Read Online A Good Man for Katie by Marie Patrick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marie Patrick
Tags: Western
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expression the first time Terry expected me to prepare dinner. Mama Ginny never allowed us in the kitchen, let alone taught us to cook, but don’t worry. It doesn’t bite. And you can take lessons with me. I’m certain Noelle won’t mind.”
Kathryne pointed at the stove and couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that raced up her spine. “That cast iron monstrosity and I are mortal enemies. Don’t you remember what happened at Grandma Peabody’s that summer?”
“Indeed, I do.” Emeline’s mouth spread into a gentle smile. “I remember very well. And we learned a good lesson, you and I. Grandma Peabody warned us both to stay away from the stove, but you wouldn’t listen. Stubborn as you are, you had to make hot cakes.” Her eyes danced merrily in her face.
“You were the funniest looking thing with your eyebrows and some of your hair singed off but it was a very long time ago, Kate. You’re not eight anymore.” She reached out to grab the long braid hanging down Kathryne’s back and brought the heavy rope of hair over her shoulder. “Just look how thick and beautiful your hair is now. Don’t let the stove scare you.”
“But it does.”
Emeline shrugged. “You’ll have to get over your fear. That’s all there is to it.” She dropped the braid, moved across the room and opened the back door. A cross-breeze now wafted through the cottage and the clean pine smell of the evergreen trees behind the house scented the air.
Kathryne sighed. “I really don’t have much choice, do I?”
She left Emeline in the kitchen to remove the curtains from the window and entered the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t seen yet. Larger than the other rooms, the bedroom was the dream of every young woman. White lace draperies, dingy with the dust that seemed to permeate everything, accented the soft lilac wallpaper, as did the hand-painted kerosene lamp on the small bedside table. Brass sconces, tarnished by neglect, hung on the wall on either side of the brass bed. They only needed a good rubbing to bring out their burnished luster. A rocking chair, small vanity with a cushioned stool and bureau added to the feminine charm. Beneath the furniture, a handmade rag rug covered the hardwood floor and in the corner, at an angle, sat a tall white armoire, the door pulls made of brass to match the bed and sconces.
Kathryne crossed the room and opened the armoire. Day gowns in a variety of dull browns, grays, blacks and navy hung from metal hooks. “I thought the last teacher left to get married. It doesn’t look like she took any of her clothing.”
“She eloped.” Laurel joined her in the bedroom and pulled out one of the bureau drawers. “At least, that’s what her note said.”
Moving away from the armoire, Kathryne stopped at the vanity. “She didn’t take her brush and comb, either. Don’t you find that a bit odd?” She ran her finger over the tarnished patterned silver on the back of the brush and waited for the burst of feeling to come through the object. Nothing happened and she wondered if there was something about certain people that allowed her to know their emotions, like Emeline, Grandpa Peabody…and Chase.
Laurel shrugged as she removed a crumpled petticoat from the drawer, shook it several times to release the wrinkles then folded the item with care and placed it on the bed. “Amanda Stillwell was a strange woman, wasn’t she, Em?”
Emeline poked her head in the doorway. Dust from the drapes and curtains in her arms covered her fine features. “She was nice enough, I suppose. A little standoffish, if you know what I mean. Never had an unkind word for anyone. The children liked her.”
“She never seemed very happy, though. Well, at least, not until she met that man.”
“Who was he?” Kathryne moved back to the armoire and removed the dresses hanging there one at a time. She laid them across the bed to be folded.
“No one knows.” Laurel emptied another drawer full of pantalettes,
Kathryne pointed at the stove and couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that raced up her spine. “That cast iron monstrosity and I are mortal enemies. Don’t you remember what happened at Grandma Peabody’s that summer?”
“Indeed, I do.” Emeline’s mouth spread into a gentle smile. “I remember very well. And we learned a good lesson, you and I. Grandma Peabody warned us both to stay away from the stove, but you wouldn’t listen. Stubborn as you are, you had to make hot cakes.” Her eyes danced merrily in her face.
“You were the funniest looking thing with your eyebrows and some of your hair singed off but it was a very long time ago, Kate. You’re not eight anymore.” She reached out to grab the long braid hanging down Kathryne’s back and brought the heavy rope of hair over her shoulder. “Just look how thick and beautiful your hair is now. Don’t let the stove scare you.”
“But it does.”
Emeline shrugged. “You’ll have to get over your fear. That’s all there is to it.” She dropped the braid, moved across the room and opened the back door. A cross-breeze now wafted through the cottage and the clean pine smell of the evergreen trees behind the house scented the air.
Kathryne sighed. “I really don’t have much choice, do I?”
She left Emeline in the kitchen to remove the curtains from the window and entered the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t seen yet. Larger than the other rooms, the bedroom was the dream of every young woman. White lace draperies, dingy with the dust that seemed to permeate everything, accented the soft lilac wallpaper, as did the hand-painted kerosene lamp on the small bedside table. Brass sconces, tarnished by neglect, hung on the wall on either side of the brass bed. They only needed a good rubbing to bring out their burnished luster. A rocking chair, small vanity with a cushioned stool and bureau added to the feminine charm. Beneath the furniture, a handmade rag rug covered the hardwood floor and in the corner, at an angle, sat a tall white armoire, the door pulls made of brass to match the bed and sconces.
Kathryne crossed the room and opened the armoire. Day gowns in a variety of dull browns, grays, blacks and navy hung from metal hooks. “I thought the last teacher left to get married. It doesn’t look like she took any of her clothing.”
“She eloped.” Laurel joined her in the bedroom and pulled out one of the bureau drawers. “At least, that’s what her note said.”
Moving away from the armoire, Kathryne stopped at the vanity. “She didn’t take her brush and comb, either. Don’t you find that a bit odd?” She ran her finger over the tarnished patterned silver on the back of the brush and waited for the burst of feeling to come through the object. Nothing happened and she wondered if there was something about certain people that allowed her to know their emotions, like Emeline, Grandpa Peabody…and Chase.
Laurel shrugged as she removed a crumpled petticoat from the drawer, shook it several times to release the wrinkles then folded the item with care and placed it on the bed. “Amanda Stillwell was a strange woman, wasn’t she, Em?”
Emeline poked her head in the doorway. Dust from the drapes and curtains in her arms covered her fine features. “She was nice enough, I suppose. A little standoffish, if you know what I mean. Never had an unkind word for anyone. The children liked her.”
“She never seemed very happy, though. Well, at least, not until she met that man.”
“Who was he?” Kathryne moved back to the armoire and removed the dresses hanging there one at a time. She laid them across the bed to be folded.
“No one knows.” Laurel emptied another drawer full of pantalettes,
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