Hometown Cinderella: Hometown CinderellaThe Inn at Hope Springs

by Patricia Davids

  A gust of wind nearly knocked her over. Mara blinked, hardly able to see through the driving snow. She could no longer fool herself that this was anything short of a blizzard. The lights of the last houses had been left far behind. It was no use to try and turn back. Chances were just as likely she’d lose her way going back as going forward.

  All she could do was pray for a miracle. Lord, please bring me back to my son. Her lips were too stiff with cold to try to pray aloud. She could no longer see the road. The snow would soon reach her knees. The drag against her long skirts made the going only slower. The only way to tell she was on the road was the firmness of its frozen, rutted surface. She kept veering off to the sides and would realize it by the ditches or rise in terrain.

  Her hands flew out, trying to right herself before falling into a ditch. If she twisted an ankle, she’d be done for.

  Heavenly Father, please help me, in Your dear Son Jesus’s name…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Before Gideon got more than half a mile from his driveway, the snow was blinding and full darkness had fallen. Thankful that his mare knew the way, he nevertheless prayed for guidance, knowing how easy it was to lose one’s bearings in a snowstorm.

  Even if his mare kept to the road, who was to say Mara would haven’t wandered off it? It would be like finding a dory gone adrift at sea.

  Firmly putting such thoughts out of his mind, he concentrated on navigating his sleigh through the high drifts of snow. Despite the two lanterns hanging on either side of the sleigh, it was difficult to distinguish the road from the surrounding land any longer. Only his horse’s innate sense of direction and knowledge of the ground beneath her hooves could keep them on the right path.

  Gideon huddled beneath the layers of heavy woolen blanket and bearskin rug covering his legs. Beside him on the narrow seat lay another folded blanket wrapped around a hot water flask and a foot warmer on the floor below for Mara when he found her. He would not entertain the word if.

  Maybe she’d decided to board somewhere in town. He didn’t know how many folks she knew, but he was certain someone, perhaps one of her pupil’s parents, would offer her a place. People around here knew how serious a snowstorm was and wouldn’t hesitate to offer lodging for a night.

  But would she have stayed? He knew how careful she was of her son. Deep in his heart he doubted she’d stay away from Dietrich without sending word.

  He drew in a deep breath, the icy air bringing a further chill to his body. A physical chill that added to the mental chill he was already experiencing with all the possibilities looming in his mind.

  He recited a psalm, the only antidote he knew to keep terror at bay. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…”

  Give her wisdom, Lord. Dear God, show her the way. If she’s in town still, guide me safely there. But if Mara is somewhere between here and town, lead me to her. Keep her safe, keep her on the road until I can get to her.

  He squinted into the small rims of light cast by the lanterns. Thick snow swirled in the haloes. The rest was darkness. The sleigh bells on the harness jingled, bringing a cheery sound to the still night.

  Snow fell on his eyebrows and eyelashes and he had to keep brushing it off. They went by the few sparse lights of scattered farmhouses. He knew the road well, every rise, descent and turn, so he kept his attention fixed on these geographical signposts, his eyes scanning the terrain around him. He could tell when they passed the Winfields’ pastures then entered the Bay Woods. The road turned away from the hamlet, whose small harbor lay in the opposite direction. He guided the mare onto the road to town, which lay inland along the river.

  He judged he had about three miles to go. As they past the last light, which he knew was the Edgertons’ farm, he knew in another quarter of a mile or so, they’d enter a stretch of blueberry land, the undulating heath where the low-bush crops grew in summer.

  But first was a stretch of heavy forest, the tall firs looking only slightly blacker than the sky, hemming the sleigh in on either side like giant columns of soldiers. In the distance a wolf howled and he shivered at the sound.

  What if she were somewhere in there? No, she wouldn’t have wandered in between the thickly growing trees. What if she had fallen somewhere? Would he see her in this gloom? Would she hear the jingle of the sleigh bells?

  Finally they left the pitch darkness of the forest. With a prayer upon his lips, Gideon scanned both sides of the road. Large boulders lay covered in snow like humps. What if she had fallen and lay covered in snow? Would he miss her, thinking her form was a smaller boulder?

  He would get out and examine each hump that looked the size of a human body.

  The sleigh moved along, the whoosh of the runners hardly audible below the jingle of the bells. Surely Mara would hear the sounds from a distance? He strained to distinguish the shadows in the dark. Would she have reached the halfway point between hamlet and town by now? He tried to calculate what time she would have left town.

  He should have been more persistent in coming to fetch her on the days she gave her lessons in town, regardless of her polite rebuff. He’d hoped he’d conveyed by his behavior that he’d never presume to act on his feelings—not without any clear encouragement from her. But feelings had a way of growing whether one wanted them to or not. Each encounter of his with Mara Keller only deepened his respect and admiration…and the longing of a man for a woman—for that companionship, friendship—and for that union that transcended all.

  The sense of urgency to find Mara grew in him. He began to call out her name. “Mrs. Keller! Mrs. Keller!” he shouted out in both directions then realized it sounded ridiculous to sound so formal. “Mara! Mara!”

  Thinking he saw something move ahead of him on the side of the road, he pulled on the reins. “Whoa, Bessie.” He strained to hear into the night. His mare tossed her head, sending the bells jangling again. “Shush, girl.”

  He stepped from the sleigh and sank into knee-high snow. “Stay put a moment, Bess,” he told the mare with a pat to her neck. Her heavy puffs of breath created clouds of vapor in the chill air.

  “Mara!”

  Yes, there was a sound—a soft moan. Gideon took down one of the lanterns from its hook and hurried toward the sound, his progress impeded by the deep, thick snow.

  A movement in a mound of snow from the side of the road. He scrambled down the ditch. An arm rose, shaking off a pile of snow. He reached for it.

  Another moan. He quickly brushed the snow off the form. “Mara—thank God.” He cleared the snow from her face as she made an effort to rise. He put his arm around her shoulders and helped her up.

  “Wha—”

  “Shush, don’t try to talk. Here, put your arm around my neck.” He set his lantern down in the snow then, bending over her, he brought his other arm under her knees and braced himself to lift her.

  Her skirts, caked with snow, weighed her down. Her hands came around his neck. “I…I think I can walk.”

  “The snow’s too deep. I’ve got the sleigh right here.” As he spoke, he stood with a soft grunt then shifted her in his arms to get a better grip. Though she felt heavy, she also felt good in his arms. For a second, he could only stand, an overwhelming relief and thankfulness washing over him. He had found her and she was alive!

  Dear God, thank You for keeping her and leading me to her.

  She rested her head upon his chest and said nothing, appearing completely done in. He reached the sleigh and set her on the seat on the nearest side.

  She was covered in snow but he thought it was best to get her tucked in. He had no idea if she was hurt. He unfolded the blanket and set the stone water bottle against her then covered her legs.

  She brought a hand to her face. “I feel…so disoriented.”

  “You must have passed out. Can you
feel your feet or hands?”

  “I think so…they’re too numb to tell.” She laughed weakly.

  He placed her feet atop the foot warmer and covered them in the blankets and fur lap robe. Then he took a hand in his and removed her mitten and began to rub her ice-cold fingers.

  “That feels better.” Her voice sounded stronger. “I don’t think they’re frozen.”

  He placed her hand under the cover and began with the other. Satisfied, he finished tucking her in. “Let’s get you home.”

  Once he had retrieved the lantern and gotten in on the other side, wedged tightly beside her in the small space, he finished tucking the blankets around them both and took up the reins to turn the sleigh around.

  “Any idea how long you were there?”

  “No. I’m not sure what happened. I’d gotten a good way. I’d reached the barrens, but it was getting harder and harder to get through the snow. I was being so careful to keep to the road. But it was getting difficult to see.” She gave a small laugh. “I was even debating turning back but I knew I’d gone too far to make that practical.”

  After a moment she added, “I didn’t want Dietrich to worry.”

  He’d been right about that. “I would have come fetch you if I’d known you’d been to town this afternoon. I didn’t find out till Lizzie and I brought Dietrich home. By then, it was nigh on four o’clock.”

  “I didn’t leave town till around three.”

  Under normal circumstances she’d be home. “I’m amazed you made the progress you did.”

  “I was pretty desperate.” Again, a trace of humor underscored her words.

  He urged the mare forward. The snow was coming down thick and fast. But the narrow space in the sleigh felt warm and cozy under the thick cover of blankets. The ride no longer felt scary and threatening. Instead, he felt a kind of peace, as if the two of them were the only two people in the universe. He glanced at her frequently to assure himself she was all right—and that she was really there beside him. “Warm enough?”

  “Mmm. Toasty. I’m glad for the foot warmer. I can feel my toes again.”

  “You must not have been there too long.”

  “I think I fell into the ditch and wrenched my ankle. It feels a bit sore.”

  “We can put some liniment on it when we get home. By the way, Dietrich is at my house. When we found out from Mrs. Blackstone that you were still out, we thought it best he stay with Lizzie.”

  “I’m sorry for all the trouble. You shouldn’t have had to go out in this storm.”

  “I’m just glad to have found you.” His voice hitched, and he wished he could express how profoundly thankful he was.

  As they approached his farmhouse, Lizzie, bless her heart, had lights blazing everywhere to light the way. He cleared his throat, having thought about this for the past half hour. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to propose you stay here with Dietrich tonight. There’s plenty of room.”

  She didn’t answer as he swung into the drive. He braced himself for her refusal, but truth be told, he didn’t want to have to make the final leg of the journey to Mrs. Blackstone’s. Bessie was about done in, and the storm showed no signs of abating.

  “Thank you,” she finally said.

  He imagined she had probably realized the same thing, although it likely went against the grain for her to impose. All he could do was breathe a sigh of relief that she’d acquiesced.

  “Let me get the barn door.”

  As soon as he brought the sleigh into the barn, it felt strange not to have the thick flakes pummeling his face.

  Mrs. Keller turned to him, a hand touching his arm as he made to move. “Wait.”

  He looked into her eyes, a question in his.

  “I want to thank you.”

  He began to shake his head that there was no need, but he could feel the pressure of her hand increase through the thick cloth of his overcoat.

  “I thank God for sending you. I wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

  His throat worked and he wasn’t sure the words would come out in a normal tone of voice. “I thank the good Lord, too, for leading me to you.”

  They remained looking at each other until the door to the shed opened and they heard Lizzie’s cry. “Oh, Papa, you found her!”

  She and Dietrich ran up on either side of the sleigh and for the next several minutes the children’s voices rang out with joyful exclamations, uttering what Gideon didn’t have the freedom to express.

  Mara sat ensconced in quilts on a settee in front of the fireplace. As soon as she’d been ushered inside, Lizzie had whisked her off to her room, helped her shed her cold, wet garments and lent her a flannel nightgown and wool dressing gown.

  Once she’d been settled in the parlor, Mara had not been allowed to move. Voices came from the kitchen as they prepared her a supper tray, Gideon’s lower-pitched one, Lizzie’s and Dietrich’s higher, more excited tones.

  Any offers Mara had made to help had fallen on deaf ears.

  In truth, she’d felt too drained of any energy to move from her warm seat. After her harrowing experience, it was all too easy to allow others to cosset her. Time enough tomorrow to fend for herself and her son once again. For now, she was grateful for Gideon and his daughter.

  Dear Lord, thank You for bringing him to me, for keeping him safe on the road. Tears welled up in her eyes thinking about Gideon’s miraculous appearance. Just in the nick of time. Once she’d warmed up some, she’d been able to think more clearly and remember the sequence of events. She had indeed veered off the road and twisted her ankle in the snow, and then been too cold to get up again. She attempted to move her ankle now. It felt painful but she didn’t think it was a serious sprain and would probably be fine by morning. Gideon had still insisted on putting some liniment on it and binding it.

  His large, rough hands had handled her ankle so gently and yet so expertly. He must have been experienced at doctoring his animals.

  “Here you go.” With a flourish, Lizzie carried in a tray. Gideon brought over a small table and Lizzie set it down in front of her.

  Mara eyed the steaming bowl of stew, the buttered biscuits and cup of tea laced with milk. “My goodness, it looks and smells delicious.”

  Lizzie smiled shyly. “Venison stew. I hope you like it.”

  Mara unfolded the calico napkin. “I have no doubt I will. I’m quite famished, I can tell you.”

  Gideon removed the screen and knelt by the fire, poking it until the sparks flew and flames burned bright.

  Dietrich knelt beside him. Mara smiled at how closely her son’s movements imitated the man’s.

  As she took spoonfuls she listened to their conversation, the young boy’s questions, the man’s patient explanations. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a chestnut roaster.”

  “Are you going to roast chestnuts over the fire?”

  “Yes. Here, pour some in the pot.” He allowed Dietrich to scoop the brown chestnuts from a burlap sack and place them into the brass container of the long-handled contraption with its holes around the top.

  “We’re also going to roast some apples and pop some popcorn, eh, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie smiled. “We always do on Christmas Eve and since you two are here, we figured this was close enough.” She sat down on the hearth beside them and the three set to work.

  Mara finished her food and sat back against the cushions. How good it felt to feel warm again.

  As if reading her thoughts, Gideon glanced her way. “All right?”

  She smiled. “Very.”

  He returned her smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. A new warmth spread through her limbs and she shivered.

  “Cold?”

  A flush rose from her
neck to her cheeks. “No, not at all.” She hurried to ask the first thing that popped into her head. “Is Bessie all right?”

  “Brushed down and fed her oats and hay, she’s safe in her stall for the night.”

  “I’m glad she was able to navigate through the storm.”

  “She knows the lay of the land pretty well.”

  The first kernels of corn started popping. Lizzie gave an exclamation and sped up her shaking.

  Dietrich turned away from the fire to Gideon. “Why aren’t my chestnuts popping?”

  “You’ve just got to keep shaking them.” He gave his attention back to her son, his much larger hands covering Dietrich’s on the long handle and giving it a vigorous shake.

  A while later, the three sat together, Dietrich wedged closely to her on the settee, Lizzie on his other side and Gideon in an armchair drawn up on Mara’s side of the settee, close to the fireplace. A bowl of popcorn, a dish of roasted chestnuts and another of roasted apples, and a bowl of shagbark hickory nuts were set on the low table before them.

  They spent a convivial evening talking about everything from Gideon’s boyhood in the hamlet to Christmas customs all across Europe. Then Gideon brought out his fiddle and played some songs. They prevailed on Mara to sing a few Christmas songs in German and French.

  Dietrich yawned beside her.

  “If you yawn any harder, I’ll be able to see clear down to your belly,” Gideon told him.

  Dietrich snapped his mouth shut, his eyes round.

  Lizzie poked his arm. “He’s just teasing you. He used to tell me that all the time when it was my bedtime.”

  “You mean when it was past your bedtime and you were making a good job of ignoring the fact.”

  Dietrich giggled.

  With a yawn of his own, Gideon got up and stretched. “What’d’ya say, son, time to hit the sack? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow and you want to be well rested up for that.”

  Dietrich jumped up. “Can I help you decorate your tree?”