Quaid’s father touched the brim of his battered derby and climbed off the seat. A smooth-faced young man, not yet of shaving age, hopped from the wagon.
Emilie wouldn’t see Quaid today either. She swallowed her bitter disappointment—and a niggling feeling that her father had something to do with Quaid’s absence. Working hard to muster a smile, she stepped off the stoop. “Thank you, Mr. McFarland. And a good day to you. I hope you’re well.”
“Yes ma’am.” He met the young man at the tailgate. “Brought help today. This here’s Jimmie McFarland, me nephew, come to town from Saint Louis.”
“Mr. Jimmie.” She gave him a polite nod, wishing he was Quaid.
“It’s a pleasure, ma’am.” The nephew started hauling crates inside. Real strong for a wiry fellow.
Emilie regarded the elder Mr. McFarland. “Your family, are they well?”
“They’re well, yes. Thank ye for asking. Me twins have me smack in the middle of their little palms. The eldest and his wife will soon give me a grandchild. Me missus is still over-the-moon happy to have her son home.” He glanced toward the door. “But you’re really asking after Quaid, I suppose?”
“Yes sir.”
“He said you two had renewed your friendship upon his return.”
“We did.” Quaid had talked to his family about her?
“He is well. Gone with his brother on deliveries to Saint Peters, and then Frenchtown on their return.”
Mr. McFarland probably preferred to stay close to run the business. Disappointment still stalked her, but it eased her heart a bit that Quaid had a good reason for not making the store delivery himself—his brother needed his help with out-of-town deliveries.
At least it was business, not her father, who had kept Quaid away.
The storm had let up about midnight. Although it had dropped four inches of snow, the sun was now shining, so Quaid carried on with his plans to go out of town. But he hated not seeing Emilie, and doing the right thing had yet to make him feel any better about it.
His brother drove the delivery wagon up Salt River Road toward Saint Peters. Brady had returned from war a year earlier than Quaid and married his school sweetheart who adored him, and now he and Siobhan were starting a family of their own. That’s what Quaid wanted. Instead, he was living in his father’s home, forbidden to see the one lass who had stirred his heart. Shifting on the seat, he caught sight of a hawk perched on a limb looking like a king while he waited for his next meal.
If only he were so patient. It’s not that he begrudged Brady the life he had; it just all seemed so easy for his brother.
Because Brady fell for an Irish girl, whose family couldn’t be happier .
Quaid hadn’t darkened the doors of a church in more than four years, but he still knew the teachings. Envy was a mortal sin. So now he would have at least two transgressions to confess. Right now, his primary mortal sin of anger toward Johann Heinrich topped an ever-growing list. The man was Emilie’s father. His elder, and someone Emilie loved. He saw no choice but to honor Johann Heinrich’s wishes. He’d found himself asking God to change Mr. Heinrich’s mind toward him. At the least, cause the man to give up on trying to keep them apart.
Perhaps confession would be a better place to restart his prayer life.
“Brother.”
Quaid met Brady’s gaze.
“You got woman troubles?”
“That obvious, is it?”
“Like the nose on your face.”
“That’s pretty obvious, all right.” Quaid pulled his coat tight against the cold that was raging inside and out. “It’s actually father-of-the-young-woman troubles, I have.”
“I figured that’s why you were with me rather than making the delivery to Heinrich’s Dry Goods and Grocery.”
“Yes. Between you and me?”
“I’ve kept your secret about cutting stitches on the bean sack all these years, haven’t I?”
“So ye have.” Quaid rubbed his leather gloves together to warm his
Emilie wouldn’t see Quaid today either. She swallowed her bitter disappointment—and a niggling feeling that her father had something to do with Quaid’s absence. Working hard to muster a smile, she stepped off the stoop. “Thank you, Mr. McFarland. And a good day to you. I hope you’re well.”
“Yes ma’am.” He met the young man at the tailgate. “Brought help today. This here’s Jimmie McFarland, me nephew, come to town from Saint Louis.”
“Mr. Jimmie.” She gave him a polite nod, wishing he was Quaid.
“It’s a pleasure, ma’am.” The nephew started hauling crates inside. Real strong for a wiry fellow.
Emilie regarded the elder Mr. McFarland. “Your family, are they well?”
“They’re well, yes. Thank ye for asking. Me twins have me smack in the middle of their little palms. The eldest and his wife will soon give me a grandchild. Me missus is still over-the-moon happy to have her son home.” He glanced toward the door. “But you’re really asking after Quaid, I suppose?”
“Yes sir.”
“He said you two had renewed your friendship upon his return.”
“We did.” Quaid had talked to his family about her?
“He is well. Gone with his brother on deliveries to Saint Peters, and then Frenchtown on their return.”
Mr. McFarland probably preferred to stay close to run the business. Disappointment still stalked her, but it eased her heart a bit that Quaid had a good reason for not making the store delivery himself—his brother needed his help with out-of-town deliveries.
At least it was business, not her father, who had kept Quaid away.
The storm had let up about midnight. Although it had dropped four inches of snow, the sun was now shining, so Quaid carried on with his plans to go out of town. But he hated not seeing Emilie, and doing the right thing had yet to make him feel any better about it.
His brother drove the delivery wagon up Salt River Road toward Saint Peters. Brady had returned from war a year earlier than Quaid and married his school sweetheart who adored him, and now he and Siobhan were starting a family of their own. That’s what Quaid wanted. Instead, he was living in his father’s home, forbidden to see the one lass who had stirred his heart. Shifting on the seat, he caught sight of a hawk perched on a limb looking like a king while he waited for his next meal.
If only he were so patient. It’s not that he begrudged Brady the life he had; it just all seemed so easy for his brother.
Because Brady fell for an Irish girl, whose family couldn’t be happier .
Quaid hadn’t darkened the doors of a church in more than four years, but he still knew the teachings. Envy was a mortal sin. So now he would have at least two transgressions to confess. Right now, his primary mortal sin of anger toward Johann Heinrich topped an ever-growing list. The man was Emilie’s father. His elder, and someone Emilie loved. He saw no choice but to honor Johann Heinrich’s wishes. He’d found himself asking God to change Mr. Heinrich’s mind toward him. At the least, cause the man to give up on trying to keep them apart.
Perhaps confession would be a better place to restart his prayer life.
“Brother.”
Quaid met Brady’s gaze.
“You got woman troubles?”
“That obvious, is it?”
“Like the nose on your face.”
“That’s pretty obvious, all right.” Quaid pulled his coat tight against the cold that was raging inside and out. “It’s actually father-of-the-young-woman troubles, I have.”
“I figured that’s why you were with me rather than making the delivery to Heinrich’s Dry Goods and Grocery.”
“Yes. Between you and me?”
“I’ve kept your secret about cutting stitches on the bean sack all these years, haven’t I?”
“So ye have.” Quaid rubbed his leather gloves together to warm his
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