voice—“so we can get to know each other better.”
“Wait just a pea-pickin’ minute.” Harold Crowley stormed toward them with determination and a scowl. “You can’t hog her all to yourself.”
Freddie’s flushed face appeared around Harold’s shoulder, though instead of speaking, he simply nodded in agreement.
She couldn’t let all three sit beside her. She only had two sides. Not only that, but just the thought of keeping those three from attacking each other all afternoon left her tired.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’ve already asked Dr. Keffer and Julia to join me for dinner.”
John must have sensed her distress, for as soon as she finished speaking, he did the strangest thing. He placed his hand on her back, low like a man does to escort a lady friend from the room. If she didn’t know he was married, she’d have sworn he was marking his territory.
“If you gentlemen will excuse us,” he said, gently directing her down the aisle with Julia following behind.
The warmth of his hand on her waist felt oddly intimate as they left the sanctuary to head for the tables setup in the side yard. Several of the women had slipped out of the service early to set up the meal, leaving Katie nothing to do except help John find his way around.
Pine boards set on sawhorses provided a long make-shift table for the forty or fifty parishioners staying for lunch. Tablecloths, in an array of colors and prints, covered the boards and brightened the side yard, as though the maples in their fall foliage weren’t enough.
A few of the children darted around the food table, giggling as Rebecca Fisher threatened with a large wooden spoon. Pa and Grandpa were already at the front of the line.
“Can I go play with them, Daddy? Can I, please?” Julia tugged on John’s sleeve.
“You should probably eat first,” he said before adding, “Shouldn’t she?”
Katie glanced up from Julia, surprised to see John had directed the question toward her. At first she thought he was teasing, but the look in her eye told her otherwise. He truly didn’t know.
“I think your pa is right,” Katie said, stepping in where she had no right to. Where was his wife? “Let’s eat our lunch and then maybe you can play for a spell.”
Julia’s tiny lip only pouted a second before she grabbed her plate and hurried down the food table. Katie followed behind, helping place food on Julia’s plate until they reached the end, and the three found a spot at the picnic table to sit and eat.
No sooner had she picked up her fork than Harold Crowley came hustling across the yard. “I brung yousomething to drink,” he said, plopping a cup of water in front of her, then scooting onto the bench opposite them.
“Why, thank you, Harold—”
“This here was the last piece of Mrs. Pennington’s apple pie.” Freddie set the pie in front of her, taking a seat beside Harold, where the two began some sort of elbow duel as they vied for room for their plates.
“That was nice of you, Freddie. Gloria makes the best apple pie in these parts.”
John cleared his throat. “There are plenty of other seats, if you gentlemen are crowded.”
Harold harrumphed. “So you can have her all to yourself?” Harrumph number two. “That ain’t goin’ to happen.”
Good grief, here came Randy, carrying his plate. He took the seat beside Freddie.
“Well?” John asked Randy. “What did you bring for Miss Napier?”
“I brung her water,” Harold bragged.
“I brung her pie,” Freddie added, a little more humbly.
Randy grinned. “I brung her scenery.” He winked at Katie, and she had to admit he was pretty.
Harold groaned. “You are so danged full of yourself—”
“Listen, you old fart—”
“Gentlemen!” John stopped Randy before things got any uglier. “There’s a woman and a child present.”
Julia tugged on Katie’s sleeve, pulling her down towhisper in her ear, “Is he the wiry fart we’re supposed to stay away from?”
It
“Wait just a pea-pickin’ minute.” Harold Crowley stormed toward them with determination and a scowl. “You can’t hog her all to yourself.”
Freddie’s flushed face appeared around Harold’s shoulder, though instead of speaking, he simply nodded in agreement.
She couldn’t let all three sit beside her. She only had two sides. Not only that, but just the thought of keeping those three from attacking each other all afternoon left her tired.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’ve already asked Dr. Keffer and Julia to join me for dinner.”
John must have sensed her distress, for as soon as she finished speaking, he did the strangest thing. He placed his hand on her back, low like a man does to escort a lady friend from the room. If she didn’t know he was married, she’d have sworn he was marking his territory.
“If you gentlemen will excuse us,” he said, gently directing her down the aisle with Julia following behind.
The warmth of his hand on her waist felt oddly intimate as they left the sanctuary to head for the tables setup in the side yard. Several of the women had slipped out of the service early to set up the meal, leaving Katie nothing to do except help John find his way around.
Pine boards set on sawhorses provided a long make-shift table for the forty or fifty parishioners staying for lunch. Tablecloths, in an array of colors and prints, covered the boards and brightened the side yard, as though the maples in their fall foliage weren’t enough.
A few of the children darted around the food table, giggling as Rebecca Fisher threatened with a large wooden spoon. Pa and Grandpa were already at the front of the line.
“Can I go play with them, Daddy? Can I, please?” Julia tugged on John’s sleeve.
“You should probably eat first,” he said before adding, “Shouldn’t she?”
Katie glanced up from Julia, surprised to see John had directed the question toward her. At first she thought he was teasing, but the look in her eye told her otherwise. He truly didn’t know.
“I think your pa is right,” Katie said, stepping in where she had no right to. Where was his wife? “Let’s eat our lunch and then maybe you can play for a spell.”
Julia’s tiny lip only pouted a second before she grabbed her plate and hurried down the food table. Katie followed behind, helping place food on Julia’s plate until they reached the end, and the three found a spot at the picnic table to sit and eat.
No sooner had she picked up her fork than Harold Crowley came hustling across the yard. “I brung yousomething to drink,” he said, plopping a cup of water in front of her, then scooting onto the bench opposite them.
“Why, thank you, Harold—”
“This here was the last piece of Mrs. Pennington’s apple pie.” Freddie set the pie in front of her, taking a seat beside Harold, where the two began some sort of elbow duel as they vied for room for their plates.
“That was nice of you, Freddie. Gloria makes the best apple pie in these parts.”
John cleared his throat. “There are plenty of other seats, if you gentlemen are crowded.”
Harold harrumphed. “So you can have her all to yourself?” Harrumph number two. “That ain’t goin’ to happen.”
Good grief, here came Randy, carrying his plate. He took the seat beside Freddie.
“Well?” John asked Randy. “What did you bring for Miss Napier?”
“I brung her water,” Harold bragged.
“I brung her pie,” Freddie added, a little more humbly.
Randy grinned. “I brung her scenery.” He winked at Katie, and she had to admit he was pretty.
Harold groaned. “You are so danged full of yourself—”
“Listen, you old fart—”
“Gentlemen!” John stopped Randy before things got any uglier. “There’s a woman and a child present.”
Julia tugged on Katie’s sleeve, pulling her down towhisper in her ear, “Is he the wiry fart we’re supposed to stay away from?”
It
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