Resurrection by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

miss the sidelong glances or the whispers behind gloved hands.
    A cluster of men had gathered, as they did every Sunday, in the shade of the row of poplar trees planted to protect the church from harsh Montana winds. As subtly as she could, Emmeline searched the group for Gil. Instead, she found her gaze locked with that of Neal Montgomery.
    Blast him, Emmeline thought uncharitably, lowering her head a little and hoping the wide brim of her bonnet hid her flushed face from prying eyes. Mr. Montgomery was no believer; that was why they had planned to marry in her garden, rather than before Reverend Bickham’s pulpit. Hewas present only to nettle Emmeline and to fuel the fires of speculation.
    Emmeline shot him a skewering look, and he tipped his hat and smiled benignly. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed the man’s ornery streak before.
    “Do you think Mr. Montgomery would marry me, now that it turns out you’re taken?” Izannah teased, making no effort to speak in a moderate tone. She was plainly enjoying the melodrama as much as anyone else in town.
    Emmeline’s response was tight-lipped. “No doubt he would,” she replied. “And I must say, such a union would serve you both right.”
    A twitter went up from the women and girls; the men, fortunately, were too far away to hear. Or so Emmeline devoutly hoped.
    The church bell began to ring, drowning out any response Izannah might have been brazen enough to offer, and the congregation moved in a swell toward the open doors of the church.
    Emmeline swept down the aisle with her chin held high and took her place in the same pew she always did. Members of her family had sat right there ever since the judge had come to Plentiful in pioneer days, a new-minted lawyer with a young bride and a surplus of high hopes. A little modesty on her grandfather’s part then might have saved Emmeline some difficulty now, for she was smack in front of the church, where everybody could see her. Worse, she hadn’t seen Gil, and wouldn’t know whether or not he’d kept his promise to attend until after the services were over, since she wasn’t about to turn around and scan the congregation for him.
    During the first chorus of “Shall We Gather at the River,” there was a stir of sorts, but Emmeline straightened her shoulders resolutely and did not look back. She simply sangwith greater dedication, and then Gil appeared beside her, booming the words of the old song with amused enthusiasm. She felt heat pulsing at her nape and a peculiar, tumbling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
    She looked at Gil out of the corner of her eye, and aligned her vertebrae one square above the next, all the way up her back. She felt jubilant, just because he was standing there, and at the same time she wanted to smack him over the head with her hymnal for the sideshow he’d made of her life.
    After the song came a lengthy prayer offered by Reverend Bickham, a sincere if unimaginative man who probably would have gone right on preaching even if he stopped believing. Emmeline knew he relished the traditions and rituals of the faith, and agreed that such things had their place in a balanced life, whether one accepted every tenet of the philosophy or not. Beyond that, as Izannah had pointed out in the kitchen that morning, Emmeline generally minded her own business, with an eye to being kind, modest, honest, and patient, and expected the Lord to mind His.
    She found herself wondering, as the prayer progressed, how Mr. Hartwell felt about God after his experience on the high seas. Assuming, of course, that he had indeed undertaken the voyage against his will, and not because he’d simply wished to avoid the responsibilities and constraints of marriage.
    At long last, Reverend Bickham finished his earnest conversation with heaven and instructed the congregation to be seated. It was hot that morning, and the air was close inside the little church. There were muffled sighs of relief at the invitation to