Bethany was so elated she felt as if her feet were not touching the ground. This was the stuff her dreams were made of. She couldn’t seem to stop grinning so widely that she felt foolish.
It would complete the reverie if Stan would hold her hand, she mused, but under the circumstances she figured she’d better just take what had been offered and thank the Good Lord. She still couldn’t believe it. Her. And Stan Ellison. Together. Hallelujah.
She smiled up at him. “In case I haven’t already told you, thanks for the offer to feed me.”
“You’re welcome.”
The moment she decided to pursue the conversation on a more personal level, her mouth dried up like the white, fluffy seeds that were drifting down from the cottonwood trees that lined the river. Many questions pressed to be asked.
Bethany shaded her eyes with her hand, looked up at him and settled on a simple, “Why?”
“Why what?”
She could tell from the way his brow wrinkled that he was confused and she hoped that that was all that was bothering him. “Why ask me in the first place? I mean, you and I haven’t had a lot to do with each other for the past year.”
“You were away at college,” he said flatly.
“Only as far as Manhattan. I came home every day and on the weekends.”
“Did you? I hadn’t noticed.”
Blushing, she decided to let herself say what she was thinking—at least in part. “Fine thing. Makes me feel invisible.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He continued to stroll with her toward the big Community Church building.
Bethany kept pace by taking two steps for every one of his longer strides. What she yearned to do was insist on further explanation but in her heart of hearts she feared she would not like what she heard. Since he had already denied comparing her to her sister, what else could she say? It was evident, at least to her, that that was exactly what the man had been doing, even if he failed to realize it.
The three-story, white-painted Community Church sat at the east end of Main Street, on a low hill next to the High Plains River. The edifice dated back to the mid-1800s and was the focal point of much of the town’s history. It, and the old town hall building nearby, was part of the heritage that so many current residents shared, even if they were not direct descendants of the Logan or Garrison families who had originally settled the area.
The row of temporary booths and vendors ended where the church lawn began. It was there that the ladies’ society had set up their outdoor kitchen. The pastor, Michael Garrison, was greeting everyone and passing their orders to the cooks.
Bethany saw his eyebrows arch as she and Stan approached. Little wonder, she thought, since she had poured out her heart to the pastor after her sister had jilted Stan so cruelly.
“Afternoon, folks,” Michael said with a grin. “What’ll it be?”
Bethany’s quick wit made her think, everlasting love and marriage. She said, “A burger with the works, please.”
“Same for me,” Stan echoed as he got out his wallet.
All she could do was stare and grin and give thanks that he could not read what was really going on in her active imagination. It was bad enough that she knew.
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