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Authors: Mona Hodgson
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her bottom lip. Listening to Caroline’s sobs, she thanked God for her small problems.
In the shadow of her friend’s staggering heartbreak, her own heartache was slight.
Ten
E milie walked up Main Street with Maren and Hattie. They’d been planning this Saturday outing for nearly three weeks. Long before Caroline received the news that she was indeed a widow.
“It doesn’t seem right that I look for a wedding dress while Caroline mourns the loss of her husband.” Frown lines furrowed Maren’s brow.
Emilie had grappled with the same concern.
Hattie tucked a brown curl under her hat. “When my father died, I didn’t want everyone moping about feeling sorry for me. Caroline wouldn’t want that either.”
“Hattie’s right,” Emilie said. “God has given you and Rutherford a second chance at love. That’s a gift worth celebrating.”
A slow smile lit Maren’s blue eyes. “I do love that man.”
Emilie refused to give in to her regrets. She was blessed with a father who was still alive and loved her, a respectable job, and a gaggle of wonderful friends.
Hattie hooked their arms as they strolled the cobblestones past the millinery, toward Gut’s Saddlery and his daughter’s Queensware Emporium.
The sound of a familiar Irish brogue drew Emilie’s attention to the end of the block, where Quaid sat atop his parked wagon, visiting with a merchant. Her feet planted themselves. She needed to know if she’d imagined Quaid’s interest in her, or if something or someone had interfered. What would she say? How did one even broach the subject? She watched as he flicked the reins and his wagon rolled toward her, a smile of recognition lighting his face.
He didn’t look like a man trying to avoid her.
When the wagon stopped beside her, Quaid brushed the brim on his slouch hat. “Miss Jensen. Miss Pemberton. Miss Heinrich.” His greeting was impersonal, but the intensity she saw in his gaze was not.
“Mr. McFarland.” Her voice blended with the others.
“It’s good to see you.” He looked away, glancing toward the dry goods store. “But I can’t linger. I need to buy wood for repairs to the Renglers’ boat.”
Emilie nodded. If only she could ask him if his glance toward her father’s place of business was mere happenstance—or if PaPa was the reason he needed to flee.
When Emilie returned to the store, her father was engaged in a checkers match with Owen Rengler, while Oliver stood by looking on. She greeted them, then went upstairs to start lunch, welcoming time alone in the kitchen.
PaPa joined her within the hour. He clomped up the stairs as if his feet regretted each step. Seated at the head chair, he folded his hands on the edge of the table and offered the prayer of thanksgiving for their meal. Emilie recited the prayer with her father, but her mind was busy shaping questions.
“Amen.” Emilie spread her napkin on her lap.
“Did you have a good time with your friends this morning?” PaPa looked a little better today, his eyes brighter.
“I did.” Emilie scooped a potato cake and a schnitzel onto PaPa’s plate, then onto hers.
“That’s good.” PaPa cut into his schnitzel. “The widow Brantenberg and her family deserve a bit of happiness, with all they’ve been through.”
“ Ja . Maren and Mrs. Brantenberg are enjoying planning the wedding.” Emilie reached for her glass and sipped water. “Who won the checkers game?”
“Games. Six of them. Owen won a game. Oliver won two games. And your dear Vater won three.”
“Good for you. Sounds like you had a good day.”
“I did.”
“Thank you for giving Maren and me time off today. She found a couple of dresses she really liked.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” PaPa raised his fork to his mouth.
Emilie took another sip of water. “I saw Quaid today.”
He bit off a hunk of bread, looking everywhere but at her.
“For some reason, he seemed in a hurry to get away from me.”
“Oh?” He gulped
In the shadow of her friend’s staggering heartbreak, her own heartache was slight.
Ten
E milie walked up Main Street with Maren and Hattie. They’d been planning this Saturday outing for nearly three weeks. Long before Caroline received the news that she was indeed a widow.
“It doesn’t seem right that I look for a wedding dress while Caroline mourns the loss of her husband.” Frown lines furrowed Maren’s brow.
Emilie had grappled with the same concern.
Hattie tucked a brown curl under her hat. “When my father died, I didn’t want everyone moping about feeling sorry for me. Caroline wouldn’t want that either.”
“Hattie’s right,” Emilie said. “God has given you and Rutherford a second chance at love. That’s a gift worth celebrating.”
A slow smile lit Maren’s blue eyes. “I do love that man.”
Emilie refused to give in to her regrets. She was blessed with a father who was still alive and loved her, a respectable job, and a gaggle of wonderful friends.
Hattie hooked their arms as they strolled the cobblestones past the millinery, toward Gut’s Saddlery and his daughter’s Queensware Emporium.
The sound of a familiar Irish brogue drew Emilie’s attention to the end of the block, where Quaid sat atop his parked wagon, visiting with a merchant. Her feet planted themselves. She needed to know if she’d imagined Quaid’s interest in her, or if something or someone had interfered. What would she say? How did one even broach the subject? She watched as he flicked the reins and his wagon rolled toward her, a smile of recognition lighting his face.
He didn’t look like a man trying to avoid her.
When the wagon stopped beside her, Quaid brushed the brim on his slouch hat. “Miss Jensen. Miss Pemberton. Miss Heinrich.” His greeting was impersonal, but the intensity she saw in his gaze was not.
“Mr. McFarland.” Her voice blended with the others.
“It’s good to see you.” He looked away, glancing toward the dry goods store. “But I can’t linger. I need to buy wood for repairs to the Renglers’ boat.”
Emilie nodded. If only she could ask him if his glance toward her father’s place of business was mere happenstance—or if PaPa was the reason he needed to flee.
When Emilie returned to the store, her father was engaged in a checkers match with Owen Rengler, while Oliver stood by looking on. She greeted them, then went upstairs to start lunch, welcoming time alone in the kitchen.
PaPa joined her within the hour. He clomped up the stairs as if his feet regretted each step. Seated at the head chair, he folded his hands on the edge of the table and offered the prayer of thanksgiving for their meal. Emilie recited the prayer with her father, but her mind was busy shaping questions.
“Amen.” Emilie spread her napkin on her lap.
“Did you have a good time with your friends this morning?” PaPa looked a little better today, his eyes brighter.
“I did.” Emilie scooped a potato cake and a schnitzel onto PaPa’s plate, then onto hers.
“That’s good.” PaPa cut into his schnitzel. “The widow Brantenberg and her family deserve a bit of happiness, with all they’ve been through.”
“ Ja . Maren and Mrs. Brantenberg are enjoying planning the wedding.” Emilie reached for her glass and sipped water. “Who won the checkers game?”
“Games. Six of them. Owen won a game. Oliver won two games. And your dear Vater won three.”
“Good for you. Sounds like you had a good day.”
“I did.”
“Thank you for giving Maren and me time off today. She found a couple of dresses she really liked.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” PaPa raised his fork to his mouth.
Emilie took another sip of water. “I saw Quaid today.”
He bit off a hunk of bread, looking everywhere but at her.
“For some reason, he seemed in a hurry to get away from me.”
“Oh?” He gulped
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