Collision of The Heart

  All would be well with everyone except Mia. Her work in Hillsdale would be done, and she would return to Boston, her heart breaking all over again.

  Maybe if she made friends, life would not be so lonely during the few hours she wasn’t working. People at church were friendly enough, but being a single female making her own way in the world was difficult when most ladies lived at home or with husbands.

  Being a single female was difficult in Hillsdale. Her college classmates who lived there had all married. Some still worked outside their homes. Others, like Genevieve, had found ways to use their education in their homes. All seemed content with their places in life.

  “I thought I was, too.” Mia rubbed her right wrist with her left hand. “I’m getting everything I want.”

  So why did she feel like laying her head on the desk and weeping or running through the snow until she no longer possessed the strength to weep?

  The answer lay before her in the neatly written pages of her article on the wreck. For eighteen months, she had kept herself too busy to remember the warmth of being part of a family, a community. In less than a week, the warmth of the Goswell family, the generosity of the townspeople, and the realization that she need only be alone because she chose to be had drawn her back to safety like a momma cat shooing her wandering offspring home. For the first time in a year and a half, Mia felt sheltered and loved as she hadn’t felt since Ayden told her he wasn’t going to Boston after all.

  Ayden didn’t love her enough. He loved his career more.

  Mia glanced at the neatly stacked papers on the secretary and smiled with a twist to her lips. “Nor did you love him enough or you would have stayed.”

  For eighteen months, she had blamed Ayden for not going with her. He had blamed her. They had both been wrong, and now the damage was done. Ayden would be engaged in a few days, and she would no longer have to chase story after story to make a respectable living for herself. She would receive a salary. She might even be able to purchase a little house.

  A week ago, that idea sounded wonderful. She could have a cat or two, grow flowers, prepare her own meals when she liked—after coming home to a building void of other human voices with which to converse, someone with whom she could share the joys or sorrows of her day.

  A knock sounded on the sitting room door, and Rosalie called, “Coming out to sled with us?”

  A cottage void of someone asking her to come out and play. She hadn’t played since her last summer in Michigan, when the Goswell family had taken her along to Lake Michigan to sail and fish in the crystal-clear blue water and bask in sunshine on the sugary sand.

  “Yes, I’m coming.” Mia set a book on the completed article to keep it from being knocked on the floor and scattered or damaged and opened the door to a sparkling-eyed Rosalie.

  Rosalie seized her arms and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re coming. Remember the last time we went sledding?”

  “Didn’t we end up breaking the sled and nearly our necks on a tree?”

  “And Pa forbade me to ever go sledding without Ayden again.” Rosalie executed a pirouette in the middle of the hall, nearly knocking down a wall sconce with her outstretched arms. “I wonder if he’ll change his mind about that once I’m married.” She sang the last word, then scampered to the steps. “Come up to our room. I’ve found an old skirt you can wear so you don’t get your good clothes dirty or risk damaging them.”

  “Rosalie, you’re at least three inches taller than I am.” Protesting, Mia followed nonetheless.

  “I haven’t always been. This is old, but it’s a delicious deep pink, so it will look lovely on you. Ma had it packed in lavender in the attic. I don’t think she gets rid of anything.”

  “And a good thing that was with little Jamie here.” Mia hesitated on the landing. “Will he be all right here?”

  “Fletcher says we need to carry on as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening.” Rosalie laughed at Mia’s start. “Of course he told me. We don’t have secrets.” She lifted her skirt and charged up the second flight, calling back, “I learned from Ayden that keeping secrets from one’s intended is a terrible idea.”

  The crux of the gulf between Mia and Ayden. He hadn’t confided in her that he didn’t want to leave Hillsdale or why. That he hadn’t wanted to leave didn’t matter as much as why he hadn’t told her. Now she would never know.

  Ayden, with Charmaine’s assistance, had avoided interacting with her for two days. When he hadn’t been teaching classes or tutoring students at risk of failing his courses, he had been at Charmaine’s house, even assisting in baking pastries to serve hungry college students and children during the sledding party.

  “You are so right.” Mia spoke too softly for Rosalie to hear her.

  She joined Ayden’s sister in the room they were sharing. Rosalie had laid out a dress with the wide, ruffled skirt from a few years earlier. Although it was heavy cotton instead of wool, the layers of petticoats and ruffles would make it warm.

  “Hurry.” Rosalie danced from foot to foot as though she were ten and not nearly twenty. “Fletcher will be here to escort us in just a few minutes.”

  Mia began to hurry out of her pretty but practical blue wool dress with its buttons up the front. “He’s going sledding with us?”

  “Probably not actually sledding. He’ll be there to see that nothing rough occurs. The college boys can get a bit rowdy at times. Here, let me help.” Rosalie sent the folds of the pink dress billowing over Mia’s head. “I’ll do up the buttons for you. You are so pretty, Mia. Did I tell you Charmaine isn’t coming?”

  Mia stiffened her face to keep her expression neutral. “Why not?”

  “Her father doesn’t approve.” Rosalie took on an affected tone. “She may go sledding alone with Ayden after he proposes to her. Otherwise, this is too undignified.”

  “I see.” Mia’s fingers fumbled with buttons on the dress sleeves. “Then I presume Ayden isn’t either?”

  “I hope so. He has the sled. Now hurry, hurry, hurry.”

  By the time Fletcher Lambert rang the front bell, Mia and Rosalie were swathing themselves in hats and scarves and mittens.

  The deputy glanced from one of them to the other and laughed. “I can’t tell the two of you apart.”

  “I’m taller.” Rosalie kissed his cheek.

  He turned red and pretended to fend her off. “Bold wench.”

  She laughed. He laughed. They looked so happy Mia’s insides cracked like limestone beneath a hammer’s blow. The suggestion that perhaps she should stay home hovered on her lips. As though she read that thought, Rosalie grasped Mia’s hand and dragged her outside.

  It was a cold, clear afternoon with an inch or two of new snow from the night before turning everything a sparkling white. The snowman Rosalie had built with the Herring children had lost his hat to a burden of snow. Mia paused to pick up the battered felt hat and placed it atop the sculpture’s pate. When she straightened, she caught sight of Rosalie and Fletcher stealing a quick kiss beside a massive maple tree in the front yard, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow flickering around the end of the house.

  “Deputy?” she called to Lambert softly.

  He jumped away from Rosalie as though she’d shouted. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “It might be a trick of the light, but I believe I just saw someone sneaking around the side of the house.”

  Mia barely got the words out before Lambert sprinted across the snowdrifts to the front corner of the house. He stopped to examine the ground, then took off running.

  Rosalie rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I had best get used to this sort of thing.” She looked at Mia, concerned. “Do you think it’s someone dangerous?”

  “I don’t know, but perhaps we should stay here.” She turned toward the house.

  Fletcher Lambert appeared around the house again, mopping his brow with his sleeve and scowling. “He had snowshoes. I couldn’t keep up.”

  “Just a you
th playing a trick, perhaps?” Mia asked.

  “I expect so, but why don’t you ladies go on to the sledding alone? I’ll stay here for a while and join you later.”

  Mia glanced at Rosalie, expecting to see disappointment or even annoyance. Instead, the younger lady was gazing at her intended with adoration. “You be careful, Fletch.” She blew him a kiss, then linked arms with Mia. “Let’s be on our way before everyone else is having fun except for us.”

  “If you’re sure.” Mia glanced back at the deputy tramping around the perimeter of the house. He waved her off.

  “He takes his work seriously.” Rosalie poked Mia in the ribs. “As you found out.”

  “He told you about my misspent youth?”

  “He did, but I never told Ayden.”

  “He knows now and likely considers himself lucky to have gotten out of marrying me.”

  “Not lucky if he marries Charmaine. Did you notice those claws she displayed the other day?”

  They laughed and chatted as they made their way through the snow, sliding and holding one another up.

  Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth, for he hath not another to help him up.

  The verses from the fourth chapter of Ecclesiastes ran through Mia’s head. In Boston, she had acquaintances, but no one who would hold her up if she fell. If her work dried up, no one would be there to give her food and shelter until she found other employment. If she fell ill or injured herself, no one would be there to care for her needs.

  There in Hillsdale, people cared. She had neglected them for a year and a half out of hurt and anger at the town that kept her beloved in its clutches, yet they welcomed her with all the warmth and love of the father of the prodigal son.

  All except for Ayden. He had opened his arms to another woman.

  Mia’s laughter died, and if Fletcher Lambert had been there with Rosalie, Mia might have gone back to the house. But he wasn’t, and the shrieks and laughter from the sledding site reached them long before they rounded a curve in the road and found the familiar snow-clad hill descending before them.

  And Ayden stood near them, with the Herring children tucked up on the sled, ready for a nudge down the gentlest part of the slope. “Hang on tight, kids.”

  He pushed. The runners bit, caught, and carried the sled sailing down the hill to the accompaniment of shrieks of glee. Ayden ran after them to help them make the climb up with the heavy wooden sled.

  Halfway up the incline, he caught Mia’s gaze upon him. His eyes widened, looking extraordinarily blue against the backdrop of white snow and distant pinewoods. For a moment, he didn’t move. For a moment, Mia didn’t breathe. Beside her, Rosalie giggled, then ran forward to pick up little Ellie, who was struggling to manage the last yards of the hill. And then Ayden reached the top, repositioning the sled for another run, his back to Mia.

  She expelled her breath in a sigh intended to lift the weight upon her heart. Through the vapor swirling before her face, she watched Rosalie put the children on the sled, then squeeze herself on behind them.

  “No need to follow us,” she called to her brother. “I’ve got them.”

  They sped off down the hill, and Ayden stood a mere yard from Mia with two score or more of college students and children racing, slipping, and dodging around them.

  “You’ll want the steeper side of the hill,” Ayden said.

  “I’ll wait for Rosalie, then.” Mia backed up a step.

  “She’ll stay here with the children. Where’s Lambert?”

  “Someone went running around the corner of the house right before we left. He thought he should wait and keep an eye on things.”

  Ayden took a step toward her, closing the distance between them so no one could overhear. “Someone after Jamie?”

  Mia crossed her arms over her middle. “Possibly. Enough of a possibility he thought he should stay.”

  “Should I go back, too?”

  Mia narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

  Ayden grinned. “I know that look. What did I say to annoy you?”

  Mia shrugged and started to turn away. A hundred feet from her, the young woman introduced to her on Sunday as Liberty Judd of Chicago stood dispensing hot beverages near a roaring fire. Mia could make a great deal of hay in shining sunlight if she spent time with the college girl and the others who approached her for refreshments. But as she took her first step toward the younger women, she decided she was not yet done with what she had to say to Ayden and swung back, her hands on her hips. “You haven’t taken any interest in the child’s safety for two days because you’ve been so occupied with advancing your career. Oh, wait, I meant to say courting your lady. So why are you running back there now? Because sledding with riffraff like me and your own sister, not to mention a Judd and Divine of Chicago, aren’t good enough for her?”

  Ayden’s head jerked back as though she’d struck him on the chin. “That was uncalled for, Euphemia Roper. Yes, Charmaine isn’t here because her father thinks it’s too unruly a crowd for her sensibilities, but I’m here. I happen to enjoy a rowdy crowd.”

  Cheeks heating, Mia ducked her head. “That will make for a difficult future with Charmaine.”

  “Her father forbade it, and she still lives under his roof.”

  Mia cocked her head to one side and gave him an oblique glance. “You think she’d be here otherwise?”

  “Of course.” Ayden didn’t meet her gaze. “We have our own sledding outing scheduled for Saturday.”

  “Sans riffraff.” Mia sighed and stomped her feet. “I’m either going to join Miss Judd at the fire or go sledding. Standing around is making me cold.”

  She had said all she wanted and likely a lot more than she should have.

  “Will there be a sled I can use over at the steeper hill?” she asked.

  Ayden laughed. “Mia, a lady who looks like you do will have no trouble finding college boys willing to push you down the hill. But if you wait, I’ll use ours. The children need to go warm up. They’ve been here for a while.”

  “There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself with the college boys.” She started for the other side of the hill, where the land sloped at a more precipitous angle.

  The instant she reached the summit, a half dozen youths surrounded her.

  “We have our sixth lady,” one of them cried. “Miss Roper, will you form a team with me?”

  “Are we racing?” A frisson of excitement ran through Mia. “I haven’t raced on a sled in years.” Her last winter in Hillsdale, she was tucked up on the sled with Ayden. “I was a champion here, you know.”

  She allowed the shouting youths and giggling girls to hustle her forward to the line of sleds, poised for flight.

  “Mia, wait,” Ayden yelled above the tumult.

  She clambered onto the end sled. A laughing youth slung himself on behind her.

  “Henry Powers,” Ayden bellowed, “don’t—”

  “Ready, set, go!” The cry for start drowned Ayden’s shout.

  Someone shoved them off the lip of the hill. Beaten down from hundreds of runners before them, the track was slick as ice. No friction slowed the runners. Wind whipped into Mia’s face. She closed her eyes against the sting and gave herself up to the flight, the speed, the exhilaration of rocketing forward. Her companion emitted a sound like a war whoop. Mia laughed aloud, mouth open wide, for the first time since she couldn’t remember. This had to go into her article somehow, these moments of sheer exuberance—

  The left runner struck something solid and immovable. The sled spun sideways, backward, sideways again. Sky, sledders, and trees far too close twirled by once, twice. Mia’s breath snagged in her throat. Her companion and she leaned one way and then the other, trying to stop the momentum.

  The back right quarter of the sled slammed into the trunk of a spruce tree. The equipage flipped over, disgorging
its passengers.

  Mia sprawled on the snow, too winded to move.

  “Miss Roper.” Her companion leaned over her, patting her cheek. “Miss Roper? Are you all right?”

  “If she is, it won’t be because of you.” Ayden shouldered the youth aside. “What were you thinking, sledding that close to the tree line? Mia?” He knelt beside her. “Mia, can you hear me?”

  She tried to drag in a breath to tell him she could hear him fine, along with a few screams and too many tramping feet.

  “Mia.” Ayden sat cross-legged on the snow and propped her head on his knee. “Can you open your eyes?”

  She managed a gasping “Yes,” but kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to observe the score of people she was sure stared at her.

  “Let her have some air.” Ayden lifted her to a sitting position in the crook of his arm. “You especially, Henry. Be glad you’re not in one of my classes this quarter.”

  “Sir, I—”

  Mia waved her arm. “Don’t . . . mad . . . him.” Her breath came marginally easier. “I should . . . noticed.” She dragged in a painful breath, but oxygen nonetheless. “Truly.” She opened her eyes to find the crowd tramping up the hill with the sleds and Ayden’s face close enough for the warm fog of his breath to brush against her lips.

  “Thank goodness you’re all right, Mia. When I saw you lying there . . .” His face grew closer.

  She closed her eyes. Her lips parted, and her breath ceased again, this time due to her racing heart, the anticipation, the longing. With one more beat of her galloping pulse—

  “Ayden! Ayden!” Rosalie ran down the hill, slipped, and slid the rest of the way on her seat. “Ayden, we’ve got to go home. Someone tried to take Baby Jamie.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ayden sprinted for the house, Rosalie and Mia somewhere behind him. He needed the run, the distraction, the worry over Ma and the kidnapped baby to take his mind off of how he had come a hair’s breadth from kissing Mia.

  What was he thinking?

  He hadn’t been thinking. For a moment, while they sat on the snow and he cradled her in his arm, time had slipped backward, and she was the woman he had intended to marry, a lady he had the right to kiss on a snowy hillside.