Five Brides Read Online Free

small of her back and stretched, then jumped when her mother spoke behind her. “Don’t forget to close the winda.”
    Evelyn spun around. Her mother had already dressed for bed—her hair had been set in pin curls, and the scent of talcum powder drifted across the room. “Yes, ma’am,” Evelyn said. “I won’t.”
    Her mother turned away, shoulders slumped against the weariness of life.
    “Mama?”
    Mama stopped, turned back. “What?”
    “Where’s Daddy?”
    “Out yonder. On the front porch, I ’spect. That man loves thesmell of those leaves more’n anyone I know.” She shook her head, and for a moment Evelyn thought she saw her mother smile. But before she could know for sure, her mother shuffled down the hall. “Don’t forget the winda.”
    “I won’t,” Evelyn muttered. She returned to the sink and leaned over, pushed the raised window toward the sill, then pulled the curtains shut.
    A minute later she stepped over her younger brother, Sol, who lay on the living room rug reading another Hardy Boys mystery. “It’s about time for bed,” she said to him.
    “I’m almost done with this chapter,” he answered without looking away from the book.
    Evelyn smiled at him, at the red in his cropped hair and the way he’d managed to kick off only one shoe while the other stayed secure on his foot.
    She walked out onto the front porch, where, sure enough, she found her daddy sitting in one of the rockers, pipe stem clutched between his teeth. The scent of it mixed with that of the leaves, and Evelyn inhaled deeply. “Hey, sugar dumplin’,” he said without turning his head.
    Evelyn walked past him to the nearby swing hanging by two half-rusty chains. “Hey, Daddy.”
    She pulled a postcard out of one of the side pockets of her skirt as she pushed her saddle oxfords against the narrow gray-painted boards, making the swing squeak. She made an effort to read the words on the back, but without the porch light on and with no moon to speak of, her endeavor went unrewarded. She sighed dramatically, hoping her father would take notice.
    He did. “Whatcha got there?”
    “A postcard from Joan.” Evelyn pressed her lips together as she waved it in his direction.
    “She make it to the States all right?”
    “Yes, sir. She mailed this from New York before she boarded the train. I reckon she’s made it to Chicago by now.”
    Her father pulled on the pipe, causing the tobacco to glow. “Chicago, Illinois,” he said as though he were talking about heaven itself.
    “Daddy—”
    “I know,” he said before she could say much else. “You aim to go.”
    “I do, Daddy, but—”
    “Your Mama’s go’n be heartbroken, you know.”
    “Even more than she is already. I know.”
    Daddy pulled on the pipe again. “What about Hank?”
    “I don’t love Hank, Daddy.” Evelyn struggled to keep her voice low enough that if Mama hovered near an open window upstairs, she wouldn’t hear. “Mama practically has my trousseau laid out, but . . . Daddy, Hank’s a good boy and all, but . . .” The rest was difficult to say. Hank Shute had been her boyfriend for all of their high school years. And he was a fine young man. Strong in his faith. Strong in body. He had to be to work his daddy’s farmland, which he intended to own himself one day. Hank was also strong in his love for her. And, as plain and homely as Evelyn had grown up to be, she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Still . . .
    “But he doesn’t turn your skin to gooseflesh.”
    Evelyn giggled. “What?”
    Daddy laughed lightly. “When the right one comes along, you’ll feel your skin turn to gooseflesh every time you get around him. Hank doesn’t do that for you?”
    “Did you? When you were dating Mama?”
    Now he turned to look at her. “Yes’m. And I still do.”
    Evelyn bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning. “Well, I haven’t had those feelings yet. Not with Hank. Not with any boy.”
    Her daddy raised the toes of his work