“You can always stay at Gethsemane.” She waved from the front porch at his nod and already missed him so much it hurt.
Lila paused to peek in at the sleeping Malina and admire Miss Frieda’s pans of noodle pudding on the dining table. Always a favorite with the dregs. But mostly, she longed for Bronx beside her at Gethsemane, feeding the flock. Holding her tight in the night. Heat flamed across her.
And Miss Frieda burst from the kitchen, her own face red with something besides a steamy kitchen. “You’ve a gentleman caller. I left him alone in the parlor, all puffed up he is. And Lila, I’m all at sea about him. Claims he’s kin, but looks nothing like Emmett. A brutish sort, if you ask me.” Frieda shuddered a little over her big spoon.
“Absalom?” Lila’s skin crawled along with her, not only at her brother-in-law’s unpleasant demeanor but his presence here at the top of the world could only be bringing dreadful news.
“Yes, that’s him. Absalom. Rather quaint name.”
Lila’s lip curled. “I’d not consider him quaint.” She forced a smile just to prevent a crazed bark of laughter. “I best see what he’s about.” She tidied the hair Bronx had kissed, fluffed the tail of her hat. Bit her lip and said a silent prayer.
“Shall I fire up the kettle?” Curiosity leaked from Miss Frieda.
“No.” Lila shook her head. No tea or coffee to taint the taste of Bronx on her mouth. “I’m certain some kind of business awaits. Not friendly kinship. I never even heard from him when Emmett died. A bit of condolence might have lifted my spirits.”
Her skin goosed more though. What if Absalom had actually come to lead the flock at Gethsemane, as Emmett had asked before he died? What chance did she have of selling out then? Of helping Malina?
Worse, with Gethsemane still in the family with Absalom fulfilling another dying request, she would not be able to break her own vow and leave with Bronx.
Or leave at all.
The parlor fireplace belched so hot she wondered if she’d faint. She sank onto the settee just as Absalom rose.
“Lila.”
She nodded. “Absalom. I’m amazed to see you here in Leadville.”
He tossed her an actual sneer. “I arrived late yesterday, but the traveling so exhausted me I made a late start to the day. That said, I did just now visit your...sacrilegious Gethsemane. Named for the place our dear and humble Lord begged for His Father’s will. Such irony. You, who disdained your father’s decisions.”
She counted to ten, but much in relief. At least he wasn’t here to take over her den of iniquity. “Gethsemane is open to all, Absalom. And your brother selected the name,” Lila said with care. What on earth did her father have to do with anything? “And there’s nothing sacrilegious about doing as the Lord asked. Doing unto others and feeding the poor.”
“Poof. I know charity full well, that we do it for angels unaware. But Sunday men? And ladies of the night? But that is not the issue that discomposes me.” He dug in his vest pocket for a kerchief and loudly blew his nose.
She gagged at the sound but held onto her manners, pretended much interest in crossing her ankles so she did not have to bear witness to his bodily function.
Re-pocketing the offensive cloth, Absalom then glared at her over his large, red nose. “I speak, of course, to the heresy of you in undertaking the Scriptures. You, a mere woman.” From across the room, he threw at her the teaching notes for the Book of Esther. “Women are to keep silent.”
She had expected a thunderous roar, but his tone was dangerously soft. “Balderdash.” She sniffed, but with care. “Emmett himself planned those lessons along with me.” Indeed he had. Every spoken word, every correct response to any possible question.
“Along with you? My point exactly. You are to be silent. Do you hear me?” His voice thundered, and so did his fists as they pounded atop the small table next to him.
His motions were so like a wind-up toy, she laughed out loud. “Yes. As does all of Leadville. Perhaps the entire state of Colorado. You are certainly echoing across the mountaintops.”
But in spite of her amusement, blood poured havoc throughout her entire body. Absalom seethed with malevolence, and she had no idea why. She hated to beg, but she needed to know.
“Absalom, oh, why are you here? Now? I know you have no intention of taking over heretical Gethsemane. I know Emmett sought your help before he died. Yet...” Her ire began to tilt. “You never even responded to his death.”
Absalom waved negligent hands. “As if I would leave my fine congregation for a repulsive—meeting house—in a slum. Or even if I could.” He glared again. “I had grief of my own. You might recall how my beloved Zerelda weakened upon the birth of our twelfth child. She has given up the ghost, at last. God bless her soul, and may she rest in peace. Now that I am a free man, it my duty to fulfill the commandment of the Lord.”