Page 52 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“I don’t think he’s coming,” Esther repeated.
With trembling hands, Ruth pulled a crumpled handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it into Esther’s palm. “Just in case,” she whispered before tugging her sister through the nave and into the church. They shuffled past rows of people, their footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors as they settled into the front row and listened to the sermon.
When he was done, Esther’s father stood at the podium, his voice booming through the crowded congregation. He spoke about recent events and welcomed Esther back to the community. As he finished his speech, the townspeople erupted into applause, their hands slamming together in thunderous claps. Esther felt her heart break with each one, knowing they were applauding her forced return rather than out of genuine happiness for her.
The piano began playing as everyone rose and sang.
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod.
With its crystal tide forever,
Flowing by the throne of God?
It was one of Esther’s favorite hymns, but she couldn’t bring herself to sing.
As the last notes of the hymn faded, Esther smoothed down her skirt and prepared to sit back down. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement along the back of the church.
She stood for a moment longer to be sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
It was Whit.He was leaning nonchalantly against the wall with a sly grin on his face.
Esther’s heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with Whit across the crowded church. The worry and doubt which had consumed her only moments before melted away, replaced by a rush of joy and relief. She fought the urge to run to him, knowing all eyes were upon her.
“Take your seats, please,” Reverend Billings said. “We’ll close with a prayer, and if you can please remain seated for a bit.”
Esther slid back in the pew and listened to Papa say the closing prayer, but her mind was on Whit. When the chorus ofamenswas heard, she glanced over her shoulder once more.
Whit pushed off from the wall and strode down the aisle, his spurs jingling with each step. The congregation turned to watch him, their curious whispers filling the air. He paid them no mind, his gaze fixed solely on Esther. He walked up to the first pew and stopped in front of her.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice low and tender as he took her hand. “I had some business to take care of.”
“May I ask?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I hired Peter and Petunia Beale to build a pigeon coop in the barn?”
Her eyes opened wide, and she gave a little laugh. “I can’t wait to see it.”
The sound of Reverend Billings clearing his throat broke through their soft conversation. Whit tucked Esther’s hand under his arm. She could still feel the bandages under his shirt.
“Are you feeling all right?” she whispered as they moved in front of her father.
“I am better. I even took a bath,” he said at a normal volume.
The congregation laughed. Reverend Billings held up his hands, silencing them before looking at the young couple.
“Young man, you disappointed my daughter by being late.”
“I apologize, sir.”
Reverend Billings regarded Whit with a stern gaze, and then his expression softened. “We are glad you are home, son. You’ve proven yourself more than worthy of my daughter’s hand.”
Whit turned and looked at Esther. “Why the change of heart?”
Reverend Billings spoke up. “Esther doesn’t want to leave Flat River and I realized I don’t want her to leave either. Having her gone for those few weeks made us realize how precious family is. We want her here with us.”
Esther placed her hand on Whit’s arm.
