Beneath the Apple Leaves(25)
Wilhelm rubbed the whiskers along his cheek. “That’ll be good. Need to grab some paint and supplies for the house. Order the feed for the animals.”
“Good.” Frank gave one hearty nod and adjusted his belt buckle. “I’ll be over first thing. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “How about we cut into that pie I brought. My wife makes the best damn pies in all of Pennsylvania.”
*
Eveline unpacked the wooden boxes in the kitchen when the men came in. Edgar and Will crawled on their knees along the floor throwing packing straw in confetti strands.
“You boys making a heap of a mess for your mother,” Wilhelm accused.
Eveline wiped off a line of glasses set upside down on the counter. “Straw and paper the least we got to clean up in this place.” She shot a look at her husband, then took a double take at the man by his side.
Frank stepped forward and held out a hand. “You must be Eveline.”
She took the strong, smooth hand, no roughness or calluses across the palm. She shook the hand limply as if her wrist held no bones. Suddenly self-conscious of her pregnancy, she positioned her arms in front of her girth.
“Wilhelm tells me you were born in Holland.”
She nodded and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. He was a tall man, wide with strength but not heavyset. His face had been shaved that morning. She could tell right away. Wilhelm only shaved on Sundays now and she recognized the smooth glow at the man’s cheeks and jawbone.
“What part?”
“Excuse me?”
He chuckled. “Just curious what part of the Netherlands?”
She hadn’t been asked that question in so long that she had to think. Hadn’t been asked a question in so long it felt strange and left her unsure of her own speech. “Rotterdam.”
“Ah.”
“You know it?”
“I do. Passed through there to Amsterdam once. Beautiful country.”
“Yes, it is.” She hung on the memory and thought she saw the scenery of her hometown reflected in his pupils. Most people didn’t know where Holland was on the map and this man knew her town of Rotterdam.
Wilhelm pulled out a chair. “Frank’s wife made us a pie.”
“Saw it on the porch. That was very kind. Hope she’ll call on us when we get settled in a bit more.” Eveline set out the plates and divided the slices between the men and her sons. “Where’s Andrew?”
Wilhelm peered behind his shoulder and shrugged. “Beats me.”
As the men talked over moving forks, Eveline dug into the next crate. She let out a disappointed sigh and pulled out large shards of glass.
“What’s wrong?” Wilhelm asked.
“It’s the Waterford pitcher. Must have cracked during the move.”
Wilhelm shoveled in his food. “One less thing to put away and dust, I reckon.”
She glared at him and he looked up dumbly. “All I’m saying is that stuff is fine for the city, but we got to be practical here. A fancy crystal pitcher is about as useful as a house without a roof.”
Eveline looked up at the cracked ceiling. “Guess that makes two things we haven’t got,” she mumbled.
Frank put down his fork and came up to the counter. “Mind if I take a look?” Gently, his fine hands took the thick crystal from her fingers. “Good-looking piece. Was a good-looking piece,” he joked sympathetically. “You have glasses with this?”
Eveline took out the tumblers from the box. “Still intact.”
“Well, that’s something,” he reassured, winking at her.
The heat rose up her neck and she stretched out her collar, feeling suddenly warm and stifled in the new kitchen.
CHAPTER 19
Frank Morton arrived the next morning wrangling two horses and a wide wagon. Wilhelm climbed upon the front seat and the boys piled into the back. “Sure you don’t want to come?” Wilhelm asked his nephew.
“Better I stay,” Andrew answered. “Try to get Aunt Eveline to stay off her feet.” He saw the way Frank’s gaze always fell to his crippled side. He wasn’t ready to face the same reaction from the people in town.
Andrew ruffled the hair on the little heads of his cousins. “When you get back, we’ll catch tadpoles in the creek like I promised.”
“Don’t start till we get back,” Will ordered as if Andrew would be wading in the shallow water before the horses were on the main road. “Promise?”
He put his hand on his heart. “Not a fish or a tadpole until you get back. Promise.” Relieved, the boys settled into the creaking wagon and waved as they headed out.
Back in the house, Andrew found Eveline resting upon the davenport in the parlor, her eyes closed but not in sleep. Her face wrinkled in a strained, tight expression. “Aunt Eveline?”
With the voice, her eyes popped open and her pupils searched the room. “I didn’t hear you come in, Andrew. Startled me.” She gave a short laugh and tried to sit up but leaned back into the pillow instead. “Feeling a bit dizzy this morning. Would you mind bringing me a bit of lemon?”
He returned a moment later with the slices wrapped in an embroidered napkin. Eveline sucked on the pulp and shuddered with the sourness. “Not feeling so well today. Must be the heat.”