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Authors: Stacy Henrie
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buy groceries, but she didn’t want to leave before Colin came to get Perseus. Surely he wouldn’t allow the dog to stay indefinitely, though Nora would miss having Perseus with her. The strangeness of sleeping in someone else’s house in a foreign country hadn’t felt so overwhelming with a dog at her bedside.
“All this cleaning not only makes me hungry,” she muttered to Perseus, “but warm, too.” She shed her sweater and wiped the dampness of her forehead with the back of her hand.
In need of a breeze, she went to the back door and propped it open with a rock she found outside. Cool air filtered into the room, bringing a sigh of relief to her lips. Perseus climbed to his feet and trotted past her into the yard.
Nora lifted her gaze to the mountains. They were like imperial queens arrayed in emerald satin and opal jewels. Never had she seen peaks so tall. They left her feeling dwarfed, and yet comforted by their height. Would they one day feel familiar, like the fields and trees back home in Iowa?
She returned to her rag and bucket to start on the hallway floor. Once she finished there, she only had the parlor and dining room to clean before the entire cottage was livable. A noise at the back door brought her head up. Perseus had returned inside. Nora smiled at him, but the gesture turned to a frown when she caught sight of the muddy paw prints he’d left in his wake.
“Perseus, you brute,” she scolded mildly as she tossed her rag down.
She shook her head and chuckled, but the sound quickly became a strangled sob at the thought of rewashing the kitchen floor. Nora leaned her head back against the nearby wall and shut her eyes. An image of life back home rose sharply into her mind, almost as if she were there. She could see herself seated at the piano, playing and singing, while Oscar listened, the smell of baking bread permeating the air.
Tears stung her tired eyelids. She’d expected things to be hard, at least in the beginning. She hadn’t expected this feeling of complete fatigue and loneliness—one she hadn’t experienced since the deaths of her parents when she’d been left to run the farm by herself.
Perseus licked her face, prompting Nora to open her eyes. “I know you’re sorry,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “I’m just so very tired.” She released a heavy sigh. “Not a chance you could clean up your own mess and I could crawl back into bed for, say, three days?”
The dog cocked his head as if contemplating her request. Nora couldn’t help laughing. How wonderful to have a companion again, even for a short time.
“All right, boy.” She climbed to her feet and shooed him back out into the yard. “All is forgiven, if you stay outside.”
Back in the kitchen, she surveyed the muddy tracks, her hands on her hips. “I guess this floor will be twice as clean.” She dragged her bucket into the kitchen and commenced scrubbing away the paw prints.
The repetitious movement kept her hands busy but freed her mind to compose a letter to Livy, one she would write out later. She must tell her friend about finding the cottage intact, despite the obvious repairs and cleaning required to make it livable again. Then there was the beauty of the mountains and the lake to describe, and the fact that she currently had no sheep in her field.
What about Colin Ashby? How would she describe him to Livy? Nora stopped scrubbing and sat back, tallying up a list in her head. Handsome, kind, charming, mysterious.
“That won’t do,” she murmured to herself. Livy would take one look at those words and start urging Nora to get to know the man better.
She couldn’t fault her dearest friend for wanting her to have a similar life to the one Livy enjoyed: a wonderful husband, a precocious little girl, and a baby on the way. But the death of a sibling was different than the death of a sweetheart. Livy couldn’t understand why Nora had given up her dreams of marriage and a family at Tom’s
“All this cleaning not only makes me hungry,” she muttered to Perseus, “but warm, too.” She shed her sweater and wiped the dampness of her forehead with the back of her hand.
In need of a breeze, she went to the back door and propped it open with a rock she found outside. Cool air filtered into the room, bringing a sigh of relief to her lips. Perseus climbed to his feet and trotted past her into the yard.
Nora lifted her gaze to the mountains. They were like imperial queens arrayed in emerald satin and opal jewels. Never had she seen peaks so tall. They left her feeling dwarfed, and yet comforted by their height. Would they one day feel familiar, like the fields and trees back home in Iowa?
She returned to her rag and bucket to start on the hallway floor. Once she finished there, she only had the parlor and dining room to clean before the entire cottage was livable. A noise at the back door brought her head up. Perseus had returned inside. Nora smiled at him, but the gesture turned to a frown when she caught sight of the muddy paw prints he’d left in his wake.
“Perseus, you brute,” she scolded mildly as she tossed her rag down.
She shook her head and chuckled, but the sound quickly became a strangled sob at the thought of rewashing the kitchen floor. Nora leaned her head back against the nearby wall and shut her eyes. An image of life back home rose sharply into her mind, almost as if she were there. She could see herself seated at the piano, playing and singing, while Oscar listened, the smell of baking bread permeating the air.
Tears stung her tired eyelids. She’d expected things to be hard, at least in the beginning. She hadn’t expected this feeling of complete fatigue and loneliness—one she hadn’t experienced since the deaths of her parents when she’d been left to run the farm by herself.
Perseus licked her face, prompting Nora to open her eyes. “I know you’re sorry,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “I’m just so very tired.” She released a heavy sigh. “Not a chance you could clean up your own mess and I could crawl back into bed for, say, three days?”
The dog cocked his head as if contemplating her request. Nora couldn’t help laughing. How wonderful to have a companion again, even for a short time.
“All right, boy.” She climbed to her feet and shooed him back out into the yard. “All is forgiven, if you stay outside.”
Back in the kitchen, she surveyed the muddy tracks, her hands on her hips. “I guess this floor will be twice as clean.” She dragged her bucket into the kitchen and commenced scrubbing away the paw prints.
The repetitious movement kept her hands busy but freed her mind to compose a letter to Livy, one she would write out later. She must tell her friend about finding the cottage intact, despite the obvious repairs and cleaning required to make it livable again. Then there was the beauty of the mountains and the lake to describe, and the fact that she currently had no sheep in her field.
What about Colin Ashby? How would she describe him to Livy? Nora stopped scrubbing and sat back, tallying up a list in her head. Handsome, kind, charming, mysterious.
“That won’t do,” she murmured to herself. Livy would take one look at those words and start urging Nora to get to know the man better.
She couldn’t fault her dearest friend for wanting her to have a similar life to the one Livy enjoyed: a wonderful husband, a precocious little girl, and a baby on the way. But the death of a sibling was different than the death of a sweetheart. Livy couldn’t understand why Nora had given up her dreams of marriage and a family at Tom’s
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