Deeply Devoted by Maggie Brendan Page A

him. She blinked, but he couldn’t read what she must be thinking. “Where are your sisters? Couldn’t they help?”
    “I didn’t want their help. I’m your wife.” With a catch in her voice, she said, “I just wanted . . . to please you, Peter, not make you laugh at me as if I were an incompetent child.” Catharine stared down at her feet with a pout.
    Peter surely didn’t understand how a woman could be sweet and sassy all in the space of a split second. He had a lot to learn about the opposite sex. He reached out and stroked the side of her cheek with his thumb, wiping the flour away. “I said I was sorry. I don’t know what else to say, except I’m here to help you. Let’s clean this up, then you can put the bread in to bake while the oven’s hot, and I’ll go fetch more wood. I’ll show you how to whip up stew with what we can salvage from the roast. Deal? Besides, you look mighty cute in that apron and flour in your hair.” He smiled and tucked a loose curl behind her ear.
    Her face softened, and he could tell he’d struck a chord with her. “Okay. But do you think we can do all this before Greta and Anna come in? I’m embarrassed enough for one day, I think.”
    Peter leaned over and kissed her brow. “If we hurry, they’ll be none the wiser.” He took the dishcloth from her hand as she gave him a weak smile. He briefly touched her mouth with his, and though she quivered, she didn’t push him away. Mmm . . . maybe I’m making some headway, Mario.

     
    After supper, Peter left, saying he had a few things to attend to in the tack room. Catharine was grateful for a little time alone while Greta and Anna cleaned up the kitchen. Greta had told her at supper that she wanted to do some of the cooking, and Catharine was only too happy to share the chore with her sister. Between the two of them and the cookbook, it wouldn’t be too bad. Peter had given her a few tips and was eager to help her learn.
    In the parlor, she picked up her Bible, settling in Peter’s chair to read. Noting that it smelled like him, she snuggled in, tucking her legs under her skirt. Holding her mother’s Bible in her lap reminded her of all the times she and her sisters would gather around her mother’s chair as she read the Christmas story. Someday Catharine hoped to have children so she could share the greatest gift of all with them.
    She could hear the pleasant chatter of her sisters, and she was beginning to feel a rhythm to the Andersen household. The feeling made her content, so she took a moment to thank God for all that she had. When she finished her reading, Catharine moved to the desk, pulled out the chair, and looked for a fresh sheet of stationery.

     
    Catharine was already in bed by the time Peter was ready for bed after tending to the cow and feeding the horses. What a pretty picture she made as she lay against the white linen sheets, her red hair fanned out against the pillow top. His gaze slid to his pillow, where a folded piece of paper was propped. He picked it up, then glanced over at Catharine.
    “What’s this?” Peter asked quietly, but receiving no answer from her, he opened the folded paper and saw Catharine’s feminine handwriting.
Peter,
     
My greatest desire is to be your helpmeet and make a home for us. I’m sorry if I disappoint you with my skills in the kitchen particularly. Thank you for your help. I will get better at this, I promise. I want you to know how grateful I am that you accepted my sisters into our home. Your patience with me is what I most need now. I forgot to tell you how much your letter the day of our wedding meant to me. I’ll treasure it always.
Proud to be your wife,
Catharine
    Peter climbed into bed, still holding the letter, and reached for Catharine, who he knew feigned sleep. Pulling her against his chest, he whispered against her brow, “My sweet one, ahh . . .”
    Catharine lifted her head and her lips met his.

 
    Clara glanced at her reflection