Bittersweet
Authors: Cathy Marie Hake
Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #ebook, #book
Bittersweet
Books by
Cathy Marie Hake
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
Letter Perfect
Bittersweet
Fancy Pants
Forevermore
Whirlwind
That Certain Spark
Serendipity
CATHYMARIE HAKE
Bittersweet
Copyright © 2007
Cathy Marie Hake
Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 978-0-7642-0166-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hake, Cathy Marie.
Bittersweet / Cathy Marie Hake.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7642-0333-6 (alk. paper) —ISBN 978-0-7642-0166-0 (pbk.) —
ISBN 978-0-7642-0332-9 (large-print pbk.)
I. Title.
PS3608.A5454B58 2007
813'.6—dc22 2006038413
Contents
The Bible speaks of us all being part of the body of Christ,
all of us having functions that are infinitely varied, specialized,
and essential. Bethany House Publishers is much like that.
Behind every author there are editors,
copy editors, book cover artists, marketing gurus, print setters, binders,
secretaries, and booksellers. We all need each other so we can
work together to serve the Lord.
This book is dedicated to the wonderful team
whose dedication and hard work enable me to tell a story.
The story is dedicated to the Lord.
CATHY MARIE HAKE is a nurse who specializes in teaching Lamaze, breastfeeding, and baby care. She loves reading, scrapbooking, and writing, and is the author or coauthor of more than twenty books. Cathy makes her home in Anaheim, California, with her husband, daughter, and son.
Sacramento, California
September 1860
L
aney McCain fought the urge to lick her fingers. The Fry’s chocolate bar had come all the way from England, and it seemed wrong to waste even a dab of something so wonderful. Behind the cover of her hankie, she buckled to the temptation. One … two … three quick licks. Both bitter and sweet at the same time, the last little taste left her craving more. She smiled down at her neighbor, Dale O’Sullivan. “We’re going to have to go back to that candy place!”
“Right now?” Greed lit the six-year-old’s eyes.
“Yeah!” his brother Sean agreed.
“No.” Laney used her hankie to clean Sean’s chocolate mustache.
Dale hastily licked his own mouth clean and grinned. “I got it all, Miss Laney!”
“Yes, you did.” She straightened up and scanned the crowded California State Fair pavilion as she tucked the hankie back up her sleeve. “You boys stay close. Here, Sean. I’ll carry the pail now.”
“Do you know where we’re ’posed to go?” Dale grabbed a fistful of her skirt.
“No, but I see a gentleman over there who’s wearing a name tag. We can ask him.” Laney approached the bewhiskered man. “Excuse me. I have grape jelly and canned veg—” “You’re in the wrong place.” Vexation creased the man’s brow and lent a surly edge to his voice. “Produce is over in the west side of the pavilion. Tallow, lard, and preserved meats are here. Milk, butter, and cheese are on the south side. Grains and starches are north.”
Sean O’Sullivan scratched his bony elbow and asked, “Are potatoes produce or are they starch?”
“Don’t get smart with me,” the man snapped.
Laney wrapped her left arm around Sean’s shoulders and drew him closer. Her fingers made contact with the black strip of mourning crepe on her ten-year-old neighbor’s upper arm, so she slid her hand higher and patted him while drawing his little brother closer to her on the other side. “I wondered the selfsame thing. I guess it doesn’t matter much since I don’t have potatoes.”
“Guess not.” Sean shrugged—a tense move that tattled on how upset he was.
“Your mother’s over there with Hilda. See? They’re entering their tubs of lard.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Since I need to go over to the far wall with my jelly, Sean, why don’t you go tell your mother that Dale and I will meet you all outside by that bench where we ate our chocolate?”
Sean looked up at her, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Yes, Miss Laney.”
“That’s very helpful of you.”
A moment after he left, the grumpy man
harrumphed
. “Didn’t notice the lad’s armband. Didn’t mean to upset him.”
Laney cast a meaningful look down at Dale, then tried to sound chipper. “I convinced the O’Sullivans to come to the fair with me. Two of your brothers and your mother came along, didn’t they, Dale?”
“Uh-huh. But Galen stayed behind to work.”
“Right smart idea.” The old man bobbed his head knowingly. “Treat your servants well and they work harder.”
“The O’Sullivans work harder than anyone I know.” Laney smoothly set his false assumption straight by adding, “It’s a pleasure to have them as our neighbors.”
And someday I’d like to be more
than just their neighbor. It’s proper to have a year of mourning; that’s long
enough to let Galen see that I’m not just his best friend’s baby sister. He’ll
finally see how much I love him and his family
.
Laney pulled the blue gingham cover off her pail and entered her jelly and vegetables in the competition when they reached the correct booth. A sense of accomplishment washed over her. Even six months ago she hadn’t known how to cook anything. She’d only tried to make jelly once before—with disastrous results. Thanks to Mrs. O’Sullivan’s gentle guidance, Laney now knew her way around a kitchen.
As she and Dale left the booth, he tugged on her sleeve. “Miss Laney?”
“Yes?”
He crooked his finger at her, so she leaned down. “Do you got any extra of that grape jelly?”
“Back home I do. Why?”
He looked crestfallen. “Never mind.”
“Are you hungry?” When he shook his head, Laney drew Dale off to the side and sat on a small bench. Taming her hoops took a fleeting second, and then she reached and pulled Dale onto her lap.
“My shoes’ll make a dreadful mess of your pretty new dress.”
“A little dirt never hurt anyone.” She curled her arms about him. “Now suppose you tell me why you wanted to know about the jelly.”
“I thought maybe if I put some on Hortense, nobody’d want her.” He blinked and hung his head.
“Ahhh,” she said softly, then cuddled him closer. “I see.”
Laney smiled, recalling her first jelly-making experience, which had ended with her discarding her work into the pig sty. Her brother, Josh, thought the hogs had contracted some ailment upon seeing the purple splotches on their skin.
Laney threaded her fingers through Dale’s unruly red curls. All around them, the fair went on.
But Dale’s little world is falling
apart
.
Dale finally tilted his head back. “Galen says I’ve gotta be 12 brave.”
Her heart leapt at the mere mention of Galen’s name. “If anyone knows about being brave, it’s your big brother.” Laney slowly stroked her hand up and down Dale’s skinny back.
“‘Farmers raise crops and livestock to sell. It’s our job,”’ the little boy quoted, but his voice quavered.
