Searching for Anna, Jenifer Carll-Tong [cheapest way to read ebooks TXT] 📗

"Naw, Pheebs, like this," Will said, dropping to the ground on his belly. "Ya gotta keep your whole body flat and crawl with your arms and legs."

Phoebe rolled her eyes as she dropped to the ground. The last thing she wanted to do was get her dress dirty, but mama had said to play with Will outside, so she guessed she had no choice.

"Why do we have to do it like this?"

"Cause, that's how they do it in the army. Keeps you safe from bullets."

"There ain't no bullets in my momma's garden."

"Maybe not now, but you never know. Besides, you don't know what dangers you'll face out there in the world. Someday you'll be glad I taught ya this," young Will said with a wink.

Phoebe awoke with a start. It had only been a dream, but it was more. It was a memory; one she had long ago forgotten. But it was flooding back to her now. She remembered Will’s insistence that they pretend to be army soldiers, even though at the time Phoebe had no idea what that meant. She also remembered how much trouble she got into for ruining her new dress with grass stains. But what she remembered most was the infuriating wink.

The past two days had been quite uneventful for Phoebe. In fact, they had been downright boring. Without her studies to keep her busy, she found them long and tedious. She tried busying herself with helping her mother, but there wasn't much to do. She tried reading her Bible, but found her mind constantly drifting off in one of two directions.

The one direction led her thoughts to the letter. She had always assumed the Lord would provide a husband whom she could support, perhaps even work alongside with, in his ministry. Could God be calling her to minister alone? She had never considered that. And so far from home, away from her friends and family, away from her entire support system? She felt confident in her preaching skills, she had been well trained in that, but there was so much more to pastoring a church than just speaking well. How could she manage such a calling on her own?

But what if this was what God had been preparing her for all along? The thought was both frightening and curious at the same time.

When she wasn't consumed with thinking about the letter, her mind ran another path…a path that led to Will, and it irritated her.

As much as she tried to convince herself that she only thought of him because he irritated her so, her own mind betrayed her with the memory of his face, made even more handsome in the moonlight as he smiled down at her. She couldn't escape the memory of being held in his arms or the faint scent of masculinity that seemed to emanate from him as he held her close against his chest. These thoughts stirred something in her that she didn't understand, and it angered her. How could she allow her emotions to be so affected by a rascal such as Will Caffey?

As she paced the floors, her mind kept replaying the moments after she'd fallen off the stairs. She couldn't get over the way her treacherous heart raced at the sensation of being once again held tightly against his chest, even as he smirked down at her. Every time she walked past the window, she glanced out at the front stairs, and replayed the scene in her mind, sometimes with anger, other times with puzzlement.

Imagine her surprise when, on one of those occasions, she in fact did see Will. He had just dismounted and was tying his horse to a post.

Phoebe stepped onto the porch. When he saw her, Will took off his hat and grinned. He placed one foot on the bottom stair and rested his elbow on his knee.

"Good afternoon, Phoebe," he said, his lip curling.

"Good afternoon. Come to invite yourself to dinner again?"

"I wish I could. Is your father home?”

Phoebe had expected an irksome flirtation, but the serious look on Will's face gave her pause.

"Oh, I – I mean, yes. Please – come in."

Phoebe led Will to the dining room, embarrassed at the assumption that he had been looking for her. Reverend Albright sat reading, preparing his message for the following Sunday.

"William, my boy!" Her father stood up and extended his hand. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Thank you, sir," he said. "Could I have a moment of your time? There's something I'd like to discuss with you – in private, if I may?"

Both men looked at Phoebe. "Oh, of course," she replied, turning on her heels and quickly leaving the room.

In the hallway, Phoebe caught her little sister eavesdropping.

"He wants to talk to Daddy alone?" she whispered.

"Yes," Phoebe whispered back. "So that means just that, alone. Now you go on, or else I'll tell Daddy what you're doing."

"Do you think he's asking Daddy for your hand in marriage?"

"What? Don't be absurd!"

"Well, what else would he need to talk to Daddy about in private?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Sarah, our father is a minister. People come to see him all the time, and most of the time for private conversations."

"But not Will. He's never done that."

"Sarah, mind your own business. Now off with you!" Phoebe said, shooing Sarah toward the parlor.

She picked up the letter from Frank Berger off the table by her father's chair and slipped it into her pocket. As she headed for the stairs, she glanced once more toward the dining room. She knew that she shouldn't peek in, but she couldn't stop herself. Will sat with his head bowed, as did her father - they