“I have a different sort of ministry than most preachers—a calling,” the stranger said. “Mr. Cash says you have a pernicious cough that might be helped by my gift?”
“It’s the galloping consumption, sir,” Mama answered softly. “There ain’t no cure for it.”
“It might seem so, but with faith, I’ve healed such ailments before. May I pray for you?”
“Please. Let him try, Nola,” Arthur coaxed, squeezing Mama’s shoulders.
As she watched, the stranger cupped his hand gently over Mama’s forehead, and closed his eyes. He began praying, his alluring, melodious voice sinking deep into Deirdre’s ears. She closed her eyes and listened, hoping that there was some truth to the man’s promises.
After a time, the preacher’s hypnotic words ceased, and Mama raised her head, tears shining in her eyes. Color flooded her cheeks, driving away her bluish pallor. “I could feel your prayers, sir. I ain’t never felt anything like that afore.” Mama pulled in a deep breath, and Deirdre watched her shoulders rise and fall, expecting the raw cough that nearly always came after. Instead, Mama laughed, hearty and loud. “I can breathe! Truly breathe!”
Arthur Cash laughed with her. “Praise Jesus for that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The stranger rose from the table. “I received my gift as a boy, after a vision I had. I healed my own mother from her fits. I’ve been helping good folks like you ever since.”
Mama stood, taking his hands. “I ain’t sure how to repay you, sir. We haven’t much to give in way of an offering for your ministry. But I made molasses bread last night. There’s fresh churned butter, too. Would you care to take some with you for later? You, too, Arthur.”
“I’m honored by your hospitality, I’ll surely appreciate your broth and your bread, but no other payment will be required, ma’am. I do what I do in service of the Lord. Still, as I mean to stay on in Tin Mountain, I’d be much obliged if you might spread word of my ministry.”
“Of course! This town has long needed a true man of God.”
Arthur Cash ducked his head and whispered something in Mama’s ear, bringing a smile. Deirdre bristled. He was far too familiar for her liking.
“Perhaps you might call on us for dinner some other night? It’s just myself and my daughter, but I’ve gathered you’re a gentleman not yet married?”
The minister ran a hand through his damp wavy hair. “Why, ma’am, I’d be delighted. It’s been far too long since I enjoyed fair company and a square meal.”
At this, Deirdre flew around the corner. She would not be offered up like chattel to a stranger, no matter how pleasing his voice or looks. “Mama, what’s this all about?”
“Deirdre!” Mama startled. “Mr. Cash has come to call. He brought this young man to pray for me. He has a gift of healing. He means to settle here, in Tin Mountain. Start a ministry. I thought we might have him come for dinner this Sunday.”
The stranger turned. His green eyes crawled from the hem of her dress up to her face. A tremor of nervousness went through her at the intensity of his gaze. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Deirdre. I’m Ambrose Gentry.”
Deirdre ignored his outstretched hand, which looked nearly as soft as her own. A learned man instead of a laborer. Something in his manner reminded her of Robbie, though there was a smoothness that Robbie lacked. She had the sense Ambrose Gentry was well honed and clever and knew his own charm, and that made Deirdre wary. Plenty of girls had fallen to the seductions of wandering pastors over the years—promises made in the heat of summer and then forgotten as soon as the harvest fell. “Mama, you know I already have a beau, though I’m pleased to meet you all the same, Mr. Gentry.”
“Deirdre!” Mama laughed nervously. “Goodness gracious. No one said a word about courting, although . . .” She cast a furtive look at Mr. Cash. “Arthur?”
Arthur cleared his throat and picked his hat up from the table. “Now, my Robbie does regard you fondly, Miss Deirdre, but he’d need to ask for your pa’s permission before courting you formally.”
“Pa might be reached by telegram,” Deirdre said flatly. “Can’t we get his permission that way, Mama? I don’t reckon I see a difference whether he gives his blessing from here or from there.”
“You and the girl should have a talk, Nola.” Mr. Cash cleared his throat again and scratched at his head. “We’ll see ourselves out. I’ll be back to patch the weak spot on your roof after this rain lets up.”
Ambrose Gentry slung his hat down low over his eyes and touched a finger to its brim. He took the packet of bread Mama offered and smiled at Deirdre, sending a tickle of nervousness through her belly. “I’ll come another day, Miss Deirdre. Not to call on you as a suitor. Only to read Scripture and pray with you. I’ll comport myself with the utmost propriety and respect, I assure you.”
Deirdre’s cheeks warmed. He’d seen her watching while he washed up, and he was goading her. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather you . . . I’d rather you,” Deirdre stumbled over her words, suddenly shy. “I can read the Bible on my own just fine, sir.”
Gentry tilted his head back and laughed. “Charming, isn’t she?”
“Deirdre is a bit bashful, Mr. Gentry. That’s all. You’re welcome in our home anytime.”
After the men had gone, Deirdre turned to Mama. “How is it you think you can offer me up to any man passin’ through?”
Mama fixed Deirdre with a steady look. “I hadn’t a mind to do so, but it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to keep company with a minister, would it? Mr. Gentry certainly seemed to take a shine to you, and he’s very kind. You should choose the most suitable man, not the first one who bends your ear with pretty words. Once vows are taken, a lifetime with the wrong man can lead to heartache. A minister’s wife is a fine station in life, Deirdre. Honorable. I worry that Robbie is fickle. Arthur is concerned you may be misreading Robbie’s affections.”
“Robbie’s true, Mama, I swear it. My mind’s made up for him.” Deirdre closed her eyes briefly, remembering the simple ring Robbie had woven for her out of a daisy stem when they were twelve. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips—her first—then promised to make her his wife. Deirdre had clung to the memory and set about filling her hope chest with trinkets and treasures for the day she’d become his bride, though the years had stretched on much longer than she liked between his boyish promise and now.
“All the same, once Pa is home, we’ll set your courtin’ candle in the window, and Robbie can come to speak with your father, just like Jakob did with mine. We’ll do things properly . . . so long as it’s not too late.” Mama’s lips pursed. “Arthur’s told me about your trips up to the lighthouse, daughter. If you’ve already given Robbie your virtue, he’ll not be inclined to marry you.”
So, Mama knew. Deirdre faltered, her face going pale. Then she remembered the way Arthur Cash’s hands had rested so easily on Mama’s shoulders and a righteous ire boiled up in place of her shame. “And what of your virtue, Mama? Since when are you so congenial with Mr. Cash? I reckon he gets lonely, being a widower and all. Is that why he’s around so much?”