Page 84 of The Confidant
Had he just said that this was the first High Priest’s journal?
And sure enough, when he pointed to the name written in the top lefthand corner of the cover, my jaw dropped. Because there it was, the name Samuel Williams—written in the beloved High Priest’s own handwriting.
“How do you have this?”
How did a college student have such a precious artifact from our church’s history?
Sure, he was a billionaire’s son, so that definitely came with special perks. But things like this were usually kept in the church’s vault.
Or at least in the Church History Museum in Pennsylvania.
“It’s from my dad’s private collection,” Xander said. “He has all sorts of church history stuff since we’re descended from Samuel Williams.”
“Wait.” I pulled my head back, my eyebrows squishing together. “You’re one of Samuel Williams’ descendants?”
He nodded. “Didn’t your dad tell you?”
“No.” I shook my head, suddenly not sure how I should act in the presence of Samuel Williams’ actual bloodline since they were like church royalty. “My dad never said anything about it.”
“I guess that’s probably good,” he said. “We don’t typically like to spread that around. People sometimes get weird about it.”
“I bet.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, seeming to pick up that I didn’t know how to react to him myself. “Are you going to get all awkward on me now, Scarlett?”
“No, of course not,” I hurried to say.
At cool. Act normal.
Instead of acting cool, I found myself saying, “But it’s no wonder why you want to be a pastor now.”
“It is?”
I nodded. “Spreading the gospel is literally in your blood.”
“I guess it is.” He chuckled, like he’d never thought about it that way before.
“So have you read this journal?” I asked, so curious about what kinds of things Samuel Williams might have written in it. “Is it from the time that he was the High Priest? Or is this one from before that?”
“He started writing in this one a few years after the church was founded.” Xander walked to the side table near the window and set the journal down. He opened the old book carefully and turned a few pages. “Most of the entries in this particular journal are from the time period that his spiritual partnerships started.”
“His spiritual partnerships?” I walked over to his side to look at the journal with him, never having heard that term before.
Xander nodded. “He wrote a lot about his partnerships with other women. Women you may have heard of, like Helen Partridge and Patty Huntington.”
“Huh?” I frowned, not recognizing the names of those women who must have lived close to two hundred years ago. Most of the people I knew about from the early church were men, since they had always been the leaders.
Xander looked at me carefully. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Melissa Walker though, right?”
“Of course. She was Samuel Williams’ wife,” I said. Growing up, I’d heard all sorts of stories in Sunday School about Samuel and Melissa’s marriage. How he’d fallen in love with Melissa when he’d been doing work on her father’s farm and how they’d eloped because they were so in love that they couldn’t wait to be married.
Their marriage had always been painted so beautifully. Samuel had been so in love with Melissa and treated her like a queen. Wrote her beautiful love letters whenever they were apart.
They’d had their difficulties, of course. Lost several children. Had their house burned down by a mob. But they’d always had each other’s backs, and it had been a really inspiring love story for me.
“So as we learned in church,” Xander continued, “Melissa Walker was Samuel’s first wife—and the only woman they really talked about Samuel having a relationship with, right?”
“Uh huh.” I nodded.
