Read Online Wishes on the Wind by Elaine Barbieri - Free Book Online Page A

tittering in the kitchen about "Mr. David's fine sense of humor" and his playful teasing of Margaret when she attended Mrs. Lang. She had all but gagged at the fussing that went into making his favorite desserts at dinnertime and at the haste with which the staff responded to his summons. She had gritted her teeth against Mabel's repetitive warnings to take special care when she scrubbed Mr. David's fine lawn shirts.
        Oh, she was sick to death of pampered "Mr. David" who used     his guile to twist everyone in the household around his finger, and who remained kind and generous solely when things went his way. Couldn't anyone see beyond his handsome face and false charm? Didn't anyone see the coldness in his eyes? Whatever his reason for speaking up for her the day she was hired, she had not forgotten the true David Lang; the nasty, abusive fellow who had clearly voiced his opinion of her and the Irish in the valley that day on the hillside.
        Fidgeting in her uncomfortable uniform, Meghan scratched her arm, then ran her finger under the tight collar. The stiff fabric had rubbed her delicate skin raw on more than one occasion, and the haste with which the garment had been cut down to accommodate her small size was apparent in its ill fit. The oversize apron that bound the uncomfortable garment against her skin only added to her physical distress, as did the cap, which she had been instructed to pull well down on her forehead, so not a trace of her unmanageable hair could escape.
        With sudden anger, Meghan jerked the annoying cap from her head and flung it to the ground. Her relief was immediate as the wild curls spilled free onto her shoulders and a gust of cooling air moved against her face. Standing still, Meghan luxuriated in the refreshing breeze. Her hands resting on the line, she raised her face to the sun and closed her eyes at the simple freedom of the moment.
        A soothing calm gradually overcame her agitation, and an unspoken comfort swelled inside her. Oh, yes, there was a God up there in that endless expanse of blue above her. She could feel His touch warming her skin and His sweet breath bathing her face. He was telling her He was close to her, just as Father Matthew had said.
        Opening her eyes, Meghan clipped the shirt to the line with fingers that moved with renewed purpose. Now, if only He would do something about them …
        Taking a moment to tie Fabian's reins to a nearby tree, David had turned to watch Meghan O'Connor pin another garment to the clothesline as Mabel watched with a critical eye. Suffering the conflicting emotions he felt every time he thought of the girl, he had unconsciously shaken his head. For the life of him, he couldn't understand his preoccupation with her. She certainly wasn't an appealing sight in that baggy dress and apron, and with her hair stuffed into that ridiculous white cap she wore pulled down on her forehead.
        Despite himself, he still felt guilty for his comments about her father when they met that first time on the hillside, and for that reason he had deliberately avoided contact with her. Even now, as annoyed as he was when he remembered how she had attacked him and pinned him to the ground, he had to admit to a reluctant admiration for the girl's spirit. He had no doubt that if the rest of the Irish in the valley had as much grit as she, they wouldn't be suffering their present lot in life. Instead, they found it much easier to bemoan their situation and take cowardly vengeance against imagined wrongs in the dark of night.
        Not Meghan. She didn't complain about a fully day's work. He had received that reluctant report directly from Cook on each occasion when, under one pretext or another, he had checked on her progress. Cook had praised the girl's work, despite her obvious resentment of ''the outsider from the valley," and he was well aware that any praise from that woman was praise indeed.
        Frowning,