With You Always (Orphan Train Book #1) by Jody Hedlund

Author:Jody Hedlund [Hedlund, Jody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, Christian fiction, FIC042040, FIC027050, Love stories, FIC042030
ISBN: 9781441231246
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-06-05T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Elise stirred the butter and molasses together with firm strokes. She already had a pot of chicken soup bubbling on the range and biscuits in the oven. The aroma of the chicken and thyme and parsley radiated throughout the kitchen, making her almost giddy.

All morning she’d been tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming that she was in the kitchen, the place she loved most in the world, doing what she loved best. She dipped her finger into the gooey mixture in the bowl, lifted it to her lips, and tasted its sweetness. If she was dreaming, then she didn’t want to awake.

She looked around the kitchen to prove to herself once again that she was really here. A large cast-iron stove stood near the rear entrance, the coal bin next to it heaped to the brim. A sturdy indoor washbasin rested on thin legs against another wall with a drain that released to the outdoors. While they still had to haul well water inside, at least they didn’t have to carry the dirty water back out.

A hutch contained plates, cutlery, crockery, and an assortment of other supplies needed for the dining room. The worktable in the middle was adequate to do most of her chopping and rolling and mixing. It wasn’t nearly as large as the table that had been in her father’s bakery, but she couldn’t complain. She was working in a kitchen and that alone would have been enough, even if she’d had to do her mixing on the floor. She grazed the pots and pans and utensils hanging overhead. Their metallic clinking together was beautiful music to her ears.

The sound brought back the happy memories of the times she’d spent with her father in the kitchen, the low rumble of his laughter, the scrape of his spatula, the tantalizing aromas in his pots and pans. He’d introduced her to all of his spices as if they’d been dear little friends he called out to play.

“What else can I do, dear?” Mrs. Gray asked, coming into the kitchen with her uneven step, the limp having grown more pronounced throughout the morning. The woman’s narrow face was pale and pinched. Though she tried hard to hide her discomfort, she was clearly in pain.

“You can go and rest your feet,” Elise said as she beat the cake batter faster. “You’ve been running around here all morning and you deserve a break.”

Mrs. Gray laughed. “You’re a sweetie. But I’m much sturdier than I appear.”

Chagrined, Elise stopped stirring. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you can’t handle the work—”

“I know you didn’t.” Mrs. Gray patted Elise’s arm. “You’re a good girl and so considerate. No one has ever looked out for my well-being before—except of course, Mr. Gray.”

Mrs. Gray had maple-syrup-brown hair that was pulled back into a bun, revealing her sharp, angular face. Her features were somewhat severe, yet her eyes were soft and kind. She didn’t have any silver in her hair, and her skin was

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