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permission, he knew it was wrong to kiss you."

Phoebe was momentarily dumbfounded. Will Caffey had feelings for her?

Her father continued. "He also said that, if he returned, he intended to court you, if I gave him permission."

This got Phoebe's attention. "Court me? What did you say?"

"I told him to see me when he returned."

She felt the familiar heat blazing a path up her neck. "Daddy! I am surprised at you, giving someone of such low morals hope that he might court me someday!"

He leaned forward in his worn, leather chair and shook a finger at her. "What Will did, coming to me, your father, and admitting his guilt, that's something that only a man with honor would do. If he'd have kept quiet, I'd never have known about the incident - until now, I reckon." He lifted a knowing eyebrow at her, then leaned back. "But that didn't matter to him. He felt he had wronged you – and me – and he intended to make it right."

"And what about making it right with me?"

"I think he plans to, eventually," her father said, smiling knowingly.

Phoebe gasped. "Daddy, I have no intention of being courted by the likes of Will Caffey!"

"Oh, Phoebe, don't be so hard on the boy. He was a bit impulsive, it's true. But there was a time when I was just as impulsive." His lip curled on one side. "I may have stolen a kiss or two from your mother before we were wed, but don't tell her - or Will, for that matter - I told you that."

"That's different…"

"Different? How? Because your mother and I ended up married? I guess only time will tell if your story will end differently – or the same," he said, unsuccessfully hiding his grin behind another sip of ginger ale."

Phoebe crossed her arms. "I could never end up with a lout as disagreeable as Will Caffey. I'd rather die a spinster."

Rev. Albright shook his head and scowled at her. "Those are harsh words. And I don't appreciate the way you treated him today. Will has been through a lot, Phoebe, at home and abroad. War is hard on a man. I know, Will doesn't seem worse for the wear, but mark my words, there are scars, even if they're the kind a person can't see. And he doesn't deserve your ire. If that is the way you were taught to behave in college, then I believe you have wasted the last four years studying the wrong Bible."

His words stung. Her father was right. The way she had treated him today was not kind, nor was it in keeping with how a woman of God should treat others, and she knew it.

"I'll try to be kinder with Will," Phoebe said. "But it isn't going to be easy."

"Nothing in life ever is, darlin'."

4
Playing for Keeps

Will stood outside the Albright home, running his fingers through his dark hair, still damp from his hurried washing. He'd had a stressful afternoon and was looking forward to an evening with his favorite family to help him forget the news he'd just been given, if only for a few hours. He'd have to face the reality of his situation eventually. But not tonight. Tonight was about reconnecting with the Albrights, one Albright in particular.

Phoebe.

Will tapped the brim of his campaign hat against the bouquet of flowers he held in his other hand and stared at the front door. Although he had apologized for his previous behavior, he hadn't waited around to find out whether or not Phoebe had accepted that apology. He couldn't - watching her stand there, arms crossed and all bulled up like she was ready to clean his clock, it took all of his willpower to not reach out and take her into his arms and kiss those pursed lips of hers. But standing here now, knowing Phoebe was on the other side of that door, he worried that he might be entering a war zone.

A slow smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He'd had plenty of experience in war zones. This one, he would enjoy. He lifted his hand and knocked.

"I'll get it!" he heard Sarah holler.

"No, you won't!" Mrs. Albright's voice reverberated through the door. "Phoebe will."

He chuckled when Phoebe's muffled, indiscernible words were followed by an enormous sigh loud enough to hear on the porch. But any mirth he felt dissipated immediately when the door opened, and she stood before him. Though he would have sworn it impossible, she seemed to have grown more beautiful in the past few hours.

She wore a pale blue color that, against her perfect creamy skin, accentuated the heightened pink of her cheeks. Her dark, silky hair which had previously been pulled back in a tight bun, a look Will always appreciated because it gave him full view of her beautiful face, was now softly swept high upon her head.

Will cleared his throat when he realized he had been staring, mouth agape. "Good evening, Pheebs. Don't you look lovely."

"I will thank you very much to stop calling me that." She turned and stormed.

Will smiled. War zone.

"That, my dear, was a delicious dinner," Reverend Albright said, patting his protruding stomach.

"I absolutely agree," Will said, leaning back and doing his best to stick his otherwise flat stomach out. "Haven't had a meal that delicious since my ma passed."

The conversation in the room stilled. Will was grateful. He hadn't prepared himself for the torrent of emotions that washed over him at the remembrance of his mother. Having lost his father at nine years-old, Bessie Caffey became all things to her young son - spiritual guide, hardworking breadwinner, steady disciplinarian - all the while remaining the loving mother she had always been. Everything she did was done with a quiet grace, whether washing his scraped knee or baking his favorite cookies, and she always found a way to make Will feel loved. And though he knew she was in heaven with Jesus, there was a part of his heart that ached for her every single day.

"Your ma was a great woman," Reverend Albright said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, sir. She was," was all he could think to say.

"I cared very much for her."

Phoebe's gentle voice stunned his senses momentarily. She reached down and took his empty plate. "She was special to me," she said.

Will looked up at her, enraptured by her sincerity as much as by her nearness. "Thank you, Phoebe. You were special to her as well." Mrs. Caffey loved all of her Sunday School students, especially the Albright sisters, but Will knew that Phoebe held a special place in her heart. Something he and his mother had in common.

"Phoebe, why don't you and Will head on into the parlor for a game of checkers," Reverend Albright suggested.

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Albright chimed in. "You two go on. Sarah and I can see to the dishes."

"Of course," Phoebe said, handing the plates she held to her mother. "Would you like to play checkers, Officer Caffey?"

Will tried to not look shocked at her acquiescence. What happened to the spitfire that had met him at the door? "It's Will, remember?" he said, rising as well. "And I would like that very much, although I do prefer chess to checkers."

"Actually, so do I," she said as she led him into the parlor. Phoebe pulled a worn chess box from the shelf and began setting the game up on a small table in the corner.

"Do you play often?" Will asked as they began.

"Not recently," she answered. "I haven't had much idle time in the past few years to play."

"Neither have I," Will admitted. "It's nice to play again. It's nice to play with you."

Phoebe tensed slightly at his words, but all she said was, "It's your move."

Will was confused by Phoebe's change in demeanor. Her usual wit and sarcasm had been replaced with a forced civility that seemed strange on her. Many men would have welcomed the change, but not Will. He liked Phoebe just the way she was.

They played swiftly, Will capturing her rook, Phoebe taking his bishop. She was quite skilled in the game as well and made for a worthy opponent.

"Do you remember playing marbles when we were kids?" he asked.

Phoebe's hand paused on a knight and tilted her head. She nodded and scowled. "We always played keepsies. You won my favorite aggie off of me."

War Zone.

Smiling, Will unbuttoned one of his shirt pockets

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