Embers of Love by Tracie Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

for dessert.”
    “Hey, just hold on a second. You know I love your biscuits, Ma. I tell you all the time,” Rob threw out from the opposite end of the table. Everyone laughed at this, and Euphanel nodded.
    “You shall have a large piece of pie, as well. I happen to know it’s your favorite – egg custard.”
    Rob grinned and pushed his plate back. “Why didn’t you say so? I could have just skipped the rest of this food and started there.”
    His mother laughed. “That is exactly why I didn’t tell you about the pie.”
    The meal passed amicably with conversations about the locals and even some of the concerns in areas around the county. Deborah enjoyed it, although she found herself more an observer than participant. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but a sense of reflection seemed to hold her captive.
    With each absence from home, Deborah had found the differences more noticeable. But she also found the precious things more poignant, as well. Little things, like the creaking sound of her mother’s rocker on the porch as she snapped beans; the warmth of a dog curled up at the foot of her bed; even the wonderful scent of the pines mingled with woodsmoke. Each memory could bring a smile to her face. Deborah was bound to her birthplace in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. She had once tried to write about it for a school paper but found herself doing a poor job. Her teacher had chided her for being “dreamy and childish” in her declaration that, “Nothing will ever comfort me quite as much as the scents of my mother’s lavender sachet, strong coffee brewing, and freshly cut wood.” Deborah felt sorry for the professor. He would never understand the way she felt.
    She couldn’t help but notice G. W.’s silence. He focused on his meal, nodded in acknowledgment from time to time, but otherwise shared very little of his thoughts. Deborah had hoped that one of the young women might have attracted his attention, but upon reacquainting herself with nineteen-year-old Annabeth and seventeen-year-old Maybelle, Deborah was just as happy that G. W. was preoccupied. What ninnies those two turned out to be! One minute they were giggling and blushing, the next they were staring wide-eyed at the handsome doctor.
    Lizzie seemed to be enjoying herself. Mrs. Perkins had very nearly assaulted Deborah’s friend with questions about her background and how the two women had met. Lizzie didn’t seem to mind, however, and took each question in stride.
    “So you were both attending university in Philadelphia?” Dr. Clayton asked.
    Deborah nodded, but it was Lizzie who answered. “Deborah was my dearest friend and always shall be. She kept me from giving up when our studies turned difficult.”
    “And what studies were those?” he asked.
    “It was that wretched biology class,” Lizzie said with a shudder. “Seems like just yesterday. I spent more time confused than in understanding. I had fully planned to give up my attempts to understand cells, but Deborah began tutoring me, and before I knew it, the class was concluded and I had managed to get a passing grade. But just barely.”
    Dr. Clayton smiled and turned to Deborah. “And what of you? Did you enjoy the class?”
    Again Lizzie jumped in. “She most certainly did. One of the professors tried to interest her in the women’s medical school.”
    Deborah found all eyes turned to her and gave a weak laugh. “Then I could have opened an infirmary in the logging office.”
    Her mother’s gaze seemed fixed upon her, and Deborah felt the need to move the conversation elsewhere. “Lizzie is quite gifted in the arts. She plays piano and sings, and has the most amazing talent with watercolors.”
    “All very useless skills for real life,” Lizzie added.
    “Not at all, Miss Decker!” Rachel Perkins’s excitement got the best of her. “We suffer for entertainment in these parts. It would be marvelous to plan an evening where you could sing and play for us.” She