everything but his shoe size. Then again, knowing Abrianna, one's shoe size might well have some unknown indication of spiritual well-being.

Wouldn't that be a wonderful gift? To be able to understand and recognize someone's spiritual qualities and know the truth of it. Militine smiled.
If I understood things like that, I might not feel so misplaced or vulnerable.
She immediately sobered at that thought. Vulnerable. All of her life she had lived in fear of one thing or another. To protect herself she had hidden her feelings deep, causing most people to think her hostile or intolerant, when, in fact, she was just plain afraid.