by Amelia Rose
“You’re going to bring the snow inside?” Millie said, squashing the panic she felt so he wouldn’t know how afraid she was.
“It’ll serve as fresh water since there’s no going to the creek. We can drink it, cook with it, wash with it. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
She could only stand quietly and ponder his assessment of their circumstances, but finally had to agree that it would be all right. After all, what choice did she have? She could drop to her knees and pray for safe passage through this latest conundrum, but then she’d still have to stand up and face the facts: she was trapped in this house right alongside Wyatt.
Once the children began to stir, Millie came to her senses and shrugged off her earlier fear. Having something to focus on, like trying to cook a decent meal or change the baby’s diaper while standing in the nearly pitch blackness of the cabin, helped put the snow out of her mind, at least for a short while. But every time she’d look over to see Wyatt’s head reappear out of the tunnel he was working on, she would get a fresh reminder that she was trapped. They all were.
“Mr. Flynn, will you do something for me?” Millie asked after he’d been digging for over an hour. Micah and Luke were helping carry milk pails full of snow to the giant washtub by the fire, giving their father a little more room for moving snow out of his path. “Will you take the rope with you?”
“What for?” he asked breathlessly. His skin was bright red from the cold but he was covered in water droplets where the snow melted each time it came in contact with him.
“I’m… I’m not sure. I’m just afraid of your tunnel collapsing, and then we’d have no way to find you. If you’ll be so kind as to tie the rope around you while you work, then I would be able to pull you out if that happens.”
“You think I don’t know how to dig my way out of a snow bank?” he asked, only his tone was more amused than put out.
“That’s not what I said. I just said it would put my mind at ease. I wouldn’t have to worry so much while you toiled.” She batted her eyes at him briefly, long enough to help him remember that a lady had asked a simple request to preserve his health. He made a show of snatching the rope from her outstretched hand and tying it around his waist, pretending to be exasperated. His antics had their desired effect; he’d given in without having to really admit she was right, but more importantly, she was now laughing instead of trembling fearfully.
“Are you happy now?” he asked, holding his arms out to his sides so she could see the rope tied securely around his waist, letting the water drip off his wrists and onto the floor.
“Very much so,” she said humbly. “And thank you.” Millie didn’t wait to see the look on his face at her obvious concern for him, but instead went back to doing any chores she could manage in the small, cramped space. She fought the urge to check the walls again, certain they were closing in under the weight of the hard-packed snow around them. She knew it was nonsense, and she didn’t want to interrupt Wyatt with her baseless fears.
The heaviest chore that day was going to be keeping the children occupied and happy, and Millie contrived a number of ways to do that. She taught the boys to make snow cream and snow candy from the fresh supply that they carried in from their father’s work, and told them that the best part of a snowy day such as that one was the ability to eat as much of it as they wanted. Their faces lit up with admiration as they watched Rose taste her first bite of the sweet concoction, a look of mesmerized rapture lighting up her tiny features. She waved her fists and cackled happily for more between bites, causing them all to laugh.
“What’s so funny in here?” Wyatt demanded roughly, but the twinkle in his eye was enough of a clue that he was only teasing. Micah and Luke laughed out loud at the sight of just their father’s head peering at them through the open door, the rest of his body covered by the tunnel.
“Did you reach the barn, Magellan?” Millie joked, making light of his efforts to cross the wide property. Wyatt shook his head.
“No, I’m afraid I might be going off course. I’m going to have to punch the roof of snow overhead and shovel it all out to the topsides to see where I’m going.” Millie looked away, knowing that it was a sound plan but not happy with the idea of him causing the snow to purposely cave in over his head while he was halfway across the yard.
“Can I help you?” she finally asked, more afraid of something happening to Wyatt than for her own safety.
“I don’t see how, but it’s kind of you to offer. Thank you,” he answered without looking at her, acknowledging her effort to be a help to him and his family.
“If we both hit the snow overhead from the sides at the same time, do you think it might break off in a single piece in the middle instead of sliding down on top of one person?” she asked, holding out the end of the broom and aiming it toward the top of the tunnel. Wyatt opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself.
“You might be right. We’ll try, but if it starts to fall on you, I’m going to have to push you out of the way. I know it might only seem like some snow, but I can’t know how thick it is in places. It could be ten feet or more, and that much snow falling on you can actually hurt you.”
Millie agreed, grateful that he’d paused long enough to really listen. Together, they stepped into the tunnel, and she was thrilled to see his hand jut out to position itself near enough to her without actually touching her, but close enough to catch her if she started to fall.
“We’ll hit it at the same time, all right?” Wyatt asked, looking at her curiously. Millie had felt much safer, seeing as how it was her plan, from the relative safety of the cabin. Here, surrounded on every side by snow and facing the possibility of collapse, she wasn’t feeling as brave.
“All right,” she agreed. “You say when.” She waited with her broom poised at the ready, watchful of Wyatt’s hands. He stared at her for a moment.
“When did you become this… this creature? The one who invites me to take charge of something for a change?” he teased with a light laugh. Millie shot him a look then focused once again on the snow.
“When you finally knew more about something than I do! Now let’s hurry before I turn chicken and change my mind about helping you.” She stood braced and ready, her feet wide apart, her broom held in front of her in both hands like a sword. She still stared intently at the natural roof above them, like they were about to attack a hornets’ nest instead of ice and snow.
“Miss Carter,” Wyatt said kindly. “If this is troubling you, I know I can take care of it on my own. You don’t need to trouble yourself if you’re scared.” Millie couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him say, “of a little snow,” at the end of his sentence, but he’d turned away before uttering anything else.
“No. I came here to be a help, and help I shall be. Let’s get on with it, quickly while the children are still occupied. I don’t want them in harm’s way while we work this out.”
“Okay then,” he said, taking a deep breath and reaching forward with the end of his shovel. “On the count of three… one… two… three!”
Wyatt and Millie both stabbed at the snow just in front of their faces at exactly the same time, then stepped back in fear.
Chapter Fifteen
Nothing happened.
They looked at the snow and its two identical little pockmarks where their tools had struck, then at each other, and laughed at their foolishness. It felt good to be laughing, and the silliness was contagious. Before long, they were both grabbing at their sides and shrieking with gales of laughter.
No sooner had they put their tools aside to enjoy the ridiculousness of the moment than a massive block of snow crashed to the ground before their feet. Without thinking, Wyatt grabbed Millie in his arms and shielded her thin frame from the snow. They both turned to look at the massive cave in without even realizing that he still held her closely pressed against him.
Millie hesitated to speak up, afraid that Wyatt would be heartbroken all over again and that any
headway she’d made in earning his trust and making him think more fondly of her would be irreparably damaged. She needn’t have worried, as it was he who looked down at her in alarm, afraid he’d overstepped his bounds in an inexcusable way.
“Pardon me, Miss Carter,” he said longingly as he slowly relaxed his hold on her. “I apologize, I only thought to protect you…”
“No, it’s quite all right, Mr. Flynn. I appreciate your looking after me.” She took a moment to recover from the feel of his arms around her, a feeling she was entirely unprepared for since she’d never envisioned anything happening between them. She looked up at him carefully and smiled in gratitude, but her attention was quickly snatched by the sight in front of her.
All the way to the barn, the cave in had caused the snow to fall in on Wyatt’s tunnel. The sky was a crisp blue overhead, flooding the cabin with bright light. She could see how the tunnel had originally begun to miss its mark, but with the snow out of the way and lying in flat pieces on the ground between two walls of snow, the path would be an easy one now. Where they’d been boxed in by the elements, there was now a narrow runway all the length of the property that provided a clear walkway to the barn.
“Do you think we could make a similar trench to my cabin? I think I left my hair brush behind,” Millie said stoically, not once cracking a smile and giving her away. Wyatt looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, but joined in on the joke when he realized that’s all it was.
“Look, Pa!” Micah cried, pointing to the high walls of snow on either side of the path. He and Luke raced to the door, but Millie and Wyatt each caught one squirmy boy and held them back from racing out into the cold.
“Not ‘til you have your shoes and coats on! And I expect to see a cap, some mittens, and a scarf before anyone sets foot outside!” Millie ordered without thinking. She looked quickly to Wyatt and shrugged apologetically after sending the boys off to get their winter clothes on. “What? I can’t help it! I care about them already, perhaps too much.”
“No, I understand. And you’re right; I do have to learn to let you handle them some. Besides, you’re far better with them than I am.” He avoided her gaze by looking out at the path in the back of the house, inspecting it for its usefulness.
“What do you mean?” she asked, putting a hand on his arm without thinking. “I’m not ‘better’ with them, what a strange thing for a father to say!”
“Well, it’s true! You’re attentive and playful, even when you’re being firm. I’m just the ogre from the scary stories who makes them mind and tells them when to go to bed. Ann—” he began, but stopped himself from saying her name. He looked away, but finally stood up straighter and finished. “Anna Mae was the same way with them. She was the kind, loving mother and I was always the one to be feared.”
“It’s not fear they feel when they’re around you, I promise. Well, it is, in a way, but not like you think. They’re afraid of making you sad. They don’t want to do anything that upsets you, even if it’s only to laugh too loudly and make you remember they’re here. You’re not a bad father; you’re just a different kind of parent than their mother was. You two balanced each other out. They had you to provide them with discipline, to raise them up in the way they should go. And they had their mother to bring them happiness and even a little fun. It’s just like opening up this tunnel… there’s nothing wrong with sharing the work.”
Wyatt took encouragement from her words, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Anna Mae had gifted him with three wonderful children, even he could see how blessed he was in spite of the grief that still ate at him, but he knew it wasn’t enough for his children, or any children, for that matter, to have two such different parents in their lives. His children, Anna Mae’s children, deserved to feel love at every turn, not just from some of the people they knew and were close to.
The boys returned with their winter clothes askew, declaring themselves ready for their adventure in the snow. Millie had to laugh out loud at their rag-tag appearance before dropping down to the floor to help them put their clothes on correctly.
“I have an idea,” she declared as she did up the buttons and wound the scarves. “How would you two boys like to help your pa get his chores done so that he has some time to go sledding with you?”
Micah and Luke stared first at Millie, then at Wyatt, their tiny mouths hanging open in surprise. They’d only known Millie a short time and had never known her to be unkind, but it was hard to believe her offer was genuine.
“Do you mean it? Really? We can… play… with Pa?” they asked her, ignoring Wyatt right where he stood out of trepidation that he’d refuse. For her part, Millie didn’t look in his direction either, afraid of exactly the same thing.
“I don’t see why not. But you have to get all the chores done first. This is a working farm, and you two are big boys, big enough to be a help to your father. Go with him and see to the animals that need tending, and then there’ll be time enough for playing before we take some lessons in the reader. We can save lessons today for after the sun goes down, just for today, mind you! Growing boys need sunshine, just like the flowers do.”
“Hey!” Luke cried, stamping his foot and causing Millie to step back in surprise. “I’m not a flower!”
She laughed and grabbed him in her arms, yanking his woolen cap off and planting a kiss on top of his head before replacing his hat and pushing him out the door to join Micah. Rose clapped her hands and cooed at the sound of the boys’ laughter, and before Millie or Wyatt knew what was happening, she crawled over to them to get a closer look.
“Would you look at that! This Rose has picked up her roots and taken to moving!” Millie said, scooping the baby up and kissing her on the cheek before holding her up to see her brothers. “Did you want to play in the snow, too?”
“Do you think it’s wise to have a baby outside like this?” Wyatt asked, his earlier wary tone coloring his voice. Millie cocked an eyebrow at him and threw a hand to her free hip.
“Did I not tell you earlier that I’m always right?”
Wyatt couldn’t help but laugh at the haughty expression on her face. “I seem to recall something about that, and if I remember correctly, it made me very, very afraid.”
“Good. It should make you afraid!” she answered, wrapping her shawl tighter around both her and little Rose and stepping carefully across the snow to join the boys. Wyatt watched from where he stood, and he couldn’t help but admire the easy way this strange woman interacted so fluidly with his children. It was almost as if she’d been right, that first time she met the boys, when she said Anna Mae had chosen her to come and be a part of their young lives. Now if he only knew how to trust that Anna Mae had chosen Millie for his life, too.
Chapter Sixteen
The snow seemed to linger longer than expected, despite the sun that shone overhead each day. It held the children’s interest for only a matter of days before they, too, seemed to grow weary of the frozen landscape. They had been teased with warmer temperatures and slightly longer days before this last winter storm, and spring was now long overdue. They all felt its absence keenly, even the animals, and were refreshed when the temperatures started to climb and the piles of frozen drifts began to thaw.
The ground wasn’t the only thing thawing. Wyatt had also begun to let his spirits lift slightly, slowly but surely letting his wall of carefully guarded, unemotional detachment break away. He wasn’t back to the usual boisterous man he’d been when his wife was alive, but he was cautiously pleasant to be around. He preferred to sit back and watch his children learn to play again, and even he had to admit that it was Millie’s influence that had taught them it was all right to smile. He certainly couldn’t take credit for it himself, that was for sure.
With the storm behind them, visitors had come to call again, and even they noticed a change in both Wyatt and Millie. They were more companionable, even if they were far from seeming to have feelings for each other.
“I can naw see th
em together in my mind,” Gretchen admitted to Kieran as they rode back home from their visit. Their home was in town where Kieran still minded the law, so they stopped at Pryor and Moira’s place to spend the night. Moira had fixed them a fine dinner, and now the four of them sat by the fire, sipping their tea. Pryor, outnumbered as he was by Irish folks, held his mug politely while the others enjoyed the brew.
“Why ever naw?” Moira asked, alarmed. “I thought they was getting along rather well the last time we paid a call.”
“I can naw say, ‘tis just something about their mannerisms. ‘Tis more as though they’ve agreed to tolerate one another than become man and wife. I don’t know, ‘tis only a feeling, nothing more,” Gretchen admitted sadly. Kieran patted her hand reassuringly.
“I know I can speak for all the men present when I say, something like losing Mrs. Flynn must’a been hard on the man. ‘Tis a wonder he has the presence of mind to button up his own shirt, let alone think about marrying again. But he’ll have to,” Kieran explained morosely. “Life will move forward, whether Flynn wants it to or naw. He might as well go forward with it.”
“Spoken like a true romantic, Mr. O’Conner!” Moira said in jest. He laughed, but narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Romance has naw to do with it! Marriage is about protecting your land and keeping your family safe. Without a family, there’s any number of things that could happen if you die. A marriage is all the more wonderful if a husband and wife are fond of each other, of course—” At that, he stopped and kissed Gretchen’s hand. “—but it’s really about being responsible.”
“I don’t know,” Pryor argued. “I had no one to worry about when I chose to write off to the agency. I just didn’t like the idea of spending another empty year on my land with no one to share it with. I’d be lost without Moira. I know exactly what Flynn must be feeling.”