Deeply Devoted by Maggie Brendan

shook Dorothy’s hand. “ Hallo . This is my sister, Greta,” she said with a touch on Greta’s sleeve, “and this is my youngest sister, Anna.”
    “Ooh . . . do I detect an accent?”
    “ Ja . We traveled all the way from Amsterdam to America.” Anna beamed.
    “I see . . . how nice. I’d love to hear all about it and how you came to be in Wyoming. That’s quite a long way.” She tilted her head and stared at Catharine.
    “We must move on, Peter.” Greta urged them forward. “We’re blocking the aisle.”
    Catharine slipped her arm through Peter’s, taking a step toward the door. He was glad she did.
    “Yes, let’s move out of the way. Nice seeing you, Dorothy. Give my regards to your parents.” Peter walked on past her, feeling awkward as she moved aside. He hoped she’d come to accept Catharine and not give her a hard time. He didn’t want any bad feelings between him and Dorothy. He’d always thought highly of her, but she’d never touched that special place in his heart, even though he’d tried to care for her for his mother’s sake. His feelings for her had never grown, but he was certain hers had for him.

     
    While Catharine and Peter began preparing a quick lunch of cold cuts after church, the afternoon heat began to build. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse and fanned her chest. The girls strolled in to help, chattering about the new acquaintances they’d made at church. Catharine suggested they all take their plates to the porch to eat by the trees. At least they’d be cooler there, with the prairie breeze. Everyone agreed and began to gather their plates when the sound of a carriage coming up the drive caught their attention.
    “Are you expecting someone, Peter?” Catharine glanced at her husband.
    Peter froze. “It must be Mother. I believe I mentioned that she should come to lunch today after church. But since I didn’t see her there, I assumed she wouldn’t.”
    “What? Why didn’t you tell me? I haven’t cooked anything.” Catharine’s mind was whirling with what kind of impression that would make on her new mother-in-law. Now what was she supposed to do?
    “She’ll have cold cuts, just like us.” Peter reached for another plate for his mother.
    “We have potato salad,” Greta said. “I’ll get it while you answer the door, Anna.”
    Anna took off to the front door while Catharine quickly pulled out a tray and began filling it with their sandwiches. She dropped the forks in her haste and knocked over the pitcher of milk, which then soaked the sliced bread and made large splats across the floor. “Oh no!”
    Peter reached out to steady her hands. “Catharine, she’s not Queen Esther. Please don’t fuss so.”
    “I’ll get this cleaned up,” Greta said and moved faster than Catharine had seen in a long time. “Do we have more milk?” She sopped up the milk while Peter dropped the ruined bread in the trash.
    Catharine walked toward the pie safe for more bread. “Afraid not, but there’s some lemonade that I made for later—”
    “What’s all the fuss about?”
    Catharine halted and turned to see Clara standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, with Anna right behind her. Clara’s eyes rested on Catharine’s open buttons, and Catharine quickly buttoned her blouse.
    Greta waved her hand. “Oh, it’s nothing we can’t handle. Just a little accident, that’s all.”
    Clara stood looking at the mess, disapproval clearly reflected in her eyes. But then she removed her stylish black hat, took the mop propped next to the back door, and began to wipe the floor without a word. “I can see Peter forgot to tell you that I was coming, Catharine, from the looks of the lunch. I can come another time, if that suits you better.” She paused and looked at Catharine.
    “Nonsense, Mrs. Andersen. It’s just simpler to have a cold lunch after church, you know. I don’t remember seeing you there this morning.” Catharine wrung the wet dishcloth out into the