A/N: The idea came from Helen's Simpsons Mania! trading card, her bio on the back.

Growing up on a prairie, there wasn't much to do except to bale hay and other such work. However, most of the outside work was reserved for men. The women normally kept inside with the cooking and cleaning. Helen Schwartzbaum got so bored with that, though. She longed for something more exciting—a new kind of life. She kept herself busy by nosing into her neighbors' business, spreading gossip with every tidbit she heard. It was a good way to make friends, but also a good way to lose them.

She wished she could find a companion who would always be loyal to her, no matter what—who would love her for who she was and not what she did. She prayed to God every night that something better would come along for her—or someone.

When a young man appeared at her doorstep one day with a Bible in his hand, Helen took that as a sure sign from God. "Hello, young lady," he said with a smile. "Have you heard the news?"

"Which news?" she asked, confused. "The one about Sally and Joseph kissing in the storm cellar? Mary Sue getting married? Or do you mean the news about Mrs. Terry cheating on her husband?" She heard pretty much every type of news that went on.

Timothy chuckled. "No…The gospel news! The news of Jesus Christ our Lord!" he grinned, presenting the Bible in his hands.

Normally, Helen would shoo away people who came to their doorstep like this, upon request of her parents or out of her own annoyance, but this one was different. "Tell me more," she found herself saying dreamily, staring at the young man.

The man, named Timothy Lovejoy, blinked. "I have never gotten that one before," he muttered. He was usually shooed away when visiting homes. He regained himself shortly, however, and said, "I'd be happy to, ma'am. Why don't you let me in, and I can tell you more! Oh, the wonderful things I can tell you!"

"Please," Helen said, continuing to stare at his face. After a moment, she came back to reality and said, "Let's not go inside. I have a better place," she took Timothy's hand with a grin.

"Helen, who is at the door?" her mother called.

"No one, Mama! I sent them away! I'm going out!"

"Alright, but be back for supper!"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied and quickly pulled Timothy along with her to the barn. She started climbing up to the loft while Timothy just stood there confused. "What are you waiting for? Climb up here with me!" Timothy obeyed and sat beside Helen in the loft. "Kind of cozy, isn't it?" She scooted over closer to the man with a smile.

Timothy cleared his throat and scooted a bit away from Helen. He opened his Bible and started to read. He did not know how to teach people well without just reading to them. He had no particular sermon prepared. He had only just become a preacher not too long ago, and he had never been invited in anyone's house when appearing at their doorstep. This was new to him.

He started from the beginning of the New Testament and just read for hours, amazed that she seemed to be hanging on every word that he said. But in reality, Helen was more interested in listening to his voice and watching his lips move.

Eventually, he started to realize how late it was, and he closed his book and smiled to her. "It's getting late, and I believe you were supposed to be home for supper."

"Don't go," she whispered. Timothy raised his eyes. "Please, sir…"

"My name is Timothy," he smiled, realizing he had never introduced himself. "Reverend Timothy Lovejoy of the First Church of Springfield. And your name is…?"

Helen gasped and blushed a little. "A reverend?" she smiled. "My name is Helen Schwartzbaum."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Schwartzbaum."

"Oh, no the pleasure is all mine, sir. But would you please come back and read to me again? I want to know more." The words were spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

The reverend's lips curled into a smile. Nobody had ever wanted to listen to him. Sure, they showed up for church and sat through the services, but never were they so eager. "I will come back as soon as I can."

They agreed that when he did come, he would always come at two o'clock, and he would hide in the barn. He didn't come back as quickly as Helen had hoped. She checked the barn every day around two with no luck, until one afternoon, she discovered him in the loft. She climbed up and sat down beside him. "I thought you'd never come," she said softly.

"I came as quickly as I could, ma'am. Now, where were we?" he opened his Bible.

"Matthew 10!" Helen answered instantly.

"You remembered that?"

"Yes," she blushed. Ever since the first day he came, she had been rereading the chapters he had read her in her own Bible, hearing the words in his voice. She loved the sound of his voice; he was like her own personal angel that God had sent to her, she was sure of it.

Weeks went on, and they continued their way through the New Testament. Once wrapping up Acts, Timothy asked her if she had any questions. Helen did have one, but it had nothing to do with the Bible. Her chin was resting in her hand and she asked dreamily, "What is Springfield like?"

The reverend was caught off guard by the question. "Why do you ask that?"

Helen blushed. "I'm sorry. I know it's off topic. I just . . . I've never been to a big city."

"Well, Springfield isn't too large, really," he chuckled.

"Compared to this . . ." She looked around, "it's a whole new world. I've lived here all of my life with nothing but hay, hay, and more hay! I want something different. The city life intrigues me. Tell me about it, please, sir."

Timothy felt sympathy for the girl so he smiled and began to tell her about the town he lived in. The way she stared at him and still held on to every word he said, even though he did not believe it to be very interesting, made him blush a little. He told her about the people of Springfield, the church, the shops, the cinema. . . He told her about many things, and she was fascinated with every bit of it.

Helen's face was so bright and happy hearing all about his town. "Wow," she said. "Springfield sounds so amazing. I've never even been to see a picture show!"

"I wish I could take you sometime," the man said before he could stop himself. He blushed and cleared his throat.

Helen blushed, too, and smiled a bit sheepishly. "Timothy, there's something I must tell you. . ."

"Yes?" He looked up, curiously.

"I already know my Bible pretty well. I'm not an expert, but I certainly did not need you taking time out of your days to come teach me . . . You could've been teaching others who needed it." She looked down, apologetically.

Timothy smiled a little. "I kind of sensed that after a while. You are a very bright young woman—also very sly," he chuckled. "But the truth is, nobody ever does anything but turn me away when I go on my runs. Knowing you wanted to listen made me so happy; it gave me hope for humanity. . . It felt nice having someone listen to what I had to say."

"Oh, Timothy. . . I would always listen to what you have to say. I love the sound of your voice," she blushed, looking away. The next thing she knew, the reverend had a hand on her arm and his lips to her own. Her cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink in surprise, but she kissed him back. Her heart was beating so quickly with excitement.

When he pulled away, they stared at each a few moments. She was a young girl of nineteen, and he seemed to be nearly ten years older, but nothing could stop the burning passion inside Helen's chest. She knew this was meant to be; God had sent him to her. However, while Helen was dreaming about their future together, the reverend felt as if he had committed a crime. "I have to go," he said suddenly, standing up.

"You're just going to leave after that?" Helen asked.

"Yes," he said simply, climbing down the ladder. He was gone before another word could be said.