Blakely

"I need to talk to Reverend Harris," Andrew Blakely said quietly to his wife as the congregation began to filter from the church. "I won't be far behind you."

His wife, Josephine, nodded. She left the church and moved rather quickly back to their house. She had left the stew cooking and was somewhat eager to get back. As much as she would love to say that she had listened to every word that the reverend had said during his sermon, her mind had been much more pleasantly occupied. She entered the house and went immediately over to the stew. She lifted the wooden spoon to her mouth, testing the stew. It tasted rather bland. She knew what to do about it, but she wasn't sure it would be such a good idea. Hearing crackling leaves outside, she waited a few minutes. She looked out the window briefly and tossed more crushed leaves into the pot, stirring them vigorously so they dissolved quickly.

"What are you up to over there?"

The voice startled her and she spun to see its owner. Deep down she already knew to whom the voice belonged, but such reactions are instinctual. She would already know in her mind that the man speaking was Andrew before she came to see him face.

He was looking at her curiously. "I wouldn't advise doing that when Reverend Harris is here. With everything going on in Salem, we don't need you acting suspicious."

She did not know how to react to such a comment. "I doubt that Reverend Harris would ever think such a thing, Andrew. I thought you needed to speak with him."

He smiled slightly. "No, I don't think he could." He walked over to his wife, kissing her softly on the cheek. "And yes, but he was speaking with Mr Lawrence and I'll see him tonight. It can wait." He reached down and took a sip of the stew. “You’re a master at the stove. I’m not surprised.” He squeezed her hand, second guessing kissing her a second time. “I suppose I should read some passages for you.” They separated, their hands holding as long as they could manage.