Matthew: The Circle Eight Read Free Page A

daydream back at every opportunity. Some days she didn’t like being a woman at all. Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t very attractive. Hannah was what her granny called “sturdy.” The word made her wince, but she couldn’t deny it described her.
    She had thick brown hair that she could barely wrangle into a braid, mud brown eyes, big breasts, and a plumpness to her behind she was unsuccessful at wishing away. Plain as toast for sure. There were many other pretty girls in town worthy of a beau or even multiple beaus, but not Hannah.
    She wasn’t bitter about it, just wishful. That darned heart of hers had a mind of its own. Perhaps one day she could ignore those daydreams about a family, a man, a future other than chapped hands and serving strangers.
    A realization hit her with the force of a mule kick. Hannah stopped so suddenly, she splashed water all over her chest. She had been wallowing in self-pity, like some crazy old spinster. That was not what she wanted, ever.
    She had a good life, and she was grateful for it. This silly behavior had to stop. There were things she could change and things she couldn’t. Her looks and her family were set in stone; her attitude was not.
    Hannah knew she’d given herself a brain slap and was glad for it. Somebody had to, might as well be her.
    After tamping down on her mental meanderings, she finished the dishes and moved on to the task of making a stew for dinner.
    “Hannah?” her grandmother called from the parlor.
    “Yes, Granny?” Hannah’s hands were covered with the flour she was currently rolling the stew meat in. She hoped her grandmother didn’t need anything immediately.
    “I need you.”
    Hannah blew out a breath so hard her hair moved off her forehead. “Can it wait about ten minutes? I’m fixing the stew.”
    There was a brief pause. “I s’pose.”
    Hannah’s chin fell to her chest and she counted to ten. Twice. “I’ll be right there.”
    She cleaned her hands as best she could on the rag and headed into the parlor. Granny had bad pain in her joints and sometimes needed help getting up from bed and chairs. She was a tough old bird though, insisted on making the beds and tidying every day. Hannah worried Granny was doing too much, but there was no one else to do it, and there was only so much Hannah could do with the time she had.
    Within a year, Granny might not be able to do anything, which would leave all the work to Hannah. They’d have to close off half of the eight rooms they rented to folks in the huge house her great-grandfather had built. It would mean their income would be cut in half, and they barely made ends meet as it was. Hannah dismissed the thought for now. There was nothing she could do and fussing about it would do her no good.
    Hannah walked into the parlor and found Granny on her knees beside the settee. Panic coursed through her as she raced toward her grandmother.
    “What happened? Are you all right?” She crouched down and peered at Granny’s face. “Did you break anything? How did you fall?”
    “For pity’s sake, child, stop your caterwauling.” Granny flapped her hand in the air as if Hannah were a pesky fly. “I dropped my needle while I was doing some darning. I picked it up but couldn’t quite make it back onto my seat. Now you can help me.”
    Granny wasn’t a small woman, but she was smaller than Hannah. In fact, when she lifted her grandmother up by the armpits, she was shocked to find just how light the older woman had become. It was as if old age was stealing her body inch by inch, turning her into a shell of the robust woman she had been.
    “Have you been eating?”
    “Not as much as I should.” Granny let out a sigh of relief when her behind connected with the settee cushion. “My stomach’s been feeling poorly for a while now. I eat enough to get by and it ain’t like I’m gonna starve to death. We Foleys are bred to survive and built to have babies.” She turned a frown on Hannah. “Speaking of