Deeply Devoted (22 page)

“I will pray for your health and the baby’s as well,” Angelina said.

Catharine was comforted by her friend’s concern. She took the last swallow of her coffee. “Thank you. But I should let you get back to your customers soon. I’ve kept you long enough.”

It wasn’t long before Angelina and Catharine decided what they could have for a light supper, and Mario would make his special tiramisu rather than cake. Angelina promised that Greta would love it, and Catharine heartily agreed.

Looking quite pleased, Angelina said, “I’ll see you all Friday about six and bring the food. It’ll be fun. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a party around here.”

“I’d better get on over to the mercantile. Who knows what those sisters of mine can get into.” Catharine hoped her voice sounded more cheerful than she felt right now.

Friday came quickly, and with it, Catharine’s nausea. Thankfully, Peter had risen before her and didn’t see her make a mad dash for the chamber pot. Then she trudged back to bed and lay down until her stomach settled. A fresh realization hit her that she was indeed going to have a child. She closed her eyes and thanked the Lord for the fruit of her womb, praying that no harm would come to this little one and it would arrive healthy.

Would Peter be happy about the baby? She hoped so, but for now she hugged the secret to herself. Besides, Peter was worried enough about the crop, and she wanted Greta’s birthday to be centered on her. The news would keep for now.

Feeling better now, Catharine pulled on her robe, patted her braid smooth, and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. From the smell of it, Peter was already frying bacon. She fought the rising nausea again and paused in the hallway until it passed.

He looked up from the stove where he was turning strips of bacon and smiled at her. “Good morning. I didn’t want to wake you since we have Greta’s party tonight. What can I do to help?”

Catharine loved the blue-gray flecks in Peter’s irises and the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. His face and arms were deeply tanned and muscular. In her mind he was a beautiful specimen of a man, but she knew better than to call a man beautiful.

Instead she kissed him and said, “Really, Mario and Angelina are doing most of the work. Anna and I will set the dining room table and wrap our presents. That about does it.”

“Would you like me to scramble you an egg?” He stood holding the spatula in one hand, his other hand on his hip.

The thought of an egg didn’t sound appealing at all. “I think I’d just like some toast this morning.”

Anna bounded into the kitchen with her usual sunny disposition. “How is everyone?” She reached over and took a slice of bacon off the plate next to the stove and devoured it.

“Just fine. Where’s Greta?” Catharine asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Peter layered sliced bread on a pan and shoved it into the oven.

“I tiptoed around this morning getting dressed so she could sleep in on her birthday. After all, it only comes around once a year.”

Peter handed her a plate with eggs. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Well, she
is
eighteen today. She’s a grown-up now.” Anna sighed. “Ah, if only I were eighteen . . .”

Catharine laughed softly. “You would . . . ?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Travel to New York and go to art school or maybe medical school or something equally important.”

Catharine shot Peter a look and glanced back at her sister. “Really? Why don’t you try finishing high school first and we’ll see what comes next? You may change your mind by then.”

Anna shrugged. “Perhaps, but I’ve been thinking about my future. I can’t live with you and Peter forever.”

Catharine walked over and gave her a hug. “Who said? We’re not complaining.” She was amazed. Anna was starting to act as though she’d aged one year overnight. “You won’t turn sixteen for six months.”

Peter lifted the pan out of the oven and put some toast on a plate for Catharine as she sat down next to Anna. “Peter, aren’t you eating?”

“I’ve already had breakfast. I’ve got lots to do before our guests arrive. I want to clean up around the porch and outside.”

“I can help with that,” Anna said as jam slipped off her toast onto her fingers.

“No, you have enough to do helping Catharine out. But thanks for the offer.” He walked over to the back door and fetched his hat. “I’ll see you ladies a little later. If you need me, just holler. I won’t be too far away.”

Promptly at five thirty, Mario, Angelina, and the boys arrived, carting all the goodies in the back of their buckboard. Catharine finished ironing the linen napkins while Anna set the table. Greta was going from the dining room to the front door with such frequency that Catharine told her she would wear out the hardwood floor.

“I’m just watching for when Bryan arrives,” Greta said.

“He didn’t even get off until five. Why don’t you just relax?” Anna was carefully setting the good dishes at each place setting, next to the silverware. “We could use your help bringing the glasses in.”

Greta poked her tongue out playfully. “I’m the birthday girl, and I love watching you work.”

“Maybe so, but our work would go quicker if you’d assist us,” Catharine admonished.

The front door opened, and Peter entered with the Cristinis, carrying a large pot, its delectable smells permeating the house.

“Greetings, everyone!” Mario boomed. “Where’s the birthday girl—or should I say young lady?”

“I’m here, Mr. Cristini,” Greta said, rushing to help. “I’ll take that pot for you.”

“I can handle it. It’s pretty heavy.” Mario stopped to lean over the pot and give Greta a peck on the cheek. “Happy birthday! I have the best pasta fagioli for our supper, and Angelina is carrying my delicious tiramisu for dessert.”

“What is pasta fagioli, Mario? It smells wonderful!” Greta said, lifting the lid to peer inside.

“It is!” Angelina said. “Mario makes the best soup this side of Italy. Just wait until you taste it.
Bellissimo!
”

“I can hardly wait.” Peter led the way to the kitchen. “Just put the big pot on the stove.”

Catharine looked up from the napkins she was folding. “It’s so good to have you all in our home,” she said warmly.

Angelina gave her a quick hug. “We wouldn’t miss the opportunity, my friend.” Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

Alfredo and Angelo carried loaves of bread wrapped in muslin cloths. “Mama baked the bread and wrapped the loaves right before we left.” Alfredo smiled broadly. “It was all I could do not to tear off a hunk on the way over.”

Anna took the bread from them. “I’ll set them inside the oven until we’re ready to eat. Everything smells wonderful!”

Catharine’s stomach rumbled. Maybe she’d be able to eat a little tonight. She loved Mario’s cooking and couldn’t wait to try the soup. She watched from the kitchen window as a carriage driven by Peter’s mother pulled up. Catharine’s heart sank. She prayed this visit would be entirely different from her first one.
Will she notice the gloss on the woodwork and furniture? I hope everything is to her liking today . . . after all, she is going to be the grandmother of this child. Will she be happy about it when we tell her?

“Your mother’s arrived, Peter,” she said quietly. Peter nodded and excused himself to greet his mother. Catharine shooed everyone out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

“Miss Catharine, where should we put Greta’s gift?” Angelo asked, pushing a package at her.

“I’ll take it. We can put it on the sideboard for her to open later. Don’t you think that’s a good place to put the gifts?”

Angelo nodded shyly, then followed the group back to the living room. Catharine placed the gift next to Anna’s and the one from Peter and herself. She took a deep breath to calm her jitters, then pushed open the door from the kitchen to greet her mother-in-law.

Angelina caught her by the sleeve and pulled her aside before she had taken two steps. “How are you feeling? You look a little pale.”

Angelina’s dark eyes mirrored concern. It warmed Catharine’s heart that she had a friend like Angelina to confide in. “Good right now. I was sick this morning, so there’s no doubt about it, I’m pregnant.”

Angelina beamed, a smile widening her face. “I’m happy for you! We need a wee one in our circle of friends.”

“Are you coming, Catharine?” Peter called out.

They both moved through the door to the living room. “I’m here,” she answered. Dorothy had arrived and was seated next to Clara on the couch. “Dorothy. Hello. I wasn’t aware that you’d arrived.” Turning to Clara, she said, “Hello, Mrs. Andersen.”

Clara murmured a hello, but Catharine couldn’t read what she was thinking behind her unsmiling face.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Dorothy smiled up at her.

Catharine smiled back. “We’re glad you could come.” She was unsure of whether to take a chair or just stand waiting. She wondered what Clara would do. Suddenly she felt at a loss for words.

“I think the only one we’re waiting for is Bryan before we have supper.” Peter sat in his high-back chair with Angelo hanging off the arm.

Seeing Angelo sitting with him got rid of any doubts Catharine had about Peter wanting to be a father. The boys seemed to care for him like an uncle.
He’ll make a wonderful father.

Almost on cue, boot heels sounded against the porch steps, and Greta hopped up from her chair. “That must be Bryan.”

“Right on time. Angelina, let’s go heat up my soup so that it’ll be piping hot,” Mario said.

Clara’s head shot up. “You mean you didn’t prepare the meal, Catharine?” She directed her gaze to Catharine. Peter shot his mother a disapproving look as he and Mario left, but she continued on. “I must say I’m not at all surprised.”

Catharine felt her face flame hot, and tears began to rise while she searched her mind for a reply.

Angelina regarded Clara coolly and responded, “Matter of fact, it was my idea. They enjoyed our spaghetti dinner once, and Mario and I wanted to make something special for Greta’s birthday.”

“Yes, that was very sweet of them, and I know Cath appreciates not having to spend another night in the kitchen after helping Peter in the fields, caring for the animals and the house, and weeding the garden,” Greta said. “I don’t know how she does it without servants. It was very thoughtful of them to offer.”

Catharine knew the smile on her sister’s face was forced, but she wanted to hug both Angelina and Greta for coming to her rescue. “Mrs. Andersen, Dorothy, would either of you care for something to drink while we wait for the soup to heat?” she asked.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I can wait.” Clara sniffed into her lace hanky.

“No, I’ll wait for dinner, but thank you,” Dorothy said, giving Catharine a sympathetic look. Did she have an ally in Dorothy? What a surprise. Maybe she’d misjudged the facts. Maybe the entire idea of Dorothy and Peter being a couple was purely Clara’s own idea.

“Well then—”

“Can we go see Anna’s puppies before we have supper, Mama?” Alfredo begged.

Anna turned and asked Catharine, “Would that be all right?”

“It won’t be long before supper, but there may be time for just a quick look, boys,” Catharine said.

“And don’t come back in here dirty. You can go see them, but then come right back.” Angelina cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at the twins.

They scrambled up to follow Anna outside. “I’ll go too if you don’t mind,” Dorothy said, getting up. “I love dogs.”

Anna looked surprised. “No, of course not. Come along.” Anna chatted about the naming of the puppies as they left the living room.

“Next thing they’ll be wanting one of those pups,” Bryan said. “And I couldn’t blame them. If I was in one place for more than a few months, I’d have a dog too.”

“But I thought your orders
were
to be stationed here awhile.” Greta flashed him a worried look. She sat as close to him as humanly possible, Catharine noted.

Bryan put his arm around her. “The army is the one in control and can move you to where they decide you’re needed the most.”

Catharine watched the couple interact. Bryan was too handsome for words, and she thought they made a nice-looking couple. She wondered if they would eventually get married. She knew young love all too well and how easy it was to lose one’s heart.

Greta pouted. “Well, you’re here now and that’s what counts, and I don’t want to think about anything else.”

Bryan gave her a hug. “Me too. Tonight is for celebrating.”

Catharine wanted everything to be perfect. Thankfully, by the time the pasta fagioli was dipped into Clara’s old rose china bowls and the thick, crusty, buttered bread was on the table, her nerves had calmed down a little. She asked everyone to come to the dining room and have a seat.

Mario strolled to the front door. “I’ll call Anna and the boys and tell them everything is ready.”

A loud crash sounded in the hallway, and the children ran into the dining room, Angelo hot on the heels of one of the pups. “Prince! Come back,” he shouted, but the puppy seemed frightened and ran all the more, looking for a place to hide. “I’m sorry,” Angelo called over his shoulder, breathing hard while he chased after the feisty puppy. “When Anna opened the front door, Prince slipped through.”

Clara screamed as the puppy ran between her legs, and she lost her balance, careening right into the beautifully set table and jarring the large soup tureen. Soup splashed out of the bowls and onto the linen tablecloth Catharine had spent all morning ironing, staining it as well as Clara’s pretty moiré gown.

“Oh! Oh! My goodness! Catch that confounded dog!” she shrieked, jumping out of the way. Peter reached out to steady her, his face furrowing into a scowl.

“For heaven’s sake! Somebody grab Prince before he destroys my birthday dinner!” Greta bawled.

Bryan went one direction and Mario another, but Prince eluded them while the others moved chairs aside, yelling and trying their best to grab the puppy.

Alfredo quickly scooted underneath the tablecloth and found the trembling puppy while the adults looked on, horrified. Peter’s jaw twitched furiously as he muttered something under his breath. Mario grabbed Angelo by the ear and pulled him toward the hallway as Anna took the pup. She kept her head down and avoided looking at Peter, hurrying out to put Prince in his cage.

Angelina scooted to the kitchen and returned in a flash with a dish towel, trying to soak up the mess created in the center of the table, a frown across her face. Catharine stood rooted to the spot, not daring to even look Peter’s way. She felt embarrassed for Clara as Dorothy took a napkin from the table to blot the front of Clara’s dress. Couldn’t they just have one decent meal with Peter’s mother?

“Boys, go to the kitchen and wash your hands, then come back and apologize,” Mario said sharply. The twins scurried off to do his bidding, heads hanging in remorse. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Andersen. I’m sure they meant no harm.”

“I’ve told Anna that those dogs have to be watched closely,” Peter said in a clipped tone, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I thought she knew to put them in the pen when we have company. This has to stop.”

Catharine met his level gaze with a pleading look. Didn’t he know she was uncomfortable enough without him getting upset too? His expression made her feel as though she couldn’t control her household.

Dorothy said sympathetically, “I’m sorry. Since I was with the children, I should have made sure the door was closed.”

“I’ll talk to Anna about it, Peter. But please, let’s all sit down before the soup gets cold.” Catharine huffed in exasperation just as Anna and the twins returned and sat down.

“Mrs. Andersen, I’m very sorry if that upset you,” Alfredo said.