Read Online The Brides of Chance Collection by Cathy Marie Hake, Kelly Eileen Hake, Tracey V. Bateman - Free Book Online
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her face yet. “You’re still supposed to be in bed.”
She simply cocked her brow askance.
“How does your head feel?”
“Not as bad today.” She set aside the eggs and ladled a little hot water from the stove’s reservoir into a bowl. Soon the yeasty smell of bread dough mingled with the other aromas. Gideon felt awkward drinking coffee when she already had set herself to doing chores; still, it wasn’t right to rob his brothers of the last bit of their sleep just because Miriam Hancock gave a rooster competition, racing for sunrise. He sat at the table and frowned. Someone had added several things to the bottom of his shopping list. Neatly penned as the letters were, he knew Miriam had taken it upon herself to get involved.
He squinted, then moved the paper a bit so he could read it more easily. Tea, rolled oats, confectioners’ sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, oregano, paprika, curry, cloves, paraffin, pectin, four cards of shirt buttons, fabric—one half bolt white medium-weight cotton, one quarter bolt each of blue, brown heavyweight serge, and tan wool .
“What’s this?”
“It’s a start. I’ll add as I take stock of your supplies today. I can do without the curry and cloves if money is tight.”
“You won’t have time, Miriam.”
“Time for what?” She sprinkled flour onto the far end of the table, dumped the bread onto the spot, and kneaded it with negligent ease. Dusted with flour, her hands still looked incapable of managing any but the simplest and lightest of tasks.
He cleared his throat and looked for a way to say what seemed almost cruel. “Hannah doesn’t need your help anymore, Miriam. Your reason for coming no longer exists.”
The heel of her hand sank into the dough and stretched it, then she pinched off a third of the big, fragrant white blob. A few deft flips of her hand shaped a portion of it into a loaf. She made the second loaf and started to form the remaining dough into a third when she said, “If anything, the reasons I came are more pressing now than when Hannah first penned them.”
“You can’t stay.”
Chapter 7
M iriam blinked at him and thought she’d misheard. The state of affairs in this household was so appalling, the very idea of this man shoving away her help didn’t make a speck of sense. Then she reasoned out what he was saying. “Of course I can’t stay in the back bedchamber and occupy your bed,” she agreed crisply. She hoped her cheeks didn’t go pink at the fact that she’d already ousted him from his bed for two nights. “We’ll have to come up with an alternative arrangement at once.”
“The arrangement,” he replied, glowering over the rim of his coffee mug, “is for you to romp with the girls for another day or so, then go back home.”
She set her hands on her hips, not caring that she’d leave flour prints on her apron and dress. Flour would brush off easily enough, but she…she would not be brushed out of this home as if she were a bothersome gnat. Gideon Chance had best understand here and now that she’d not back away from duty. She locked gazes with him. “I’m not going to sail back to the islands.”
“Listen, lady, I don’t know what whim brought you here, but it’s nothing more than that: a whim, and a plum crazy one at that.”
Her jaw hardened, and she did her best to keep a civil tone as she informed him, “My sister’s needs for assistance constituted a clear need, sir.”
“Hannah must’ve written on a day she was just a tad blue. A woman in her, um…” He glanced down at the tabletop and mumbled, “Carrying months is entitled to a melancholy day or two.”
Miriam, too, looked down and fiddled with the second loaf. Its shape was a bit off, so she evened it out as she struggled to reply. “Had only one letter been melancholy, we’d have understood; but Hannah was always a cheery soul, and though she mentioned kind things, in all but the first two letters, she couldn’t hide her loneliness or the
She simply cocked her brow askance.
“How does your head feel?”
“Not as bad today.” She set aside the eggs and ladled a little hot water from the stove’s reservoir into a bowl. Soon the yeasty smell of bread dough mingled with the other aromas. Gideon felt awkward drinking coffee when she already had set herself to doing chores; still, it wasn’t right to rob his brothers of the last bit of their sleep just because Miriam Hancock gave a rooster competition, racing for sunrise. He sat at the table and frowned. Someone had added several things to the bottom of his shopping list. Neatly penned as the letters were, he knew Miriam had taken it upon herself to get involved.
He squinted, then moved the paper a bit so he could read it more easily. Tea, rolled oats, confectioners’ sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, oregano, paprika, curry, cloves, paraffin, pectin, four cards of shirt buttons, fabric—one half bolt white medium-weight cotton, one quarter bolt each of blue, brown heavyweight serge, and tan wool .
“What’s this?”
“It’s a start. I’ll add as I take stock of your supplies today. I can do without the curry and cloves if money is tight.”
“You won’t have time, Miriam.”
“Time for what?” She sprinkled flour onto the far end of the table, dumped the bread onto the spot, and kneaded it with negligent ease. Dusted with flour, her hands still looked incapable of managing any but the simplest and lightest of tasks.
He cleared his throat and looked for a way to say what seemed almost cruel. “Hannah doesn’t need your help anymore, Miriam. Your reason for coming no longer exists.”
The heel of her hand sank into the dough and stretched it, then she pinched off a third of the big, fragrant white blob. A few deft flips of her hand shaped a portion of it into a loaf. She made the second loaf and started to form the remaining dough into a third when she said, “If anything, the reasons I came are more pressing now than when Hannah first penned them.”
“You can’t stay.”
Chapter 7
M iriam blinked at him and thought she’d misheard. The state of affairs in this household was so appalling, the very idea of this man shoving away her help didn’t make a speck of sense. Then she reasoned out what he was saying. “Of course I can’t stay in the back bedchamber and occupy your bed,” she agreed crisply. She hoped her cheeks didn’t go pink at the fact that she’d already ousted him from his bed for two nights. “We’ll have to come up with an alternative arrangement at once.”
“The arrangement,” he replied, glowering over the rim of his coffee mug, “is for you to romp with the girls for another day or so, then go back home.”
She set her hands on her hips, not caring that she’d leave flour prints on her apron and dress. Flour would brush off easily enough, but she…she would not be brushed out of this home as if she were a bothersome gnat. Gideon Chance had best understand here and now that she’d not back away from duty. She locked gazes with him. “I’m not going to sail back to the islands.”
“Listen, lady, I don’t know what whim brought you here, but it’s nothing more than that: a whim, and a plum crazy one at that.”
Her jaw hardened, and she did her best to keep a civil tone as she informed him, “My sister’s needs for assistance constituted a clear need, sir.”
“Hannah must’ve written on a day she was just a tad blue. A woman in her, um…” He glanced down at the tabletop and mumbled, “Carrying months is entitled to a melancholy day or two.”
Miriam, too, looked down and fiddled with the second loaf. Its shape was a bit off, so she evened it out as she struggled to reply. “Had only one letter been melancholy, we’d have understood; but Hannah was always a cheery soul, and though she mentioned kind things, in all but the first two letters, she couldn’t hide her loneliness or the
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