Read Online A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride by Kit Morgan - Free Book Online

widened at the sight of Bernice. He fumbled with his fork and dropped it, only to have it land on his food with a plop . His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally said, “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
    Old Man Johnson covered his face with his callused hand in exasperation.
    Warren looked down at the fork, then at his shirt. It was obvious he’d been working in the orchards – bits of dirt and debris were scattered all over him, especially on his shoulders and in his hair. “I wasn’t … um, expecting a visitor … Miss Caulder.” He recovered himself enough to stand up, then spied the pie she held. “But I don’t mind. Won’t you sit down?”
    Mr. Johnson pulled out a chair for Summer, then eyed Warren. He took the cue, quickly coming around the table to do the same for Bernice.
    Warren sat back down, and they all fell silent until Mr. Johnson gave his grandson a look. “Looks like a mighty fine pie Miss Caulder done brought for ya, Warren. Ain’t ya gonna thank her proper?”
    Bernice stiffened in her chair. What did thanking one proper mean around here? Would he shake her hand?
    He stared at her, his face flushed. “Thank you, Miss Caulder. It … looks quite fine.”
    “I didn’t make it,” she blurted, then snapped her mouth shut. Drat! She hated when she was so honest.
    “Oh? Who did?” He looked at Summer.
    “Elle made it, but we thought you’d like to have some. And it gave us a reason to come for a visit.”
    Bernice closed her eyes and cringed. Did she have to be so obvious about it? But then, how else was she going to say it? They had to come to the Johnson farm so Bernice could get to know Warren better. “I hope you like apple,” she said – and cringed again. Oh for Heaven’s sake, they were apple farmers! They probably only ever had apple pie.
    “Of course I do,” Warren said. “Everybody around here does. And it’s a good thing to, or we might lose half our business.”
    “Do you only sell your apples in Nowhere?” Bernice asked, genuinely curious.
    “Oh no – folks come from outlying areas to buy them. Some of them ship them as far as Seattle.”
    “That’s amazing. I had no idea fresh fruit traveled so far.” He began to study her, and she willed herself to sit up straight and not blush. A lot of good it did – she could feel her cheeks grow hot.
    Warren smiled. “Who knows – maybe you’ve eaten some of our apples in Independence and didn’t even know it.”
    “I have no idea. I think most of our fruits and vegetables came from nearby farms.”
    “Well …” Warren fidgeted in his seat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you let me finish my lunch I’d love to have some of that pie you brought.”
    Bernice smiled, nodded – and felt for a moment as if only Warren was in the room with her. She glanced around in alarm – but no, Summer and his grandfather were still there. It was an odd sensation, one she’d never felt before. “All right,” she said shakily.
    Mr. Johnson smiled. “I’ll get some plates and put the coffee on. Nothin’ like coffee with a good piece of apple pie. You just wait, young lady – come harvest season, you’ll get all sorts of apple recipes from the womenfolk around here. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Riley?”
    Summer tore her gaze from the pie to look at him. “It certainly is. I’ve only been here for one harvest so far, but I have gathered quite a few recipes. It was fun experimenting with them. And the harvest was an experience in itself, though it was a lot of work.”
    “You held up well, I hear,” Warren said. “Clayton brags about the things you and Elle did with those apples.”
    “He gives us far too much praise. For one, we’re not used to heights.”
    “Heights?” Bernice said as she paled. They weren’t the only ones …
    “Somebody has to get up in those trees and pick the apples,” Warren commented, then caught the look on Bernice’s face. “Something wrong, Miss Caulder?”
    She