Free Three Weddings And A Kiss by Loretta Chase Catherine Anderson Kathleen E. Woodiwiss Page B

started. “I want each of you to help her in any way you can. Understand? Jer, you hightail it out to the porch and bring Rachel’s grips into the bedroom. Joshua, you haul her up some buckets of water to heat on the stove. No point in her havin’ to wear herself out at the pump. Zach, you gather up all the things she’ll need: a broom and mop, clean rags, and whatever else she wants. Cole, while they’re doin’ that, you and Daniel and Cody get busy pickin’ things up and puttin’ them away. In their proper places, mind you, not just any old place. And, Cody! Nothin’ under the bed, you understand?”
    Rachel’s head was swimming by the time Clint stopped issuing orders. He drew to a close with, “Now all of you, listen up. From here on out, Rachel’s word is law inside this house. I’m sure she’ll be makin’ up some new rules around here, and I expect each of you to mind what she says, just like it was me. Got that? No sassin’ her, or I’ll kick your butts.”
    Zach, who was standing close enough that Rachel could clearly see his face, turned a solemn regard on her. After a long moment, he smiled slightly and winked irreverently. He obviously wasn’t intimidated by his older brother.
    Clint rubbed his hands together and turned to arch a questioning brow at her. “Did I leave out anything you’d like said?”
    “Only thank you.” Rachel smiled. “For making me feel so welcome.”
    Joshua piped up with, “Welcome? Rachel, it’s a wonder we ain’t on our knees in gratitude. It’s been so long since we had a decent meal around here, we’ve forgotten what good food tastes like.”
    Rachel could only hope she didn’t disappoint them. First things first, though. Before she could try her hand at cooking, she had to muck out the kitchen. Luckily, she had plenty of helpers.

7
    T wo hours later, Rachel had the kitchen cleaned up enough to start mixing bread dough. After enlisting Cody’s help in locating the recipe box Clint had mentioned, she announced to all the older boys that it was time for them to take a much-deserved rest, preferably some place other than in the kitchen.
    When they solicitously offered to help her with the cooking, Rachel waved them off, saying, “No, no! I’m funny that way, I guess. I like an empty kitchen when I cook. Too many cooks makes for oversalted porridge, you know.”
    “I never heard that sayin’,” Joshua commented.
    Neither had Rachel, but it served her purpose, which was to evacuate the kitchen so she could slip on her spectacles undetected to read the bread recipe.
    As the last Rafferty trailed off, Rachel dived her hand into her pocket for her spectacles. Something sharp pricked her fingertip. “Ouch!” she jerked her hand back out, saw a bead of blood, and frowned in bewilderment. “What in heaven’s name?”
    More gingerly this time, she reached into her pocket. As her fingers curled over the wire frames, her heart felt as though it dropped, not just to the region of her knees, which is how it usually felt when something awful happened, but clear to the floor. Her spectacles! The frames were hopelessly mangled, and as she lifted them from her pocket, she saw that both lenses were absent from their holes. Fishing more deeply in her pocket, she soon leaned why. Each lens was shattered. It had been one of the jagged pieces of glass that pricked her finger.
    Stunned, Rachel could only stand there for a moment, staring blankly down at ruined spectacles. How had this happened? She no sooner asked herself that than she remembered falling in the church last night. Evidently her spectacles had been broken then.
    As the first wave of shock subsided, she turned her gaze toward the recipe box. Panic rose within her. She quickly tamped it down. Reading without her spectacles was nearly impossible but not absolutely so. If she held the written material right in front of her nose, she could usually make out the letters. It would be tedious, but beggars couldn’t be