Free The Bridal Veil by Alexis Harrington

tongue
peeked from the corner of her mouth and she gripped her pencil so
tightly her knuckles were white. This was the first time since
Emily arrived that she’d been alone with the girl, and after the
incident with the hair ribbon, she wasn’t sure how to commence.
Finally she decided on what seemed like a safe topic.
    “ What are you drawing,
Rose?” she asked after savoring the last spoonful of
broth.
    She didn’t look up. “Nothing
much.”
    “ Hmm, it looks like something . May I
see?”
    “ I guess.” Briefly, she held
up the composition book to show Emily a drawing that revealed a
fair amount of talent. Expecting a rather immature rendering, Emily
instead saw a reasonably accurate depiction of the farmhouse,
complete with the oak tree and the swing that hung from its bough.
The perspective and proportions were a little off, but not enough
to detract from the budding gift she recognized.
    Pleased surprise colored her voice.
“That’s very nice! How long have you been sketching?”
    The girl shrugged in that annoying way
of hers. Her mumbled response matched the shrug. “I don’t know. A
long time, I suppose. Maybe even two years. Grammy says it’s a
waste of time.”
    She would , Emily simmered. “Painting and
drawing are very ladylike pastimes for a girl. So is stitchery. Has
your grandmother showed you how to embroider and sew?”
    A lock of Rose’s unbound hair fell
over the paper and she pushed it behind her ear. “Nope. I just like
to draw.”
    Emily slid her chair a little closer.
“Well, embroidery is kind of like drawing, except with a needle and
thread. You can make pictures of all kinds of things—flowers,
birds, trees, even this house. In the Middle Ages, European women
stitched big tapestries that told stories of great battles and
family histories. There’s a famous one in France called the Bayeux
Tapestry. It shows the Norman conquest of England, and it’s two
hundred and forty feet long, just over one-fifth of a mile. It’s
about a mile into town isn’t it?”
    Rose nodded with wide eyes, obviously
impressed.
    “ Well, the tapestry could
line the fences along the road for one-fifth of the way into town.
All done with stitchery.” She pointed at Rose’s artwork. “Of
course, you wouldn’t have to make anything so big. But it might be
easier for you because you draw so well. You could sketch your
design on the fabric.”
    The girl’s wide eyes now gleamed.
“Really?”
    Emily smiled. “Yes. If you’d like to
learn, I can show you how to get started.”
    “ Oh, yes, that
sounds—”
    Just then, the back door opened and
Cora bustled in, a stack of stove wood on her beefy arm. “Not an
egg left in that whole blamed henhouse.” She cast them both a
quizzical look, then bent a censuring frown on her granddaughter.
The girl fell silent.
    “ Would you like that, Rose?”
Emily pressed, looking at her downturned head. “I have all of my
threads and such upstairs in my trunk, and we can begin a sampler
for you.”
    “ Um, no, maybe not,” she
mumbled again, and from her answer Emily learned more than she’d
expected to.
    Cora plucked an empty fruit jar from a
shelf and went to the kettle on the stove. She spooned stew into it
and screwed on a lid, then put it in a basket with a half loaf of
bread. She covered the whole thing with a clean napkin.
    “ Rose, you take your
father’s lunch out to him.” Emily eyed Cora, who turned back to the
stove. “He’ll be in the fields until dinnertime today since he got
a late start.” Cora put the basket on the table. “Go on now, while
it’s still hot. And wait until he’s finished eating so you can
bring back the basket.”
    Rose chanced a peek at Emily, and she
smiled back at the girl. “I’ll tell you what, Rose, I’ll come with
you. I need to talk to your father, anyway.”
    The older woman spun to look at them
both, her usually-florid face even brighter. “Mrs. Becker, it’s
downright muddy out there with all the rain