Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Hoosier Cabinet
In my novel, My Heart Will Find Yours, the kitchen my heroine Texanna found herself learning to cook in had a cabinet similar to the Hoosier, an earlier model not nearly as modern. Many antique cabinets are called Hoosiers but few are the real McCoy.
Fated lovers suffer the agony of loss only to be reunited to fulfill a greater plan.
TEXANNA KEITH doesn’t believe an antique locket is the key to time travel, but plays along, and to her horror, is zapped back to 1880 Waco, Texas. Her mission is to prevent Royce Dyson’s death in a shootout. Wounded, she loses what she longs for most — a life with Royce.
Marshall ROYCE DYSON’S wife disappeared in 1876. Now she’s reappeared, claiming she’s a time traveler from 2007. As he seeks the truth, he’s determined to keep Texanna with him, but it’s not destined to be.
She pumped water into the pan and washed her hands. Why didn’t Royce and Garrett wash up in here? Maybe it was a habit because if they worked outdoors, they’d be clean before coming in the house. She located bowls and plates and placed them along with spoons on the table. Now, where were the napkins? She found them in a drawer of the Hoosier. The supply was quickly dwindling. As the so-called lady of the house, she’d be washing and ironing a lot to keep them stocked. Yeah, like washing and ironing was her favorite thing to do.
She took another peek out the window. Here they came. Royce had folded his jacket over his arm. Texanna leaned forward to watch them approach. Royce’s shoulders looked so broad in that white dress shirt. She jumped away from the window. Oh, no. Surely he didn’t expect her to wash, starch, and iron those white shirts. If she remembered correctly, spray starch hadn’t been invented until the 1950’s. Drat! She didn’t have a clue how to make starch.
The food was already on the table when Royce and Garrett entered the kitchen. Royce carried in a pitcher of milk from the larder and placed it on the table. Stew was in their bowls, but they’d slice and serve the cornbread at the table.
Royce picked up all the napkins. “Don’t you want to save yourself some washing and ironing? Unless it’s Sunday or a special occasion, we share a dish towel.” He reached back and snagged the towel off the sink.
He’s a thoughtful man. And here she thought all nineteenth-century men were brutes who wanted to be waited on hand and foot. “Thank you.”
Royce nodded and reached for her hand, then bowed his head. Garrett’s hand felt so small in hers, Royce’s so big. Royce’s thumb stroked hers as he gave thanks. Texanna felt a chill. Seeing this man and child here at the table in prayer, reminded her of the simple pleasures in life, things taken for granted today. Well, in her time period.
Someone milked a cow this morning to provide this milk—milk she wasn’t going to drink. She liked milk, but not the raw kind fresh from the cow. But the fresh butter was a different story. Who’d churned it for Royce and Garrett?
“Texanna?” Royce had asked her a question. She looked up to see she still held their hands.
“I’m sorry. I was a million miles away. What did you say?”
Happy Reading and Writing,