The Farmer's Bride Collection by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781683226482
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2000-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 2

In her absentmindedness, Verity overlooked two newly laid eggs during her trip to the henhouse. Then, she scattered far more feed corn than was necessary, to the chickens’ frantic delight.

“Verity,” Grace asked as her daughter meandered through the kitchen, lost in thought, “what happened to the leftover bacon?”

“What? Oh.” Verity looked down at the empty platter sitting by the sink, waiting to be washed. “I guess I put it in the dog’s dish with the leftover pancakes.”

Grace sighed as she pumped water into the sink. “Well, it’s gone now. I was going to add it to the beans.” She nodded towards a large pot simmering on the back of the stove.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I was thinking of something else.” Verity turned her head, scanning the kitchen. “Where’s the dishtowel I just had in my hand?”

Her mother ran a soapy dishrag around the rim of a coffee cup. “Hangin’ over your shoulder.” She dipped the cup in the steaming rinse water and handed it over. “Punkin, you better get your head on straighter than your hat before you go into town. Can’t have you coming home with a big sack of salt instead of flour!” She smiled, wiped one hand on her apron, and pushed a shiny brown curl from Verity’s forehead. “And quit frettin’ over this thing with the Delormes. It’ll all come out in the wash.”

“‘Come out in the wash.’ What does that mean, exactly?” Verity had learned in college that it was important to define one’s terms.

“I can’t say any more.”

Verity began to feel angry. First, Papa’s weird statement at breakfast and now Mama talking in riddles! “But this quarrel or whatever it is—what about forgiveness? Is this falling-out so bad they can’t forgive each other? It’s not Christian!” Verity waved her hand in the air dramatically. The damp coffee cup in her fingers flew across the kitchen and shattered against a pine cupboard.

“Oh! Oh! Mama! I’m so sorry!” She dashed over, knelt, and began picking up the shards. “Oh, it’s ruined! Your cup!”

Her mother patted her shoulder. “Run along. You’ll cut yourself; you’re that addlepated this morning. It’s not my best china.” She took the fragments from her daughter’s hand. “Go on; get dressed for town. There’s a nice shirtwaist in your cabinet, and wear that straw hat with the bow. You looked so pretty in it when you stepped off the train.”

Nodding gratefully, Verity fled.

“Poor mite. This thing has got her in such a dither,” muttered Grace as she swept the remains of the cup into a dustpan.

Verity’s hands shook as she unbraided her long hair. Being a full-grown woman of nineteen required that she wear her hair up, but sometimes the effort was just more trouble than it was worth. “I miss being ten,” she told the mirror. “I could wear boy’s overalls and braids and climb trees, and Papa and Mama acted like normal parents.”

Bending forward, she gave her brown mane several long, downward strokes with the hairbrush. Then, she placed a little

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