Deeply Devoted (14 page)

“Mmm. We shall see what you think of Mario’s coffee.” Angelina went to get another cup and winked at Catharine, who reluctantly took her seat again.

“Where did you go, Greta?” Catharine asked.

“Oh, nowhere in particular.” She shrugged. Catharine thought Greta seemed a little uneasy. “Just walking. I looked in a millinery shop. You’ll have to go sometime yourself. Did you find what you needed for your garden?”

“
Ja
. I did. But I’m not sure what happened to Peter. He was to meet us in an hour.”

They sipped their coffee while they watched the steady rain, enjoying their visit with Angelina, who pelted them with questions about their homeland. It wasn’t long before Peter strode in, stomped his feet at the door, and hung his hat on a peg nearby. His face wore a crooked half smile that Catharine had come to know but hadn’t seen much of lately.

“I see you ladies are getting to know one another.”

Angelina stood to give him a peck on the cheek. “My dear Peter, you’re drenched. Here, you can use this napkin to blot your face. A spring rain is good, no?”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. Now, if it’ll just do this throughout the summer, it’ll be good for the wheat.” He looked around the table. “Where’s Anna?”

“We don’t really know. We’re going to go look for her as soon as the rain stops. I’d hoped you’d have passed her on the street,” Catharine said, cocking her head with narrowed eyes at Greta. “I thought she was with Greta, but it seems they went different ways.”

Mario walked up to the group, tying his apron about his waist. “Is something the matter?”

“They don’t know where Anna is. I’m sure she’s just fine, holed up in a shop waiting for the rain to stop. It never lasts long out here.” Angelina glanced over at her husband.

Mario’s face twisted into a frown, and he rubbed his chin, bending down to peer out the window. “Mmm . . . I don’t know. Looks like the rain will continue awhile.” Straightening up, he asked Peter, “Want me to go with you to find her?”

“I appreciate it, but I’ll go now. No sense waiting for it to stop raining. She doesn’t know her way around—”

The door flew open, and a drenched Anna, looking like a little waif, hurried inside, searching the dining room for a familiar face.

Catharine rushed over to where she stood. “Anna! Wherever in the world have you been?” She guided her sister over to their table and sat her down.

Anna sneezed and wiped her face with her sleeve, then sneezed again.

“
Gezondheid!
Bless you!” Greta said. “What happened to you?”

“I was having a nice visit with your mother, Peter,” Anna answered, then covered her mouth to sneeze again.

Peter looked dumbfounded “
My
mother? Whatever for?”

“I wanted to return her hat,” Anna said with an angelic face. “We had a nice chat.”

Catharine saw Peter’s surprised look and wondered why he would be shocked.

Angelina took Anna by the hand. “Sweet one, let me get you out of those wet clothes. You could catch a cold. Since I’m not very tall, I’ll bet you could wear one of my dresses. You can’t ride home like this. Come with me.”

Catharine just shook her head at Anna. Angelina passed them with a look at Catharine that said she wasn’t through talking with her. “Don’t take long. We’ve dallied long enough,” Catharine said to Anna.

Mario threw his hands up. “I have a wonderful notion. Why don’t you all stay for supper and have a bowl of my famous spaghetti? After all, it’s pouring rain and you don’t want to travel in this kind of weather if you’re in your wagon, do you, Peter?”

Angelina clapped her hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. What do you say, Peter?”

Peter glanced at his wife, who shrugged her shoulders slightly. Greta looked over at Peter. “Oh, wouldn’t that be a wonderful break from Catharine’s cooking—” She put her hand over her mouth with a giggle after Catharine’s disapproving look. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Cath. But it would be a nice change, don’t you think?”

“Well . . . I think it’s up to Peter.” She looked back at her husband, who smiled.

“Okay, Mario.” Peter winked at Mario. “It’s time the girls tasted some of your fine Italian cooking.”

“Then it’s settled. While Angelina gets Anna a fresh set of clothes, you all can get cleaned up for one of my best meals . . . not to brag,” he said, tweaking his mustache. Angelina and Anna left in search of dry clothing.

Peter clapped Mario on the back. “It’s not called bragging when it’s the truth, my friend.” They both laughed, and Catharine thought how different Peter and her first husband were. Peter was amicable and thoughtful, and her first husband had been dark and brooding. “Is there a way Greta or I can help? Maybe serve your customers at supper?”

Mario’s face was incredulous. “Absolutely not! You will be
my
guests tonight.”

Catharine was beginning to see that Peter had a very romantic side to him, and she liked it. She liked it a lot.

Peter gazed down at Catharine’s face as Greta teased, “Aww, cut it out, you two!”

While the rain continued to fall, inside Mario’s Ristorante the dim lights cast a cozy ambience to the round table set especially for the Andersens. Angelina had cut some of her climbing roses for a centerpiece and lit candles. Between mounds of spaghetti and meatballs heaped high in large bowls, laughter was shared while the troubles of the farm work were left behind. Between serving them and their patrons, Mario and Angelina, along with the twins, continued to fill their water glasses and bring them piping hot, crusty bread with slabs of butter. Just when Peter was sure none of them could eat another bite, the twins removed their bowls and Mario delivered a creamed dessert swirled in clear parfait glasses. Peter smacked his lips, enjoying the delicacy that held just a hint of lemon.

Glancing over to Catharine, he saw her close her eyes in sheer delight as she filled her spoon again and again until she reached the bottom of the glass. She caught him watching her, so he smiled, capturing her eyes for a long moment until she looked away shyly.

“Peter, your mother asked me about registering for high school in Cheyenne in the fall.” Anna looked over at Catharine. “Do you think I could?”

“I’m not sure how that would work, Anna. It would be quite a long drive every day, wouldn’t it, Peter?”

Peter dragged his eyes away from Catharine’s lovely face and the thoughts that were swirling in his mind and turned to Anna. “You’d be riding nearly an hour each way, and I don’t know if we can spare the time it would take for me to get you back and forth to Cheyenne every day. Maybe Catharine can teach you at home.”

Anna shook her head, excitement in her voice. “You wouldn’t have to. During the school months, Mrs. Andersen said that I might be able to stay with her, sort of like a companion to her. She seems so lonely.”

Peter was baffled. Why would his mother suggest such a thing when she was trying to uncover Catharine’s past? Was this one of her ploys? He let out a huff. “With my mother . . . I’m not so sure that would be a good idea, Anna. Catharine might need you at home.” He grimaced. Catharine shot him a sideways look.

“
Ach!
I could come home every weekend, to be sure,” Anna stammered. She sneezed and tried to cover her mouth quickly.

“We’ll have to talk about this and consider what to do. Mrs. Andersen hardly knows you.” Catharine finished off her dessert and set her spoon next to her plate.

“But I know her now! I spent the afternoon with her.”

“Anna, please . . . Peter and I need to talk about it. But for now finish your dessert. It’s getting so late. We should be going soon, don’t you think, Peter?”

“That would be wise.”
If only you knew.

Greta pushed her empty glass away. “I’m so full that I’m sure I won’t be able to move from the table. I have to say that was a delicious meal and I love Mario’s cooking!”

“Me too!” Anna patted her tummy. “But I can’t eat another bite.”

Peter thought Anna looked a little older now that she was wearing one of Angelina’s frocks. Suddenly he realized how much like Catharine Anna was, except for their coloring. He gazed again at Catharine, whose face, illuminated through the flickering candlelight, couldn’t have looked more fetching and soft than it did at this moment. He truly desired her, but how did she really feel about him now? He would try to put away his mother’s accusations and give Catharine the benefit of the doubt.
She’s my wife, for heaven’s sake, and I can trust my instincts. Have I been wrong before?

With one last swipe of his spoon, Peter finished off the delicious cream dessert, and Mario stepped back up to the table to clear the dessert glasses. “My friends, I don’t know if you realize it or not, but the rain is continuing to fall. Perhaps it would be wise to spend the night in town rather than drag yourselves through the rain to get home. It’d be so late anyway that you wouldn’t get anything done before morning.” He looked Peter in the eye, giving him a wink.

Peter squirmed. What was Mario thinking? Playing matchmaker again? This time there was no matchmaking to be made—more like patch making, Peter decided. “Let me take a look outside,” he said, pushing his chair back.

When he and Mario walked to the door to look out at the steady rainfall turning the streets of Cheyenne to mud, Mario nudged him.

“It appears that it’ll continue through evening,” Peter said. “We could still make it home. Too bad I didn’t bring the carriage, although . . .” Peter grinned at his friend. “To tell the truth, I’ve sort of been planning something like this all along.”

“Ah, Peter, tonight is the perfect time to have that private time with your bride that we talked about. The girls can stay with me and Angelina in the guest room. What do you say? Unless you’d rather ask your mother.”

Peter threw Mario an annoyed look and then thought for a minute. He wondered what Catharine would think. He certainly wouldn’t knock on his mother’s door tonight. “I don’t know . . .”

Mario clapped Peter on the back. “The chores can wait, and you can leave right after breakfast. From what Angelina told me, your sweet bride is down in the dumps.”

Peter jerked his head around. “What did she say to Angelina?”

“I don’t know the exact conversation, my friend, but she needs your attention. My advice to you is don’t wait too long. The sooner the better.”

“I’m sure I could get a room somewhere, but we’ll get drenched just getting there. We don’t have a change of clothes either.”

Mario laughed. “That’s more like it. Don’t concern yourself with the clothes—we can spare an extra set, and you can borrow our umbrella. You can have Angelo run down to the Inter Ocean with a note to reserve a nice room for tonight. He’ll consider the rain an adventure. Now, let’s go tell the ladies.”

“But, Peter, who’ll milk the cow? Bessie will be fair to bursting before we get back home,” Catharine asked when Peter suggested they stay overnight.

Mario gave a little cough and looked at Peter. Peter’s lips twisted into a smile. “I must confess. I planned for us to stay overnight as a surprise. I didn’t know about the rain though. Don’t worry about Bessie. I stopped by earlier and asked our neighbor if he could do me a favor. We’ll be home tomorrow before the evening milking time.”

Catharine touched Peter on the arm, and he put his arm around her waist. “Seems you thought of everything, dear.”

An hour later, using Mario’s umbrella to ward off the steady drizzle, Catharine was whisked away under the protective arm of Peter to the hotel just down the block. Not many people were about, and Catharine was glad that this rain hadn’t produced any lightning.

Angelina had been like an old mother hen with her chicks, shooing the children and Catharine’s sisters upstairs for the rest of the evening. With a brief wave to her sisters and a lingering look at Angelina, who assured her Greta and Anna would be perfectly fine, Catharine and Peter had left them to have an evening alone . . . uninterrupted.

Catharine was giddy with anticipation and felt her heart racing. Peter must have gotten over whatever he was upset about in order to take a night away from home. Perhaps he would tell her later. He’d said this could be a little bit of a honeymoon they’d never gotten a chance to have. Had the overnight trip been planned, she would’ve packed her wedding nightgown. The thought made her blush, and she was grateful her head was down to ward off the rain.

Peter’s arm was tight about her waist, and he picked up their pace. In eagerness? She hoped so. As they were about to cross the street, a fast-moving brougham hit a mud puddle. Though they jumped back, both of them were thoroughly splattered when its wheels flung clods of mud directly on them. They started to cross the street but stopped in the middle as Peter lost control of the umbrella, which turned inside out with a gust of wind. Catharine gasped. So much for the umbrella.

She wiped the cold mud off her face with her hands, then felt more mud clinging to the hair escaping from her bonnet. She giggled, then turned her face to the sky and let the rain wash over her. She was sure Peter thought she’d lost her mind, but she hadn’t seen rain since she left Holland, and it felt good. One look at Peter, mud splattered across his shirt, and she started to cackle, pointing at him.

“You’re no sight to behold either, my lady,” he bellowed. His laughter rang out as his eyes took her in from top to bottom.

As the rain pelted them, she leaned forward and saw her high-top boots sinking into a muddy hole. She lost her balance and fell over on her hands and knees in the squishy street. “
Ja
, but not near as bad as you are going to look!” She flashed him a mischievous smile. Peter reached out his hand to assist her with an impish look on his face. She gave a hard yank, catching him off guard, and he tumbled down in a heap. Before he knew what hit him, Catharine had scooped up a handful of mud and wiped it across his nose and face. “That’ll teach you to laugh at a helpless, wet female.”

He looked at her with shock, sending them into fits of laughter. They drew themselves upright, and Catharine was laughing so hard that she leaned over, a hand to her stomach, as tears streamed down her mud-streaked face.

Peter grabbed her wrist, chuckling the entire time, and held her close to his body, mud and all, unmindful of the passersby. “It’s so good to hear your laughter. I’ve missed it.” His eyes glistened with amusement. “You look rather cute with the embellishment of mud to enhance your outfit, even if your feet are sinking!”

Catharine gazed up at him, and their eyes locked. She liked the feel of his strong arms about her. “Is that so?”

His lips curved into a broad smile, the brim of his hat dripping water down her shoulder. “I have just the cure for being splattered with mud on a rainy night.” His eyes teased her, and he leaned down to kiss her. “A nice hot bath where we can both peel off these wet things and soak to our hearts’ content. What do you say? Shall we get out of this rain?”

Catharine’s answer was a slow, lingering kiss while they stood in a tight embrace, ignoring the rain. A harrumph came from a person walking by, and they slowly pulled apart. Peter grabbed her hand tightly, and laughing and gasping for breath, they sprinted the rest of the way to the hotel.

Clara and Mac inched their way through the crowded room at the Tivoli filled with laughing couples. She admired the dark polished wood of the bar where waiters ran to and fro with their orders. She’d heard that certain kinds of women occupied the third floor above the restaurant, but she wouldn’t think of that now. She’d rather remember that the ladies of Cheyenne gathered for tea here in the afternoons. A much more pleasant thought.