Love Finds a Home (Love Comes Softly Series #8) by Janette Oke Page B
Authors: Janette Oke
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Love Stories, Large Type Books, Religious - General, Religious, Christian, Christianity, Romance - General, Fiction - Religious, Davis family (Fictitious characters : Oke), Christianity: General, Large Print
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had considered this bedroom the most beautiful in the world.
It was still very special, in a homey sort of way. She smiled as she crossed to the bed and turned down the blanket, fluffing up the pillow. She would sleep like a baby back in her own bed. Belinda yawned and began unpacking before retiring.
But after three years the bed seemed reluctant to mold to her unfamiliar form, and tired as she was, the clock downstairs had chimed twice before Belinda was finally able to forget the events of the day and settle down to sleep.
60
SEVEN
Adjustments
Belinda awakened to the crowing of the farm roosters, the bellowing of the cows, and the clatter from the farmyard. She didn't mind. She didn't want to waste precious time in bed anyway. She threw back the blankets and eased herself up, thinking to hurriedly care for her toilet before choosing what she would wear for the day.
But as she poised, one foot reaching for a slipper, she remembered with a start that there was no bathroom in the farmhouse. She would have to dress first. She would need to wash in the kitchen--and she would have to carry and heat water when she wanted a bath.
She hurried to her closet to choose from the dresses that had remained behind when she left for the East. She intended to pick something homey--something simple for her day about the farm. A simple calico or gingham would take the place of her city silks or satins. Belinda immediately spotted a blue print, one of her favorite dresses. Excitedly she pulled it toward her, then stared in bewilderment.
Is it really this . . . this simple, this childish? Why, it looks like a dress belonging to a little girl, she thought, astonished. Surely . . . surely I was more grown-up than that when I left the farm. After all, it's only been three years, she argued with herself. Was I really wearing such . . . such tasteless things before going to Boston?
61
Soberly Belinda rehung the dress in the closet and pulled out another one. But she was even more shocked as she studied it. One after the other, she assessed each dress left in her closet. There really isn't a fit one in the lot was her judgment.
What do Kate and Abbie wear? Belinda found herself asking. Do they really look as . . . as old-fashioned as this? Have I just not noticed it before?
Belinda pictured Kate at their family dinner last night. Yes, Kate did dress very simply, in country frocks much like Marty wore. Belinda had never given it a thought before--but they were dreary and out-of-fashion, though not any different from what the other women in the community wore.
Now, Abbie usually wears brighter things--dresses with a bit more taste and style, Belinda reflected. But even Abbie, though thought of as one of the best-dressed young women in their town, was not what the ladies of Boston would have considered fashionable by any standard.
Belinda had never been conscious of fashion before living in Boston, and even during her time there, she had been unaware that she had developed an eye for style.
The thought upset her. Am I getting proud and. . . and stuffy? she asked herself impatiently, and she pulled the blue frock from her closet and tossed it on her bed.
It's a perfectly good dress, she scolded herself. It's certainly more suitable for farm wear than anything I brought with me. She slipped her frilly nightdress over her head and put on the simple frock before she could change her mind.
The dress still fit . . . after a fashion. Belinda noticed with chagrin that it didn't quite fit like it had before. Though she had not gained weight over the past few years, the dress was a bit snug in places. Belinda fretted and pulled, but there was no give. At last she tied up the sash, adjusted the collar, and proceeded down the stairs.
62
Marty was in the kitchen at the big black stove. The room already felt hot to Belinda, and it was just early morning. Whatever will it be like by nightfall? she found herself wondering. The early fall weather
It was still very special, in a homey sort of way. She smiled as she crossed to the bed and turned down the blanket, fluffing up the pillow. She would sleep like a baby back in her own bed. Belinda yawned and began unpacking before retiring.
But after three years the bed seemed reluctant to mold to her unfamiliar form, and tired as she was, the clock downstairs had chimed twice before Belinda was finally able to forget the events of the day and settle down to sleep.
60
SEVEN
Adjustments
Belinda awakened to the crowing of the farm roosters, the bellowing of the cows, and the clatter from the farmyard. She didn't mind. She didn't want to waste precious time in bed anyway. She threw back the blankets and eased herself up, thinking to hurriedly care for her toilet before choosing what she would wear for the day.
But as she poised, one foot reaching for a slipper, she remembered with a start that there was no bathroom in the farmhouse. She would have to dress first. She would need to wash in the kitchen--and she would have to carry and heat water when she wanted a bath.
She hurried to her closet to choose from the dresses that had remained behind when she left for the East. She intended to pick something homey--something simple for her day about the farm. A simple calico or gingham would take the place of her city silks or satins. Belinda immediately spotted a blue print, one of her favorite dresses. Excitedly she pulled it toward her, then stared in bewilderment.
Is it really this . . . this simple, this childish? Why, it looks like a dress belonging to a little girl, she thought, astonished. Surely . . . surely I was more grown-up than that when I left the farm. After all, it's only been three years, she argued with herself. Was I really wearing such . . . such tasteless things before going to Boston?
61
Soberly Belinda rehung the dress in the closet and pulled out another one. But she was even more shocked as she studied it. One after the other, she assessed each dress left in her closet. There really isn't a fit one in the lot was her judgment.
What do Kate and Abbie wear? Belinda found herself asking. Do they really look as . . . as old-fashioned as this? Have I just not noticed it before?
Belinda pictured Kate at their family dinner last night. Yes, Kate did dress very simply, in country frocks much like Marty wore. Belinda had never given it a thought before--but they were dreary and out-of-fashion, though not any different from what the other women in the community wore.
Now, Abbie usually wears brighter things--dresses with a bit more taste and style, Belinda reflected. But even Abbie, though thought of as one of the best-dressed young women in their town, was not what the ladies of Boston would have considered fashionable by any standard.
Belinda had never been conscious of fashion before living in Boston, and even during her time there, she had been unaware that she had developed an eye for style.
The thought upset her. Am I getting proud and. . . and stuffy? she asked herself impatiently, and she pulled the blue frock from her closet and tossed it on her bed.
It's a perfectly good dress, she scolded herself. It's certainly more suitable for farm wear than anything I brought with me. She slipped her frilly nightdress over her head and put on the simple frock before she could change her mind.
The dress still fit . . . after a fashion. Belinda noticed with chagrin that it didn't quite fit like it had before. Though she had not gained weight over the past few years, the dress was a bit snug in places. Belinda fretted and pulled, but there was no give. At last she tied up the sash, adjusted the collar, and proceeded down the stairs.
62
Marty was in the kitchen at the big black stove. The room already felt hot to Belinda, and it was just early morning. Whatever will it be like by nightfall? she found herself wondering. The early fall weather
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