Read Online The Bridal Veil by Alexis Harrington - Free Book Online Page B

which she had built and conducted her
life.
    Unbuttoning the bodice of her dress,
she stood and stepped out of the dirty garment. Then she pulled the
pins out of her hair so that she could brush it out and rebraid it.
The soft whisk of the long strands against her waist was another
sensual indulgence that Emily allowed herself to enjoy. A woman’s
hair, her crowning glory it was sometimes called, was to be worn up
in a modest style, not hanging loose in an immodest fall of curls
and waves.
    But right now, she decided that this
particular indulgence was one she deserved. She stood in her
chemise and petticoat, pulling the bristles of her brush through
her hair again and again, enjoying the feel of freed locks. If she
missed Cora Hayward’s breakfast, so be it. She knew they hadn’t
waited for her.
    ~~*~*~*~~
    The rock lodged in the disk harrow
finally broke free with a hard, impatient stroke of Luke’s hammer.
With a heartfelt curse, he picked it up and flung it into the
blackberry brambles that edged one side of the property. God, he’d
lost an hour of the morning to this. At least he could finally
start the plowing after breakfast. He glanced toward the sky,
hoping to see a break in the clouds.
    What he saw instead was Emily Cannon
Becker, dressed in her chemise as she passed her bedroom windows on
the second floor, her hair tumbling down her back as she drew a
brush through it. He caught only a glimpse, but he saw enough to
recognize that its color was of ripe wheat. Luke, stunned and
suddenly breathless, thought he hadn’t seen anything as beautiful
since a misty sunrise last fall.
    And maybe it had been long before
that.
    ~~*~*~*~~
    Just after noon, ravening hunger
finally forced Emily out of her room. She knew she was too late for
lunch, but that didn’t mean there was no food in the house. Wearing
her last clean black dress and with her hair tidied, she was
determined to face the formidable Cora Hayward. Emily had never
been a coward in her life, she thought, as she came down the steps.
Well, yes, she had. Many times. But she had proceeded anyway and
she would do so now.
    In the kitchen, Cora stood at the
stove like an eternal sentinel at her post, stirring a black kettle
of something with a pleasing aroma. Rose was back at the table,
drawing a picture in a composition book. With a slender hold on the
courage she’d managed to muster, Emily went to the sideboard and
got a dish and silver for herself. Cora turned to watch her, and
she felt the woman’s eyes on her every move. The silver clacked
against the dish in her trembling hand, and she tightened her
grip.
    When she walked to the stove with her
empty plate, she thought of Dickens’s Oliver Twist, begging for
porridge. “Mrs. Hayward, I’d like to make lunch for myself. As I
said earlier, I am not a guest here and I’ll be happy to help
myself. If you’ll just show me where I might find something to eat,
I’ll take care of the rest.” She forced herself to smile as she
spoke.
    Cora stared at her. Finally she said,
“I’ve got this kettle of stew we had for the noon meal. I was just
about to put up a jar for Luke. You take some too.” The offer was
grudging but Emily thought she detected the tiniest hint of
chagrin. Cora took the dish from Emily’s hand and ladled on a
healthy portion of the rich, meaty broth studded with potatoes,
carrots, and onions.
    “ Thank you.” Emily sat down
at the table and forced herself to keep from slurping the delicious
stew like a boor, but it wasn’t easy. She hadn’t eaten a
substantial meal since the day before.
    Cora went to the back door and took up
a shawl hanging from a hook there. “I’m going out to the henhouse
to see if there are any eggs left. If you want more stew, help
yourself.” It sounded more like a command than an invitation, and
Emily drew a deep breath when the door slammed behind
Cora.
    At the other end of the table Rose
sat, studiously intent on the picture she was drawing. Her