Read Online Capture the Wind for Me by Brandilyn Collins - Free Book Online

her.”
    â€œI’m not.” I pulled the tenderloin out and plunked it in the sink.
    â€œThen why are you actin’ like the Queen a Sheba’s comin’?”
    I fisted my hands on my hips. “Would you get out of here? Go play on the computer. Better yet, take Winnie outside and brush her.”
    â€œSo what are we havin’, caviar?”
    â€œOut!” I shooed him away like a pesky animal.
    After my brother’s departure, I finished unpacking the groceries, then stood in the kitchen thinking, fingers pressed to my lips.
    â€œNeed any help?” Daddy stuck his head through the back kitchen door. Sweat dribbled down his forehead, the knees of his old jeans stained with dirt.
    â€œNo, Daddy,” I said quickly. “Just do your weeding; I’ll be fine.”
    He eyed the food spread across the counter. “You sure? I could look mighty good in an apron.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    He wiggled his eyebrows, then pulled his head back out the door.
    â€œJackie!” Clarissa banged in through the front door, Della at her heels. “Can I spend the night at Della’s house? Her mama said it was okay.”
    I looked to Della for agreement, and she bounced her curly head up and down. At normal size for a nine-year-old, Della stood a good head taller than Clarissa. “Is your room clean?” I asked my sister.
    â€œYuh-huh.” She jiggled on her toes. “Pleeeease.”
    Perfect, I thought. Get her out of my way for the evening. “Okay.” “Yay!” both girls cried, then flitted toward Clarissa’s room.
    â€œCome show me what you’ve packed before you leave,” I called after them.
    My thoughts immediately scudded back to the task at hand. I could mix the casserole tonight. And whip the cream. And fix the table. Also assemble the spinach salad and make its dressing. That was about it. Everything else would have to wait till tomorrow.
    I never dreamed that anything might go wrong.
    As I cooked feverishly on Saturday, by 1:30 I still had everything well under control. Clarissa played at Della’s, and Daddy prepared to leave with Robert for his softball game. Normally we’d all have gone, but I informed Daddy that he couldn’t possibly expect me to set supper on the table at 6:00 when the game would run until 5:00.
    â€œJackie.” He regarded me askance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    I busily peeled an orange. “Of course, Daddy, what a question.”
    â€œI just want you to enjoy this supper. Katherine won’t mind if everything’s not perfect, you know.”
    No kidding.
    â€œWell, I’ll just do the best I can.” I looked up at him, struck by his anxious expression. My fingers stilled, the tangy sweet scent of the orange wafting through the kitchen. Quickly, I turned back, intent on my work. “You’d better fetch Robert; he’s supposed to be there now.”
    Daddy ran a gentle hand down my hair, then disappeared.
    â€œOh,” I muttered. I needed to put the ingredients for the bread in the machine. It would take four hours to bake. Time was of the essence; a delayed supper would hardly display the utmost of culinary talent. Hurriedly, I assembled the flour, salt, and the rest, measured them into the machine, and flicked it on. Then back to peeling and squeezing oranges for the glaze.
    By 3:00 I’d fallen into a mild state of panic. Making pie crust was hard! The first batch felt like rubber when I tried to roll it out. I threw the whole mess into the trash and started over. The second batch of crust still seemed tough, but it would have to do. I floured a cutting board and rolled and rolled for the bottom of the cobbler, then cut the remains into thick strips for the top. The peaches were bubbling in a pan. I had to assemble the dessert and pop it in the oven right away so it would be done in time to slide the meat in at 4:30. The kitchen looked like a train