Reading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.Searching for Anna by Jenifer Carll-Tong (motivational books for students TXT) đź“–
- Author: Jenifer Carll-Tong
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Book online «Searching for Anna by Jenifer Carll-Tong (motivational books for students TXT) 📖». Author Jenifer Carll-Tong
She thought for a moment. "Yes, very much so," she said honestly. 'And nervous,' she thought silently.
"Well, I'm excited, too. Not only have I made a friend in my new town, but I've already met the pastor!"
Both Phoebe and her father laughed.
"So why are you headed to the Upper Peninsula, son?" asked Reverend Albright.
"Got me a job in the mines, sir. The pay is pretty good, and the housing is free, so it's not a bad job."
Phoebe was shocked. "Work? Why, you can't be old enough to work in a mine!"
Her words seemed to wound the boy and his shoulders lifted again. "I'm sixteen… but I'll be seventeen in November."
"Well, that sounds like right honorable work," her father interjected, giving Phoebe a reproachful look she was all too familiar with. This wasn't the first time he'd had to save her from her own mouth.
"Yes, it does," Phoebe agreed. "Your mother must be very proud."
"She is, but she wishes I weren't moving so far away. She's worried about me…thinks I'm too young."
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Wendell," Reverend Albright said. "No matter how old you get, your mother will never stop worrying about you." He patted Phoebe's hand. "It's part of being a parent."
"If it would make you feel any better, sir, I would be happy to keep an eye out for Miss Albright, you know, and help her whenever she needs it. I could help if she had chores or things a man needs to do."
"That is very sweet, Wendell, but I can take care of my own chores."
"Well, you'll need help around the church, isn't that right? I would be happy to be a helper in that way, if I could."
Helper – around the church. God was already answering their prayers and she wasn't even halfway to Iron Falls yet!
"Yes, yes I will need help around the church! And I would be honored if you were willing to volunteer."
"Well, then, I guess that makes me your first parishioner!" he said with a smile.
They finished their lunch and packed up their belongings.
"We are stopping in Indian Lake for the night. Where are you stopping?" the reverend asked Wendell.
"Oh, I'm not stopping until I get to Iron Falls."
"Really? That will be one long day for you."
"Yes sir, but the woman at the company's boarding house, a Mrs. Smith, she's waitin' up for me. And it's within walking distance of the train station. It'll be late, but it won't cost me anything to sleep there."
Phoebe looked down in the basket she carried. "Wendell, take this basket with you. You can eat the rest for your supper."
"But won't you and the reverend get hungry?"
"Goodness, no. Mrs. Cook, whom we are staying with this evening, will provide us with supper tonight, and will pack us a lunch to take tomorrow, so this food will just go to waste if you don't take it."
Wendell hesitated when she thrust the basket toward him.
Reverend Albright chuckled. "You might as well give up the fight, son, because she has made up her mind."
"But your basket…"
"Just return it to me later this week. We'll need to catch up on your first days in the U.P. anyway, won't we?"
"Now, you see, that's something that an old man preacher like myself just can't do," Reverend Albright said as they watched their new friend make his way to his car.
"What's that?"
"Convince a young man to not only share my lunch, but to also volunteer at a church he has never seen," he said, turning to her. "Do you know how long it took me to find someone to count the offering at church? Five weeks! It took me five weeks to find one person to do one little job in an established church full of members. You've only one member and he just volunteered to do whatever needs to be done. Seems to me that you are going to make a fine pastor." He placed his hat on his head and walked back to the train.
Laughing, Phoebe followed right behind, elated that God was already showing his presence in this adventure.
The wind whipped stray hairs in her face, but Phoebe didn't notice. She was far more concerned with keeping the rolled brim hat atop her head that her sister had convinced her to wear. She sighed. Esther was far more interested in fashion than Phoebe ever cared to be. Had she chosen the simple deaconess bonnet as was her custom, it would be securely tied around her chin and she wouldn't be struggling with the Lake Huron breezes right now. But, at her sister's urging, she had relented. Phoebe was no longer a deaconess, Esther pointed out. She was a pastor, and she had to start acting, and dressing, like it if she expected people to see her as such. She just wished there was a uniform for pastors.
Another strong breeze swept up from the Mackinac Straits and onto the upper deck of the Chief Wawatam. She supposed she should go below where most of the other passengers were, but she just couldn't bring herself to. A bent hat and a tousled pompadour was a small sacrifice in exchange for the magnificent view from the deck.
It had been a shock boarding the Wawatam. Phoebe hadn't thought at all about how she would cross the Mackinac Straits to arrive in the Upper Peninsula, but she certainly didn't expect it to be on a ship that transported not only the train passengers, but the entire train as well. It was a little frightening, she had to admit, to trust one boat with so much weight, but the vessel seemed well built and all the passengers, including a few with their motor vehicles, seemed at ease with the situation. Who was she to question the mode of transportation?
The wind died down and Phoebe took the opportunity to release her grip on her hat and adjust the collar that refused to stay down in the wind. But just as quickly as it had died down, the lake breeze swirled up once more and Phoebe was helpless to reach her hat in time. In an instant, the rolled brim hat, along with all the pins that tried in vain to hold it onto her head, ripped out of her hair and flew behind her.
She gasped and turned, ready to run after the frustrating accessory, but to her shock, the hat wasn't halfway across the deck. It was only a few, short feet away where it had hit a man in the face.
"Oh, my!" she gasped, reaching for her hat. "I'm so sorry! I – I…"
Phoebe stopped short when the man pulled the hat away and she found herself face to face with one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.
Warm, brown eyes smiled down on her. "As lovely as I find your hat," he said with a chuckle, "I really don't believe it matches my suit."
Phoebe could feel her cheeks grow warm as the man stared at her. "No, I don't suppose it does." She stood there, half wanting to find a place to hide for the remainder of the trip, half wanting to hear the handsome man chuckle again. She liked how it sounded.
Phoebe reached for her hat, but the gentleman pulled it just out of reach.
"Sir, if you please?"
"You may have your hat, for a price."
Phoebe arched one eyebrow. She didn't like being toyed with. "A price? How about a hand-shaped mark across your cheek?"
He threw his head back and laughed heartily. "You wound me, madam. The only price I ask…is your name." His laugh sounded even better than the chuckle and Phoebe found herself considerably less inclined toward violence.
Her shoulders relaxed. "Of course. My name is Albright. Phoebe Albright."
It was the man's turn to arch a brow. "Mrs. Albright."
So, that was his real question. "No, sir. Miss Albright."
A large, straight smile spread across the handsome face as he handed her hat to her. "I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Phoebe Albright. I am Gregory Parker."
"A pleasure." She twisted her hat in her hands, uncomfortable with the man's attentions, no matter how pleasant his attentions were. She searched for what to do or say to end, or extend, the conversation, because she wasn't sure which would please her more.
Mr. Parker nodded toward her head. "That must have hurt."
Phoebe scowled in confusion, then her hand flew to her hair. With no mirror at hand, she could only assume how terrible her hair must look. She had no other option but to slam her hat back into place and pray she hadn't worsened the situation. "Oh, I must look a fright!"
"On the contrary. You're beautiful."
Her heart stopped beating. How brazen of this man, a stranger, to pay her such a compliment! She found herself at a loss for words.
"She gets that from her mother."
Phoebe turned to find her father standing behind her.
"Father, may I introduce Mr. Gregory
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