Deeply Devoted (21 page)

“We can do that.” Catharine watched as a smile crept across his handsome face.

“I have army duty this Saturday, but I’m free Friday evening. I’m so pleased that you’ve asked me.” He set his mug down.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll have a small party Friday night,” Catharine said.

“Could we invite the Cristinis?” Anna asked. “I enjoy being with them.”

“If Greta wants to. It’s her party.”

Greta refilled Bryan’s mug. “Certainly. I like them too. But I don’t know of anyone else to ask who knows me, other than Clara and Dorothy. Shouldn’t we ask them too?”

Catharine was thoughtful for a moment as she carefully set her teacup down. “If they don’t have other plans, sure. This is sort of late notice, you know.”

Bryan stood. “I need to get on back now.” He turned to Greta. “I look forward to Friday.”

“I’ll walk you to the door, Bryan.” Greta quickly rose.

“Don’t dawdle outside, Greta. Remember what Peter said about the bait,” Catharine reminded her.

Bryan’s forehead wrinkled in question. “I’ll explain,” Greta said as they left the room.

“Guess we’d better make a list, Anna,” Catharine said, walking over to her desk. “This party is getting larger by the minute.”

Anna clapped her hands with excitement.

Living in the country had been such a shift for all of them, Catharine thought. Just one visit to town for a play was hardly enough excitement for two young women. She’d try hard to keep that precious smile on Anna’s face for as long as she could. But right now, she needed a snack before supper.

Peter removed his overalls after the others had left, then rinsed them in a washtub of water. He wrung them out as best he could, then refilled the tub with soap, pushing the overalls under the soapy water for a good soak. That should do it.

He was mighty tired. It’d been a long day and he wanted to have supper, but first he’d bathe. He removed the gloves, then threw them into a sack and headed for the creek. The smell of fried chicken and gravy wafted on the breeze. He hoped Catharine had made whipped potatoes too. His stomach growled and his mouth watered.

He had to chuckle. Sweet Catharine was trying so hard to become a better cook. It was hit or miss at best, but he always ate whatever she put in front of him. He’d seen the concern on her face this morning and he didn’t want to worry her, but the spreading of the bait was little more than a trial effort. Without rain, the crop was suffering, as were her flowers, and the dryness and heat only made a better breeding ground for locusts.
It’s out of my hands now, Lord.
He’d done all he could to protect the wheat.

As he slid into the cool creek water, he wondered about Catharine’s past. He noticed that Catharine was always anxious to go pick up the mail in town. What was she expecting? Her parents were dead and she said she had no surviving relatives. Who would be writing her? Another man? Anger flashed through him. That would be impossible . . . unless that was what Mac had implied.

Sometimes he worried about Catharine. Many nights she tossed in her sleep, although she hadn’t had any more nightmares to his knowledge. He got the distinct feeling that she was hiding something.

He finished washing, slipped on his pants and shirt, and hurried back up the trail to the supper awaiting him. He didn’t want to keep his family waiting.

Now that’s a thought!
It was the first time he’d ever considered them his family, but that’s just what they were. He smiled when he saw his wife standing on the front porch waiting for him.

“The girls and I are going into town to pick up a few things for the birthday party, so I’ll put a handwritten invitation to Dorothy and your mother in their mailboxes,” Catharine said to Peter the next morning. “Do you want to come along, or is there anything you need?”

Peter finished tucking in his shirttails. “I don’t believe so.” He stepped over to where Catharine was making the bed. He leaned down and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck, and she whirled around and slid her arms around his waist. “Catharine, I’m sorry about last night. I was just plumb wore out.” Her eyes latched onto his. Peter loved how her irises were rimmed in a deeper color of green.

“I know you were, Peter. Sometimes it’s nice just to be near you.” She laid her head on his chest and listened to the beat of his heart beneath his chambray shirt.

“Then our winters should be most interesting.” Peter kissed the top of her head, then moved away. “I’d better get out of here now or we’ll both be in trouble and you won’t get your shopping done.”

“You’re right, my handsome husband. I’ll let you go as long as you promise to give my flowers a drink of water before I return.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am! But I’ll see what I can do.” He scratched his chin. “With taking care of the farm and those little critters of Anna’s, I’m not sure I’ll have time,” he teased.

“Speaking of which, would you consider keeping more than one of the puppies?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What? Are you all trying to wear me down?”

Catharine gave him a sheepish look. “Well . . . would you just give it some thought, Peter? There’s been very little that I’ve seen Anna excited about. Greta has a beau to entertain her, but Anna . . . well, she hasn’t met any friends her age yet.”

“And what about you, my sweet? I’ve seen how you’ve taken to Ginger, and she follows you around when you’re outdoors.”

Catharine grinned. “I have to admit, I do like the puppies. But if you
really
want us to have only one, then we’d best be considering which one to keep. It won’t be easy.”

“Tell you what—I’ll give it some thought. You and the girls have a fun excursion, and I might even have supper waiting for you if you’re out very long.”

“Then I’ll be sure to hang around town long enough for that to happen!” She giggled and tweaked his nose. “I must hurry. I have a lot of shopping to do.”

Peter shook his head. “Women. I’ll never understand ’em. I’ll go hitch up the team for you while you finish getting ready.”

“Thank you, my dear. Now I need to get my hair pinned up. Are you sure there’s nothing you need from town?”

“Not a thing . . . only for you to hurry back.” He touched her cheek, reveling in its softness.

Catharine left Greta and Anna talking with Angelina about the cake she would bake for Greta’s birthday, promising to return shortly so they could all go to the mercantile store. She hurried on down the sidewalk, reaching the post office in a matter of minutes, but when the clerk checked her mailbox, it was empty. She thanked him and sighed. Her father’s solicitor had promised the proper documentation would be arriving soon.
Apparently he doesn’t mean this century!
But there was no use fretting about it.

She walked over to the postmaster. “Excuse me.”

The portly man behind the counter smiled. “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

She handed him the handwritten invitations for Dorothy and Clara. “I’d like to mail these, please. I’ll pay for the postage.” She handed him the correct change.

“No problem. Will that be all?” He stamped the invitations and put them aside.

“Um . . . I’m expecting a very important letter from a solicitor from Holland. I was wondering, rather than drive all the way into town several times a week, is there a way to know when it arrives so I can retrieve it?”

The postmaster chuckled. “Not really, but if you’d like someone to deliver it to you, that’ll be an extra charge.”

Catharine nodded. “That would work perfectly. Thank you so much.”

She walked back to Mario’s Ristorante and found everyone just as she’d left them—laughing and discussing the menu.

Angelina looked up as Catharine walked over. “I have the perfect plan, if you’ll go along with it.” Her dark eyes danced.

“What have you all cooked up? I was gone only a few minutes.”

“Here, take a seat and we’ll tell you,” Angelina said, indicating an empty chair at the table. “I have customers to wait on, so let me tell you quickly.”

“We don’t want to keep you from your work,” Catharine said, hesitating to sit. “We should leave.”

Angelina threw up her hands. “What? And keep me from my friends? Not a chance. Anyway, what would you think if Mario and I cater Greta’s birthday party?”

“But how? Your restaurant is open on Friday nights.” Catharine secretly loved the idea but didn’t want to put her friends out.

“We are, but I’ve asked Mario if we can let our staff handle it for just the night. We could certainly use the break. What do you say?”

“Please! It would be wonderful to have some Italian cooking again,” Anna pleaded.

“Not that yours isn’t good, Cath,” Greta quickly added.

Catharine chuckled. “We all know that my cooking leaves a lot to be desired, so you don’t have to tread lightly on that score.”

“So it’s yes?” Greta’s eyes were wide with hope.

Catharine looked around, pretending to look stern and unmoving. Her sisters’ faces dropped, then she exclaimed, “Yes! Let’s do it! I believe Peter will be relieved that he doesn’t have to help me.”

Greta grabbed her hand. “
Dank U wel.
This will be a wonderful birthday.”

“Well, it is your eighteenth, so it should be special, like you.” Catharine squeezed her hand. She knew she wouldn’t always have Greta around, but she wouldn’t think about that now.

“Then it’s settled.” Angelina stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes and I’ll bring you some coffee, Catharine.”

Greta turned to Anna. “Why don’t you and I go on ahead to the mercantile and let these two plan everything?”

“Good idea. Is that okay, Cath?” Anna hopped up.

“Yes, and I’ll walk over as soon as Angelina and I plan the menu. I won’t be long.”

Not long after they left, Angelina poured a cup of coffee for both of them and sat across from her. “Mario will take care of the customers for a few minutes. Angelo and Alfredo cleared the tables for me.” She cocked her head. “Now tell me, how’ve you been?”

“A little more tired than usual, and Peter is working hard to save the wheat crop from locusts. He told me they were a problem last year too.” Catharine told her about how he’d dug trenches and filled them with bait.

“They were a big problem, but maybe this new idea will work this year,” Angelina said. “Let’s hope so. I’d hate for you to have to borrow money from Clara. She’s a little tightfisted, I hear.”

Catharine raised her eyebrows. “I had no idea. I’ve not been around her a lot. I have a feeling she doesn’t care for the Dutch.”

“Then she’s the one with the problem. Don’t worry, she’ll come around. She’s just miffed that Peter didn’t marry her proper Dorothy Miller. She had it all planned out for him.”

“I know, but I wish she’d give me a chance. She seems to like Anna for some reason.”

“Maybe because she never had a little girl of her own. I know I’d like to have one myself.” Angelina paused and set down her cup. “Catharine, what is wrong? You look so sad.”

Catharine’s shoulders slumped, and she stared down at her coffee cup. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling well. At first I thought it was the heat, but I think I might be pregnant.”

Angelina’s face burst into a broad smile. “But that is wonderful news, is it not? You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“I am, Angelina. I guess I just wasn’t ready for it so soon.” She faced her friend. “I’m not ready to announce it because I’m not positive. So please don’t say anything, all right?”

“Not even to your husband or sisters?” Angelina gave her a quizzical look.

“No. I’ll tell them when the time is right. I just can’t yet.”

“If you are pregnant, you won’t be able to hide it for long.” Angelina patted her hand. “You have my word, my friend, that I won’t say anything.”

Catharine knew that Angelina had more questions, but she was grateful that she didn’t ask anything further.