Serendipity (11 page)

Mr. Valmer lowered the sled. “Now it will hold us as you teach me.”

Being that close to this huge man? Barely brushing by him in the house set her into a tizzy. Each time he sat beside her at the table, she couldn’t believe the difference between his Viking physique and the age-tempered, smaller stature of the holler’s men.
“The glory of
young men is in their strength: and the beauty of old men is the grey
head.”
Proverbs 20:29 expressed the feeling perfectly. Until she sat alongside Mr. Valmer, Maggie hadn’t known the sheer sense of physical shelter and protection a young man exuded. Would she feel that way toward any other man?

No. No, it was definitely him. The notion of sitting with him on that sled? She shook her head.

“Come,” he rumbled, the word half temptation, half order.

“No.” Dusting the sled with a burlap sack, she avoided looking at him. With every second the sled shrank more. “I’m sure you have the necessary coordination to sled by yourself.”

“You would rob a man the joy of your laughter when he first learned to play thus?”

If she hadn’t been flustered earlier, his attentive gaze set her to stuttering. “I-I-I’ll watch.”

“But if you aren’t with me, how will you teach me? Dragging the tree, you used tricks with the horses. Sledding must have tricks, too. I’d rather learn from example than exasperation.” He tugged the burlap from her and tossed it over a stall gate. “So are we agreed? Riding together is reasonable.”

I agreed to nothing of the kind. How is a woman supposed to deal
with such an imposing man?
Mee-Maw Jehosheba’s sage words flashed through her mind and straight out of her mouth. “Whenever a man calls a situation ‘reasonable,’ any sane woman ought to run screaming into the dark.”

Merriment sparkled in his blue, blue eyes. “You would not want me to call you unreasonable. That was clever, but ‘A witty saying proves nothing.’ ”

“Voltaire.” Maggie blinked at him. He’d quoted Voltaire. Daddy would be so pleased.
But Daddy wouldn’t get asked to share a sled
with Mr. Valmer.
“Mee-Maw Jehosheba’s wisdom is what I cited. Mee-Maw Jehosheba lived to be ninety-one, and I’d take her advice over Voltaire’s.”

Mr. Valmer pretended to look serious, but the corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I can’t say if she was wiser. Her advice is more current . . . But just slightly.”

“By a whole century.” Maggie couldn’t quite contain her smile. Mr. Valmer’s humor was disarming. She’d almost think him wise – except for the fact that he still believed she should sled with him.

He hunkered down and tilted his head. “I don’t see more than the runners – is there no way to steer?”

“Daddy said leaning together was more fun, and if it didn’t work, falling and laughing was part of sledding. According to him, it was cheating to use a fancy sled. It robbed us of the thrill when we made a perfect run.”

Mr. Valmer nodded thoughtfully. “Your father sounds like a wise man.”

“He was. Mama and I adored him.”
Would you become the kind
of husband that Daddy was to Mama?
She closed her eyes against such useless thinking. “Shall I take you to the incline I first learned on?”

Rising, he looked down at her. Stared at her, actually.
His lips
are right at the level of my forehead. What would it be like if he brushed
them across . . .
Heat filled her face.

“Your blush gives you away. Likely, it is no more than a bump in the road. Take me to the last place you went sledding.”

“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Please don’t ask what I
do
want.

Adjusting the collar of her coat, he said, “I won’t get hurt; I have seen pictures. The person in front is smaller. Thus will you teach me.”

How could such a simple gesture feel so intimate? Warm, callused hands brushed against her neck as Mr. Valmer pulled up the collar and straightened it. “I won’t let you chill.” He rumbled the words in a soft, deep voice that made her want to sit on the sled with him. Right now.

“We’ll need rope.”

“I’ll keep hold of you.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
“It’s easier to hang a rope down the hill. After the ride, you tie the sled to it, use the rope so you don’t slip on the ice when you climb back up, and then draw up the sled.”

“Brilliant! Let us go.”

Winsome memories threaded through her mind as they made their way to the top of a sloping road. Mr. Valmer positioned the sled perpendicular to the drop and held her hand as she sat down. Immediately memories dimmed and doubts abounded. Days ago, bracing her hand as they looked at cameos, he’d made her tingle. When he climbed onto the sled, it felt as if a gentle bear enveloped her. His arms wrapped snugly and his entire bulk overshadowed her. Maggie couldn’t decide whether to hop up and run or to lean back into his engulfing warmth.

What have I gotten myself into? He made it sound so simple!

“See what being reasonable gets you?” Delight resonated in his voice. “Before we go, show me how much to lean to steer this.”

Move? Surrounded by him? Heaving with all her might, she almost tipped them over. Todd’s firmly planted feet prevented disaster.

“Whoa!” He straightened the sled. Leaning close, his breaths washing over her cheek, he chided, “You thought my strength would work against you. Never. Now we will work together, ja? To have fun?”

“Agreed,” she rasped. Just then the cold, crisp air carried the sound of a fiddle.

He plunked one leg up onto the sled. “Now, so, with my other leg, if I push backward . . . and I use the opposite arm thus, we face downhill.” Several folks had their own special little twist on how to get going on a sled, but Mr. Valmer’s technique would leave every last one of them gaping. “So what song is – ”

Gravity and the slick ice took over – but his right foot still wasn’t up. “Whoa! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!” His boisterous laughter echoed around them. Trying to get his right foot up, he swung too hard and made the whole sled veer. Maggie accommodated for it, making them zigzag. She leaned forward to grab the hem of his pants, and he leaned forward, too, practically mashing her. “Ho! Ho!” he belted out, sending her into breathless laughter. Mr. Valmer kept hold and straightened them up together, but he pulled too far.

Maggie let out a shriek as he tumbled off the back of the sled . . . and took her along. They logrolled in the shallow snow and ice, none of it providing decent padding. When the dizzying rotation stopped, Maggie realized Mr. Valmer hadn’t let go of her. Somewhere in the tumult, he’d gotten her turned around and curled one arm around her waist, the other about her shoulders to cup her head against his chest. His protective-instinct reflexes shielded her as they kept skidding, and he’d made sure he was downhill so he took the brunt of the impact.

Ice tinkled and rained down from the barren shrub branches. Maggie lay there for a moment, cold and stunned. She could hear his heart thundering – or was it hers? “Mr. Valmer? Are you hurt?”

“Nein. How are you?” Concern etched his features and roughened his voice as he stroked her cheek with his gloved hand.

She pulled away from his gentle touch. Tiny shards of ice continued to shower around them. She cocked a brow. “See what being reasonable got me?”
Cuddled up with a warm, caring man. I should
have followed my instincts and run.
Pressing her hands on his chest, she pushed away and huffed. “ ‘Rose That the Wind Blew Down.’ ”

“It was not the wind. It was my doing. I – ”

“The jig the fiddler played. It’s called ‘Rose That the Wind Blew Down.’ My uncles delight in teasing me and are likely fighting about which tune to use. I don’t mind it, but when we get home, I’ll make a big to-do.” While speaking, Maggie fought to get her skirts all back down and in order.

Thankfully, Mr. Valmer turned his head to the side to allow her privacy. Even so, the rustle of cotton and the heavier flop of flannel petticoats would let him know just what a sight she’d become.

“Music is particularly important to mountain people. Someone from the Arkansas 3rd fiddled a square dance as they marched into battle at Antietam. The Flinn twins declare it kept them alive because they were so proud, they had to go shake that man’s hand.” Skirts in order, she let out a sound of relief. “There.”

“You aren’t hurt?” She assured him with a shake of her head, and a blinding smile lit his face. “So will you sled again with me?”

I wanted to escape this, but now I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“I’m too selfish to let you have all the fun.”

The next run showed very little improvement, but Maggie didn’t care. Neither did Mr. Valmer. He kept hold of her hand afterward. “So what was that song?”

“ ‘Maggie Lauder.’ ”

His lips twitched. “Louder?”

“Goodness, no. As much as you’ve set me to laughing, no one would urge more noise from me.
Lauder
is an old Irish word for strong.”

“They’ve used your given name and your family name. Is there a song for your middle name?”

“I don’t believe so. ‘Maggie’s Apron’ gets played when the men are hungry and want me in the kitchen!”

Sweeping his arm about her waist, Mr. Valmer assisted her uphill. “Let’s hurry and have several more rides before we hear that one.” His arm about her felt warm. Strong.

Looking down at her, he gruffly ordered, “Your arm – twine it about my middle. Given the icy ground we climb, it is rea – prudent.” When she complied, he gave her a tiny squeeze of approval.

Prudent and practical never felt like this.

“Third time’s the charm.” His lips barely grazed her temple, and Todd set them in motion before he caved in to the temptation to kiss her.
A perfect run. This third run will be perfect, and then I
will propose.

Wind blew past them as they gained speed. His eyes burned and cheeks stung from the cold, but holding Miss Rose – that warmed him clear down to his toes. Detecting the slightest lean on her part, he’d tilt his shoulders, then immediately straighten out when she did. When the sled finally scraped along the ice at the bottom of the hill, he let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Ahh. To do it right brings great satisfaction!” He stripped off his gloves, rose, and helped her to her feet.

She grabbed his arm. “Let’s go for another run!”

Before he’d lose the opportunity, Todd went down on one knee. “Miss Rose, I’d gladly go on another run. But first, you have the ability to make this the proudest day of my life. Will you marry me?”

Eyes and mouth wide open, she stared at him.

“I owe you complete honesty, Miss Rose. My farm in Texas is only two years old, and so much work remains to be done. But the land is rich. I’ve prayed long and hard for a wife, so though I readily confess I need someone to care for my mother, it is not only because of her that I now propose.”

“I . . . see.” The words came out faintly. A somber expression replaced her usual free-and-breezy smile. Fiddled music swept over them on the chilly wind. “ ‘Magpie’s Nest,’ ” she identified.

She’s stalling.
With her hand held firmly in his, she couldn’t run away.

“Paw-Paw’s favorite.” Love saturated her voice. Sudden panic transformed her features. “I can’t leave my family! No!”

Staying awake most of the night, he’d anticipated Miss Rose’s objections and developed several points to convince her. “Leaving your uncles will cause homesickness. But the love between you will not end just because you leave. Letters and visits will keep ties strong.”

“That’s not enough. My love for them runs too deep. I can’t – ”

“You can’t believe your uncles want you to sacrifice having a husband and sweet little babies to love. You are the last generation from Carver’s Holler. Passing on your people’s tales and lore is the ultimate way of showing your respect. You’ll tell your father’s stories. Uncle Bo will visit and teach our sons to whittle. Our children will learn the songs from today.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You barely know me. I know even less about you.”

“In the early morning hours and late at night, I’ve seen your constancy and kindness. The men speak to me of your virtues and talents.”

She cleared her throat. “They’re biased.”

“The truth stands, nonetheless. You work hard. And with a willing heart. It makes for a happy home. You respect your elders.

Finer food I’ve never eaten. Most important: you hold your faith most dear.”

“So I’d be an acceptable helpmeet.”

“Far beyond acceptable! My future sons and daughters could have no better mother.” There. They’d agreed, and he’d paid her the ultimate compliment. Todd rose and sought a kiss.

Reclaiming her hand, Miss Rose compressed her lips. Clearly she didn’t agree. Hugging herself, she whispered, “Have you prayed about this?”

“For years. And also specifically about us since I met you. To marry is the right thing.”

Her lashes dropped, hiding her expressive eyes from him. “How can it be right? It’ll start with a lie if you vow to love me.”

“Oh, Miss Margaret.” He dared to use her given name as he slid his hands across her shoulders, turned them to cup her neck, and used his thumbs to lift her face to his. “There are many things to say here. Some very frank. You must excuse me, for there is no other way to speak.”