Mittman, Stephanie by A Taste of Honey

Author:A Taste of Honey [Honey, A Taste of]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-04-22T17:43:57+00:00

CHAPTER 13

After Ethan had made his sudden exit from Annie's table, a hush had fallen over the group. Bart had taken to staring at Willa, sending her some sort of signals that made her blush. Miller had seemed tense and irritated, and after two helpings of her apple brown Betty, both with freshly whipped cream, he'd taken his leave. When she'd offered to see him to his buggy he had declined, claiming it was too cold a night for her to be outside on his account.

He hadn't fooled her. Not for the first time, he had been uncomfortable with her family. They were ill-mannered, uneducated, and high-spirited, but she loved each and every one of them, even Willa now that she was family, and it hurt her to see the disapproval in Miller's eyes. For one thing, they were no worse than most of his parishioners. Van Wert had more farms than businesses, and farmers just didn't have time to cultivate the niceties of life along with the soil. For another, much as Elvira had managed to rise above them, her family was certainly no better than Annie's, and for a good part of his life, Elmer Wells was a darn sight worse.

Her hand covered her mouth even though she hadn't uttered the word. If she hoped to be a minister's wife, she had better learn to speak like one. And that meant no cussing, and better grammar. Most of the women she knew spoke better than she did. It was easier for farmers to spare their daughters for schooling than their sons. And then there was the chance that their daughters, well educated, might snare husbands that were better off than their families were.

Well, there was too much for her to do on a brisk Monday afternoon than think about her speech. The ground was getting harder every day, and she had to fight to get the beets and turnips out of the soil. It was already proving a good year for beets and she had been able to put by several dozen jars of pickled ones for the winter and spring.

The crop she pulled today she planned to can without pickling so the various children could enjoy them in the months to come. Now only three little ones, there would soon be five, and Annie was planning for all of them, despite the fact that the two infants wouldn't be born for quite a while and would exist on their mothers' milk for a good time after that.

Cara hadn't been weaned until long after the doctor had said it was all right to start her on solid food. Annie could tell it was because Risa hated to give up the closeness of nurturing the child herself. Sometimes Risa would wince in pain, but for the most part Annie had never seen a more contented look on anyone's face than Risa had when she was nursing Cara. The painting of the Madonna that hung in the church must have been made at such a time.

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