Woman of Grace by Kathleen Morgan Page B

Ella’s funeral … well, it’s been on my mind ever since.”
    “How so, Father?” Hannah turned the full force of her suspicious gaze on him.
    Apparently unperturbed by her hostility, he cocked his head and smiled up at her. “You said that you and Devlin weren’t friends. I had hoped, with time, that might change.”
    “Well, it hasn’t. No sooner was Ella in the ground than Devlin had another housekeeper from Grand View fetched to replace me. Save for a time or two since then, we’ve hardly talked.”
    Noah sighed and shook his head. “That must have hurt you deeply.”
    At his softly couched statement, unexpected tears sprang to Hannah’s eyes. Furious with herself—and at him for asking—she hastily blinked them away. Then, to hide her unnerving display, Hannah lowered her head as if concentrating on her task, and resumed kneading the dough.
    “My feelings were never a consideration,” she gritted out the admission. “It’s Devlin’s house and family. He can do whatever he wants.”
    “How can I help? It pains me to see two fine people so angry at each other, and so miserable because of it.”
    With rough, jerky motions, Hannah formed the dough into a loaf and all but flung it into its pan. “If you really want to help,” she finally said, meeting his concerned gaze, “then go ask Devlin. He’s the one who refuses to forgive. He’s the one who won’t give me a chance. But don’t come to me and expect me to solve this problem. Face Devlin, if you dare, and then you’ll understand.”
    She gave a shaky laugh. “On second thought, maybe you won’t want to understand. Maybe it’s safer if you don’t dig too deeply.”
    “And why’s that, Hannah?”
    She smiled, but this time the action was totally devoid of warmth or feeling. “Don’t you have enough problems to deal with, Father, without seeking out even more?”
    “I can’t ignore anyone I see suffering. You and Devlin are as much my brother and sister in Christ as anyone else.”
    Hannah gave a mocking laugh. “Perhaps Devlin is, but I was long ago separated from that particular family.”
    “If you ever wish to return to church, the door is always open, Hannah. Always.”
    She eyed him warily. Would he be surprised to learn that she had never in her entire life set foot inside a church? Indeed, she wasn’t even baptized. Her parents had never put much store in religion. But to admit the truth now, Hannah feared, would only spur the Reverend Starr onto further evangelistic efforts. He was, after all, such a well-meaning, naïve fool.
    “You’ll be the first to know, if the day ever comes when I want to go to church,” Hannah replied at last, deciding it safest to discourage him in the most direct way she could.
    Noah pushed back his chair and stood. “I not only look forward to that day, but I pray for it.”
    Hannah met his steady gaze and saw the sincerity burning in the depths of his warm brown eyes. Remorse flooded her. She had been rude and downright hostile, yet the man didn’t seem to care. He was as open and friendly now as he had been when he had first entered the kitchen.
    “Well, prayer has wrought greater miracles than that, I suppose,” she muttered in a sort of backhanded apology, as she carried the second loaf to the cookstove to rise. “I thank you for your concern.”
    “Think nothing of it.” The young priest stepped back and turned toward the door. “I guess I’d best be going.”
    “Yes, I guess you should.”
    Noah gave her a farewell nod, then began to walk away.
    “Uh, one thing more, Father.” Hannah didn’t know from whence the sudden impulse came, but nonetheless it seemed right.
    He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes, Hannah?”
    “Please pray for Devlin, too, if you would. If anyone needs God’s help right now, that man surely does.”

    As much as Devlin hated to admit it, Hannah had been right. So had his son, for that matter, when he had told him the Widow Ashley was too busy