Will this be the last excerpt I post before What Wakes the Heart comes out? I rather like leaving my potential readers in suspense about how my protagonists get from this unpromising point to a path which could lead to a HEA. (That's "Happy Ever After," for those unfamiliar with the acronym.) I may, instead, post bits from my Author's Note, which provides some background information about the book and about my process when I write historical fiction.
If you've missed any or all of the previously posted excerpts, just scroll down. And if those excerpts, or this one, or the previous books in the series, or any of my other books inspire you to preorder this one -- here's the link.
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Susannah was getting dressed before breakfast when someone knocked on her door. She opened it partway to find Miss Wheeler looking ill at ease. “You have a caller, Miss Shepard. I’ve put him in the sitting room. It’s rather early for anyone to call, but I imagine he hoped to find you before you left for the school.”
Susannah hurried to fasten her last buttons. “Can you tell me who it is?”
“A young man, wearing working clothes. He seems rather . . . impatient.”
In her short time in Cowbird Creek, Susannah had been introduced to only one man who would wear work clothes. And she had, without dwelling on the fact, looked forward to seeing him again at some point. But not after yesterday. “I’ll be right down.”
Carl Marek was pacing back and forth in the sitting room, almost bumping into furniture on each pass. He whirled around as she entered, glaring at her and brandishing a book. She stepped backward despite herself as she recognized the McGuffey reader.
“This, you give my sister? This is what she gets on her first day of school, after dreaming of school her entire life? This!”
Susannah sank into the nearby easy chair, hoping it might influence him to sit also. “Mr. Marek, I did try —”
His big hand clutched the book so tightly she feared he would damage the cover. “The dog! The dog ran! For a girl fifteen years old! Do you know what Bronka brought with her to this country, instead of linens for when she gets married or clothes to look pretty in? She brought Shakespeare!”
Susannah gaped at him. “But — she couldn’t even read Little Women when I asked her.”
Mr. Marek rolled his eyes. “In Polish, she reads Shakespeare! She has been reading in it every night before she goes to sleep! But now, of course, she will need to practice how to read ‘dog’ and ‘cat.’ And in front of the others, you gave her this!” He threw the book down on the chair in which she had hoped he would sit.
Another trip back and forth across the room, and then he stopped and said, his voice hard and bitter, “You will have to give her back this book yourself. I have to get to the mill. My sister must not go without her book about Cat and Dog. What a shame that would be! She might have to read Shakespeare instead!”
And with that, he stomped out the door and slammed it behind him.
Susannah sat in the easy chair, shaking all over. She greatly wished to cry, but she was due at the table for breakfast, if there was still time, and then needed to appear at school, composed and ready. The first step was to stand up. She did so, first gripping and then releasing the arm of the chair, and gave herself one minute to achieve some degree of composure.
So when Miss Wheeler opened the door, concern on her face, Susannah burst into tears.
Miss Wheeler hurried over and put her arms around her. Susannah struggled not to cry harder at this reminder of home and mothering. The older woman tsked and hushed and muttered “there, there,” while Susannah got herself under control. Miss Wheeler let go and pulled a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket, dried Susannah’s cheeks, inspected her, and finally declared, “You’ll do. Hurry to breakfast, child.”
After crying in front of her hostess, Susannah could hardly protest the name of child, even to herself. She followed close behind as Miss Wheeler led her to the dining room. Just before they entered, Miss Wheeler said under her breath, “I’m sorry to have allowed an unreliable young man to disturb you on these premises. You may be sure I won’t be admitting him again.”
Susannah, taking her seat, reflected dismally that it was unlikely Miss Wheeler would be called upon to take the trouble of refusing Carl Marek admittance.
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