Homespun Bride (17 page)

“And it's hard for him to resist?” When he didn't answer, she nodded once, as if she understood why without words. “You want him to be stronger than that.”

“Yes. That's right.”

“I've felt that way about a family member.” Her forehead pinched. “My parents. I am sorry for what they did to you. My father was a man who could be very persuasive. What did he say to you?”

“That you wouldn't be happy living a simple life with me.”

“And you believed him?”

Her voice, her face, her eyes vibrated with pain. A pain he felt like a dagger sink into his heart. What else could he do but to tell the truth. “I didn't want to. I wouldn't let myself.”

“You left me because my father threatened to demand payment on your mortgage, didn't he?”

Thad bit his lip. Hadn't the truth hurt her enough?

“You don't have to answer. I know it's true.” She tucked the robe around her more tightly, as if unable to say more. She was hurting, clearly she was hurting.

“It's tough when the people you love aren't the way you want them to be.” The cold scorched his face like fiery ice, and yet it was warmer than the pain that settled in him. He was no longer too numb to feel it. Because of her.

“And so you know, my father was wrong,” she said. “All I wanted then, all I needed then, was you.”

Her words were like coming home. Like Christmas morning and happy new year and every birthday rolled into one. The beautiful world was all around them, so he began to describe it to her. “The mountains, their faces are hidden in the clouds. The sky is a darker shade of white guarding over the white prairie. The snow is quiet today. Nothing sparkling or glistening. Just a still silent white.”

A small smile curved her rosebud lips.

They rode on in silence, gliding over the rise and draw of the rugged plains. They listened to snow whisper and tap, and shared a quiet that felt companionable. Peaceful.

Meant to be.

 

The sleigh was slowing, and before she could ask why, she heard the waterfall. Angel Falls. She loved the cascading music of the charging water. Even before she lost her sight, it was one of her most favorite sounds. Maybe because she'd built so many dreams around it. It was painfully ironic that she had inherited this property from her father, one of the last investments he had acquired before his death.

“That sounded sad.” Thad drew the horse to a stop.

She tilted her head, listening carefully but there was only the snort of the horse, the water falling and the whirl of snow against the dash of the sleigh. “What sounds sad?”

“You. You sighed.”

“Did I?” She wasn't aware of it. Then again, it was hard to feel anything. The tangled ball of emotion had returned and expanded like regret in her soul. “Is the water gray like the clouds? Or green from the mountain snowmelt?”

“Green as moss.”

She closed her eyes, searching for a visual memory of the falls in winter, but the one that came to her was vivid with color and cheerful wildflowers polka-dotting rich green fields.

“The snowfall is as gray as the clouds,” Thad told her. “The snow is white, but it's pure white and gray shadows and a thousand shades between.”

She couldn't see it. She couldn't let herself. She struggled to dim the memory in her mind's eye of rainbows the sun made on crystal blue water. And there, on the rise where the meadow met the hills, she used to envision a log house with wide windows glinting in the sunshine and a porch to sit and watch the falls in the evening's light.

A dream. That's what she remembered, and the loss of it thrummed along the broken strings of her heart. The regret swelling in her soul seemed to block out even those colors and that light.

The wind whirring in her ears stilled, as the horse drew the sleigh to a stop.

Thad leaned closer. “We have a lot of memories here. Remember how we would come here the summer I proposed?”

“I r-remember.” Those memories stuck in her throat like sorrow. “You proposed to me on the rise of land, where we would always picnic.”

“I would come here on my lunch and you would slip away from your mother's garden parties.”

“Yes, I would bring a basket of some of the goodies from the kitchen.”

“Cake and cookies. Lemonade and sandwiches. I don't know why I especially remember the ham sandwiches.”

“Our cook made excellent ham sandwiches.”

Suddenly they were laughing together, and the sorrow and the regret lifted away. “It was enough just to be with you,” she remembered. “To talk and laugh and walk side by side.”

“I remember holding your hand.” He took her hand in his, fitting their fingers together with such deliberate care.

Still a perfect fit. As if they were made to be together. Thank heavens. He kept a tight hold on her hand and did not let go.

“You wouldn't happen to be attending Lanna and Joe's wedding?” he asked.

“Yes, as it's the first big social event of the year. We've been preparing for it since the New Year. All the girls need new dresses and bonnets, gloves and shoes. We've kept Miss Sims's dress shop in profits for the last month.”

“I thought that might be the case. You're probably going with the Worthingtons?”

“Yes, as I have a difficult time driving to town these days on my own.” She liked that he chuckled, just a little, at her joke. “You'll be there?”

“Count on it. You wouldn't mind saving me a spot on your dance card?”

“I would, but Henrietta does not approve of dancing.”

“Then will you save me a minute or two to chat with you?”

“Only a minute. My social card is very full.” She smiled, quipping again. She simply felt so…happy. It was Thad. He made her happy. This—being with him, talking with him and laughing with him—was a perfect moment in time.

“I'd rather have a minute with you,” he said, “than to have a million minutes without you. I saw your face that night at supper when I told your family about Sunny.”

“It was an incredible story.”

“I never forgot your dreams, Noelle. They were mine, too.” His tone dipped and he paused. In that instant of silence, she could not know how his face looked and what emotion lurked there.

She longed to see him. To know all the little things about his dear face that had changed—and those that had stayed the same.

He broke the stillness between them. “I always wanted to hunt down whoever owned this property and buy it for you. Of course, I was a kid back then. I had no notion of how expensive this land really is.”

The wind burned her eyes. Surely it was the wind and not sadness. “I wish I had known that.”

“You wanted to build a life here, too, remember?”

Did she. The colors filled her mind as love for him did her heart. She couldn't take the pain of it. She curled her fingers around the hem of the robe and felt the icy caress of wind against her face. She could never be a rancher's wife now.

The confusion of her emotions ached within her. “That is a lost dream for me, Thad. A child's dream.”

“That's not necessarily so.”

She didn't know how to tell him that he was wrong. The swell of wind and snow moved between them like melody and harmony. How did she speak of the remnants of her hopes and the ashes of her future to the one man who knew the value of what she'd lost? Of what she would never have again?

“Some of my hopes have been lost, sure,” Thad said with an easy note. “But I've gained some along the way, too. I suppose it's like anything else in life. It doesn't work out the way you want, but sometimes in the end you wind up somewhere better than you expected.”

“That sounds awfully optimistic for you.”

His chuckle sounded good-natured. “I admit it. You've changed me.”

“Oh, I don't think—”

He squeezed her hand to interrupt her. “You've given me dreams again and I thank you for it.”

Noelle turned away, letting the concert of snowfall and waterfall fill her senses and create a silence between them. A silence she desperately needed.

“I suppose I'd best turn the horse back. I want to get you home well before suppertime. I don't want to earn Henrietta's wrath. I reckon I'm already walking a fine line as it is.”

She managed a weak smile. “I'll have you know that my aunt holds you personally responsible for Angelina deciding to become a mustang wrangler.”

“I didn't know proper young ladies from fine families were allowed to be wranglers.” He sounded amused.

“They aren't. But when you're sixteen, you have to dream. The world is so full of possibility.”

“It still is.” There was an unmistakable smile in his voice.

The reins hit the dash, the horse carried them forward, and she listened to the song of the sleigh's runners on the snow. The murmur of the waterfall faded to silence behind them. Thad's hand remained tightly on hers. He did not let go.

T
he land office was quiet midweek. Noelle shifted uncomfortably in the hard, ladder-back chair and signed her name on the page where the agent had pointed out for her. The scratch of the pen seemed loud.

There. Done. She handed the ink pen and the legal document to Mr. Dorian on the other side of the desk.

“Are you sure about this, Miss Kramer?”

She hadn't been so certain about anything. This simply felt right. “Yes. You'll contact Mr. McKaslin today?”

“I'll send a message out to him immediately.”

“And you won't let him know this land belongs to me?”

“I'll respect our agreement, Miss Kramer, don't you worry. Your father was a good man. He helped me keep my home when times got tough for me, and I owe him. I'll do my best for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dorian.”

Love was complicated, just as people were. She would never understand why her father had pressured Thad so, but maybe she now knew more about what forgiveness truly was. She knew that her father had done the best he could for reasons he thought were very sound. How could she fault his love and her mother's, when they were lost to her now?

Signing this paperwork to sell her father's land, was something she did with love, too. She was finally understanding what it meant to be only human, frail at best, and like all humans complete with shortcomings. Wasn't her blindness, after all, only a shortcoming? It was not a punishment from God, and not something which had damaged her.

If blindness was her price for surviving the accident that should have killed her, then she was grateful to God for sparing her. She was grateful to Him for bringing Thad back into her life.

She rose to her feet and stood a little straighter. “Mr. Dorian, thank you for your time. You'll be in contact?”

“As soon as I have Thad McKaslin's offer for you.” The chair across the desk scraped, as, presumably, the land agent stood. He took her hand in a gentle, business-like shake. “Would you like me to see you to the door?”

“No, thank you. I counted my steps when I came in.” She withdrew her hand, oriented herself and counted her way to the door. With every step she took, the joy inside her soared a little more, but the sadness did, too, and both together moved through her spirit like melody and harmony.

The moment her shoe touched the slick boardwalk, she took a deep breath of winter air and listened to the chime of ice melting from the rooftops. She tried to imagine Thad's happiness when he received the note from the land office. Finally a good piece of ranch property for sale, he might think, and at the price he could afford. Yes, he would definitely be very happy.

Joy burned within her, balanced by sharpening sorrow. She wanted him to have his dreams and the life he'd always wanted, even though she could not have hers.

“Noelle?” Matilda's gentle alto broke through her thoughts. “We had best start making our way over to the church.”

“Yes. Do you have our gifts?”

“They're in the sleigh. Mama will see to it. She's fetching the girls from school first. Here, take my arm. The boardwalks are so slick with all the snow melting off the roofs.”

Dear Matilda. She had such a good heart. Sweetness ached through her remembering herself as an innocent, starry-eyed girl who believed in a fairy-tale kind of love.

Dainty footsteps came their way. “Noelle? Matilda? Why aren't you at the church?”

She recognized the dressmaker's soft country cadence. “We are on our way. Would you like to walk with us?”

“What a kind invitation.” Miss Cora Sims sounded pleased. “As you know, I'm attending the wedding alone, and I have no one to sit with, as both of my nephews refuse to be anywhere near a wedding. You know how young men can be.”

Matilda's grip tightened again. Noelle could not resist asking, “Is Emmett well?”

“Keeping busy enough with his teaming. Oh, there he is. Emmett, yoo-hoo!”

Matilda's grip turned into a stranglehold and she leaned close to whisper. “Mr. Sims is driving his team and wagon over.”

There was no excitement. No interest. Not a single note of hope. Just a simple, plainspoken statement. That was all. It was as if the air had drained from the wind.

Noelle winced. Matilda, bless her dearly, had taken her poor advice to heart.

There was no time to speak of it, for suddenly there were the muffled plop of horse hooves in the top layers of the melting snow, the jangle of harness and the low-noted groan of a wagon's axle.

“I've been waiting for you, Aunt Cora.” Emmett Sims had a pleasant, quiet voice, and his words held affection for his aunt, not censure.

“I was held up by a last-minute customer. I apologize. Noelle, would you and Matilda like to ride over with me?”

The good Lord had a way of making things right. Noelle did not hesitate, even when Matilda took a step back and started to say, “No thank you—” She spoke right over her cousin. “Yes, Cora, your offer is completely providential. We accept.”

“I'm so glad,” the seamstress said warmly.

It was a mystery how she had managed to stay a spinster all these years. Noelle felt that was something they had in common, and vowed to ask Cora over for tea and get to know her better.

Boots hit the boardwalk nearby—it must be Emmett climbing down from the wagon. “Let me help you ladies up. You first, miss?”

Was that her imagination, or had his voice dipped a notch, as if he were shy or, perhaps, a little taken with Tilly?

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Primly, coolly, Matilda answered.

Noelle imagined the moment when Emmett reached out with his gloved hand—he was a teamster, he was probably wearing leather driving gloves—and the moment when Matilda smiled up at him. Was this the first time he had noticed her? Did he think her pretty? There was a tap of shoes on the wagon boards, and the springs rasped slightly as Matilda settled on the seat.

Before she knew it, Emmett had kindly but capably helped her up onto the narrow seat, and Cora followed. There was a quiet steadiness to the young man. Later, when they were alone, she would ask Matilda what he looked like, what color his eyes and his hair were.

The reins slapped the dash and the horses clattered to a quick start. Noelle held on tight to the edge of the seat and prayed. If Emmett Sims held a secret caring for Tilly, wouldn't that be perfect? She could not have a happy ending, but she wanted one for her cousin. In fact, she was going to do her best to make sure it happened. She would trust the Lord to guide her.

It was a fast ride to the church with the icy winds blowing against her face and tearing her eyes. The watery touch of the sun did nothing to warm her as she accepted Emmett's hand down to the slick pathway that led to the church door. Merry bells pealed in the steeple above, drowning out the everyday sounds of the horse and foot traffic. She stood disorientated until Cora touched her hand, guiding her out of the crush of those hurrying to the church at the last minute.

“Tell me, Noelle, is your cousin sweet on my nephew?”

“Why are you asking?”

“It's simply wishful thinking. I have never seen him take such care with a young lady.” Cora sounded pleased.

Noelle took that as a good sign. Suddenly Matilda was beside her, a little breathless and unusually quiet. She didn't utter a single word, much less make one sound, as Emmett Sims's boots stomped on the wagon steps—presumably to knock off the slush sticking to them—and called out from above. “Good day, ladies. Miss.”

How perfect that they both seemed to be sweet on one another.

Noelle knew he was safely out of sight when Matilda caught her by the hand again and they took careful steps in the slick slush.

“Thad McKaslin is standing in the back of the church,” Matilda whispered the moment they'd inched through the vestibule. “He appears to be intently looking for someone.”

Joy shivered through her spirit, unbidden and powerful. Her heart squeezed with longing and love for him, and she did her best to quiet those feelings, to stow away those emotions. “Perhaps one of his brothers?”

“No, dear cousin, I think he's waiting for
you.
”

The happiness gathering inside her took over with a quiet wonder. She didn't need Matilda to tell her the moment when Thad spotted her in the crowd. Although the organ music and the rumblings of the guests filling the long rows of pews hid the sound of his gait, she could feel him like music in her soul.

“I would like to sit with you,” he said simply, kindly, the friend that he was.

The friend which he had to be. They both knew it. She managed what she hoped would pass for a smile. “You would be most welcome, Thad.”

Where Matilda and Cora had gone off to, Noelle did not know. She only knew Thad's innocent touch as he led her down the aisle and protected her from the crush of the crowd. He stood so close to her, she could smell the soap on his shirt and the winter wind on his coat. Why she could distinguish the quiet, steady draw and exhale of his breathing in the swell of noise in the sanctuary, she could not explain. Her every sense seemed tuned only to him, to this man who meant much more than a friend to her. And always would.

“I saw you arrive in Emmett Sims's wagon.”

What a strange tone in his voice. Noelle took another shuffling step and her hoops bumped against him. “He was taking his aunt to the church and they were kind enough to bring us along.”

“Kind enough? He seemed rather happy to be doing so, if you want my humble opinion. I didn't like it.”

There it was again, that sharp tone that was unlike Thad. Whatever for? Then realization struck her like the bench post against her toe. Thad was jealous? Why? “It's my suspicion that he's sweet on Matilda. Don't tell me that you are—”

“No-oo. No.” Thad's answer came so quick, lightning would be slower. “Oh, your cousin. Sure. They probably went to school together, just like we did.”

Noelle inched along the bench, careful not to step on anyone's shoes. “Did you truly think Mr. Sims would possibly be interested in me?”

“Well, I, uh—” He didn't answer.

What was wrong with him, anyhow? Before she could joke with him a little more, a gloved hand caught her by the wrist.

“Noelle!” Henrietta's voice was full of smiles. “I've been saving a place for you. I did not know Mr. McKaslin would be joining us. Robert, scootch down a bit.”

“We're awful crowded as it is.”

“Scootch!” Henrietta was adamant. “We have plenty of room, Mr. McKaslin. Don't you even dream of going anywhere else. It's a privilege to have you sit with us. Noelle, dear, sit right here.”

Noelle let her overly helpful aunt guide her onto the pew, although she hardly needed the help. She was just too amused to think of an argument. What was the matter with everyone today? First Thad, and now Henrietta. It had to be the wedding. It jumbled sensible people's reasoning abilities. Thad worrying that a younger man would be interested in
her,
a blind woman. And now Henrietta.

She
was thankful she was not so ill-affected. The music changed; the sanctuary's buzzing and whispering and rustling silenced, and she imagined the minister and the groom had taken their places.

The “ahs” that rose told her that the bride must have swept into sight. Lanna must look lovely, she thought, and happy. Noelle laid her hand on Thad's arm and whispered in his ear. “Tell me how beautiful she looks.”

“She can't hold a candle to you.”

With those words, he'd won a little bit more of her heart. Noelle said nothing more. It was wisest not to.

 

“Why is a lovely lady like you sitting alone in the corner?”

Thad and his sense of humor—
he
had been the one to leave her. Noelle drew herself up straighter on the chair, brushed a stray curl out of her eyes and shook her head once, very slowly. She hoped she was giving him her best schoolmarm look. “The man I was with left me here all alone so he could get some punch.”

“His loss is my gain.” The chair creaked softly beside her as he settled into it. “Sorry I took such a long spell. Your uncle caught me in line for punch and started jawing my ear off. Sounds like he's happy with the younger Sims boy.”

“I believe so. And so far, the young man has not made any show of interest in one of my cousins.”

“I bet your aunt is ecstatic that her daughters are safe. I'm toeing a narrow line as it is.” He caught her hand.

The small glass cup was icy against her palm and the sweet scent of lemons and limes tickled her nose. “Can't you tell that she likes you?”

“She has been unusually glad to see me with you. You think she'd be concerned about your reputation.”

“My reputation?”

“Hanging out with a cowboy who doesn't have a wealthy family or social connections.”