“Real bells would be special,” Robin admitted, warily eyeing that crossbeam and the trapdoor open beneath it.
“I’ll need your help,” he suddenly declared.
“My help?” Her gaze shot to his. “Oh, Pastor, I don’t know.”
“If you help me,” he said, “I can attach the ropes with the trap closed. I’m sure there must be a way to safely close the trap from up here, but I haven’t figured it out.”
“Oh!” She clapped a hand to her chest in relief. “In that case, then yes, I certainly will help you.”
“Excellent.” He smiled broadly. “Then I won’t have to explain about the bells to anyone else. Don’t want to start any Massey gossip now that Dale’s in town, do we? Not that there’s ever a good time to start gossip.”
Robin nodded. “I see what you mean.”
“I thought you would. Besides, I want this to be a surprise for the congregation. Hopefully, the townsfolk will think any extra bongs they hear around the regular bell times are part of the recordings, so they’ll be surprised when I toll the bells for Christmas services,” he went on. Then he tugged at his earlobe. “I must think of a way to repay you for all your help.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, shaking her head. “Although...”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. Olivia had become a good friend, but Robin didn’t dare trust any of the Jasper Gulch natives with her story. The pastor was an outsider like her, though. Perhaps she should tell him what had brought her to Jasper Gulch and seek his advice on what to do next. On the other hand, what would he think of her once he learned of her duplicity?
“I, um, appreciate you showing me the view from up here,” she went on carefully, deciding not to risk it. “It is truly spectacular.”
“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” he told her, moving to the ladder, “but that can’t be what brought you by this morning.”
“No, of course not. I have some photos for you, photos of Christmas decorations from 1913, ’14 and ’15, a couple from right here in Jasper Gulch. That will give us a good idea of what materials to use, and I also have some websites where we can find instructions on how to replicate the designs.”
“We?” he echoed, smiling. “Are you volunteering to help?”
“I’m not a florist or decorator,” she hedged. “All I’m trained to do is research.”
He grinned and said, “An invaluable help. So what are we waiting for? I’m eager to see what you’ve brought me.”
She watched him disappear through the trapdoor. Only as she stood alone on the tiny platform did she realize how very cold it was up there in the belfry. Even with her coat and scarf on over her slacks and sweater, she shivered, until he called up to her, his voice expanding in the rock room below.
“By the way, I think it’s time you started calling me Ethan. Don’t you? Lots of the people in town do.”
Suddenly she felt warm all over. Would he dare suggest such a thing if he knew that, like all the other unattached women in town, she was quickly forming a crush on the pastor with the warm brown eyes?
* * *
Ethan really liked Robin Frazier. He liked her a lot. She had the charming and rare habit of thinking before she spoke. When he’d heard her voice in the vestibule, his heart had rejoiced, for he’d thought of her as he’d gazed out over God’s magnificent creation. He’d wished, quite unaccountably, that he could share the vision with her. To have her suddenly appear like that had seemed an answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared utter. Or was it?
Ethan had long ago accepted that he would not marry. When he’d taken the pastorate in Jasper Gulch, he’d assumed that the opportunities to marry or even date would be few, but then the matchmaking had begun. Aghast, he’d done his best to hide his disquiet with the situation. Often, he’d felt pursued since coming here and had wished mightily to be left in peace. Still, as those around him had paired off—why, one of the centennial functions had been a wedding ceremony for fifty couples!—he’d felt more and more alone, and he wasn’t sure why that should be so. Since the death of his girlfriend, Theresa, he’d had a difficult time even forming friendships with women, let alone romantic attachments.
Until Robin Frazier. Suddenly, he felt as if he’d found a friend, but it was foolish to even think that he’d found anything more in her. He hardly even knew her! More to the point, she hardly knew him, and if she did, she would almost certainly be appalled. That was one reason he chose not to wear his clerical collar outside the pulpit or when not on official church business. While ignorant of the details, people needed to know that their pastor was a man like any other. In this case, many might find his failings difficult to forgive.
When Ethan had taken over this post, the former pastor had advised that Ethan give himself plenty of time to get established within the community before deciding to share the tragedies and failures of his past. Sometimes Ethan wished he still had Pastor Peters to talk to, but after his retirement Peters had moved to Colorado to be near his daughter and grandchildren, and Ethan didn’t feel comfortable imposing on their short acquaintance with chatty telephone calls. As his own family barely spoke to him and his few friends from seminary were all married and busy, Ethan sometimes felt quite alone.
Oh, he’d made friends in Jasper Gulch, but he hadn’t found anyone in whom he felt he could confide. What made him think that Robin could be that person? he wondered as Robin crawled gingerly down the ladder.
Quite without meaning to, he found himself guiding her to the bottom, his arms bracketing her slender body, his gloved hands gripping the narrow side rails until her feet safely touched down on the stone floor. Backing away so that she could turn and face him proved surprisingly difficult, which he covered by sweeping off his cap and stuffing it into a coat pocket.
“Let’s get the belfry closed so it’ll warm up in here.”
Grabbing a long pole with two odd hooks on the end, he pushed up the ladder, locked it in place and slid the trapdoor closed.
“That looked easy enough to do,” Robin commented.
Ethan nodded as he returned the pole to its corner. It fit snugly into a pair of holders bolted into the rock.
“There’s just one thing,” she went on, staring up at the closed trapdoor in the rock ceiling. “Where do the ropes come down?”
He lifted a finger and led the way to what had been a deep shelving unit set off to one side of the vestibule. Its twin space on the opposite wall made a tidy coat closet.
“I always thought this was a strange sort of cupboard, recessed as it was with shelves as deep as my arm. When I removed the contents, I found another space with the pulleys and ropes. The ropes themselves are no good, but the wall fittings are all fine. I’ve already ordered the right type and size of ropes, and they should be here in a week or so.
“I should be able to attach them to the bells. Then all we have to do is hope the bells aren’t too badly out of tune to make a pleasant noise for Christmas.”
“I didn’t know bells could be out of tune.”
“Apparently they can, but I think that’s when there are several bells involved.”
She looked up at the ceiling. “Those two sounded fine to me.”
“Do you have musical training?” he asked.
Her clear blue eyes met his, and she touched the mole beneath her eyebrow before calmly saying, “Not much. I sang in glee club in high school and college.”
Glee club. He couldn’t help thinking that many pastors’ wives often had service callings of their own: music, teaching, women’s