Read Online Elm Creek Quilts [04] The Runaway Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online Page B

into steadfast and respectful devotion. But Hans and Anneke seemed to admire each other from the start, with only a token reluctance on Anneke’s part to abandon thoughts of her first intended. They married six months after their meeting in New York, before the first snow fell.
    As a wedding gift for his bride, Hans added to our cabin a fireplace, a root cellar, and a second room. Not long after her own marriage, perhaps because she wished me to know a happiness like that she had found with my brother, or perhaps because she sought greater privacy than my presence would allow, Anneke began entertaining thoughts of finding a husband for me.
    Among those who had come to help us those early days was Mrs. Violet Pearson Engle, the twice-widowed dressmaker, andher grown son from her first marriage, Cyrus Pearson. Mrs. Engle was a stout woman, domineering and loud-voiced, whose main contribution to the barn raising had been to bark orders at we women laboring over our outdoor cooking fires to prepare enough food for all those men. As for Mr. Pearson, upon our first meeting I found him polite, if somewhat disdainful, with a quick grin that some might have called a smirk. But that impression might have been merely my own prejudice, as I never fully liked or trusted handsome men, perhaps because they rarely expressed interest in plain girls such as myself. Still, since he seemed pleasant enough, I thought nothing of it when Anneke suggested we invite him for supper.
    On the appointed evening, Mr. Pearson arrived, bearing an apple tart his mother had baked for us, and a bouquet of wild-flowers which he presented to me—in error, I thought, assuming he had meant them for the lady of the house. I promptly handed the flowers to Anneke and took his coat, while Hans offered him a chair by the fire. Since the fireplace was also my cookstove, I necessarily passed between it and the table several times as the men talked about their horses and crops. Before long, I noticed that every time I approached the table, Mr. Pearson bounded out of his chair. At first I thought it charming, but when he persisted in the ridiculous formality, I entreated him to remain seated for fear he would be bouncing in and out of his chair all evening like a jumping jack. He agreed with a smile that did not completely conceal his displeasure, but he no longer rose when I did, although he tensed in his chair as if it took all his strength to remain seated.
    “I did not notice it before,” I murmured to Anneke in passing, “but Mr. Pearson has a haughty temperament, don’t you agree?”
    “He’s a perfect gentleman,” hissed Anneke, glancing at him tobe sure he had not overheard. “And he’s a guest, so mind your manners.”
    “I have no intention of doing otherwise,” I protested in a whisper, but Anneke merely glared at me.
    The meal itself was an even more baffling affair, with Hans the only one of us perfectly at ease. Anneke interrogated Mr. Pearson about his education and prospects with a directness that would have seemed rude if not for her charming manner and lack of fluency in English, but Mr. Pearson did not seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to relish the opportunity to talk about himself, but instead of responding to Anneke, he directed his replies to me. I was embarrassed for him, that he should slight Anneke and Hans so, when suddenly it occurred to me that he was behaving exactly as eager suitors did in novels.
    This realization so astounded me that I could not reply when Mr. Pearson remarked for at least the seventeenth time how wondrously sublime my cooking was. Perhaps I should have perceived Mr. Pearson’s intentions sooner, but E. had been my first and only love, and we had known each other since childhood. Our courtship had possessed none of the silly rituals with which adult men and women torment each other. I was not accustomed to the language of romance, nor did I ever expect it to be directed toward me. Nor, I knew with great