Solomon asked politely.
Sunny tilted her head, as if asking the same question.
Noah looked down. Everyone here knew that the woman he’d courted over a decade ago—and who had rejected him when he went off to war—sat in this very room, now the wife of another man. And how could he explain how Sunny had attracted him from the first time he’d seen her here at Christmas last year? She’d drawn him because he sensed another soul that had lived far beyond this safe haven.
The war had never penetrated the peace here. An image of soldiers, both blue and gray, lying in their own blood flashed in his mind. The gorge in his throat rose. He made himself focus on here. On now. On her.
“I haven’t approached Sunny,” Noah continued, keeping his voice steady. “In her circumstances...” His voice faded. Then he looked Sunny straight in the eye. She still looked stunned. He hoped she wasn’t going to resent this public declaration. After meeting her in town upon arriving home, he’d thought this over carefully. He’d decided the best way to spike scurrilous, misguided gossip was to propose publicly.
He cleared his throat and chose his words with care. “I didn’t want her to take my interest wrongly.” That much was true. He’d first seen the way she was treated in town long before he’d left for Wisconsin. “But I think she’ll make me a good wife. And I’ll try to make her a good husband.”
Noah turned his gaze to Solomon Love, wanting to give all his reasons. “I could have just gone to Adam Gabriel’s house later to ask, then taken her to the justice of the peace.” Noah paused and bent his head toward her as if acknowledging he would have needed her agreement. “But I didn’t want to do it like that. I didn’t want to do this the world’s way, or away from the meeting.”
“Like last time? When thee ran away and enlisted?” his father retorted, obviously unable to keep his ire undercover—even here.
Noah stood his ground with a lift of his chin. His father wasn’t going to ruin Noah’s plans. Or hurt Sunny’s feelings.
Solomon cleared his throat. “Marrying should be about thee and the woman thee wishes to marry. ‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife,’” Solomon said in a tone that effectively capped a lid on any further public cleaning of the Whitmore family closet.
Boaz glared at Noah still, but shut his mouth tightly.
Noah didn’t relax. He glanced at Sunny. She still looked frozen. He hoped he hadn’t done this all wrong. Concern tightened into a ball in his midsection.
Solomon’s wife, Eve, a little silver-haired sparrow of a woman, rose and leaned on her cane. “I think we should all pray about this now. And, Solomon, we are old and forget the passion of youth. There is no reason to prevent Sunny and Noah from marrying today and leaving for Wisconsin tomorrow with the blessing of this meeting. As long as this is what the two wish. And if they have sought God’s will and have become clear, we should not try to prevent this marriage. Which I believe,” Eve said, her quavering voice firming, “would be of benefit to both.”
“Good counsel, wife, as usual.” Solomon beamed at her. “Noah, will thee sit and let us pray for thee and Sunny that thee both have clearness about this?”
“I will.” Noah sat, suddenly very weary. He glanced at his father, who still managed to bristle though he neither moved nor spoke.
Every head bowed, so Noah lowered his and waited... He hadn’t kept track of how much time had passed until he heard Sunny’s baby stirring and whimpering. Then he realized that the service had gone on much longer than usual. Others were also becoming restless. Noah tried to sit as if he were at peace, but his nerves jittered. Homesteading he’d seen proved hard enough for a man with a wife. He needed Sunny even though he hadn’t thought of marriage after the war. He was offering her a fair deal. He needed a wife and she needed the protection a husband could provide. If Sunny refused him, he’d be forced to go alone.
Solomon stood again, his joints creaking. “We are past our time. Noah Whitmore and Sunny, if it meets with thy approval, my wife and I will meet with thee here at two this afternoon to seek clearness about this.”
Noah rose. “I’m willing and I thank thee.”
All eyes turned to Sunny. She flushed scarlet.
Constance touched Sunny’s arm. “Is thee willing to meet for clearness?”
Sunny nodded, her eyes downcast.
Constance stood. “Our foster daughter is willing.”
Noah nodded his thanks.
Then, as if released from a spell, the congregation broke up. They would head home to eat a cold dinner with no doubt a heated discussion of Noah Whitmore proposing to the latest soiled dove the Gabriels had taken in. Noah wished he could change that, but he’d discovered that human nature could rarely be denied.
Outside the meetinghouse Noah approached Sunny, his broad-brimmed Quaker hat in hand. “I know my proposal shocked thee. If thee is not interested in marrying me, just say so.”
She looked up at him and then glanced around pointedly, obviously letting him know that too many people hovered nearby. “I am unsure. I will come at two.”
He bowed his head and backed away. “At two.” Just then the woman he’d loved walked past him. She nodded and gave him an unreadable look. He felt nothing for her now. She didn’t understand him. She hadn’t understood why he’d gone to war. And he certainly was no longer the man she’d contemplated marrying ten years ago.
He turned his gaze to Sunny. She was so pretty and so quiet. He didn’t know what had caused her to become a prostitute, but she wanted to change, wanted a new start, just like he did. They were well suited in that regard.
Solomon’s Bible quote repeated in Noah’s mind. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. Declaring his proposal had sharpened his need for Sunny to go with him.
He could only hope that she would seize her chance to start anew. And in the process, possibly save him—from himself.
* * *
Sunny paused on the step. She’d never entered the meetinghouse by herself. April sunshine had been tempered by the cool breeze from the west. She pulled her shawl tighter.
Dawn had lain down for her long afternoon nap so Sunny had come with empty arms here—to make a decision that would change both their lives forever. Should she accept Noah’s proposal? The thought of marrying chilled her, robbing her of breath.
She couldn’t think why he would want to marry her. Why any man would want to marry her.
She opened the double door and stepped inside. There in the middle of the Quaker meetinghouse on two benches facing each other sat Eve and Solomon Love, and Noah Whitmore, the man who had said in front of everybody that he thought she would make a good wife.
Fresh shock tingled through her. His thrilling words slid from her mind into her heart and left her quaking. What do I know about being a wife?
Sunny tried to conceal her trembling, the trembling that had begun this morning. She walked as calmly as she could manage toward the bench where Noah sat. Without
