Free Sunflower by Jill Marie Landis Page B

asked.
    Analisa was more than aware of the growing camaraderie Caleb shared with her son. As she turned back to the stove, she frowned, deep in thought, hoping that Kase would quickly recover from the disappointment he would surely feel when Storm left. And what of you? she asked herself, remembering the feel of his strong arms about her.
    “Miss Van Meeteren?”
    “Yes?” Analisa’s attention was drawn back to Caleb.
    “I was asking your leave to take Edvard and the boy into town. I’ve got the wagon mended, and I figure Scorpio won’t balk too badly if I put him in the harness. I thought I’d pick up some nails and any supplies you might be needing.”
    Caleb watched Analisa sweep her hand up the back of her neck to the thick coil of hair on top of her head, tucking in the stray wisps that continually escaped the pins. He had noticed it was a habit she unthinkingly fell into when confronted with a problem, as she was now, trying to decide whether or not to allow her son to accompany him into town.
    “You’re welcome to come along, too,” he added with a smile. “We could all take the morning off.”
    Her first instinct was to fold her apron and join him and Opa and Kase on their ride into Pella, to walk freely through the streets and shops, smiling and nodding to the inhabitants as they passed by. But what then? To face the humiliation as the righteous townsfolk turned away from her to speak together in hushed tones? Would she let them stare and point at Kase, her beautiful, smiling son? Opa would surely suffer; he would understand the slurs spoken against her in his own tongue. Worst of all, she would be shamed before Caleb, her one friend in the new land, the one person who knew her only as Analisa, who spoke to her with respect and friendship, offering her his quiet strength. Soon enough he would learn the truth. It was best he go into town alone. Perhaps he would choose to ride on and never return to the soddie.
    “Mr. Storm, I think perhaps—”
    “Daar komt iemand,” Kase interrupted. “Someone is coming.” In his excitement, he spoke Dutch.
    Opa stood and moved away from the table, eager to greet the passengers in the buggy pulling up before the soddie.
    Caleb watched as Analisa registered his presence with a fleeting look of dismay. He felt a swift sense of hurt at her reaction until he realized his being there as a single man was as condemning in the eyes of the visitors as the fact that he was a half-breed.
    “I’ll get out of here as soon as I can.” He rose and began to move away from the table. He watched her eyes move away from his as she realized he had seen her reaction.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “There’s no need for you to leave.” Analisa squared her shoulders and followed her grandfather to the door.
    Kase looked up at Caleb, rolled his eyes with a shrug, and followed his mother and Opa outside.
    Caleb realized it was far too late to leave unnoticed, unless he climbed out a window. He had never run from a fight; his only regret was that Analisa might suffer further embarrassment because of his presence. Deciding there was not much he could do, he began stacking the breakfast dishes on the kitchen bench.
    Outside the house, Analisa watched warily as Dominie Wierstra, the young assistant pastor of the Reform Church of Pella, descended from the buggy with Clara Heusinkveld. She felt her face flame with color. Although she had never been introduced to the man, she identified him by his clerical garb, the black woolen suit and stiff-collared white shirt. His pale yellow hair gave almost no contrast to the sallow color of his skin; his eyes were limpid pools of blue-green above his high cheekbones. Mevrou Heusinkveld was beside him now, standing aloof, trying to ignore the flurry of squawking hens surrounding them in the yard.
    The clothing of both visitors was impeccably styled and only slightly dusty from the four-mile drive from the village. Analisa knew her own plain blue