Bending Toward the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page A

she’d be on Mondays and Wednesdays. Now that he was making freight deliveries, she’d expected to catch sight of him last week.
    “Miss Heinrich.”
    Straightening in her seat, Emilie met her instructor’s steely gaze. “Yes, Mrs. Barbour.”
    “Is there something outside the window that is more urgent than my instruction?”
    “No ma’am. Please accept my apologies.”
    “I realize not everyone is as enthralled with the works of Shakespeare as I am, but if you wish to rise above the chaff in proper society, you will do well to pay attention.”
    Proper society? Would that be the farmers flocking around the newest plowshare? Or the folks gathered around the checkerboard? She forced down a laugh, trying anew to focus on the classic quotes listed on the blackboard.
    The moment Mrs. Barbour dismissed the class, Emilie hung her book sack from her shoulder, and quickly made her way through the door and down the tree-lined path toward the road. She’d placed a merchandise order for the store. Although it was likely too soon to expect delivery this week, she held on to hope that she’d see Quaid tomorrow or Thursday. In the meantime, she had undergarments to launder before fixing dinner for PaPa.
    “Emilie.”
    Her face warmed, despite the autumn temperatures. Only one man with an Irish lilt used her given name to address her. Turning, she saw Quaid sitting atop the freight wagon, waving his slouch hat. “Emilie.”
    Did he enjoy saying her name as much as she liked hearing it roll off his tongue?
    Giving no mind to the possibility of rumors, she walked toward the wagon, stopping beside one of the horses. “I’d hoped to see you here today.”
    He smiled, his emerald eyes shining. “I was in the kitchen stocking the pantry. When I didn’t see you in the hallway, I was afraid I’d missed you. May I offer you a ride?”
    “Yes. I’d like that.” Although her father may not be so pleased … but what of it? It was only a ride, which would save her time. Before she could change her mind, Quaid took her book sack and set it in the wagon, then offered his warm, strong hand.
    Settled in the seat, Emilie watched him pat the horses’ muzzles on his way to his side of the wagon. With one smooth motion, he swung into the seat beside her. “To the store?”
    “Yes, please.” Or should she have him leave her down the block, in case her father was in a foul mood? No. She was not a child. Nor was she doing anything wrong in accepting a ride from an Irishman. A friend. She pressed her hands against her stomach, which was apparently hosting very active butterflies.
    Quaid snapped the reins, setting the wagon in motion. “Is the city hosting a footrace?”
    “What?”
    “A footrace. With your speed covering that lane, you’d take first place.”
    She giggled. “I like to return home in time to tend to other things before I cook dinner for my father.”
    “Well then, I won’t dillydally getting you home.”
    Please. Dillydally . The flower boxes they passed on their way through town seemed especially cheery today.
    “What will you cook tonight?”
    “ Curry wurst and rotkohl . Brats and red cabbage.”
    “Mmm. I might have to invite meself to dinner.”
    She fussed with the yellow ribbon at her waist, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her. She didn’t want to tell him her father wouldn’t approve. “I’d like that.”
    He nodded.
    Thankfully, there wasn’t room directly in front of her father’s store, so Quaid pulled to a stop at the end of the block. Again, with the speed of Mercury, he appeared at her side and helped her from the wagon.
    Her hand fit perfectly into his.
    “Emilie.” Letting go of her hand, he looked her in the eye with knee-weakening intensity. “I suspect your father would not approve of me offering you a ride?”
    The sigh escaped before she could corral it. She didn’t want to tell Quaid the truth. Neither did she wish to lie to him. “It’s only been him and me for the past