Homespun Bride (16 page)

They toddled together the short distance to the pond's edge. The surface was rippled and uneven. He took the first step and braced himself to help her onto the slick surface. “Easy now.”

“Oh, I'm out of practice.” Her right blade slid forward, and she wobbled as if losing her sense of balance.

He caught her by the elbows and muscled her around. Her gloved hands fisted in the fabric of his coat as he steadied her. “Are you okay?”

“It's going to take me a moment to get used to this.” Her hold on him was a trusting one. “Which way am I facing? So I can get a sense of direction.”

“The house is in a straight line behind you. The orchard is to the left.”

“That means we have the whole length of the pond ahead of us.”

“Yes. Are you ready to take a spin?”

“More ready than you know.” She moved to the inside, so she wouldn't catch her blade on any stray branch or stem. She looked fearless.

She was amazing. Thad couldn't take his gaze from her as they took that first sweeping step. She was his perfection. She pushed off into the unknown as if she were not afraid of falling.

“Look! Thad, I'm skating.”

“Isn't that stating the obvious?” Her happiness was catching and he wouldn't stop the joy dawning within him even if he wanted to.

She laughed, coming to a shaky stop. “Yes, but I can't believe it. It's just like I remembered it.”

“How's that?”

“That it must be close to what a sparrow feels flying across the frozen ground.” Her touch on his arm was light. “How long do I have before I run out of pond?”

“Don't worry, I'll turn you before you hit land. Ready?”

“Ready.”

They pushed off together, and he was drawn by her—by everything about her. Tiny silken wisps of hair had escaped her braid and curled around her face. Joy shone from her like light from a midnight star, and he felt touched by it. Joy shone into him and there was no stopping the power of it or the truth. They glided together in short sharp bursts, and he nudged her into a curving arc that had them circling to the far side of the pond.

“We're heading back toward the house,” he told her, so she could keep her sense of direction.

“I can feel that.” She lifted her face into the air. “The wind is coming from the north. It's starting to snow.”

“Is it?” He hadn't noticed. He could only see her. But now that she'd pointed it out to him, sure enough, there were the tiniest flakes glinting as they fell. They began to cling to her chestnut hair and the wool of her coat like tiny chips of diamonds.

Maybe it was the love he felt for her seemingly turning the snow to jewels, the ordinary into the rare, but being with her again like this, at her side, taking care of her,
did
feel extraordinary.

“I want to twirl.” She shakily nosed her blades into the ice, fighting to keep her balance.

He braced his legs, tensed the muscles in his arms and made sure she stayed upright. “Twirl? I don't see why you can't.”

“Me, either.” She flung her braid over her shoulder and inched away from him. “I don't want to accidentally smack you in the jaw.”

“Don't worry. I know how to duck.”

“You have good reflexes, too, so I don't know why I'm worrying.” She couldn't help laughing, she felt so happy. Bliss bubbled out of her. “I should be able to spin and not fall down. That's my theory.”

“It's worth testing out. I'll watch over you.”

“I know.” She held out her arms and glided in a small loop. Hoping she wasn't heading straight into trouble, she hurled herself into the dark and let the skates slice a perfect circle.

She knew when she hit the track of her first revolution that she'd done it, just as she could feel the air crisping against her face and whispering through her hair. Their movements on the ice were like music; the melody of her quick, light blades and, in counterpoint, the heavier and deeper gait as Thad kept up with her.

She kicked off and for one perfect moment, she was free, gliding into the unknown. She soared over ruts in the ice with the cold wind and tiny snowflakes stinging her face. Never had she thought she would be able to do this again. Joy lifted her up until she wasn't certain if her skates even touched the ice. It felt as if she were gliding on clouds.

“Turn!” Thad called out, and she drew up short.

Putting her arms over her head, she gave a little kick with her toe and twirled. Around and around she went, spinning faster and faster. What fun! The sound whirred in her ears and uplifted her heart.

When she stumbled, Thad was there, catching her like her own personal guardian, holding her in his strong arms.

Safe, just as he'd promised.

The world tilted sideways, and she clutched his shoulders, but it wasn't because she'd lost her sense of balance.

No, she was losing her heart.

 

“You're glowing,” Thad said as they left the pond behind, the skates clinking together with his every step.

Noelle practically floated up the path. She was so happy, she had to be doing more than glowing; she felt as though she was radiating joy the way the stars did light. “I haven't had so much fun since—” Her heart gave a squeeze. “Since the last time I was out with you.”

“Me, either. And to think I only fell the once.”

“You made a loud crash, too.” She couldn't help teasing him, just a little.

“I landed so hard on my backside that I'm surprised I didn't crack the ice.”

Laughter hadn't come this easily in a long time. She heard the same lightness in Thad's voice and felt it in his touch as he guided her back to the house. “It's been such a perfect afternoon, that there's only one thing wrong with it.”

“What's that?”

“It's coming to an end.” She sighed, feeling the pathway level out. She knew without needing to ask that the front porch steps weren't far away. “I—I just really liked skating.”

“I know just how you feel.”

Did he feel this, too? Her knees turned to butter and she was thankful for his strong arm that guided her safely onto the boardwalk. Snow crunched beneath their shoes. Fragile snowflakes brushed against her face and caught in her lashes. She rubbed at them with her free hand, and her eyes burned.

This was not fair. Being with Thad made her feel whole—and not damaged—again. For a length of time out on that ice, she'd felt normal. Unfettered. Free. She knew that when Thad withdrew his arm from her hand and left her, she would be in darkness again.

No, this was not fair, she thought, but it was the way God meant her life to be. As she caught the edge of the rail, she prepared for the icy steps, pulling a little away from Thad, so as to brace herself for the inevitable.

He turned to her outside the front door, his boots shuffling a bit on the pieces of ice and snow. “I won't be around much after tomorrow. Finn's getting out. I've already spoken to Robert about it.”

Oh. The air whooshed out of her lungs. She felt deflated. Her heart squeezed. “A-are you leaving us for good, then?”

“You knew I couldn't stay.”

She knew. Sadness ribboned through her spirit, taking the joy from the afternoon with it. She straightened her spine and set her chin. Of course, she had to be practical. Thad had a whole life to live and dreams to find.

She counted her steps from the rail to the doorknob and when she reached out, her hand found the china knob perfectly. “I guess this is really goodbye.”

“Not a chance, pretty lady. I'll be by when Robert is up for a few lessons on handling horses. And I'll be by to see you, if that's all right?”

To see her? As a friend, she wondered, or as more? She turned the knob and forced her feet to carry her across the threshold and she counted her steps before she turned to face Thad. She lifted the guards around her heart firmly into place. Hurting, yes she was hurting, but she forced a smile onto her face. “I'd like to see you again, Thad. You'll al-always be a friend.”

Utter silence. He didn't speak. He didn't move. Not a shuffle or a rasp or an exhale.

“Noelle” came Robert's voice from his chair at the far end of the parlor. “Invite Thad in for a chat, won't you?”

“No,” Thad answered smoothly, quietly, before she could agree. “I've got to get home. Work to do.”

“Work?”

“Aiden's land. We're about done building another barn. Next there's the fences to mend, harnesses to repair, and as soon as the snow melts, we'll be turning sod.”

“What about your plans for your own ranch?”

“It doesn't change my obligations to my brothers. Don't look troubled. I don't mind hard work. I figure the Lord set a good example. He worked six days out of seven.”

“I thought you were no longer a praying kind of man.”

“I guess I'm more of one than I thought.”

He took a step back, hating that the time had come to leave. The thud that seemed to rattle his chest was his heart falling even more in love with her.

Friends, she'd said. And that she'd like to see him again. Friends was far more than he'd expected. How about that.

He hesitated on the top step. “I'll be coming back around to see you.”

“All right. I won't even pretend not to be home when you do.”

She smiled and it was a sight that chased the chill from the air and the snow from the sky.

As he tucked down the brim of his hat and headed out into the increasing snowfall, it seemed as if he walked in sunshine.

N
oelle hadn't realized how much she'd been listening for any sign of Thad until he was gone. Oh, he'd found someone to replace him—although no word of it had been mentioned. A worker had shown up to carry in the morning's wood and tend to the stable work.

After the girls had left for school, Matilda had come in to quietly mention that Thad had sent the youngest brother of the Sims family. But there was no mention of the older boy—Emmett Sims—as Matilda poured a second cup of tea and carried it away to the library with a slight clatter. The mention of the Sims family had upset her.

That's all my fault. Sadness eked into her, dimming the warm touch of the morning's sun through the dining room window. Her well-meaning words in town before Robert's accident haunted her now. She'd meant to protect innocent Matilda, that was all. But as she was listening to the crackle of the fire echoing in the empty room around her, she remembered how it had felt to twirl on the ice and know that Thad was at her side. It had been pure joy.

What had happened to her? On the ice she'd caught a glimpse of the real Noelle—the one who'd once known how to live and love. The one who used her heart, her whole heart.

Noelle reached for the teapot with trembling fingers and found the crest of lid and round of the handle.
You might think that breaking my promise to you that night came pretty easy,
Thad had said.
I can honestly say it was the hardest decision I ever made.
His words troubled her like little teeth taking a bite of her soul.

She'd blamed him, judged him and—for a time—despised him. She'd let those things into her heart, into her soul, and although she'd told herself she'd found forgiveness and had handed her pain up to God, it was not the whole truth. The stain of it, like tarnish on silver, remained, and shame filled her.

She slipped her forefinger against the rim of her teacup and poured with her other hand until she felt the lap of the beverage against the tip of her finger. She set down the pot with care. She'd held all that pain in her heart—without meaning to and in spite of her best intentions—and for what? Thad had done what he'd thought best in leaving her. She knew her parents well enough to see clearly what they had done. Her father, bless his soul, would have used any means to protect her, for that's how he would have viewed it.

She'd been the one to change her heart and her life. She'd been the one to stop believing. To stop living. To stop dreaming. Long before the accident took her sight. She'd decided life and love were about sensible decisions and emotions—nothing else.

She scooped a lump of sugar from the bowl and slipped it into her cup with a plop. The house seemed silent around her. It was best to be steeled to the truth in life. It was best to be practical. She almost said so to Matilda but held back the words.

Once, like her cousin, she'd been young and filling her hope chest with embroidered pillow slips and a girl's dreams. Maybe that was a part of the way life went. Maybe she would be a different woman if she'd been able to hold on to some of those dreams, or at least the belief in them.

But she was a woman without dreams.

She took a sip of tea and turned her mind to her music lessons for the rest of the morning. While there was no sound of Thad—no lazy snap of a training whip, no rhythmic trot of a horse he was working, and no familiar gait in the yard outside—her mind turned to him. Always to him.

If her heart squeezed with caring, then it was an emotion she could not afford to acknowledge. Wherever he was this morning, she hoped the Lord would bless him and hold him safe.

 

After attending Sunday service, Noelle felt more at peace. Of course, the delicious roasted goose and trimmings for Sunday dinner might have helped, too. Full and content, she sipped at her piping hot cup of tea while Sadie padded around the table, clearing away the dessert plates. She might not have seen Thad for the better part of a week, but he was never far from her thoughts.

The family's cheerful din rose up around her. There was some discussion as to the extent of Angelina's bad behavior earlier in Sunday school. Voices rose and fell in discussion, and Noelle had to wonder. If her parents had not intervened, she would be married to Thad. Would she have children? Would she and Thad have been happy? Would she still have her sight and her parents? Would she still be the full-hearted girl she'd once been?

“Noelle, are you feeling well, dear?” Henrietta's concern broke into her thoughts. “You look troubled.”

Troubled? How could she begin to explain? “I'm fine, truly.”

“You were overheated at the dress shop yesterday. It's a wonder you haven't caught your death. A heater in every room is lunacy. What are people thinking nowadays? You ought to lie down for a bit.”

“Goodness, no.” She couldn't resist teasing her aunt just a little. “I actually feel quite healthy. Perhaps that is due to that overly warm dress shop.”

Angelina burst out laughing. “Yes, Mama. We must get a heater in every room. Maybe even a furnace.”

“It would be very practical,” Minnie chimed in. “We wouldn't have to wear our woolen underwear all the time. It's scratchy.”

“Girls.” Henrietta did her best to sound shocked at the mention of undergarments, but there was the warmth of amusement in her voice. “Settle down and stop this teasing. We're at the table.”

“Where we could use a heater,” Minnie pointed out. “I'm always stuck in the drafty corner.”

The maid padded from the direction of the kitchen. “Looks as if we have company on the way.”

“Company? On Sunday afternoon?” Henrietta's chair scraped against the floor, as if she were standing up to take a peek out the window. “Goodness, it's a horse and sleigh. I don't know that horse. Whoever could it be?”

There were rustles of movement as if everyone were taking a look. Robert's low chuckle was sheer amusement. “It looks like a caller coming for one of the girls.”

“A suitor!” Angelina sounded intrigued. “But Mama won't let us have a beau until we're eighteen.”

“Perhaps it's for Matilda,” Minnie offered.

“Oh, there would be no one coming for me.” Matilda's tone was light.

Noelle wasn't fooled. She didn't know if she was the only one who could hear the quiet despair—or, maybe it was just empathy. Matilda might be without prospects, but she wasn't the only one. She regretted her words to Tilly.

Dear, Lord,
she prayed with all her heart.
Please let it be someone for Matilda.

“I know who that is!” Minnie's voice hit a few high notes of delight. “It's Mr. McKaslin.”

Thad? Her teacup hit its saucer with a clatter.

All around her chairs were scraping back, shoes beat away from the table, and Robert chuckled warmly. “I wondered how long it would take that fellow to get up his gumption.”

“The gumption for what?” Noelle asked him.

“You'd best get your coat. Looks like he's coming up to the door.”

Sure enough, the door was rasping open and Henrietta's voice rose above Angelina's and Minnie's footsteps. “Mr. McKaslin! What a pleasure to see you on this fine afternoon. What can I do for you?”

“Is Noelle at home?”

So he'd come for her, just as he'd promised. Noelle tried to ignore the buzzing expectation in the air and everyone's advice. From Matilda's quietly spoken, “Oh, just what I'd been praying for!” to Robert's advice, “Go on, now, go have a nice time,” to Angelina's shocking comment, “I'm predicting a May wedding. June at the latest.”

She truly hoped Thad had not heard
that.
She was on her feet without realizing it. Matilda had her elbow and guided her to the front door. Henrietta thrust the coat into her hands. And Thad was there, his unmistakable presence had her turning toward him, and she felt his smile with all of her heart.

He thought this was funny, did he? She stepped through the open doorway and let him help her into her coat, aware of her family members' careful and excited scrutiny.

“Goodbye, now!” Henrietta practically sang. “You be back in a couple of hours, Mr. McKaslin.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Thad sounded as if he were smothering laughter, and the moment her coat was fastened and he took her hand in his, she could feel the connection between her heart and his. That rare, emotional bond they'd always had was here again, anew, and she felt the strong bright happiness that matched her own.

He'd come for her as a friend, just as he'd said. She let him guide her down the steps and along the path.

She was going to enjoy these moments she had with him because she had learned the hard way in life that nothing lasted. Everything changed. Before she knew it, Thad would be busy with his ranch and his dreams, and she would never see him again.

She waited until the door shut firmly behind them before she apologized. “I don't know what has overcome my aunt, but she has jumped to conclusions.”

“So I heard. Everything.”

“Angelina's comment, too?”

“Yep.”

He was probably not put into a panic at the mention of a wedding—in the way of men in general—probably because it was a bold impossibility. As surely as the ground was at her feet, there was no way Thad was harboring any wedding thoughts for her.

She knew better than to think it. When he let go of her hand, she stood in darkness, listening hard to hear what he was doing. There was the softest rustling sound—of a lap blanket, perhaps?—and then the prettiest jingle of bells sang out in a short burst. The horse must have shaken his head with impatience.

“Whoa there, boy. Stand still for the pretty lady.” Thad's patient voice must have reassured the horse for there was no more shaking of the bells.

Just the ring of appreciation in her heart. “You're taking me for a sleigh ride?”

“Yep, and I'm grateful you've agreed to come along with me. I need the help.” His hand found hers again.

“Help? What do you mean?”

“I bought this saddle horse for Finn, and I want to break him to the harness. So I need to take him out for a drive, and I was afraid I'd get lost.”

“You need me to help you find your way around the countryside?”

“Don't think I could do it without you.”

“Then it's good you came by, although the reason for asking me is going to disappoint Henrietta terribly.”

“Funny. I didn't think she liked me much.” He took her by the elbow, helping her, always helping her. Tenderness filled him right up. “I've got the riding blankets out of the way, so go ahead and climb on in.”

“Do you know what my aunt values in a man more than affluence and social position?”

“Ah, I've got the good sense not to buy a horse that will kick me.”

“No.” She chuckled; she couldn't hold it back as she settled onto the cushioned seat. “Character.”

“Character, huh?” He leaned to tuck the soft fur robes around her. “Then I'm all out of luck.”

Oh, she loved his humility. She loved how caring he was with her, and how his sense of humor could make a cold February afternoon seem like a treat. When he had settled in next to her beneath the warm robes and had gathered the reins, she decided not to tell him that ever since her accident she didn't like driving fast.

She took a deep breath and let the icy air tingle in her lungs. The tingling seemed to drive out the last of her uncertainty. She would not allow herself to be anxious, not with Thad driving. He could handle any horse and any situation. She trusted him.

“Why isn't Finn training his own horse?” she asked, because she was curious. “Does that mean that he's not doing well?”

“Oh, he's doing just fine. Finn doesn't have the patience for serious horse work. He's better at other things. We have him putting on the sides of the new barn Aiden and I put up before the last set of storms came in.”

“In this weather?”

“We figure it's penance for all that he's putting us through. Work him hard, and maybe he'll get on the straight and narrow.”

“What was he in prison for?”

“Stealing a horse. He was lucky he wasn't hung. There's still a lot of vigilante justice in these parts.” Thad's chest closed up. It was hard to talk about, especially to her. The differences between them suddenly felt as wide as the sky and about as impossible to fly across.

“You hurt for him.”

Her sympathy touched him. It did more than that, her sweet face was marked with understanding, and it reassured him. “There's no way to measure how hard we all took this. He's smart and talented and he has a good heart.”

“Sort of like his older brother?”

Now, that was just what he needed to hear. Snow brushed his cheek like grace, changing his heart, changing his life. Thad took a shaky breath. “Finn's got our pa's weakness for liquor.”