The Parson's Waiting

of that particular apple, when there’s a whole orchard filled with choices. Did it have anything to do with its being the least obtainable?”
She smiled and her whole face seemed to light up. “There is something about a challenge that I can’t resist,” she admitted.
“I suppose that makes us kindred spirits, then. In which case we should properly introduce ourselves. I’m Richard Walton.”
“I know. Maisey told me you were coming home.” Her thoughtful gaze held his. “She’s missed you, you know.”
Richard listened for a judgmental note in her voice, but it wasn’t there. It was just a statement of fact. He matched it with the same even tone. “I’ve missed her, too.”
The woman in his arms nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Now suppose you put me down,” she said briskly.
He shook his head. “Not until you tell me your name and what you were doing snitching my grandmother’s apples.”
“Planning to have me arrested?”
“Persuade me I shouldn’t.”
“It seems like a lot of trouble for one apple, which I would like to point out, I never did reach.”
“How do I know you don’t have a whole bushel basket filled with them hidden away behind another tree?”
“Trust me, thievery wouldn’t do a lot for my reputation,” she said with a dry note that puzzled him. “Besides, Maisey told me I could pick all the apples I want.”
“I only have your word for that,” he said, reluctant to let her go even though it was entirely likely that Maisey had given her permission to plunder the orchard at will. It had been far too long since he’d met anyone whose expression radiated such unabashed joy. He felt a little like he was basking in the first rays of sunshine after a long, gray winter. This woman, not the peace and quiet, might be exactly what he needed to heal his battered psyche. If she happened to be as adventurous as he hoped, she would certainly brighten his stay in Kiley.
“I’m baking a pie for the church bazaar,” she said, as if invoking the mention of church should prove her good intentions.
“When is this bazaar?” he asked skeptically.
“Saturday afternoon. Maisey also told me you didn’t have a lot of trust left in your heart,” she informed him. “This is Kiley, not Bosnia or Somalia or any of those other places you’ve been. You can let down your guard.”
The reminder broke the magical mood. “Hey, I grew up here, remember? Just being Kiley isn’t a great recommendation. People may not be shooting each other with guns, but they’re just as capable of destroying a man,” he said bitterly, finally lowering her to her feet.
Her eyes immediately turned sad and she reached up and touched his face with a feathery-light brush of her fingers. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’ve got to get back to the house and check on Maisey. No doubt I’ll be seeing you around.” Ignoring her puzzled expression, he turned his back on her then and walked away.
“No doubt,” she called after him.
Five minutes earlier and the promise would have sparked anticipation. Now, though, with unexpected memories of all the things that had made him want to leave Kiley in the first place suddenly crowding in again, Richard felt only the same dull ache he’d carried in his chest for the past ten years.
* * *
Anna Louise Perkins spent an inordinate amount of time on Saturday afternoon gazing up the road toward the Walton place. To her regret, her distraction was noticed by half the people attending the church bazaar, including Maisey Walton. Maisey might be nearing eighty, but she had a sharp mind and observant blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence. She also had the heart of a matchmaker. Anna Louise had been a tough challenge for her, refusing to cast a second look at any of the single men in town.
“What did you think of my grandson?” Maisey inquired casually, her gaze following the direction of Anna Louise’s.
“How did you know we’d met?”
“He mentioned something about finding a woman up in one of my apple trees. That could only have been you. Everyone else is satisfied with picking what they can reach from the ground.” She patted Anna Louise’s hand. “Stop peering up the road like that. He won’t be coming. Said he wanted no part of the town. He just came home to look after me.”
“But you’re here,” Anna Louise noted. “How did you get down the hill? You didn’t walk, did you?”
“Young lady, I’ve been walking up and down that hill for the better part of eighty years. I suppose one more trip won’t kill me.”
“Maisey, you know what Doc Benson told you. You’re not as young as you once were. Your heart...”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle. I’ve had a few pains. I’m an old woman. And I’d rather go out doing the things I’ve always done than wasting away in that old house, bored to tears.”
Anna Louise embraced the woman she’d come to think of as her own relation. “Regardless, you are not to walk home. I’ll drive you whenever you’re ready to go. Got that?”
Maisey smiled tolerantly. “Whatever you say, dear.”
Anna Louise regarded her suspiciously. Such easy acquiescence was out of character. “What are you up to, Maisey Walton?”
“Me?” the older woman replied with exaggerated innocence. “I’m not the one looking for excuses to sneak another peek at my grandson.”
“I hope you remember to pray for forgiveness tomorrow regarding that tart tongue of yours,” Anna Louise cautioned, trying not to laugh.
“You let me worry about my soul, young lady. You’ve got plenty of other work to do. Now go on about your business. I think I’m going to go over to that kissing booth where that handsome young doctor is puckering up for a dollar. Now that will be a test of the shape my old heart is in.”
Laughing, Anna Louise watched Maisey march determinedly across the church grounds, her aim straight for the line in front of the kissing booth. When the idea for such a booth had been proposed, there had