Snowflake Bride

by Jillian Hart

  But not his heart.

  “Renzo!” Mother stormed in, a perfect expression of concern, to wrap a warm blanket around his shoulders. Chilblains poked painfully on his fingertips and toes, proof he would be fine. He had been watchful of the conditions and had headed home when the storm looked to be worsening. Ruby had already left the room to sweep up the snow in the entry hall. Each rasp of that broom grated, because he hated the distance between them.

  If only the wind would stop blowing. Ruby saw nothing but her reflection in the smooth, black panels of glass as she settled into the common room in the maid’s quarters. A fire snapped comfortingly in the hearth, but it was no match for the extreme cold penetrating the walls and windows.

  The mantle clock struck eight times.

  “It’s time for me to head to my room.” Cook’s knitting needles made a final click. One by one, the other employees had vanished to their rooms, and now Cook stood, clutching her yarn. “Can you bank the fire when you leave, or do you want me to do it?”

  “I can manage.” She probably should retire as well, but the room Lucia had shown her to had felt lonely. She had never spent the night by herself before, in a room of her own. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Ruby dear.” The older woman sashayed through the doorway, her no-nonsense gait fading to silence. The fire popped, and a few sparks flew. Was Pa sitting at home watching the flames in the grate, missing her the way she missed him?

  “You look lonely sitting there.” A familiar baritone startled her, a beloved voice that made her tense. The crochet hook jumped out of her fingers and hit the floor with a metallic chime. Lorenzo leaned one amazingly sculpted shoulder against the door frame. “How about some company?”

  Her tongue failed her. Her mind failed her. Every logical thought scattered like smoke in a wind. Apparently, Lorenzo didn’t notice. His endlessly blue eyes searched hers, seeing rather than hearing her answer that was both yes and no. Yes, she wanted to see him. No, she should not.

  “I’ll just stay for a few minutes.” He shoved off the door frame and stalked toward her with his confident, easygoing gait, friendly, not threatening at all.

  Except to her heart.

  “Missing your father?” He eased onto the sofa alongside her. The rustle of the cushion echoed in the vast stillness of the room.

  “A little. I wish the storm wasn’t so fierce. I had so desperately wanted to go home. I’ve spent every evening of my life with Pa.”

  “He must be lonesome for you, too.”

  “That’s what I was just wondering.” It seemed as if the entire world had silenced, so that every thud of her pulse, every panicked whoosh of air into her lungs sounded shockingly loud. They were alone, just the two of them, and what was she thinking about?

  His kiss. She should forget it. Forget everything. She watched as he bent to retrieve her crochet hook. Embarrassed, she felt heat stretch across her face. “I’m always dropping things.”

  “It’s cute.” He held out the hook. Firelight glinted in his dark locks and caressed the side of his lean face. Dimples bracketed a mesmerizing smile, a smile she adored.

  Her shaky fingers curled around the hook he offered. Think of something to say, she thought desperately. But could she? No. Not one word. Seconds ticked by as his gaze stayed on hers, drawing her soul closer to his. Too close. Panicked, her mind spun. Think, Ruby. She bit her bottom lip. Say something, anything. “Your hands. How are they?”

  “Much better, now I’m adequately thawed.” His handsome dimples flashed more deeply. “Hazards of the job. I didn’t want to quit when the snow worsened, but for all our effort, Mateo and I lost the trail.”

  She pictured him out on the plains riding into the teeth of a Montana storm, not knowing what lay in wait ahead of him. Worry gripped her, worry she had no right to. “Where does Mateo stay? He had to be just as frozen as you were.”

  “At the bunkhouse. Word is he’s just fine, too.”

  “It was just the two of you out there? Aren’t rustlers usually armed?”

  “I am, too.” Apparently danger was of no concern to him. A man like Lorenzo wasn’t afraid of a little trouble. “I hated giving up. I wanted to catch ’em before they stole from us or our neighbors.”

  Don’t imagine him on the back of his horse, riding like a hero through the winter snow. Don’t do it, she told herself, but did it work?

  No, her mind painted the picture of powerful man and undaunted horse, surrounded by snowy sky and reverent prairie. She kept seeing him through the eyes of her heart. How did she stop? Scarlet’s face flashed into her mind, a friend who would put her love for a man behind that for a friend. She thought of her pa’s face, haunted by worry and failure. Somehow, she had to find a way. Her fingers felt clumsy as she slipped her crochet hook into a loop and drew the thread tight.

  “You are still making snowflakes?” He watched her hook slip through and around, drawing the fine length of thread into a lacy pattern.

  “Yes. I’m getting much better at it.”

  “I’ll say. That one is flawless.” It was the woman he referred to, not the delicate creation that took shape in her hands, but he was too shy to say it aloud. Yet. “The thread is pretty, too.”

  “It was a gift.” She stopped to run her fingertip across the dainty strand. It shimmered like silk in the light.

  “It sounds as if the wind is lessening.” His presence made the room shrink. The few feet separating them seemed like inches. “Here’s hoping the storm blows itself out overnight.”

  “I hope so, too, so I can go home. Oh, and because of your mother’s ball. After all this preparation, it would be a shame if the weather was so terrible no one could make it.” Bashful, she lowered her lashes, crocheting away. Did she feel this, too? So vulnerable, his soul felt exposed, as if all he was and ever would be lay defenseless before her?

  “Weather has never stopped one of my mother’s balls. Folks say it is the social occasion of the season around here. Ma loves being a hostess, and everyone knows it.”

  “I’ve never seen such a fuss. The house has been cleaned from top to bottom, everything is shiny and perfect.” Her slender fingers stilled. “And the food. I’ve never seen so much baked goods in one place. Cook promised me it’s just the beginning. We start cooking food for the buffet.”

  “I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Helping to cut, haul and put up the Christmas tree.” It was his favorite part of the holidays, the best part of his mother’s party. “Have you seen a Christmas tree before?”

  “My friends told me the church has one every year, but I’ve never seen one. It’s not something my family has ever done.” She turned dreamy. “I can’t wait to see a tree all lit up. Cook says the decorations are from Europe.”

  “My mother likes imported crystal and baubles.” He couldn’t wait to see Ruby gazing at the tree. He wanted to experience it through her eyes. He wasn’t prepared for the spaces within his heart to open wider, leaving him ever more exposed. It hurt like a wound; it healed like a prayer. He loved this woman more than he could measure. She bit her lip again as her needle came to life. She hooked another stitch, knotted it and cut the thread with a pair of tiny scissors.

  “Done.” She pressed it flat with her fingertips, the silk in the thread glistened and gleamed. It was lovely, what she had made. She studied it critically and shrugged, hiding secrets in her voice. “Someone gave me the thread.”

  “Is that right?” He tried to sound casual, but his pulse pounded through him like cannon fire. He smiled, understanding without words how much she’d liked his gift.

  “Would you like this one?” She held up the snowflake, perfect with six large points and six smaller ones. Lacy and airy and whimsical, just like the maker.

  “I would.” Not easy to hide his heart. He didn’t even try. “I would like it very much.”

  “It’s yours.” She set it on the cushion between them, so reserved she could not place it in his hand. He adored her more as he tucke
d it into his shirt pocket for safekeeping.

  A knock rapped on the door frame. His mother swept in, not looking surprised at finding him with Ruby. She carried a small bundle tucked in the crook of her arm.

  “Renzo, your father’s leg is bothering him terribly in this cold weather. Could you go help him up the stairs? Ruby, dear, I’ve brought you a few things of mine to make your stay overnight a little more comfortable.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” Ruby flushed, apparently surprised at the bundle of clothing topped with a brush and comb his mother set on the sofa table behind them.

  “You have a good night, dear. Renzo, hurry. You know how stubborn your father gets.” A smile warmed her words as she swept out of the room.

  “Good night, Mrs. Davis.” Ruby twisted around, but his mother had already gone, her gait tapping away in the corridor.

  “Looks like I have to go.” He hated the thought of leaving her, but his pa was waiting. He’d searched her out for a reason, so he gathered his courage and whispered in her ear, “Save a dance for me.”

  “At the ball?” His words startled her. Her eyes widened. She gave a little gasp. Her needle rolled across her lap, and she caught it before it tumbled off her knee.

  Cute. He rose, towering over her, his love for her so big, larger than the sky. “Yes, Ruby, at the ball.”

  He couldn’t wait. There he would have the right to hold her in his arms for one dance. It took super human effort to break from her side. Any parting felt like a rending loss, even if it was only for the night. As he headed for the door, he told himself it wouldn’t be like this forever. One day, he would win her heart, and they need never be apart again. At least, that was his hope.

  He glanced over her shoulder one more time just to see her smile. Just to feel the tug on his soul.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You look beautiful, Ruby-bug.” Pa stomped snow off his boots in the lean-to. “For a moment, I skipped back in time, and it was like looking at your ma when we were courting. I guess this means you might catch yourself a beau tonight.”

  “Oh, Pa. Really. I’m too sensible to let some man romance me.” Love was putting others first above yourself. Love was not self-seeking. She twirled her bangs around her finger and hoped those fine, straight strands would keep a hint of curl. Tonight, Mrs. Davis needed everyone looking their best. What a blessing it was that this dress had been in the church barrel for her to find. “It will be a fabulous night, even if I’m there to carry serving trays.”

  “It was all I heard about every time I went to town.” All week, he had searched newspapers and written in response to job advertisements but without success. While it was too late to save their farm, he’d hoped it might not be too late to avoid life on Uncle’s ranch. A new job could change that. It was a hope they would not abandon until the very last. Pa shouldered through the door and drew it shut behind him. “Hear tell, the Davis’s ball is quite an event. Maybe I’ll get a peek through the windows when I come pick you up tonight.”

  “Pa, Solomon can’t be out in this weather. He’s still so terribly weak.” She set down her comb, finished with her fussing. “Surely you don’t plan on walking with me?”

  “It will be well after midnight when your work there is done. Far too late for you to be on the roads alone.” Pa cocked his head, listening. “Sounds like someone has driven up. It can’t be someone from the Davis ranch come to escort you, can it?”

  “No. Mateo lent me a horse from their stable to ride so I could come home and change quickly.” She rolled her eyes. Honestly. The lovely velvet skirt shimmered richly as she crossed the shanty. “You have let your hopes get far too high. Lorenzo Davis isn’t going to marry the likes of me.”

  “In that dress, he will likely consider it. Trust me.” Pa probably thought he was being kind, but his words tore through her.

  A dress did not make a woman. Integrity did. She checked the time—nearly five o’clock. She had best get going. Cook would be needing her soon to help with the last-minute cooking, although they had prepared most of the food ahead. She imagined all the lovely plates, dishes and platters spread across three consecutive cloth-lined tables loaded with delicious things to eat. At least it distracted her from thoughts of Lorenzo.

  A knock rapped on the door, and Pa opened it. A middle-aged man in a finely tailored suit stood on the doorstep. Ruby recognized him. He was Meredith’s father.

  “Mr. Worthington. Good of you to drop by.” Pa stepped back, opening the door wide. “Please, sir, come in.”

  Also the owner of the town’s bank, Ruby knew. Cold fear shot like little spikes through her midsection. The important man did not smile. Tension drew lines around his kind eyes and his grim mouth. She knew why he was here. To evict them tonight. Her hands turned to ice. She went numb all over.

  “I hate to bring bad news, but I have put it off as long as I can.” Robert Worthington looked out of place in their humble home with his expensive clothes. “It’s official. I’m foreclosing on this property. I’m sorry, Jon. But it will take some time to get the final papers, so you might as well keep living here through Christmas.”

  They could stay a while longer? Ruby’s throat tightened. She could not believe Mr. Worthington’s kindness. That would mean she could spend a little more time at her job and with her friends. They wouldn’t be homeless for Christmas. They had more time for Pa and Rupert to find work.

  “That’s mighty generous of you.” Pa looked choked up, too. “It’s mighty appreciated.”

  “You make it easy, Jon. You have been honest with me since your crop failed. I respect that. Ruby, you must be going to Davis’s ball tonight.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be serving.” Her skirts swished as she joined her father, standing at his side.

  “Then I shall see you there.” Mr. Worthington tipped his hat, offered a consoling smile and headed out into the evening’s dark. “I’ll be in touch, Jon.”

  With a single nod, Pa closed the door. The dignity with which he’d been carrying himself shattered. His strong shoulders slumped, his straight back sank, defeat stole the life from his eyes. His jaw firmed, as if he was fighting hard not to give in to sorrow completely. “Worthington is a decent man. When I saw him, I figured he was coming to evict us. That we would need to leave tonight.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “We have a reprieve, so you go have a good time, honey.”

  “How can I leave you now?” Torn, she thought of Cook who would be needing help and of her promise to Mrs. Davis not to leave her in a lurch. Her father clearly needed her, too.

  “What do you mean? ’Course you gotta go. It will be something to see. All the folks dressed up in their finery. A fancy ballroom. I’m hoping to catch sight of that Christmas tree tonight when I come by. Ought to be one, fine shindig.” Pa chucked her chin, just as he used to do when she was young. “You go tonight. You will always regret it if you don’t. Think of your responsibility to Mrs. Davis. Don’t you worry about your old man.”

  “You aren’t so old, Pa.”

  “I’m old enough. Now, you go on. Save up every detail so you can tell me about it on our walk home tonight.” Love polished his voice and shone in his eyes, chasing away his sorrows.

  For now. Ruby gave him a quick hug before pulling on her coat. It was final. It was real. This home was no longer theirs. They would be leaving this place and this life.

  She blinked hard, refusing to give in to despair. It was only a farm they were losing and just a dwelling with four walls. That was all. It helped to remember this earth was not their permanent home, not the place their souls belonged.

  Stars glittered overhead as she headed to the barn, gleaming so brightly, so beautifully, they had to be proof of God’s word. He was watching and always present. They were not alone even when it felt like it.

  There she is. Lorenzo’s heart soared, his knees buckled and he had to grab the banister to keep from falling down the stairs. The house shone like a showcase, wi
th every surface polished, wreaths and Christmas decorations and crystal-encased candles hanging everywhere. All of it paled as Ruby swept into sight down the corridor, her beauty outshining everything. He drank her in—soft, blond hair swept up, her precious face aglow, the dress skimming her frame like a princess’s gown. She was his dream, everything he could ever wish for.

  He could only hope she felt the same way.

  He didn’t know how he’d gotten so blessed, but he was grateful to the Lord above. Of all His blessings, Ruby was the most cherished. He watched captivated as she sailed out of sight, far down the hall, carrying a platter of sliced ham.

  “Renzo.” Pa tapped up in his best suit. Pride puffed him up, making him look once again the man he’d been before the rustlers’ bullets. “I know that look on your face, since I’ve seen it on mine.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I looked the same way when I was courting your mother. You are a lost cause, son.” Pa’s grin widened. “What you feel for that young lady is no passing thing.”

  “It’s forever.”

  “So I see. I’ve prayed the woman you fall in love with will be worthy of you.”

  “Pa.” He grimaced, disappointed in his father. “I know you and Ma had hoped I would marry Narcissa or a woman like her, but—”

  “No. You misunderstand. We were hoping you would marry someone.” Pa shook his head, clearly amused. “All this time, you showed no signs of beauing anyone, and I was fine with that. You’re young. But your ma is another matter. She thought you needed a nudge in the right direction. All this time, you had your eye on that little gal, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I’ve loved her for a while.” For so long, it felt as if he’d always adored her. As if his life hadn’t started until she’d walked into it. “Then you and Ma approve of Ruby?”