The Wonder of Your Love - By Beth Wiseman Page 0,19
lived right next door, and Martha came for most suppers, but breakfast time was lonely.
After checking on Jonas, she carried her leftover eggs out to the barn. Maybe Dash would eat scrambled eggs. She opened the barn door and was pleased to see that the cat was using the blanket she’d laid out for him. “I have a treat for you,” she said softly as she walked across the barn. She hadn’t taken three steps when the cat dashed around the corner and out of sight. “I’ll leave this for you anyway.”
She set the plate down, then headed back up to the house. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. She looked at the clock on the wall. As Katie Ann predicted, Martha had arrived early.
“Guder mariye, Martha.”
Martha squirmed out of a black jacket and stocking cap and hung them on the rack by the door. She grunted before she asked if Katie Ann had coffee ready.
“Ya. A fresh pot in the kitchen. I knew you’d be here early.” She grinned as she closed the front door.
Martha didn’t say anything as she padded across the room in a black velour sweatsuit, her brownish-gray hair matted in the back of her head as it rested in a crumpled mess above her shoulders.
“Yes, I know. My hair is a mess.” Martha glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “But that wool head covering is warm, and I don’t care.”
Katie Ann followed her friend to the kitchen, where Martha was already helping herself to a cup from the cabinet.
“I didn’t say a thing about your hair.” Katie Ann found her own cup that she’d used earlier for coffee, and she poured herself some after Martha was done.
Martha sat down at the kitchen table, crossed her legs, and leaned back in the chair. “Now I want to hear about your time with that handsome Eli, but first things first. Tell me about this letter from Lucy.”
Katie Ann pulled out a chair across the table and sat down. “She sent me a letter a couple of weeks ago, saying she needed to talk to me about an urgent matter.”
Martha uncrossed her legs, leaned forward, and placed her palms on the table. “What urgent matter could that woman possibly need to talk to you about?”
“I don’t know.” Katie Ann shrugged. “But you don’t need to be here when she comes tomorrow.”
Martha folded her arms across her chest. Scowling, she said, “I thought I was your best friend. But you didn’t even tell me about this letter.”
“Martha . . .” Katie Ann spoke gently. “You are my best friend, but I knew you would react like this.”
Martha snapped her fingers. “A woman like that only wants one thing. Money! I bet that tramp is coming to ask for money.”
“I am not going to have you use such language in my house. Do you hear me?” Katie Ann cut her eyes at Martha across the table.
“Fine. But I’m sure she must be trying to get some money out of you. That’s got to be it.”
Katie Ann searched her heart and soul for a moment. “Maybe she’s coming to say she’s sorry?”
Martha grunted. “I doubt it.” She pointed a crooked finger at Katie Ann. “And I know it’s your people’s way to forgive and forget, but the woman had an affair with your husband.”
“I don’t need to be reminded, Martha, and yes . . . we do try hard to forgive.” She sighed. “Forgetting is not always so easy. Don’t you think I’m nervous about Lucy coming here tomorrow? But she’s traveled a very long way to talk to me.”
“I don’t care if she took a rocket from the moon. She’s got no business here.”
Katie Ann stood up, one arm folded across her churning stomach and her coffee cup in her other hand. She paced the kitchen. “I don’t want you here tomorrow morning, Martha. It will be hard enough just having Lucy here.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be here.”
Katie Ann breathed a sigh of relief. She had expected resistance. “Gut,” she said as she smoothed wrinkles from her apron. “It will be best that way.”
Martha scratched her nose, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. Then she blew it again, and again, and again.
“Are you sick?” Katie Ann sat back down across from Martha.
“Yes, I’m sick. I’m not well at all.” Martha squeezed her nose with the handkerchief and blew with force. “I feel like poop, but I’m forced to come over