Just Once (The Runaways) by Landis Jill Marie

Author:Landis, Jill Marie [Landis, Jill Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0515120626
Published: 2012-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

All things considered, she was fed up with adventure.

Scrubbed and combed, fluffed and stuffed full of Nette’s luscious food, Jemma sat in the corner bed feeling more pampered and fussed-over than ever before in her life. She pulled the beautiful patchwork quilt up and snuggled under it, tracing the intricate pattern and near-invisible stitches with her fingertips. Dressed in a borrowed nightgown of Nette’s, she felt clean, cozy, and cosseted. The white gown was smocked and embroidered by Nette’s own hand. Jemma complimented Nette first on the quilt and then on the handiwork on the gown.

“Did it years ago,” Nette admitted. “Back then I liked to sew clothes. Now I make ’em because I have to, but I’d rather be quilting.”

Jemma hadn’t seen Hunter since he’d deposited her on the bed. Nor had Lucy White reappeared since her heart-wrenching declaration. Luther had come in with a tub for her bath, toting the heavy pots of boiling water and buckets of cold while Nette stood over her like a sentry.

“I’ll not have you passin’ out and hittin’ your head on anything or drowning in that tub,” Nette had said. She became a willing and able attendant, waiting nearby while Jemma soaked and scrubbed off weeks of grime. The woman bundled up her filthy traveling clothes along with the ice-blue silk dress and cape she had been wearing in New Orleans and whisked them away, promising they’d be as good as new after a long soak.

Tucking Jemma in, Nette set her moccasins beside the bed and told her to rest, assuring her that for tonight she would sleep right there in Nette’s own bed because it was closer to the fire.

“I don’t want you climbing that ladder up to the loft tonight,” she had warned. “Tomorrow’ll be soon enough for you to bunk up in the loft with Lucy.”

Jemma had tried to protest, but Nette wouldn’t hear of it. When the woman pulled up the quilt and gave her a motherly pat on the cheek, a warmth spread through Jemma the likes of which she had never known through all her years with nannies or even with the caring nuns at the convent school. She decided not to argue with the formidable little woman and contented herself with settling back and observing her hostess’s comings and goings. Considering it impolite to ask Nette her age, Jemma decided the woman could be fifty or she could be eighty; there was no way to tell. Nette’s hair was almost completely white and her face was well lined, but she had the energy of a much younger woman. Rarely did she walk sedately; instead, she bustled back and forth across the cabin at a quick trot.

Tucking herself into a wool coat, Nette had bid Jemma sit tight while she went out to put out the fire in the kitchen cabin and close it up for the night. The fire in Nette’s own fireplace crackled cheerily, filling the room with a woody scent. Left alone to reflect, Jemma leaned back against the pillow, tired but feeling much better.

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