Her mouth set into an unhappy line. “Well, no, but—”
“Then let it alone, Letitia. We will deal with this later.”
“But—”
“Not now,” he hissed. “Have you forgotten there’s a social going on?”
With a final glower toward me, she turned on her heel and marched past her husband, heading for the parsonage.
“Perhaps I ought to make sure she’s all right,” Prudence volunteered. Her skirts kicked up a cloud of dust behind her.
“I’m terribly sorry for that,” Parson Briard said, fixing his attention on me. “The strain of the winter has taken its toll on Letitia. I’m certain she meant no harm. It was a simple mistake.” He nodded, more for his benefit than mine. “Her fabric was a darker pink. Yes, I’m sure it was.”
“Are you all right?” Ephraim asked once the parson had left and was loudly greeting Matthias Dodson with a laugh so boisterous, it rang false.
“I’m fine. It’s fine.” Though it was balmy out, I rubbed at my arms, chilled by the encounter. I couldn’t forget the look of contempt in Letitia’s eyes, the glint of scorn and hatred. “That…all of that…felt wrong.”
He glanced toward the pines.
“Do you think they’re there now? Watching?” I asked, following his gaze.
“I’m certain they are. Somewhere.”
* * *
“Good Blessings, Amity Falls,” Parson Briard called out from the makeshift stage, hushing the merriment.
“What a wonderful day, full of the Lord’s bounty.” He pulled out a small Bible and flipped it to its ribbon marker. “I thought, perhaps, we might spend a bit of time with the Word before the feast begins.”
He launched into his sermon without another comment, reading from Matthew, holding his Bible aloft and jabbing his finger to the page as he enunciated each syllable.
“ ‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ ” With a heavy thud, Parson Briard snapped the Bible shut, his gaze steely, his jaw resolute. “And what do you say, Amity Falls? Have you heard the calls of your fellow men? Have you seen the hungry, the tired, the sick? I’ve lived in the Falls for all my adult life and have never seen a lack of Good Samaritans here. The founders of this town so cared about helping their fellow men, they even included it within the Rules.”
Townsfolk nodded, and I saw several chests puff with pride.
“I feel honored to call the Falls my home. And yet,” he said, his eyes darkening with the message’s turn. “And yet, we’ve failed to be the good shepherds God calls us to be, tending and caring for his flock as he has for us. We allowed division and hatred to reign in our hearts, ruling our thoughts, and governing our hands. Prejudice supplanted compassion. Animosity overcame grace.”
The afternoon had grown warm, spring teetering into the dangerous heat of summer. A line of perspiration dotted the parson’s brow, and he removed a handkerchief, embellished with one of Widow Mullins’s designs.
“I am not here today to take confessions—God will judge those who commit despicable and cowardly acts. He sees all, he watches all—but I am here to condemn them. Amity Falls will not abide discord. We cannot allow our community to harbor enmity and strife.”
He tucked the Bible back into his pocket and clapped his hands, changing tones.
“Will you do me a favor? Can we stand, right here and now, and reach out to a neighbor? Look them in the eye, take their hand. Come on now, let’s all join together.”
We stood and shuffled about to form a circle across the town green, each of us a link in the chain that made up Amity Falls.
Across the circle, I noticed Sam, chuckling with Winthrop Mullins as they pretended to not want to hold each other’s hands. When he glanced up, our eyes met. I tried offering a little smile, but he looked away with indifference.
When we were smaller, we’d clung to each other with an unbreakable fierceness. Seeing his detachment now made me want to cry. Where had we gone so wrong?
Parson Briard stepped onto a bench, raising himself over the giant circle. His smile beamed, showing off even the very last of his molars.
“This is Amity Falls,” he cried. “United by God. United with friendship. United together!”
Briard broke into applause, and everyone else followed suit, hugging their neighbors, offering pats on the back and smiles as wide as the parson’s. Winthrop Mullins was the first to leave the circle, stumbling his way to the parson.
He greeted the boy with a hearty handshake. “Happy to see you today, Mullins. We’ve missed you at services.”
Winthrop ran stubby fingers through his hair. It was badly in need of a trim. Old Widow Mullins had always kept her grandson’s red hair cut short and neat, but he seemed utterly lost without her now. This was the first time I’d seen him since her funeral.
“Interesting sermon today, real interesting.”
Parson Briard’s eyes lit up. “Indeed? I’m glad to hear you enjoyed it.”
“Don’t know how much I agree with a lot of it,” Winthrop confessed. “You say we ought to be like a shepherd, right?”
“Well, it’s not just me saying that. You’ll find references to shepherds and their flocks all over the Good Book.”
“Now, see, that’s where I have the problem. I only know one shepherd”—Winthrop glanced at Leland Schäfer, who stood under an elm tree, laughing at something Cora had said—“and he doesn’t do any of the things you said he ought to. My grandmother died because of him, Parson. Starved to death. What crops weren’t taken by the black rot were pillaged by that man’s sheep!” He pointed an angry finger at the Elder. “So if being a shepherd is allowing your fences to rot away and fall apart—if it’s letting your flock wreak havoc on another man’s land—I don’t know that I want anything to do with it.”
“What the devil are you talking about, Mullins?” Leland asked, striding across the lawn, his black Elder cloak trailing like thunderclouds.
Cheerful conversations died away as everyone watched this new drama unfold.
“Is he going on about those fences again? I’ve told you a thousand times, the southern field is yours to keep up. My flock would have never gotten loose if you’d tended your posts better.”
“Now, look you here”—Winthrop grabbed the Elder’s shirt, yanking Leland to his toes—“it’s not our fence to tend! Our corn isn’t going to get loose and eat every damn thing in its path.”