The Visions of Ransom Lake

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “This is the story of Cinderella,” she began. “Cinderella was a beautiful young woman. She had been loved oh so dearly by her cherished parents. Tragically, her mother died when Cinderella was very young, and her father, feeling his treasured daughter needed a feminine heart to care for her, married a widow with two young daughters of her own.”

  Vaden wove her tale, dramatically as always, trying to keep the children’s minds, and her own, from the howling wind and blowing snow. As the tale wore on, so did the night.

  “And Cinderella, in fleeing so quickly as to not be set upon by the castle guards, tripped. One of her beautiful dancing slippers—princesses always wear slippers instead of shoes—one of her beautiful dancing slippers fell from her foot and was abandoned on the castle steps.” Vaden dramatically kicked off one of her boots, watching it land with a thud in the middle of the floor. “And there it lay as Cinderella fled, for the guards were so close behind her she had not one extra moment to spare in trying to reach back and retrieve her lovely slipper.”

  Vaden continued the tale, telling of the anguished prince, who searched and searched in vain for the fair maiden whose dainty foot would fit the slipper, thus revealing his one true love.

  “But…why didn’t the prince just look for her face, Miss Vaden?” Violet inquired. “Why didn’t he just know who she was when he saw her?”

  Vaden smiled and went to the fire, where she carefully dirtied her fingertips with soot from the hearth. “Because, you see, Violet,” she began as she dabbed at her face with her soiled fingertips, “Cinderella’s beauty, her feature of face, was hidden beneath the ashes and soot that gathered on her while she was cleaning the fireplaces in the house. So when the prince came to her stepmother’s house to try the slipper on every maiden there, he did not recognize her. And her stepmother told the prince that their servant girl had not attended the ball.”

  Just then the door to the Wimber home was forced open, and in stumbled Mrs. Wimber, covered with snow from head to toe. Her face was red and chapped from the wind.

  “Mama!” went up the general cheering among the children.

  “It’s the fury of perdition out there, Vaden! I don’t know how Mr. Lake will ever get ya home in this. I’ve told him the two of ya should shelter here, but he says your Aunt Myra was very adamant ya be home tonight safe and sound,” Mrs. Wimber explained between gasps and kissing the warm cheeks of her happy children.

  “What do you mean Mr. Lake will get me home?” Vaden asked, confused. “I thought Uncle Dan would…” At that very moment, Ransom Lake stepped from the furious storm without into the warm room within, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “Your uncle’s bad leg is actin’ up, Miss Vaden, and he asked me to see Mrs. Wimber back and you safely home.” He was so handsome, his presence so dominating!

  “But…but she can’t go yet, Mr. Lake,” Violet argued, going to stand before him and tugging on his pant leg. “She hasn’t finished Cinderella.”

  Vaden stepped forward, intent on explaining to the child why she must go at once, but she paused when she saw Ransom Lake smile and hunker down so he was more at the child’s level. “Well, then, miss…I guess I’ll just have to have a glass of water in the kitchen before I drag Miss Vaden away from ya.” He smiled and gently squeezed the girl’s cheek between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Quickly though, girl,” he ordered then, standing and scowling at Vaden. “This storm is comin’ in quick.” Then, as Mrs. Wimber smiled at her children and motioned for Ransom Lake to follow her into the kitchen, Vaden thought she might die of humiliation when he tripped over her boot that lay in the middle of the room. “Just a moment, Mrs. Wimber,” he said, stooping and picking up her boot.

  “Oh, no! It’s just part of the…” Vaden stopped when he raised his gloved palm in her direction, indicating she should be silent.

  “Cinderella is it, Miss Wimber?” he asked Violet.

  “Yes! Cinderella. And the prince has only just this minute tried the slipper on the awful stepsisters and is makin’ ready to leave!” the child offered excitedly. “Ya see…he can’t recognize his beloved Cinderella because she has soot all over her lovely face. See?”

  Vaden wanted to shrink down and slip through the cracks in the floor, for at that moment as Ransom Lake looked at her, raised his eyebrows, and chuckled, she remembered the soot with which she had dusted her face.

  “I do see, Miss Violet,” he mumbled.

  Vaden became even more uncomfortable and a little angry when Mrs. Wimber also was unable to suppress her laughter.

  “But this prince was smart, ya see, Miss Wimber,” the man continued, and Vaden’s eyes widened as he approached her, holding her boot tightly in one hand. “Ya see, this prince could recognize Cinderella with his heart. He didn’t need to see her face. And so he paused in takin’ his leave.” Vaden’s heart began to beat frantically as he drew closer to her.She shook her head slightly, unable to believe he was involving himself in her tale. “He looked at the small girl in the corner, covered in soot and ashes. And his heart spoke to him, telling him this was she—the one who had stolen his heart at the dance.”

  “Ball. It was a ball, Mr. Lake,” Violet corrected in a whisper before giggling delightedly at what was transpiring.

  “Forgive me. Stolen his heart at the ball. The prince approached the lovely Cinderella, extendin’ his hand to her, hopin’ she would reveal herself in placin’ her own hand in his.” Vaden was instantly mesmerized, for he was astoundingly good at telling the tale.

  “Take his hand, Miss Vaden,” Violet prodded. “It’s in the story.” Vaden only then realized Ransom Lake did indeed hold out his hand in her direction. Tentatively she took his hand, and immediately his touch, even with the glove covering it, sent her body tingling.

  Ransom Lake continued, “The prince gazed into the beautiful emerald of Cinderella’s eyes and said, ‘Pray, try the shoe’—”

  “It’s called a slipper, Mr. Lake,” Violet interrupted. “Princesses always wear slippers. Not shoes.”

  “Thank ya, Miss Violet,” he whispered aside to the small girl. Vaden couldn’t help but smile, so charmed was she by his thoughtful attention to the children. “The prince gazed into the beautiful emerald of Cinderella’s eyes and said, ‘Pray, try the slipper, fair maiden. If not for your own ambitions…pray, try it for love of your prince.’” Then, much to Vaden’s horror, he knelt on one knee at her feet, reached beneath her petticoats, and drew from beneath them her stockinged foot. “As the prince slipped the shoe—excuse me, slipper—easily onto Cinderella’s tiny foot, she said…” he prodded, nodding with raised eyebrows.

  “Oh! Um,” Vaden stammered, completely undone by his holding her foot and directing it into her boot. “Um…Cinderella said…she said…‘Thank you, your highness’…um…”

  “Yes.” Ransom Lake chuckled and stood, again taking Vaden’s hand in his own. “Cinderella said, ‘Thank you, your highness.’” He paused for a moment, and his eyes narrowed, his smile fading as he mumbled, “‘Thank you for seein’ beneath soot on my face and lovin’ my soul.’”

  His words seemed pointed, but Vaden was certain she imagined his inferences toward her own willingness to look past the outward appearances of the hermit from the mountains to find the wonderful spirit of Ransom Lake beneath. Yes. She must’ve imagined it.

  “What next?” Freddy Wimber asked curiously. “What next?”

  Ransom Lake smiled at Vaden then, dropped her hand, turned to the coat rack, and retrieved her coat from it. He helped her to put it on and buttoned the collar button.

  “What next, ya ask, boy?” the man chuckled. “Well, next the prince bid everyone in the room a good day, swept Cinderella into his arms, and carried her off to his castle, where they lived happily ever after.”

  Vaden smiled and giggled delightedly as Ransom Lake actually lifted her into his own powerful arms, effortlessly as if she were no more than a child.

  “And he kissed her too. D
idn’t he kiss her, Mr. Lake?” Violet’s wide eyes sparkled with the anticipated answer to her question.

  “Now you let Mr. Lake take Miss Vaden on home, Violet. It’s bad weather we’re havin’ out there, and they need to be off,” Mrs. Wimber explained to her disappointed daughter. “Thank ya again, Vaden. I’m so sorry about this. You tell your Aunt Myra we’ll watch the weather better next time.”

  “I will, Mrs. Wimber, and it was my pleasure to stay with the children,” Vaden said, still blissful at being held in Ransom Lake’s powerful arms. Propriety dictated Vaden should try to free herself from his hold on her. Yet as she struggled, he only chuckled and secured her more firmly.

  “I’ll get the door, Mr. Lake,” Freddy offered, opening the door wide. Vaden could see the horse and cutter waiting outside. Ransom carried her down the steps, setting her gently on the cutter’s blanket-covered seat.

  “’Bye, Miss Vaden!” Violet called from the door. “Thank ya for bringin’ my mama home, Mr. Lake!”

  The child waved happily to the man, who tipped his hat to her. It was only Violet who stood at the door now. Suddenly, Ransom Lake leaned forward, whispering something to Violet that caused her to giggle with delight and nod her head emphatically.

  “What did you say to her, Mr. Lake?” Vaden asked as he turned back to her and stood unmoving for a moment on her side of the cutter.

  “I just told her the prince did kiss Cinderella.” His hand was at her chin in an instant, his lips pressing to hers before she even realized he had moved. The kiss was sweet and quick, far from the kiss Vaden would have most chosen to receive from him, but obviously enough to satisfy the yearnings of Miss Violet Wimber to see the story ended properly. He tipped his hat once more to Violet before climbing over Vaden and seating himself next to her on the seat. Vaden waved to Violet and then to her mother, who appeared at the door, waving quickly before closing it to the violent elements of nature.

  “I had no idea you were so skilled with children,” Vaden commented, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the wind.

  Ransom smiled and chuckled a moment. “Oh, I used to be able to weave quite a yarn myself, girl.”

  “Thank you for bringing Mrs. Wimber home so I wasn’t left there all night with the children. She still must feed the baby most of the time, and I was becoming worried.” She turned to him, concerned. “Is Uncle Dan all right?”

  “The cold has caused the achin’ in his leg and back to pain him. I was over tellin’ your aunt that I wasn’t sure I’d make it over tomorrow with all this comin’ in…and…I knew she didn’t want ya stuck out here all night.” He frowned, however, and added, “But I’m not sure we shouldn’t have stayed back there ourselves. It’s nasty out here.”

  Vaden wrapped her scarf securely about her head, tucking it into her coat below her chin. “You’re quite a good actor as well, Mr. Lake. What other talents do you secret?”

  “None. Doesn’t take talent to tell a tale or kiss a girl.” Vaden raised her eyebrows, dubbing him vastly mistaken on both counts.

  Ransom pulled up for a moment just as an enormous, frigid gust of wind cut through Vaden’s coat to her body. He shaded his eyes from the snow and, standing up in the cutter, looked back. “I truly think we should’ve stayed back there. This is becomin’ worrisome.”

  “But we can’t be more than three miles from home.” Then Vaden noticed she couldn’t see a thing through the snow. No trees, nor the road ahead. No visible landmarks.

  “Less. But this is bad. We could get lost out here and…” he began. Then, sitting back down, he slapped the lines and turned off the well-defined road they had been on.

  “What are you doing?” Vaden asked. “Why don’t you just turn around if you’re uncertain?”

  “Because…I think we’d get lost. Look at the road. In a matter of minutes we won’t be able to see it with the snow driftin’ so badly in the wind. And at this very minute…this place…I still know where we are.” Taking Vaden’s arm, he directed her to sit on the floor of the cutter at his feet. “Get down here. It’ll keep that wind off of ya, and you’ll be warmer.”

  She did as instructed and sat on the floor of the cutter, huddling up against one of his legs for warmth. She was astounded at how fast the temperature was dropping, how the moonlight seemed to have disappeared completely from the sky. The powerful man struggled with guiding the horse, and she could feel the taut muscles in the thigh and calf of his leg as he drove. But she knew she would be safe. No one would perish while under Ransom Lake’s care. That she knew.

  At last, Vaden heard his voice soothe the horse as he pulled her up before a large, dark structure, looming before them in the night.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her arm once more and pulling her to her feet. Vaden realized her feet were numb with cold. Quickly Ransom Lake walked with her to the lightless building, kicked open a door, and pushed her inside.

  “Wait here,” he commanded. Turning, he ventured back out into the storm.

  “Where would I go?” she muttered to herself as she tried to see through the darkness and further into the building. He returned almost immediately, much to Vaden’s relief, leading the mare into the building.

  “There you go, ol’ girl,” he said soothingly, patting the animal on the neck and leading her further back into the darkness. Again Vaden waited for him to return, completely uncertain as to what other action she might take. When he returned, he took her hand and led her deeper into the darkness of their shelter.

  “This old house is on my property,” he explained as he led her into a room and stopped before a large fireplace. Vaden was silent. The only noise escaping her body was the violent chattering of her teeth as she watched him go about building a fire, using a set of flints he pulled from a box on the mantel. In a few moments, smoke began to rise from a tiny bundle of sticks in the hearth. She watched as he carefully blew on the small bit of smoke. Soon an orange spark erupted among the kindling. He added some larger bits of wood as the room began to be illuminated by the light and warmth of the fire. He stood up and looked about the room. Picking up a dusty chair, he broke it into pieces and added it to the small fire. Vaden watched as it blazed brighter and warmer.

  “I’ve gotta go out back and root up some better wood.” He walked away toward the back of the house. Vaden stepped closer to the warmth of the fire, removing her mittens and rubbing her hands together vigorously to help send away the stinging numbness in her fingers.

  “This wood should burn nice. It’s dried out from sittin’ out there for so long,” he said as he returned, his arms laden with large pieces of wood. He dropped it carelessly to one side of the hearth and added some of the old, dry logs to the fire. They did indeed burn quickly and warm. Vaden removed her scarf and coat, tossing them onto another nearby chair.

  “Well, I guess you’re telling me we’ll be here for awhile,” Vaden said as Ransom Lake came to stand next to her, removing his own gloves, hat, and coat.

  “At least the night,” he answered, putting one fist to his mouth and blowing warm air through it, then the other.

  “All night?” she inquired. Surely he could not possibly mean for her to spend the entire night alone with him!

  The handsome man looked at her, a puzzled expression on his brow. “Yes, all night. Would ya rather get lost in that blizzard and freeze to death?” He looked back to the fire and then around the room. “It’s holdin’ up surprisingly well,” he mumbled.

  “The house?” Vaden asked to assure herself of his subject of comment.

  “Yeah. It hasn’t been lived in for so long, but it doesn’t look any worse for the wear, except for the dust and creatures that have moved in.” At his mention of living things perhaps lurking about, she unconsciously took a step sideways and closer to him. He chuckled. “Nothin’ dangerous has taken up residence in here, I’m sure.”

  But Vaden’s legs began to prickle and itch all the same as she noticed various large cobwebs donning every corner of everythin
g.

  “Ya warmin’ up all right, girl?” he asked in his delightfully mumbly manner.

  “Yes. Fine,” she assured him. She glanced to him then, and her eyes could not tear themselves from his fine good looks and tousled hair. He was truly magnificent, and she smiled slightly at the thought that struck her.

  “What?” he asked, noticing her smile.

  “Nothing,” she lied, looking away.

  “No, what? Tell me.”

  “I was just thinking what Yvonne would say about this situation,” she admitted to him.

  Ransom Lake smiled. “Your sister is a strict one when it comes to etiquette and manners, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. It’s a good quality in her.” Vaden’s smile faded as another thought entered her mind, and as was often the case, she blurted out her mental secrets before she could stop. “You fancy her, don’t you, Mr. Lake? Yvonne, I mean.”

  “What do ya mean by fancy?” He still continued to gaze into the fire and periodically blow into his fists.

  “I mean…you favor Yvonne. It’s all right to admit it to me. You’re always telling me we’re friends, after all, and I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

  “We are friends,” he confirmed, looking to her, eyebrows raised in perplexion. “And, yes, your sister is a fine woman to look at.”

  Vaden’s teeth immediately began to clench.

  “But…I don’t favor her over anyone else. I don’t intend to pursue her, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at, little Miss Vaden, the curious cat.” Since she still stared into the fire, unwilling to look at him, he put a hand to her shoulder, arresting her attention and causing her to finally look over at him. “Whatever would put such a thought into that connivin’ little mind of yours?”

  “My mind is not conniving. Just…observant is all,” she said.

  “No, tell me. Somethin’ had to spark such a thought. Tell me,” he prodded, turning to confront her face-to-face.

  “The night you were ill, you…you on two occasions did or said something to indicate that you…” she stammered.