The Glassblower (15 page)

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Authors: Laurie Alice Eakes

BOOK: The Glassblower
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Colin had kissed her.

Meg paused in the middle of the planning that was supposed to make her forget, and she pressed her fingertips to her lips, as though the gesture could seal in the memory of that all-too-brief contact. He had held her face as tenderly as a blown glass ornament.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

No answer returned from the four walls of her bedchamber. Beyond the windows the world lay in white silence. They would need the sleigh to get to church.

She hurried to dress and descend to make breakfast. Father came in the door as Meg finished toasting slices of bread. Snow clung to his hair in streaks of white, making him look ten years older until the flakes melted from the kitchen’s warmth in moments. Those were enough moments to give Meg a pang of apprehension, a reminder that Father, although not old, was certainly no longer young.

“I should have come out to help you,” she said.

“No need. We got the sleigh out yesterday when the sky grew so dark. But that coffee won’t go amiss.” He seated himself at the table.

Meg served him coffee, toast, and eggs then seated herself. “It’s early for so much snow.”

“A bit.” Father spread apple butter on his toast. “Where did you disappear to last night?”

“I needed some air.” Meg stared at her plate, the food untouched. “I’m going to miss Sarah.”

“She’s only a mile farther up the road.”

“Yes, but it won’t be the same, will it? I mean with her married and me—” Too late she realized her error.

“You can be married, too.” Father wasn’t eating either, though he held his toast. “When Joseph asks you again, you will accept.”

“Yes, Father.”

She knew she must, for her father’s sake, for Colin’s sake. She mustn’t let Joseph have the right to take over the glassworks, or then Colin would lose his position and his family would remain in a tiny, damp, and drafty cottage without enough fuel to burn or food to eat.

Father relaxed. “I’m glad to see you’ve gotten sense about this.”

“Yes, Father.”

Sense enough to pray that Joseph would not ask her. For surely this was not God’s will for her life, especially if Colin was right. God didn’t want her to spend money on fine furnishings so they could entertain the governor. God wanted her to open her school and knit mufflers for the children, aid the poor with soup and blankets, and make sweets for the church’s spring fete. Surely God wouldn’t give her a man she loved and one who loved her, only to tear them apart. God would never expect her to sacrifice her happiness for the sake of a man’s greed and desire to possess things.

“I just wish,” she ventured, “that Joseph weren’t so interested in owning things.”

“He was raised that way.” Father buttered more toast. “His father made a great deal of money as a privateer during the Revolution. But he didn’t live very long to enjoy it.”

“That’s very sad.” Meg rose. “I’ll go fetch the lap robes from the linen press. We’ll need them with this cold.” She hesitated in the doorway. “I’ve decided to open the school early, as a sort of Christmas present to the local children. A week from tomorrow. I’ll have a bit of a party. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, daughter, it’ll keep your mind off Sarah being away.” Father gave her an indulgent smile.

Strength flowing back into her limbs, Meg raced upstairs to collect the heavy rugs they used to keep themselves warm in the sleigh. She could start with her school. She could concentrate on the children and not think about Colin or Joseph.

Not thinking of either of them at church proved impossible. Joseph sat beside her in the Jordan pew rather than alone in his own family section, and Colin sat in the back. She exchanged pleasantries with Joseph, giving him an invitation to dinner, and turned as soon as the service ended in order to catch the merest glimpse of Colin.

With his height and bright hair, he stood out in the crowd, standing beside Martha and Thad Dalbow—and what appeared to be half a dozen young women surrounded him, fluttering their lashes and making their side curls bob against rosy cheeks. In response he smiled and turned a reddish hue that clashed with his hair.

Meg laughed. Seeing him with friends and well made her smile. His discomfiture over the female attention amused her.

“I’m pleased your father told him to stop annoying you,” Joseph said beside her. “He appears to get enough female attention without demanding yours.”

“He never demanded it, Joseph. He has a kind and gentle spirit.”

Joseph snorted. “Which is why he’s working for someone else.”

Meg swung around to stare at Joseph, sharp words burning on her tongue. A group of neighbors wanting to discuss the wedding prevented her from speaking her mind.

And from seeing more of Colin. By the time everyone drifted toward the waiting sleighs, he had departed. She probably wouldn’t see him for another week.

Heart lightened from the mere glimpse of him, Meg tucked herself into the sleigh. Father stepped in beside her, and they set out across the snowy landscape. Craning her neck, Meg observed her school. Snow piled on its roof gave it the appearance of an iced cake. Above it, branches of the oak sagged with their fluffy, white burden, and in their midst someone perched, knocking the snow away.

“Why is he doing that?” Meg cried.

Father pulled up the horse. “What?”

Meg gestured to the tree and Colin relieving the branches of their excess weight. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

“Not if he’s careful. It’s a sturdy tree.” Father nodded. “Thoughtful of him. Those branches could go through that roof if they got too heavy and broke off. He’s a nice young man.”

“Yes.” Meg craned her neck around so she could watch him as Father snapped the reins and got the horse going again.

“I’m sorry I can’t allow you to associate with him.” Father spoke after a few minutes. “If circumstances were different …” He sighed. “But they’re not. You need a man of substance and property.”

Meg caught her breath. “Are you saying you would approve of him if he had property, even though he’s a glassblower?”

“It’s beside the point, Margaret. He doesn’t and never will. Now, what’s for dinner?”

“We’re having a roast chicken.”

“That’s good. Very good.”

The chicken would be good. The afternoon would not. She must spend it with Joseph, but she could bear it. Father’s words lit a spark of hope in her heart, and she determined to nurture it to a flame.

The spark gave her the strength to muster warmth as she served dinner. She needed to say nothing when the men talked of business, but she brought up her plans for a Christmas party at the school during a lull in the discussion.

“Isn’t that a great deal of work for you, my dear?” Joseph asked. “Don’t you and your father have a party on Christmas Eve, too?”

“Yes, but with Sarah gone, I need something to do, and why delay starting the school until after the first of the year? It’s ready now.”

Joseph turned to Father. “And you haven’t been able to talk her out of this … notion of teaching the charcoal burners’ and farm laborers’ children?”

“It’s harmless.” Father shrugged. “And working on it makes her happy.”

“But those children are such ruffians.” Joseph’s eyes held concern.

“I want to include all local children eventually. Most of them are well-behaved. The five boys from the charcoal burners are a bit high-spirited,” Meg admitted. “But I’ve managed to get them in line the two times I’ve encountered them.”

“You encountered them twice?” Father and Joseph both frowned at her.

“I knew about the kittens,” Father said. “When was the second time?”

“The day I went fishing with—” She pressed her serviette to her lips and sprang off her chair. “We have a spiced cake for dessert. I’ll go make coffee.”

She escaped from the dining room before they could question her further.

Meg stood at the window while the coffee brewed, and she watched some gray green finches pecking at grain scattered across the snow. Clustered in the stable doorway, five cats stared at the birds but didn’t venture into the cold wetness even for a bit of a hunt.

“Five cats.” Meg counted the kittens again. “Wanderer is missing.”

She wanted to escape out the back door and hunt the little creature down. His size must make traveling in the snow difficult. Surely he merely slept or hunted inside the stable and wasn’t so foolish that he thought he could climb white mountains for adventure. She needed to persuade Father to let her have the wee beastie in the house for his own sake.

In her head she heard Colin calling the kitten a wee beastie, and her heart fluttered. A man who showed such tenderness to a tiny creature deserved to have someone who could love him without reservation. She wanted to. Oh how she wanted to! But her father wouldn’t approve, and the man she was supposed to marry waited for her.

Colin and the missing kitten still on her mind, Meg took her tray of coffee and cake into the dining room and discovered her father no longer sat at his place.

“Your father wanted to look over some contracts before he posts them back to Philadelphia tomorrow,” Joseph explained. “He thought we would be comfortable here, since the fire is already bright and the room warm.”

“Then I’ll take coffee in to him.” Before Joseph could object, Meg snatched up a plate, fork, and coffee cup.

She intended to ask Father if she and Joseph could look for the kitten. Tramping through the snow, calling for a cat did not give rise to personal conversation. But Father merely nodded in acknowledgment of the refreshment and kept reading. Meg waited a moment, hoping he would understand she wanted his attention. It failed to materialize, so she trudged back to the dining room.

Joseph greeted her with one of his thin-lipped smiles. “Do sit down. We can talk for a while.”

“I’d like to go look for my cat.” Meg bunched her ruffled white apron between her fingers. “He may be in the stable, but he’s not with the other cats, and I don’t want him in the snow when night falls.”

Joseph stared at her. “You want to tramp about in the snow looking for a useless creature like a cat?”

“Cats are not useless. They keep vermin away from the grain.”

“Not if you make pets of them.”

“I like animals. They’re fun to watch and nice to pet.”

“I do not believe in pets.” Joseph set the pot down with a
thud
. “Dogs are for herding and guarding, and cats are for killing mice. Horses are for pulling or riding. One does not pamper them or worry about them. Especially with a cat. If it dies, ten more are available to take its place.”

Now Meg stared, her mouth open on a gasp. “Surely you don’t mean that. We are to care for all God’s creatures. They are precious to Him and should be to us.”

“Oh, that.” Joseph waved his hand in the air as though erasing a slate. “Animals, like some men, are here to serve the rest of us.”

“No.” Meg took a step backward. “We are the ones who serve. We serve God and His creatures and our fellow man. The more fortunate we are, the more responsibility we have.”

“Of course.” Joseph smiled, his eyes flat and cool. “We have a responsibility to be good stewards of what we’re given and be generous when possible.”

“But what of ourselves?” Feeling a little weak in the knees, Meg dropped onto the nearest chair. “We are supposed to give of our abilities to do the Lord’s work. I have some skill with teaching; I learned in school with the younger girls, so I want to teach children close to their homes.”

“Not after we’re married.”

“As long as I’m able.”

“You won’t be able. You won’t have time.” He drew his chair closer to her, his knees mere inches from hers. “You’ll be too busy setting up our home and entertaining.”

“Of course I’ll do those things for my husband,” Meg said, choosing her words with care, “but I will still teach and knit and take food to the sick.”

“Not as my wife. I won’t have you associating with those people and risk becoming ill.”

“But what about church activities? What about serving the Lord?”

“Arranging fetes and so forth, of course.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. “That’s completely appropriate. And you may embroider handkerchiefs but not knit. Knitting is common.”

“I can embroider handkerchiefs?” Meg nearly choked on the words. “When a child is cold, what good is an embroidered handkerchief? How does that demonstrate God’s love?”

Joseph shrugged and reached for the coffee. “You take cream and sugar, don’t you?”

“I’ve worked hard to prepare this school,” Meg plunged on. “I’m not going to give the children a taste of education then pull it away, while I live in luxury.”

“Come, come, you make too much of it.” He slid a cup of coffee toward her. “It’s not as though these children expect to go to school or even will if it’s offered.”

Meg held her breath. She counted to ten. When she didn’t feel as though she would strangle if she spoke to him, she leaned forward, her hands folded on her knees. “Joseph—”

A knock on the kitchen door interrupted her. She sprang to her feet and sped from Joseph to whoever called at the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.

“I found the wee beastie outside the glassworks.” Colin greeted her with a sodden mass of black-and-white fur limp on his palms. “He’d been chasing the birds that far, I’m thinking.”

“Thank you.” Her heart soared like a winged creature the cat might chase. “Is he all right?”

“Aye, that he is.” Colin smiled. “Now that he’s with you.”

His eyes held hers, conveying the message he referred to more than the kitten’s being all right in her presence. She grinned in return, feeling the same about him, and held out her hands to accept the bedraggled burden.

“I’ll make him a box here by the fire. Maybe you would—”

“Good of you to return the cat,” Joseph pronounced. “Allow me to recompense you for your time.”

A flash shot through Meg’s side vision. A silver coin sailed toward Colin’s still outstretched hand. An instant before it should have landed in his palm, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, allowing the money to hit the floor with a resounding
ping
.

“I did not bring the cat home for money,” Colin said in a voice icier than the snow behind him. “I did it as a favor to Miss Jordan. Now I’ll be on my way. ‘Tis her wish, you ken.”

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