The Quilted Heart Omnibus by Mona Hodgson

Author:Mona Hodgson [Hodgson, Mona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-73115-9
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2014-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

7

The man that hath no music in himself,

Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;

The motions of his spirit are dull as night,

And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trusted.

Emilie set the pages of Shakespeare’s play on the kitchen table. She’d been assigned The Merchant of Venice for her oral presentation on Wednesday, and Mrs. Barbour had stressed the importance of capturing the emotional essence of Shakespeare’s writings.

If it was emotion she wanted, Emilie had it in spades. Quaid McFarland was a man with music in him. And she missed hearing him play the harmonica. She missed his easy smile and rippling laugh.

She missed Quaid.

Deliveries were the only time afforded her to see him, and he hadn’t made any recently. At least not on the days she was at the college or in the store. Not since he’d lifted the dollhouse out of the crate. She knew he had taken on side work. That must be what was demanding his time.

Tired of sitting still, Emilie walked to the window. The gas lanterns on the road below cast a golden glow on the falling snow. The temperatures had dropped last night. By midday, snow had begun to fall and hadn’t let up. Walking in the snow had been enough of a challenge, but driving a freight wagon in it could be treacherous. She breathed a prayer for Quaid’s safety, then added a selfish request, asking God to bring him back to her soon.

Quaid had bragged on how she was no longer a girl in braids but had become a handsome lass. A lass who had behaved like a giddy schoolgirl the last time he’d seen her. It was no wonder he hadn’t come around for three weeks, himself being all grown up after serving in the war.

PaPa had sold the dollhouse to the banker and ordered two more, along with another crate of cookware. Hopefully the order would arrive this week, and her wait to see Quaid would end. As it was, she was fighting the temptation to make a batch of brats and red cabbage and deliver it to the freight house for his lunch. Not childish behavior, but neither was it proper behavior.

Emilie pressed her finger to her chin. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to visit McFarland Freight Company as a businesswoman with an inquiry about a delivery. Minus the meal, of course. She shook her head. She needed to set her thoughts of Quaid aside, finish reading, and prepare her speech. Letting the curtain fall on her own drama, she willed herself to return to the table.

PaPa stepped into the kitchen, his tailored blouse billowing above his belt. Had he dropped pounds? He’d been eating well, hadn’t he?

“It seems the snow has decided to persist.” At the stove, he poured steaming coffee into his favorite cup.

“Yes.” She settled into her chair. “I’m thankful I don’t have classes tomorrow.” Especially if Quaid had a delivery for the store. She kept her favorite reason to herself.

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