Read Online Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver by Kit Morgan - Free Book Online Page A

She reached over and patted the hand of the young man next to her. “And this is Matthew, my husband.”
    “You have an accent too,” Ebba commented. “Where are you from?”
    “Mississippi, originally, until we moved here to Nowhere.”
    “I like the way you talk,” she said. “It’s very pretty.”
    “Why, thank you. I have had a few people comment about my accent before, but no woman has ever told me it was pretty.”
    “They may have been jealous, dear,” Matthew said. “It’s so nice to meet you at last, Ebba. And if no one else has told you yet, welcome to the family.”
    “Thank you. This is a little overwhelming for me. Everything and everyone is so new. You’ll excuse me if I don’t remember everyone’s name.”
    Daniel and his mother exchanged a quick glance then did the same with Charlotte and Matthew. What was that about?
    Daniel’s uncle gave Ebba a nod. “In case anyone is wondering, I’m Mr. Quinn and I’ll second what Matthew said. Welcome to the family, Ebba.”
    “Thank you so much.” She glanced around the table. “Is this all of you? Are there any more?”
    “This is all of us as far as the Quinn family goes,” Aunt Betsy said. “But when you get out to the farm … ow!” She glared at Ma Weaver next to her. “What was that for?”
    Ma gave her an innocent glance. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
    “You kicked me!”
    “If I did, it was an accident. Now let’s get on with supper – can’t you see the poor child is starving?”
    Daniel covered his mouth and tried not to laugh. Ebba watched him and wondered why his mother would kick his aunt in the first place. There was something they weren’t telling her, and it made her nervous.
    But she pushed the thought from her mind as Daniel’s uncle folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful. Oh, and thank you for sending such a nice bride for my nephew, and may the two of them be very happy together. Amen.”
    Everyone raised their head. “Not so fast,” Ma Weaver said. “I want to add a few words.”
    “A few words?” Aunt Betsy said with a frown. “Don’t take all night, or the food will get cold.”
    Ma looked like she was about to kick her sister again, but instead bowed her head. “Lord, you know how long poor Daniel’s been waiting for a bride. Just put in him the patience needed so he can get to know her a little better before he makes her an honest woman.”
    “Ma!” Daniel blurted as his face turned red.
    “Well it’s only natural, son. For Heaven’s sake, at least learn a little bit about each other before you –”
    “Aunt Mary,” Matthew interrupted. “Not at the supper table.”
    “Shucks, Matty,” Daniel said. “She says things like this at our table all the time.”
    Ebba sat, her cheeks flushed. Were they talking about what she thought they were?
    Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at Daniel, then his mother. “You do?!”
    “Well, dagnabit, what’s wrong with it?” Ma asked. “It’s nature. No need to hide it.”
    Ebba started the fan herself with her hand. “I hear you make a good roast chicken, Mrs. Quinn,” she said in hopes of changing the subject.
    Betsy took the cue. “Oh yes, I’m quite proud of my recipe. Do you cook well, Ebba?”
    “I like to think so,” she said. “I make a combination of American and Swedish recipes.”
    “Did you grow up here in America, or come over to this country as a child?” Charlotte asked as she reached for the mashed potatoes. She cast a cautious glance in Ma’s direction.
    “I was raised here, but I lived with my parents and their extended family – aunts, uncles, cousins. I was the youngest.”
    “And where are all of your relatives now?” Matthew asked.
    Ebba fixed her eyes on her plate. “Gone.”
    “Gone?” Aunt Betsy repeated. “What do you mean, they’re gone?”
    “They are all dead. Could you please pass me the chicken?” she