“Start with your right foot and take it three steps at a time.”
He made it sound so easy. Drawing a deep breath to ease her sudden nerves, Maggie gripped his hand and shoulder and stepped off as he counted.
Kris was a marvelous dancer, leading her down the floor and back, pulling her closer to avoid another couple and to turn her in a flowing circle. As the music faded, Maggie found herself humming along—and never wanting the dance to end.
“That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“I did it. I waltzed.” Maggie’s feet seemed to barely touch the ground as she followed Kris outside for some cool air.
“You dance beautifully, Maggie.”
“Only because of you,” she insisted. “And I’d better leave it at that before my hip decides to buckle and dump me into an unflattering heap.”
“I’d never let you touch the floor,” he assured her. “But I’m happy to walk you home if you’ve had enough.”
“It has been a long day.” Though she didn’t want to leave, the dance had left her a bit lightheaded, and she knew she’d pay in the morning for all the other activities of the day.
Kris retrieved their coats and hats and ushered her away from the noise of the party.
“I discovered something today, Margaret.” He reached for her hand, stroking her fingers with his thumb and sending shivers of surprise and pleasure tumbling through her.
“What?” She swallowed and tried again. “What did you learn?”
“I’m tired of being alone. I do the Lord’s work here, but, at the end of the day, I’ve no one with whom to share the joys and sorrows that work brings.” He glanced up at the church building, illuminated with soft lantern light. “I’ve prayed many times for guidance, and today… Today, I believe God answered.”
“That’s wonderful, but—”
“You, Maggie,” he went on. “I think you might be His answer.”
“What? I don’t understand.” Though the possibility she did had joy bubbling up deep inside her heart.
“I don’t want just a helpmate. I want a wife. Someone to love, to cherish, to share with. To grow old with.”
“You should have that, Kris. You deserve that.”
“What about you? Do you deserve that, my dear? Is a loving husband a wish of yours?”
“Of course,” she whispered, a bit stunned. “I’ve always hoped I would marry and have children. But, I never thought—” Her smile dimmed as memories of Albert rose to taunt her.
“Could you see yourself as a preacher’s wife? It isn’t always an easy life, but it is rewarding. I would make you happy.”
“Kristoph Oltmann.” Maggie touched her fingers to his cheek, stilling his words. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Kris covered her hand with his to hold it in place. “If I am, would you consider it?”
Dismay swept through her, burying the joy his words created. “You know so little about me.”
“That will come in time. Many of those you met tonight knew even less about each other when they married. I know that you are good, that you care about people, truly care. That is a wonderful and rare thing, my Maggie.”
“But, I may not be—” She took a deep breath and forced the words out in a rush. “I’m not as good as you seem to think.”
“I won’t believe that.” He smiled gently and patted the hand he still held. “I’ve surprised you. Let’s talk of other things. What story were you telling that had those children so wide-eyed?”
Maggie swallowed the welling sadness and let him change the subject. “Their mother said they were camped in the middle of an Illinois forest on a moonless night for All Hallow’s Eve. I was telling them about how carving a turnip or pumpkin with a scary face was once said to ward off evil spirits.” She laughed at a memory of the children’s gasps.
“That’s a pagan ritual.”
Maggie stumbled back a step at the anger in his voice. “Kris, it’s a harmless old tradition that adds a bit of scary to the night. My mother taught me, as hers taught her, though Mama certainly didn’t believe evil spirits walked around New York, just waiting to carry me off.”
“I don’t care. You can’t share such ridiculous stories among my flock or our invited guests.”
Maggie stared, stunned to realize he was serious. “So, Jones and the others were right, is that what you’re saying? You believe me to be a witch, after all.”
“Of course not,” he assured her. “But I work hard to keep my flock focused on their heavenly reward. I don’t need you—anyone teaching them those old, ridiculous practices.”
“Because they can’t possibly be intelligent enough to know truth from harmless fun,” she muttered, unreasonably angry. She’d certainly heard the same reaction before, but coming from Kris, it hurt—a lot. How could he go from asking for her hand to accusing her of something evil so quickly?