The Marriage Masquerade by Erica Vetsch

Author:Erica Vetsch [Vetsch, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-62029-223-5
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2010-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

eleven

Life fell into an easy pattern over the next few weeks.

Annie, under Imogen’s tutelage, discovered an aptitude for baking, hitherto unknown. She continued to burn, over-season, and otherwise ruin all attempts at stovetop cooking, but she was a marvel with the oven. Her desserts and breads were such a success, the men forgave much in the way of culinary disasters.

Annie managed to secret the Duluth paper out of her bedroom and into the firebox, breathing a sigh of relief as the pages curled and blackened, obliterating news of her escape. She pushed thoughts of her life in Duluth into the back of her mind and concentrated on the here and now, enjoying a freedom she’d never known, blossoming, gaining confidence, deepening her relationships, and finding new facets of her character to explore and strengthen.

Imogen spoke often of spiritual things, teaching Annie through her gentle ways of a deeper, more satisfying relationship with God, one where God wasn’t a vengeful or indifferent parent but a loving Father who cared for His children. Annie’s faith grew, day by day.

Evenings were her favorite times, especially those evenings when Nick didn’t have the early watch. Everyone gathered in the parlor. Imogen would crochet or tat, her rocker creaking softly. Nick would play checkers with Clyde or Ezra. And Annie would read. Though she detested Jasper Dillon, she fell gratefully upon the wooden cupboard of books he’d left, part of the lighthouse library. Each lighthouse on his route received one of the crates of books, to be exchanged at the next inspection.

One night she picked up King Solomon’s Mines—a choice that would’ve sent her father into a tirade—and settled herself into a corner of the davenport. Allan Quatermain was such an interesting hero. So stalwart and fearless, and so sad and introspective at times. Annie caressed the cloth cover of the book, her fingers tracing the indentations of vines and leaves, of gold lettering on the spine.

“Since you’re starting that book over again, why don’t you read it aloud, dear?” Imogen’s hook flew in her fingers, poking in and out of the yarn. The ball of wool at her feet tumbled in the basket when she pulled some slack.

Annie cast a glance in the direction of the checkers players. Clyde’s bright eyes and grin encouraged her. Nick’s darker blue eyes set her breath crowding into the top of her lungs. No matter how she tried to dissuade her heart, she couldn’t make herself see sense. He was everything she wanted in a man. It took much discipline on her part to avoid letting her growing feelings for him show.

She opened the book to the dedication and cleared her throat. She had read aloud to Hazel nearly every night while Hazel rocked and knitted or mended. Tears pricked Annie’s eyes as she wondered where Hazel was now and if she missed Annie at all. A wave of homesickness rushed over her, receded, then returned to lap about her heart like combers on the beach.

Clyde shifted in his chair, his boots scraping the floor.

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