****
As they stood on the Bittners’ porch, Maggie slid her hand free and tossed her cloak hood back. “Thank you for the walk and sharing your knowledge of the town. I enjoyed myself.”
Kris took in the tendrils of glossy hair that had worked free of the pins, the blush of Maggie’s cheeks, and the sparkle in her lovely green eyes. “So did I, Margaret.” Before he could overthink it, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “So did I.”
With a tip of his hat, Kris bounded down the steps and turned for home. Easter was only a few weeks away, but, for the first time in years, he couldn’t think of a thing he needed to get done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I do believe the weather will hold for tomorrow’s pre-Easter festivities, Reverend. Here it is, barely a week into April and warm enough to be out of doors. You must be an especially fine preacher for the Lord to bless our little congregation like this.”
Adelaide French’s pale blonde hair and blue walking dress had both been perfectly styled to show off what she considered her best features. Though the wind was quite cool, Adelaide didn’t wear a cloak, the better to advertise her attributes, Kris supposed.
As if he’d put the idea in her mind, the young woman shivered delicately. “My goodness, that wind is still a mite chilly.” Shifting a little, she slipped a hand around his elbow and leaned closer. “Aren’t the tables just perfect?”
When she turned just enough to press her breast to his arm, Kris tried to remove her fingers, but Adelaide remained stuck to his side like a barnacle on a sailing ship.
Determined to ignore her, Kris surveyed the setting for the Easter Sunday meal. He had to admit that the tables looked festive and inviting. Branches from dogwood and serviceberry trees, sporting showy snow-white flowers, and pots of spring flowers grown in Adelaide’s prize glass house, had been nestled amid juniper branches and other leafy greenery. Fabric ribbons of lavender and gold were woven throughout, leaving just enough room for plates and cups.
The whole town had been invited to the gathering, including the settlers who waited their turn to be ferried across the river. This year’s crowd could be their largest ever.
His first November in town, Kris had invited all the families in River’s Bend to a service of thanksgiving for their blessings and prayer for safety in the coming winter. Unfortunately, because of weeks of rain that brought severe flooding, followed by the early arrival of winter, what had been intended as a sort of harvest celebration was postponed until spring and became instead an Easter festival. It wasn’t exactly what he’d conceived, but the day was still an excellent reason to celebrate.
From that first spring, the gathering grew into the afternoon of fellowship and celebration that they would hold in a few hours. If the weather turned and it began to rain, the feasting could be moved inside the church, where the pews would be pushed against the wall to make room.
This year the abundant spring sunshine promised a beautiful day for celebrating. Large washtubs sat waiting to be filled with water and apples for bobbing, posts for pitching horseshoes had been pounded into the ground on one side of the church building, and the grass in front of the church had been cleared of leaves and sticks for the many blankets that would be spread there. To the north of the building, nothing had been touched, leaving lots of places to hide the dyed eggs that the men would hide for the children to hunt.
Following tomorrow’s service at sunrise, the members of his congregation would hurry home, only to return with more food than most could imagine. The tables would sag under the weight of ham and beef, potatoes, early peas, onions, and cakes and pies of every description. When the sun set, everyone would move to the schoolhouse for River’s Bend’s second annual Spring Social, where dancing and dessert would be served.
It would be a celebration worthy of the resurrection of the Lord.
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Miss French. Everything looks lovely. Go on home and rest, now. Tomorrow will be a long day for us all. I’ll stay and keep an eye on things here.”
“Oh, but, I thought we might—”
“I have some things to do inside. If you’ll excuse me.” Kris entered the church, in a hurry to escape the husband-hunting Miss French, but realized his error when Adelaide followed him into the shadowy foyer, closing the door behind her. Kris reached to open it again, giving the young woman the opportunity to press herself against him.
“Reverend, I think you are the most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you are still in need of a wife.” She brushed a finger down his chest, bumping the buttons of his coat in time to the sing-song of her words.