Resurrection by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online

all Emmeline could do not to call him back, and damn the neighbors and their clacking tongues. But she had not survived seven difficult years by weakness, and her determination held against an onslaught of physical longings. Lifting her skirt slightly with one hand, her spine as straight as a broom handle, Miss Emmeline turned and swept back inside the house with her chin high.
    Nobody besides Gil would have guessed that her heart was pounding against her rib cage like a Sioux war drum and her breathing was so quick and shallow she feared she would swoon.
    Emmeline took a long, tepid bath in the kitchen that night, but the indulgence did nothing to settle her jumping nerves. There was only one thing, unfortunately, that would do that.
    Resigned, Emmeline dried herself, put on her nightgown and wrapper, dragged the tub to the back door and across the mud porch, emptied it, and hung it on its peg on the outside wall. Then, carrying the lamp, she climbed the rear stairway and went to bed. Miraculously, she fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
    The next morning, Emmeline awakened with puffy eyes, feeling thoroughly unrested. The weather was strange, the air heavy and charged with some sort of elemental anticipation. The sky, a fierce and brittle blue, looked as though the flight of one sparrow might shatter it like an eggshell and bring it tinkling down over all their heads in the tiniest shards and splinters.
    Emmeline prepared herself carefully, because today, for the first time since her thwarted wedding day, she would face the whole town. She wore her most conservative dress, a brown serge trimmed in cocoa-colored braid and adorned only by Gil’s brooch, pinned circumspectly to her bodice. To complete the somber ensemble, she added a bonnet to match her frock.
    Izannah looked up from her oatmeal as Emmeline entered the kitchen by way of the back stairs. Normally, Emmeline would have eaten a substantial breakfast, for the Sabbath was a long day in Plentiful, beginning with two hours of preaching and singing and another of fellowship on the shady side of the churchyard. But today she did not trust her fretful stomach to contain even the simplest food.
    “You look quite ghastly this morning,” Izannah said with exuberance.
    “Thank you,” Emmeline responded, tugging on her gloves. She’d be the center of attention today, along with Gil, of course, and she dreaded the inevitable looks and questions with all her heart, for she was by nature a quiet and private person, happiest when left alone to mind her own affairs. “Could you hurry, please?” she asked Izannah pettishly, frowning at the clock. The mechanism inside wound itself audibly, preparing to strike the hour. “It is nearly nine, and only the vain and feckless keep the Lord waiting.”
    Izannah rolled her mirthful brown eyes and carried hercereal bowl to the sink. “It isn’t the Lord that’s waiting this morning,” she pointed out. “I don’t imagine He’s in any suspense at all.”
    “Hush,” Emmeline scolded, aware of a sudden warmth in her cheeks. “It’s not fitting to speak so flippantly of holy matters.”
    “Oh, fuss and bother,” Izannah muttered, arranging the skirts of her Sunday dress. A blue sateen with puffed sleeves and understated ruffles at the bodice and hem, it was the most sedate garment the girl owned. “Every day but Sunday, you let the Lord go His own way with hardly a nod, while you go yours. If you ask me, you’re nothing but a hypocrite, carrying on about being late to church.”
    Emmeline gave her cousin a none too gentle push toward the back door. “Reverend Bickham’s sermon will be sufficient unto the day,” she said briskly. “I do not require an additional one from you.”
    They walked through the rear garden to the alley, proceeding down a rutted road toward the white clapboard church at its end, converging with other families, small and large, as they went. Greetings were exchanged, as usual, but Emmeline did not