Handpicked Family by Shannon Farrington

Author:Shannon Farrington [Farrington, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-03-09T19:14:54+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“I’m terribly sorry!” Trudy gushed the moment Mrs. Hassler shut the door behind her. “I am so terribly sorry!”

The older woman smiled gently. “Oh sweetness, you aren’t the first young woman to seek refuge at my door.”

Seek refuge? Was that what she was doing? She wasn’t destitute or starving. “But I have no real need of refuge,” Trudy said.

“Don’t you, now?” Mrs. Hassler replied.

Trudy covered her face with her hands, only then to gesture wildly in front of her. She always talked with her hands whenever she was at her wits’ end—and she was most definitely there now. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said, “but I simply could not spend another moment in that man’s presence!” The next thing she knew her tears were falling and Mrs. Hassler was drawing her into her arms.

“I believe I know what came over you,” the woman said softly. “You’re in love, sweetness.”

Love? Trudy’s head snapped up. “Oh no. I assure you, I am not! I was taken with him...infatuated...but that is all over and done with now.”

“Is it?”

Trudy’s insides were twisting but she was insistent. “Yes, most assuredly! That is finished. Peter Carpenter is...is...” She burst into tears again. Once more the Mennonite woman pulled her close.

“He is a man in pain,” Mrs. Hassler said softly, “of both body and spirit, and like many a mortal man, he has taken it out on those closest to him. I’ve seen it before. Come...” she said, looking Trudy full in the face, “what you need is another glass of buttermilk.”

Trudy didn’t wish to empty the woman’s precious supplies, but she allowed herself to be led back to the kitchen. Mrs. Hassler set a second glass before her and then tried to give her another biscuit, as well.

“Oh please,” Trudy said. “Thank you, but I couldn’t eat it even if I was hungry.” Her stomach was still in knots. She did manage to sip the buttermilk, but it didn’t taste nearly as refreshing as it had previously.

A knock sounded upon the front door. Trudy jolted, but Mrs. Hassler’s mouth hitched with a slight grin. “Well, I wonder who that may be?”

Trudy didn’t need to wonder. She already knew. Peter—Mr. Carpenter—was no doubt eager to be on his way and he had come to fetch her. Well, I won’t go with him, she told herself. Ever. Trudy realized though, “ever” wasn’t possible. She couldn’t stay here. The Hasslers already had enough mouths to feed. But I can’t climb back into that wagon with him. At least not yet.

“Shall I tell him you will see him?” the woman asked hopefully.

Trudy shook her head. Mrs. Hassler assumed her former employer was coming to apologize. Trudy was certain he’d only come to berate her more. She didn’t wish to go against her host’s wishes, but she just couldn’t speak with him.

“Alright...” Mrs. Hassler said. Slowly she turned for the parlor.

The curtains from the window behind Trudy kicked up with a gust of wind. There was a chill to it, a dampness, and she knew a storm was blowing in from the mountains.

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