Deeply Devoted (5 page)

Peter folded the letter and handed it to her, and she felt the warmth of his hands on hers. She could barely see his face through her tears. Speechless, she squeezed his hand. She hoped she could live up to his expectations. She heard Clara snicker, but Greta and Anna were sniffling into their hankies, and Mario and Angelina smiled at Catharine and Peter. Another couple was waiting their turn in the back of the room, and the young lady turned to her groom and said, “Why haven’t you ever written me anything like that?”

“Well, I’ve never had that in a ceremony before,” Judge Morris commented, “but I declare you may have started something new, Mr. Andersen.” She gave Peter a smile of approval. “Is there anything you want to say?” she said to Catharine.

Catharine shook her head, and her sisters breathed a sigh of relief, then moved away and stood next to the Cristinis. The judge began speaking once again.

Within ten minutes the ceremony was over, and Peter shyly leaned in to plant a kiss on Catharine’s cheek. Her sisters and the Cristinis surrounded them with congratulations. No turning back—the ink was dry. She was Mrs. Catharine Andersen now.

“I wish you had told me about your sisters coming with you, Catharine,” Peter said for her ears only, leaning closer to her on the buggy seat.

Catharine swallowed hard, focusing on his strong hands holding the reins. Without looking at him, she answered. “I was afraid that you might not let them come, Peter. If you’d said no, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. I just couldn’t leave them behind to fend for themselves.” She looked over and caught his level gaze. “Can you forgive me for not telling you beforehand?”

Peter looked away, then made a clicking sound to the horse to step up the pace. “I don’t see how I have a choice now, but somehow we’ll work it out.”

Figuring there was little else to say about the matter, Catharine stared off at the rolling prairie grasses, praying she wouldn’t be a big disappointment to her new groom.

As Peter’s farmhouse came into view over the gently sloping hill, Catharine was not disappointed. It was larger than she expected, and she hoped that meant there would be plenty of room for Greta and Anna. The white clapboard Victorian home with a wraparound porch was trimmed in delicate fretwork along the porches, columns, and windows. The front door had a beautiful insert of beveled glass. The shutters stood out with deep green against the stark white clapboards. Huge trees lined the drive leading up to the house, offering plenty of shade for enjoyment on the porch. A spacious red barn with surrounding corrals stood at a distance from the house. She thought it all utterly charming. The only thing missing was flowers. She’d have to do something about that, wouldn’t she?

“Peter, your home is nice,” she said. “I like the trees.”

“
Our
home now.” He grinned, watching her take it all in. “Those trees are elm trees, and over yonder”—he pointed to trees that led down a path to a well made of stone—“are box elders. Fortunately, the elm trees help give shade out here on the prairie in the summer. In the winter, they offer protection from the constant wind.” Peter stopped the carriage in front of the white picket fence. “We’re here, ladies. Make yourselves at home.” He helped Catharine down, and Greta and Anna scrambled down behind them.

He carried the first pieces of luggage to the porch, then put his hands on his hips, shoved his hat back, and looked around at the surrounding land. “So what do you think?” he said to his bride. “I know it’s probably not what you all were used to in Holland, but I think you’ll be comfortable here once you’re settled.”

“You have a lot of land. Is that the wheat you’ve planted?” It seemed to go as far as her eye could see. The wind blew gently through the field, bending the short blades.

“You’re right. I have a hundred acres of wheat planted and will start harvesting in about three months. It’ll be waist high by then.”

Greta lugged her suitcase to the porch and heaved a breath of air. “I think you were right, Sis, my bag’s pretty heavy.”

Peter scooted over to take Greta’s bag. “Here, let me help you and Anna. Why don’t you just get the things we bought and I’ll take care of the rest? We’ll have a light supper since I’m sure you’re tuckered out, and then you can retire.”

Anna fairly skipped up the porch steps, headed directly for the porch swing, and plopped down. “Ooh, this is a perfect place to enjoy the outdoors. I think I’m going to be very happy here.”

Catharine and Peter exchanged glances and Catharine could only wonder what he was thinking. Before she had time to think about it, Peter swept her up into his arms and, with a slight kick of his boot, swung open the front door. She squealed and he laughed, then he carried her across the threshold. Anna and Greta cheered him on and followed them into the large foyer.

He set Catharine down and gave her a quick kiss. “Welcome home, my beautiful bride. Have a look around. If there’s anything you don’t like or would like to change with the furnishings, let me know. This used to be my parents’ home and I just never changed anything.” Peter stood back and observed her with an adoring look that made Catharine smile.

Catharine stepped into the sitting room furnished with floral chintz-covered chairs and cherrywood tables. A light, fresh, lemon smell lingered in the room, telling her it had been recently dusted. The room was delightfully inviting, and she could see herself at the small lady’s writing desk drinking tea out of her Blue Willow china. She clasped her hands together. “Oh, Peter, it’s very lovely,” she said, running her hand across the smooth desk.

He beamed. “And here I was worried . . . but just the same, you can add your own personal touch, Catharine. It’s all yours.”

“
Ja.
It’s all very nice.” Anna had followed them and openly admired the cozy room.

“Can you show us to our room, Peter?” Greta asked with one eyebrow quirked upward as she peered into the sitting room. “Mmm . . . nice.” She looked about with a decisive eye.

“Yes, come with me and I’ll show you the upstairs.” At the second floor landing, he swung open the first door and swept his arm aside for them to enter the room they’d be sharing. “If you want to freshen up, I’ll bring your things up once I get Catharine’s luggage.”

Greta touched his arm. “Oh, I can get mine and Anna can get hers. It’s those big trunks that will be heavy.” The two sisters headed back down the stairs, leaving them alone.

“You can just leave it downstairs for now, Peter. We’ll go through it this week and unpack,” Catharine told him. “But I’d like that smaller brown bag if you don’t mind. It has most of what I need.”

“Will do, but first let me take you to our bedroom.” He took her hand and walked to the end of the hall.

Catharine felt a shiver slide down her spine but wasn’t sure if it was excitement or tension. The bedroom had its own fireplace in the corner and a cherrywood tester bed with a canopy of white tatted lace draping its sides. The windows boasted creamy sheers that crisscrossed with a pleasing effect as late afternoon sunlight filtered through. Next to the bed, a crystal vase was chock-full of pink roses. They looked like climbing roses. Had Peter placed them there? She hadn’t seen a maid and Peter hadn’t mentioned one.

Silly, of course
, she chided herself,
there wasn’t help or he wouldn’t have bought the items he said we need on the farm. Ladies of leisure have no reason to wear work clothes.
This might be quite a challenge for them, especially her younger sister.

Peter stood at the doorway, watching her response. “Do you like it, Catharine?”

Catharine dragged her eyes from the thick matelessé covering the bed and felt her face go pink. “I do, Peter.”

He closed the door, flung his hat on the bedpost, and kissed her hands. “I intend to make you very happy, my beautiful Catharine. It’s my greatest desire that I can be all that you expected of me.”

His intense gaze caused her heart to thump against her ribs. She was nervous about how she’d feel tonight after the lights were out. She did want him to hold her, that was for certain, but it had been a long time since someone had done so. She tried to cover her apprehension with a soft laugh. “And I you, Peter. I hope I can be the wife that you’ve been searching for all these years.”

He drew her closer to him until she could feel the outline of his firm legs through her skirt. He slowly untied the satin ribbons of her bonnet, removed it, and tossed it onto the bed, allowing her hair to fall around her face. He lifted a curl, breathing in its scent between his fingers, looked into her eyes with a frank look of delight, then kissed her mouth softly, lingering a moment. She could feel the tenseness of his body against hers and his strong arms encircling her waist as he nearly lifted her off the floor to kiss her again and again. Someone rapped loudly on the door and they sprang apart, forgetting for a moment they were married.

Catharine looked at Peter and he nodded, still holding one arm about her waist. “Come on in,” she said.

Greta and Anna stood at the doorway taking in the two lovebirds and the nicely furnished bedroom. Greta cleared her throat. “We didn’t mean to interrupt but wanted to ask about supper.” Both of them were wide-eyed at the embarrassed couple.

Catharine knew her freckled face and neck were flushed, but she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Peter was her husband now. She wished she could wipe those grins off her sisters’ faces.

“It’s no matter. I believe there’s ham to make sandwiches and we can have fruit to go along with that. I’ve never had a cook. Between the four of us, we should be able to handle the cooking.” Peter let go of Catharine’s waist and turned to her. “We could fix a bite to eat now. What do you say, ladies?”

Catharine was afraid of that very thing . . . no servants. Her father, who had been a wealthy shipping magnate, had a cook and a housemaid, so she knew very little of running a household. But she was determined to learn. She did not want to disappoint him.

“I’ll be glad to help, Peter.” Anna smiled at him, and her sisters laughed out loud.

“
Ach!
I do know how to make a sandwich!” Anna said.

“Uh . . . until something distracts you and you forget what you’re doing.” Greta chuckled.

Catharine took her sister’s arm affectionately. “She’s teasing you, Anna. Come with me and we’ll show her.” They started down the stairs, and Peter and Greta followed. Catharine swore she heard Greta say she wanted to learn to cook. Unbelievable. She’d never shown the first bit of interest in that sort of thing.
Well, looks like it’ll be a much-needed
necessity for all of us, or Peter may send us all packing back to Holland.
One place she did
not
want to return to—at least not now.

Supper was whipped up with little problem as Peter gave instructions about the kitchen, telling them where staples were stored and how to work the stove. The kitchen boasted a porcelain sink with a pump for running water from the outdoor well. Peter was very patient and allowed Anna to butter thick slices of bread while he sliced the ham. Greta set the table as Catharine made tea then quartered apples to go with the sandwiches. They had a cozy supper, followed by hot tea with sugar cookies Peter had made for dessert, impressing them with his culinary skills. How like a family they already seemed to be with their lighthearted bantering and talk of the Olsens’ homeland and Wyoming, Catharine thought. Soon dusk crept into the kitchen and Peter left to feed and water the livestock.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered to Catharine out of earshot from her two sisters. “Why don’t you go on upstairs and get comfortable?” She could feel his warm breath tickling her ear. His cerulean eyes lingered on hers, then he slipped out into the dusk, the screen door squeaking behind him.