Free Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter by Tracie Peterson Page B

picked up a towel and began to dry the dishes as she washed them, and considered how he might go about convincing his uncle.

Chapter 7

    Sundays were a mixed blessing to Merrill. She always worked hard the day before to prepare food for the dinner they would enjoy after services. This allowed her more freedom after church, and that afternoon, her single bit of time off for the week, could be spent in more leisurely activities. But Sunday also represented the frustration of putting on a smile and pretending she fit in with the other young women of the congregation. Merrill knew she was sometimes the talk of the town because of the manner in which she labored and dressed. Granny had once told her that church attendance wasn’t about her clothes or finery; church was meant for fellowship, study, and encouragement. Even so, Merrill knew that many of the women measured one’s worth by the fashions worn or one’s manners or other things that were neither of interest nor importance to her.
    “We’d best not dawdle,” her father instructed, pulling the wagon alongside the church. “Else we’ll be late again.”
    He helped Merrill down and smiled. “You look lovely today, Merrill Jean.”
    She smiled back. “Thank you, Father. The bonnet is a new one Granny Lassiter made for me.”
    “Well, it’s a doozy,” he said with a grin.
    “That’s the one she wears to help with foaling,” her brother Zadoc added with a wink.
    Merrill rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t my idea. Granny made me try it on at just the wrong time.”
    “I think it looks mighty good,” her father said. “You look like a fine lady.”
    “I feel like a pig dressed up for the fair,” she murmured, unsure that her father would understand her words. She recalled Granny’s comments about the hat and couldn’t help but add, “A pig in a poke . . . bonnet.”
    “What was that?” her father asked.
    Shaking her head, Merrill hooked her arm through his. “Nothing of importance.”
    They made their way into church just as the organist began to play. Merrill wasn’t surprised to see Rurik and his uncle in the pew just ahead of them, where Carl Jorgenson generally sat.
    Merrill took her place between her father and Zadoc and quickly shed her coat. She adjusted the green scarf at her neck and smoothed the lines of her plum wool dress, hoping that she looked better than she imagined. Her hair had been so uncooperative that morning that she had been more than glad to hide it beneath Granny’s bonnet.
    The congregation rose to sing a hymn, and Merrill found herself standing directly behind Rurik Jorgenson. His towering height reminded her of her own brothers. None ofher family was under six foot three, with herself the only exception. Rurik was every bit that tall. His golden brown hair had been combed neatly and parted to one side, and he wore a nicely fitting blue suit that Merrill imagined drew out the color of his eyes.
    They sat again while a male soloist offered a hymn of adoration. Merrill’s mind, however, was not on the words about God’s goodness. She tried to keep focused on the Lord, but her eyes kept drawing her attention back to Rurik.
    She liked the look of his broad shoulders and remembered him helping her clear the table the day of the ice harvest. He had taken off his coat, and his muscles had strained against the white fabric of his cotton shirt while he dried the dishes for her. Though she’d seen her brothers in various states of undress, this sight had felt surprisingly intimate.
    The solo ended, and Merrill bowed her head with the others as the pastor led the congregation in prayer. Yet she still found it hard to think about anything but the man sitting in front of her.
    Throughout the rituals and the sermon, Merrill tried to focus on God’s Word and the pastor’s sermon, but thoughts of Rurik continued to steal her attention.
    After the service ended, Rurik and his uncle turned her way, and Merrill feared her face might betray