Carol Ritten Smith

by Stubborn Hearts

  • • •

  Across the night sky, ice crystals dispersed the light of the roaring bonfire, forming a glowing canopy over those skating on Whistle Pond. Noisy children darted across the ice in wild abandonment, their squeals and laughter carrying clear and crisp upon the night air, their skates chattering loudly across the rough ice surface. Amid the maze of children, adults, some paired arm and arm, skated around the perimeter in unhurried fashion as if they had the entire ice to themselves. Others preferred to watch from the sidelines, enjoying the fire’s warmth.

  Tom sat on a makeshift bench by the fire and tightened the laces of his skates, all the while keeping his eye on Beth inching her way around the outside of the cleared ice. She was bent forward at the waist and Tom chuckled to himself, thinking she looked as if she were wearing a warped corset. Anticipating a little sporting fun, he quickly finished lacing up, and skated over to her.

  She took no notice of him, seemingly intent on staring at the ice directly in front of her, so Tom stooped over too, imitating her posture. “Hi,” he said, pretending to scan the ice. “Did you find it yet?”

  Beth eyed him peripherally, as if turning her head even the slightest might put her off balance. “Find what?”

  “That soft piece of ice you’re looking to fall on.”

  “Believe me, I haven’t found any soft ice yet.”

  “Want some company?”

  “If you like.”

  They skated at a snail’s pace, Beth’s pace. Tom gently advised, “You’d do a lot better if you tried straightening up a little.”

  “I’ve already tried that. It didn’t work.” She absentmindedly rubbed her backside.

  “In that case,” Tom said, bowing gallantly and presenting his gloved hand, “please allow me.” He never once believed she’d accept his offer, thinking her far too independent, so when she placed her mittened hand in his, Tom lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Miss Patterson,” he said with feigned formality, “does this mean you’re starting to like me?”

  Beth smiled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Carver. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not much of a skater. I am merely accepting your assistance because it’s more desirable than falling, which I’m sure to do before I get back to the fire.”

  He gently folded her arm securely through his and they slowly skated their way around the frozen pond. “Funny, I never thought I’d hear you admit to such a thing.”

  “What? That I don’t skate well?”

  “No.” He grinned his most lecherous grin and wiggled an eyebrow at her. “You said I was desirable.”

  Beth yanked her arm free and surely it was only pure stubbornness keeping her from going right over backwards. “I most certainly did not say that! You twisted my words again!”

  Tom tilted his head back and laughed aloud, his guffaws forming puffy vapor clouds against the black pin-dotted sky. “Girl, I have never seen anyone as quick to temper as you. You’re always in a huff over something. Can’t you take a joke?”

  “Of course I can,” she snapped, “but why must I be the brunt of all your jokes?”

  “Trust me, you’re not.” he replied. “Except for whenever you’re handy.”

  “Well, then perhaps it would be better if I made myself less handy.” She pushed off, preparing to return to the fire by cutting across the ice, but before she’d managed even one stiff-legged step, a youngster came out from the shadows and ran smack into her, knocking her off balance. She tipped sideways, righted herself, overbalanced and then her feet went out from under her. If it hadn’t been for Tom cushioning her fall, she’d have landed flat out. Instead, they both landed hard on the ice with Beth in Tom’s lap.

  “Sorry!” yelled the boy, skating into the darkness.

  “He may be sorry,” Tom said, “but I’m sure not. Fancy that. First the schoolteacher tells me I’m desirable and now she’s sitting in my lap. Just say the word and we’ll find somewhere private to go.”

  Immediately, Tom cringed, hardly believing he’d said that. He figured there had to be something in the night air, because he would never have suggested anything so provocative to her during the light of day. He fully expected to get a good dressing-down for his indelicate remark.

  Once again, she surprised him. She looked angry enough to spit nails, but she gave no reply. Instead, she scrambled to her feet, apparently forgetting completely she was wearing skates. She fell again.

  Oh, but this time Tom was the sorry one! The most vulnerable part of his anatomy was flattened beneath her palm like a plum beneath a wagon wheel. Tears formed in his eyes. He wanted to swear, certain it would help ease the pain, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a sickly groan. Finally, he managed through his tight lips, “Sweet mercy, Beth. Move your hand.”

  Beth saw her hand pressed against Tom’s crotch and she drew it back as if she’d touched a red-hot coal. She covered her cheeks in horror. “Oh Tom, I’m so sorry.”

  Tom fought the urge to cup his injured member with his hands. When Beth tried to stand again, he grabbed her waist, holding her still. “Please … wait!” and as if it pained him to raise his voice, he whispered the rest, “Give me a minute and then I’ll help you up and take you back to the bonfire.”

  Gradually he eased his leg out from under Beth and crawled onto all fours before slowly standing, apparently still in great discomfort. He turned to help Beth to her feet just as Davy came skating up, landing unceremoniously in a heap at their feet.

  “You gonna skate with me now, Tom?” he asked as he got back up and scraped the snow off his knees.

  “Not right now, Davy. Maybe in a bit.” Tom formed his grimace into a smile.

  “But — ”

  “Davy,” Beth stated firmly, “Tom told you later. Now you leave him be. He’s hurt.”

  “Oh, sorry. You hurt your leg or something?”

  Beth’s eyes met Tom’s, and her cheeks burned. He stared intently at her when he answered, “Yeah, Bud. You could say that.” He turned his attention to Davy. “But I’ll be skating circles around you in a few minutes.” With a crooked grin, he tugged on the ragged pompon on Davy’s hat. “You go skate some more. You need the practice. I’m gonna have some cocoa with your sister,” — he looked at Beth and she nodded — “and then I’ll come for you.”

  Tom reached across and took Beth’s hand in his and with his free arm supporting the small of her back, they slowly skated without further mishap to the banked edge. They hiked across the granular snow to the fire, filled two mugs with steaming cocoa from the large cast iron pot, and sat on the bench by the fire. The heat on their faces felt good, the cocoa in their stomachs, better. Tom pulled off his gloves so he could warm his palms with the hot mug and the backs of his hands with the fire.

  “Do you have the time?” Beth asked.

  He thought about asking time for what, but decided not to aggravate her further. Look what it cost him last time he made some smart aleck remark. Tom leaned back and pulled a watch from his pocket, glanced at it and then stuffed it back. “Ten fifteen.”

  “Good, less than two hours to go.”

  He noticed her pull her coat tight and hunch her shoulders up. “You cold?” he asked.

  “A little. My back.”

  “Let’s turn around then and warm the other side.” They did, and the fire’s heat penetrated their coats as they watched the skaters gliding by. Several smiled. Tom knew that he, the supposedly heartbroken blacksmith, and she, the prim schoolteacher were the topic of many wagging tongues. He also knew he really didn’t care.

  Every few minutes Davy would pass, invariably falling in front of them as he tried to show off. Tom chuckled. “He’s going to start the year out as a sorry lot of bruises.”

  Beth smiled. “He’s never been allowed to bring in the New Year before. He could barely sit still for supper, he was so excited. He thinks at the stroke of midnight something will happen, something magical. I tried to explain to him it’s no different than when one mi
nute changes to another, but he won’t believe me.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s going to be a disappointed little boy because he expects to feel different, like the world changes or something.”

  Tom looked at her. “I don’t know. In a way, I think he’s right. Things will be different. When the church bell rings in the New Year, I get this wonderful sense of excitement, you know? I’ve got an entire year ahead of me … perfect, no mistakes, no regrets. Sort of like when you’ve got a fresh white sheet of paper in front of you and you get to decide what to draw or write on it. It’s exciting.”

  “It’s intimidating,” Beth countered quietly. She stared thoughtfully at the steam rising from her mug. “I’ll be glad when this year is over. It hasn’t been easy. I just hope next year is better.”

  There was a pensive look in her face and Tom quietly reached across and squeezed her wrist. “Hey, you’ll be just fine. If there’s one thing I know about you, Beth, it’s you’ve got spunk.” He released her wrist, stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his skates, and finished his cocoa. While Beth watched the skaters, Tom allowed his mind to drift to Abigail, wondering what she was doing tonight, if she was alone or out with a friend. There was no despondency when he thought of her now. He’d accepted she was gone and that was that. He harbored no bitterness, no sadness. Nothing. Perhaps it was this emotionless state that told him that Abigail had made the right decision. He hoped she would find happiness. She deserved that and more.

  Tom set his empty mug in a box. He leaned over and peered into Beth’s cup. “Finished?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He rose, took her empty mug and set it aside. “I’m going to go skate with Davy. Want to join us?”

  “No, I think maybe I’ve had enough skating … for this year anyhow.” She smiled up at him. “But you go ahead. I’ll stay here by the fire.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back in a little while to warm up again.”

  Tom skated off effortlessly and when he circled round the next time, he saw Beth had already exchanged her skates for her boots. She sat cross-armed, her mittened hands tucked under her armpits as if she was settled in for the duration of the year. Tom continued skating.

  Five minutes later, he was startled when a youngster skated up to Davy and announced, “Your sister’s hurt.”

  Chapter 11

  Tom raced Davy back to the fire and as he ran across the snow, he was relieved to hear Beth say to the throng of concerned people gathered around, “I’m fine, really.”

  Bill was with her, bent over her foot, but obviously unsure what to do.

  “Excuse me, let me through,” Tom ordered, his voice calm and even.

  When Bill saw Tom coming, he backed away.

  “Beth, what happened?” Tom asked as he knelt beside her. Concern furrowed his brow.

  “I think I sprained my ankle. Nothing serious.” Yet when Tom reached down to check, she stopped him. “Don’t. Please, don’t touch it.”

  Everyone crowded closer, their attention only adding to her distress. She was so relieved when Tom asked, “Would you like me to take you home?”

  “Please.” She didn’t quite know how he’d manage it without jarring her foot and causing her a great deal of pain, but she couldn’t stay here, not with everyone gawking at her as if she was the main attraction in a traveling exhibit.

  “It’s all right, folks,” Tom announced, “I’ll see Miss Patterson gets home. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  The crowd dispersed and Tom sat down on the bench to remove his skates. Beth told Davy to do the same because it was time to go home.

  “Ah gee,” he whined. “I wanted to see the New Year come. It’s not fair.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Davy, I don’t feel up to arguing with you.”

  Tom spoke up. “Wait a minute, Beth. Maybe he should stay.” She saw his quick conspiratorial wink. “I mean after all, it’s New Year’s Eve. Why should he have to miss out on all the fun, the noise, and the kissing? Bill’s here to look — ”

  “Kissing!” Davy spat, as if the word were poisonous. “You mean they do that at New Year’s too?”

  “Why sure. Especially people who like each other. Bill will probably kiss Annaleese, and I saw a little girl eyeing you up. It would be a crying shame if she missed a chance to kiss you.”

  Right then and there, Davy plunked down in a snow bank and took off his skates. “Uh uh! That’s yucky! No girl’s gonna kiss me. Not ever!” By the time Tom had his boots on, so had Davy.

  Tom commandeered Davy’s scarf and gently, but firmly wrapped it around Beth’s boot, immobilizing her ankle. “There, that should help.” He leaned closer, speaking low so only she could hear. “Looks like you’re going to be in my arms again. I could get to liking this. Come on, grab around my neck.”

  She was in too much discomfort to protest. He shifted her in his arms, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a small sack of seed wheat. He started for town. Davy tagged along behind, the three pairs of skates slung over his shoulder clattering with every step. They hadn’t walked more than a minute, when Tom asked, “So what happened? When I left, you were sitting safely by the fire.”

  Beth hesitated to tell him, but knew he would worm it out of her somehow. “I went for a walk and tripped over some dead fall.”

  “A walk? Why in the Sam Hill were you going for a walk? Once you get away from the fire, it’s darker than the inside of a black cow.”

  “I could see well enough. At least I thought I could.”

  “So you just decided to go for a walk. What were you looking for? It’s a tad late for berry picking.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. Was he really that dense? “If you must know, I was answering the call of nature.”

  “Oh,” Tom stated flatly. “I should have thought of that. Sorry.”

  • • •

  “Get the door, would you, Davy?” Once inside, Tom carefully set Beth in a chair by the stove.

  Beth leaned back and sighed in relief. “Thank you for all your help. I really appreciate it, but I don’t want to keep you. I’ve got Davy here. We can manage now.”

  “Nope, I’m not leaving until your foot is tended to properly.” He took a vacant chair, slipped off his boots, set them on the mat by the door. He took off his coat, helped her with hers and hung them both side by side on hooks above the mat. “Davy, I want you to take a pail and fill it with snow.”

  Eager to help, Davy grabbed a bucket and headed outside while Tom unwound the scarf and began working with the tight laces of her boot. “Where do you keep your scissors?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “To cut off your boot.”

  “You’ll do no such thing! These are the only boots I own and I can’t afford another pair. Just undo the laces and pull it off.”

  Tom sat back on his haunches and studied her, as if questioning her rationale.

  “Beth, let me cut it off.”

  She shook her head.

  “It’ll hurt like hell if I don’t cut the sides open. Dammit, I’ll buy you a new pair.”

  “There is no need to swear, Tom. Now, these are a perfectly good pair of boots and I don’t want to ruin one. If you don’t want to pull the boot off, then I will.”

  Tom sighed in exasperation. “Fine! Lord Almighty, but you are one stubborn woman.” When she opened her mouth to protest his language again, he raised his hands in surrender. “Right, no more swearing.” He unlaced the boot fully and pulled it as wide apart as he could, being careful to not twist her ankle any more than necessary. His jaw tensed as he firmly grasped Beth’s calf and gave the boot a slow, steady pull.

  Beth sucked in her breath and bit her lip as the burning pain shot through her ankle. Tom immediately stopped, but she gritted her teeth and ordered, “Pull it off! Now! Before Davy gets back.”

  “I’d rather yard out my own tooth, you know.”

  “Just do it!”

  Grimacing, he started pulling again. When the
boot was finally free, he tossed it into the corner.

  Beth discretely wiped a tear away. “Thank you. I’m not sure I could have done it myself.”

  Tom propped his back against the table leg, drew a knee up and draped his arms across it. “Yeah, well you’re not welcome. I should have said to hell with your precious boot and cut it off.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, halfway through I almost changed my mind.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” he demanded grimly.

  “Maybe because I’ve got too much spunk?”

  Tom glanced up to see her smiling. “I knew I’d regret telling you that.”

  Davy burst through the door with the pail heaped high with snow. “Is this what you want, Tom?”

  “Perfect. Bring it here and I’ll need that wash basin too,” he said pointing. “And a towel.” He dumped half the snow into the basin. “Okay, let’s take a look at your ankle.”

  Beth lifted the hem of her skirt and presented her once dainty ankle, which was now twice its normal size.

  “Better take off your stocking,” Tom instructed.

  “I beg your pardon?” Shocked, she dropped the hem and sat up ramrod straight.

  “I said take off your stocking so I can check your ankle.”

  “I will not!”

  Tom heaved a tired sigh. “Beth, be reasonable. I’ve seen a naked ankle before.”

  “I’m sure that is true, but it wasn’t mine. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Listen.” His patience was rapidly depleting, “I don’t give a flyin’ fig about what’s proper and what’s not. I did what you wanted and saved your precious boot. Now it’s your turn to do what I want. Take the damn stocking off … or I’ll do it for you!”

  Beth thumped her hands on the arm of the chair. “How dare you. Why I’ve never — ”

  “I’ll tell you how I dare!” Tom interrupted, all patience spent. He lunged toward her as if to reach up under her skirt and unfasten the garters himself.

  Incensed by his behavior, Beth slapped his hands away. “Don’t you dare! I’ll do it. Turn your back. You too, Davy.”