Waves…waves rippling over a small mountains stream…

Lucy could hear Timothy's playing as she walked up the steps of the church. The music was soft, tranquil, and reminded her of the irregular rhythm of ripples in a freshwater tributary trickling along. She stood before the doorway a moment, just to take in the beautiful melody.

Timothy sat at the far end of the church, behind his pulpit, where the small piano had always been. He was concentrating hard on the piece, which was fairly complicated. He missed an occasional note, but he was enjoying every note he got correct.

Lucy opened the door and began walking down the aisle slowly. When Timothy heard her approaching, he stopped short.

Lucy frowned. "Keep playing. That's a lovely piece."

"It's a difficult piece for a reverend to get right," he replied. "But when I was little, it was a newly-composed song, and I'd listen to the man who owned the music shop practice it."

"It reminds me of the brook. It's very…watery."

Timothy looked up at her and smiled. "I always thought of a rain shower myself," he said. "But—"

"—it's so relaxing. I bet it would make a nice lullaby."

Timothy's heart fluttered. He motioned for her to come and sit by him on the piano bench. Lucy obeyed and sighed.

"There are so many keys on this thing. How do you know what key makes which sound?"

"You practice until your head remembers it on it's own," Timothy explained.

"I can't memorize song notes," Lucy mumbled. "I can remember words from books much better."

"Then maybe let's try it this way…would you mind…?" Timothy gestured as if he was about to take her hand. Lucy nodded her consent, and he picked up her hand—calloused and muscular—in his. He then laid her finger on a white piano key and tapped it. The sound was low.

"Now, Lucy, make up a word that will correspond only to that note," Timothy suggested. Luicy thought a moment.

"….to?"

Timothy nodded and continued to the next note…a few keys higher. He looked ast Lucy after she played it.

"Sing."

Again, he guided her hand to a key.

"On…the…water…"

"Now, let's review what you've done so far," he said gently, letting go of Lucy's hand and encouraging her to repeat. Lucy hit every note as she spoke the words.

"To sing on the water…" she smiled up at Timothy. He grinned with delight and took her hand again.

"You are a fast learner, Louise!"

Lucy's heart suddenly fell, and she pulled her hand away. "Who's Louise?"

Timothy instantly realized his mistake. "Oh no, Lucy—"

"—it's nice to know I'm so memorable," she sighed, getting up from the bench and gathering her skirt. "This was obviously not a good idea."

"Lucy! Wait! I can explain!" Timothy went up after her as she headed up the aisle and for the door. She stopped and turned back to him.

"Do I remind you of a former courtship or something?" she asked rather forcefully. She was certainly quick to anger.

"NO!" Timothy assured. He took her hand and beckoned her to sit with him in a pew. Lucy grunted but followed him. "Let me explain, Lucile. Please?"

"Fine," she said.

Timothy began explaining his past with a woman named Louise Chambers, and how he had intended to marry her until he learned who she really was.

"Wait…she did WHAT to her students?" Lucy asked.

Timothy nodded. "She took the concept of discipline too far. Many of them did very little to warrant the bruises and welts."

Lucy shook her head. "I pity her."

"Pity her?" Timothy asked, confused.

Lucy nodded. "She was clearly afraid of those children. No one gets physical against someone smaller than themselves unless they want something from them. This Louise was obviously trying to get her students to fear her so that she wouldn't have to fear them first."

"That's quite insightful," Timothy noted.

"I told you that I read a lot of history. Many despots in time had the same fear of the meek, because they knew that the meek were the source of their power. Without keeping them in control, they lose their power," Lucy said. "Like Caesar Augustus and King Henry VIII—"

"—the Pharaoh who kept the Israelites as slaves until Moses freed them?" Timothy offered.

Lucy smiled. "Precisely."

Timothy felt his face blush (luckily his beard hid much of the redness). "Lucy, you're such a smart woman, and kind…full of fiery passion…"

He didn't expect Lucy leaning in to gently touch her lips to his. She didn't hit them directly…she got the corner of his mouth with her lips. But the kiss was gentle and thrilling at the same time. Timothy pulled away after a moment to catch his breath.

"This is how it happened with Louise before," he warned. "I was teaching her piano…showing her where her fingers went…and we kissed—"

"—don't insult me," Lucy said stiffly. "I'm not that dragon lady. I would never lay a hand on a child like that. You have to see some differences between us!"

"Well, yes," he replied. "You're much less formal, and a lot easier to talk to."

A start, Lucy thought.

"Louise always had some sort of need to be proper, which is fine. It would've made her a great mother. She just didn't like children." Timothy sighed and stared down at his feet. "I…I thought I'd forgotten her by now."

"You were tricked because of love," Lucy said. "I think I should go…"

She got up and went for the door, but stopped in the frame for a moment. "And I do want children, you know."

Timothy looked up at her. She looked particularly beautiful at that moment. The bright moonlight created another halo around her red hair, much in the way the sun had when he'd first seen her. God was here, looking out for his angel on Earth. The mere thought inspired him to stand up and brush off the bout of melancholia over Louise. "You do?"

"I haven't had them yet because most men don't like the way I want to raise them," she sighed.

"How, then?" Timothy asked. Lucy looked outside.

"I want to raise them equally with their father," she said. "I don't want to be a homemaker and child-rearer. I want their father to be equally involved in their healthcare, education, and raising. But most men I've meet feel like it's the woman's job to stay in the home."

"I see nothing wrong with that. In fact, I think that's ideal," Timothy said, approaching Lucy in the doorway.

"Well, that makes you more than any man I've ever met," Lucy whispered. Timothy leaned in closer to her in the doorway.

"Is Preston trying to court you?" he asked. Lucy nodded. "And…?"

Lucy shrugged. "I bought myself some time to make my up my mind."

"Make up your mind?" Timothy asked with patience.

"He's a decent sort, I suppose. Too haughty for me. But I think it's a little early in my tenure here to make rivals," she said. "But I am not romantically attracted to him."

Timothy felt his shoulders drop in relief.

"I couldn't possibly tie myself to such a scoundrel," she mumbled on. "He asked me about…my history."

"Oh? Oh!" Timothy took a second to realize what she was referring to.

"It was humiliating. And an example of why I don't want certain men as my lawfully wedded husband!"

Timothy nodded. "I understand."

Lucy looked up at Timothy and smiled. He wasn't ruggedly handsome like that husband of the town doctor, nor authoritative like the mayor, nor even dashing and witty like Preston. But he was even more than that. His gentle, kind eyes that had seen the ups and downs of life and yet smiled now at her as if nothing else mattered. His teeth were straight and only a little yellowed by age.

What's more, he listened to her. And cared.

"Will you be at church tomorrow?" he asked. Lucy grinned and nodded in the affirmative.

"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps afterwards we can go back to the brook, you and I. And I promise I won't abandon you this time!"

Lucy giggled. "I have no doubt about that, Reverend—"

"—Timothy. I would be pleased if you called me Timothy."

The next morning was warm and wonderful. Lucy sat in the window of her little room overlooking the town and brushed her hair (always a long chore). She was given the afternoon off by Grace (it was, after all, Sunday), and she had decided to ask Timothy to teach her how to ride a horse. Yes, she really wanted to learn, too, but she also admitted to herself that she wanted more time with him. His was a personality that interested her deeply.

As she struggled with the yellow ribbon she was using to tied back her hair, her eyes followed a dusty stagecoach rolling through the street below, stopping in front of the store. After a moment, a woman was guided out by the coachman. A pretty blonde woman (at least 30) wearing a rusty red dress and cap stepped out into the sun. She looked rather dignified and sophisticated, but at the same time was clearly trying to make herself seems as small and invisible as possible. Lucy couldn't imagine why…she was pretty.

Her gaze was interrupted by a small stone hitting the window pane, startling her. She looked down and saw that it was Preston who'd thrown the pebble. He smiled and waved up at her.

Lucy gave a curt nod and moved away from the window awkwardly.