Cheryl St.John - The Preacher's Wife

“It’s not difficult. I’ll show you how.”

“I know how to sprinkle,” Abigail added cheerfully.

Elisabeth cast her father a beseeching look.

“Thank you,” he said to Josie. “Elisabeth is a quick learner. And she will help with her sisters’ dresses, as well.”

Elisabeth’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, sir.”

“Papa?” Abigail asked. “When you go calling at a farm, can I come with you? Mrs. Randolph said the parishioners are mostly farmers, an’ I want to see their animals.”

“Of course you may come, Abby.”

“Will Elisabeth come that day, too?”

He blinked, but didn’t pause in replying, “We’ll talk about it. After your dresses are pressed, I’d like the three of you to get your wraps and come for a walk with me.”

“At night?” Anna asked.

“Night is when you can see God’s heavens most clearly,” he replied.

“Yes, sir,” they replied one at a time.

Josie kept the stove hot and set two irons on top. Abigail sprinkled their dresses and, using Elisabeth’s dress, Josie showed them how to press the collars and sleeves first, then the bodice and lastly the skirts. Elisabeth did an adequate job on her sisters’ clothing, and they carried their dresses upstairs and hung them.

The girls came down with capes and bonnets, and the Hart family swept out of doors, leaving the house silent.

Sam held Anna’s delicate hand in his, feeling the weighty responsibility of protecting these daughters he loved so well. He’d never felt so inadequate or so incomplete, and he didn’t like it. He’d been very careful laying plans for safety and finances, and so far he’d seen most of his puny plans thrown back in his face.

So far, Josie had been the best thing that had happened to them since they’d left home. He didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness or overload her with their additional care. Her kindness and selfless generosity was like a healing balm to his conscience, and he hoped her attention would be healing for his daughters, as well.

“While we are guests in the parsonage, I want the three of you to help as much as you can. Mrs. Randolph already cares for Reverend Martin’s needs, and we are an added burden. Your mother and I didn’t prepare you for this life. I know that. She took care of you, and things were easy in Philadelphia. I told you it would be an adventure coming west, but I didn’t tell you about all the difficulties. On top of everything else, your mother’s absence is an exceptional hardship.”

“We’ll help, Father,” Elisabeth assured him.

“We’ll do everything we’re asked, and make our beds and wash dishes,” Abigail agreed.

“I like Mrs. Randolph,” Anna said. “She’s real nice, and she smells good.”

“Mrs. Randolph is a very kind lady,” Sam agreed. He appreciated the woman’s warm concern and easy affection for his children. Surely the Lord had brought her and his daughters together to ease their way through this life transition.

He considered the possibility that Anna—and perhaps even Abigail—would come to lean on her and then have another heartbreak when they moved on. It could likely happen in the weeks that they would be here.

But an unexplainable assurance convinced him that her attention and warmth were exactly what the girls—all three of them—needed right now. He didn’t doubt that God could use Josie to help their family, if she was willing. And she certainly seemed willing.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he said with heartfelt conviction. And he would. He was all they had now, and he was going to do everything he could to protect them and see that they had a good life.

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