by London, Cait
After living together for three years and finally planning a wedding, Scott wasn’t prepared for the changes in her body, her brief morning sickness had repelled him. He’d wanted a family earlier, but then suddenly—with the wedding a month away—he explained how trapped he felt by her and the impending marriage, and the child he didn’t want. He blamed her nesting urges for ruining a “good setup.”
“Do you want to rest?” Gabriel asked softly above her head. That liquid deep voice was the same, calming, gentling…
Unwilling to leave the safety of his shoulder, Miranda shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wish Mom could have been here.”
Her mother’s fatal accident had stirred her need to marry, to have children, to carry on with life. She couldn’t blame Scott. He was clearly surprised by his own fears. They’d had a good relationship, blending their work and lives. It wasn’t a blinding love affair, but she had settled for a workable and pleasant one with Scott. Yet, there it was—a solid lump of the ugly unexpected. Scott did not want to be a father; he couldn’t bear to look at her, or touch her, after the six-weeks’ pregnancy test proved positive. He’d been almost physically ill at the news.
The plain gold band on her finger was a lie, and looking back, so was her life with Scott. She’d desperately needed her mother’s home in which to mend, to be strong for her baby. With Tanner and Kylie living nearby, Miranda’s baby would always have a family and safety.
The music ended and still Gabriel held her, unmoving. She caught the scent of wood smoke and horses and leather and man, all safe and good. Slowly she lifted her head to meet those searching black eyes. “I’m fine,” she managed to say and forced herself to ease away from the first safety she’d felt in months. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” Gabriel stood very still, watching her, and Miranda couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.
Then Sadie McGinnis, a member of the Women’s Council, came to her side. “Your husband couldn’t get away for the wedding, hmm?”
Miranda shook her head no, and hated the lie. “Excuse me. It’s time to catch Kylie’s bouquet.”
“But, honey. That’s for the unmarried girls,” Sadie said firmly.
“Oh, yes. Of course. But I want to see better.” Miranda moved away quickly. Did anyone suspect? Amid the cheers, she glanced at the people she’d known all of her life. She found only joy and warmth in their expressions. Gabriel stood apart, his face unreadable, and she wondered if he knew that she was alone.
Somehow, she’d get through her unsteady emotions, Miranda thought in the silence of her mother’s home. In Seattle, she’d used her analytical mind to dissect statistics, to determine potential markets. A high-paid executive with a magna cum laude degree, she’d plunged through daily routines, gauging her life by clocks and corporate demands. Scott had been a comfortable part of that life, those routines.
Who was she? Where was that cool reasoning power now? she wondered, as she foundered in her emotions. She sat by the opened hope chest she’d filled all those years ago. She’d dreamed of being Gabriel’s wife, of having his children. Hope chests were a requirement of the brides in Freedom Valley, and her mother had helped her fill this one. Miranda smoothed the tiny hand-stitched quilt her mother had made, the note pinned to it. “With love, Grandma.”
Miranda scrubbed the tears from her face, then gave way to crying. “I need you, Mom. Why did that accident have to happen?”
The house she’d grown up in was too quiet, the shadows echoing with Tanner’s outraged shouts as he tore after two younger sisters. Kylie’s giggles curled through the years, and their mother’s soothing voice: “You’ll be fine. Just do what’s right and everything else will follow.”
Miranda smoothed the baby blanket Juanita Deerhorn, Gabriel’s mother, had stitched long ago. When Gabriel and Miranda were teenagers, Juanita simply came to Anna’s house one morning with a wrapped present for Miranda. One of Juanita’s famous saucer-size red roses had been tucked into the ribbon binding the gift. A Southern woman of grace and charm, Juanita’s birth name had been Lillian. But the elder Deerhorns affectionately referred to her in a name more familiar to them—“Juanita.”
Juanita had been unusually serious that morning. “My mother-in-law, Gabriel’s grandmother, White Fawn, told me to make this for you. I always do what she tells me, for she usually has a reason. I hope you like it.”
The baby blanket was for Miranda’s hope chest, dainty hand stitching fashioning a Celtic-looking design of interwoven circles with no beginning and no end. Juanita’s smile had been soft as she traced them. “The batting was from White Fawn’s sheep. She hand-carded it and drew the design for me to use. Don’t make too much of this, honey. White Fawn often tells me these small things to do, and because you are such a lovely girl, and I love your dear mother, this is a gift of the heart, not because I exactly expect you to be toting my grandchild someday.”
The blanket had remained in Miranda’s hope chest, the rose carefully pressed with it…. She pressed her hand against the small kick in her womb. The baby seemed weaker in the past few days, but perhaps that was the stress of leaving her old life. Easing downstairs, Miranda suddenly felt very old and worn, as though she’d crossed centuries, not a hectic month of making arrangements to move to Freedom Valley.
She brewed a cup of tea and settled comfortably under the afghan on her mother’s couch. Her mother was still here, in the scents and herbs, though Gwyneth and Kylie and Tanner had tended and cleaned the house. In the spring, the yellow tulips and irises and lavender beds would sprout, the tender herbs scenting the air.
Tanner and Kylie had each returned to Freedom Valley, and each had lived in Anna’s home. Its warmth circled Miranda now, giving her the shelter she needed. But one day, the contents would have to be separated, each sister and Tanner taking a bit home with them.
“My doctor said the baby is perfectly healthy,” Miranda quietly reassured herself amid the still shadows of the house. “But oh, Mom. I wish you were here.” Miranda decided to rest before checking in with Freedom Valley’s doctor and tried not to cry, a brief release for all the emotions storming her. She was simply too tired to drag herself into the reality of her new life in Freedom Valley just yet.
Tanner and Gwyneth’s baby would arrive after hers, and the cousins would be family. Kylie and Michael wouldn’t wait to start a family, because Kylie never waited, forever leaping into life. Her brother and sister were blissfully happy in their new lives and their mother would have loved keeping her grandchildren.
Her mother’s death had pricked Miranda’s biological need for a child, a new life to replace a dear one that had been cut short. The continuity of Anna’s life was important, and so, safe in the knowledge that Scott would want their child, Miranda had conceived. Looking back, while she was grieving over her mother was not the best time to make a decision to have a baby. Miranda smoothed her belly and knew that she had enough love for two parents.
“Mother? Where are you?” Miranda whispered, and ached when no answer returned from the shadows. She looked outside to the snow slashing across her mother’s front porch. Anna had always fed the birds early in the morning, and filling the many bird feeders would be a start for Miranda’s routine. Day by day, she’d build a life for her child that was safe and good. Just now, she wasn’t ready to expose herself to anyone but Kylie and Tanner. But eventually she would have to deal with gossip. A younger, more vulnerable Miranda had already handled rumors and sympathetic looks by Freedom Valley’s townfolk.
All those years ago, teenage Gabriel had hurt her terribly. “I don’t want you. Don’t even think of marriage between us, or anything else,” he’d said grimly. She’d cried horribly, hiding from her family, trying not to show her pain. He’d torn away her heart and deep inside she’d hated him, vowing never to forgive him.
Years later, another man’s confession had jolted her. She’d been startled by Scott’s reaction and rejection, but not hurt. It was as if her emotions with him hadn’t be
en deep enough to wound. He’d been truthful, though, and she admired that more than a man who forced himself to submit to a life he didn’t want.
Miranda slid down on the couch, snuggling into the familiar warmth of her homecoming. She closed her eyes and wondered why she could not remember the Nordic texture of Scott’s crisp waving blond hair, and yet the coarse, straight texture of Gabriel’s black shaggy mane seemed so familiar.
Was he happy? Gossip said he hadn’t married, that he kept to himself and his mountains. Miranda frowned and closed her eyes wearily, her hand smoothing the baby nestled within her. Why did he seem so uncomfortable with her? Did those sweet days of their teenage years still curl around him as they did her? Gabriel, you look so hard and lonely. What happened to you? Then, a tiny kick beneath her hand claimed her thoughts of the future.
Two
The most gentle of hearts can be found in unsuspecting places. Women tend to think that only another woman can give comfort, but men—given the chance—can offer kindness to a troubled heart.
Anna Bennett’s Journal
Gabriel followed the snowplow as it passed Anna’s small farm, leaving small mountains of snow on either side of the road. Departing immediately after their wedding for their honeymoon, Kylie and Michael had missed the heavy snow that now bent the trees and blocked some roads and airports. The light lacy snowflakes hit Gabriel’s windshield and the clack-clack of his wipers created the pattern for his thoughts.
After the wedding, he had packed a two-week supply of groceries into his battered Jeep. Then he had settled down with his friends at the Silver Dollar Tavern, the site of the wedding reception. He was more comfortable there, with the loud country music and the smells, than in the church, with a tie tight around his neck. The sounds had vibrated in the tavern’s smoky room, a jarring contrast to his very quiet, solitary log home. Though he visited Tanner and his lifelong friends throughout the year, Gabriel was always glad to get back to his mountains. The Bachelor Club—Koby, Fletcher, Dylan, Brody and the rest of his friends—had toasted their “dying breed.” Because Dakota Jones’s little sister, Karolina, alias “Super Snoop,” had been in a snit, mourning her “old maid” status, the men had taken turns dancing with her. But Gabriel had danced the last dance with Miranda. Another time, when a woman would ask a man for the last dance, it would mean she chose him for her future husband. Gabriel wasn’t likely to follow the local customs—love had passed him by, and he’d settled for peace in the mountains.
Later, only a little of the tension remained from holding Miranda in his arms. He’d stayed the night at Michael’s house, the newlyweds bound for a sunny, tropical honeymoon.
Filled with thoughts of yesterday’s wedding and seeing Miranda again, he kept his four-wheel-drive Jeep a respectable distance behind the snowplow. At six o’clock in the morning, the flashing red light of the snowplow shot off into the darkness. Behind the wheel of the charging beast, Mac Reno would be in an evil mood, pained by a Saturday night hangover. Mac had once gotten in an argument with Willa, the owner of the Wagon Wheel Café and the mayor of Freedom; he’d used the snowplow to bury her car.
After the joy of Kylie and Michael yesterday, and Gwyneth and Tanner’s delight in their coming baby, Gabriel’s solitary life seemed as gray as the morning. The woman in the smoke—her eyes warm upon him, and her body rounded with his child—was only a dream he used to fill the ache inside him, a self-induced medicine to give him momentary peace. He’d made the right decision when they were teenagers—
Gabriel ran his hand over his jaw, the sound of the scrape as raw as his emotions. He didn’t like being unsettled, tossed back into the past when Miranda danced close and sweet against him. She wore another man’s ring, and now she carried his child—Why had that shadow crossed her face when asked about her husband?
Gabriel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. If she had been mistreated—He pushed away that ugly thought. She looked as if she were blooming, the pregnancy sitting well on her.
But she had leaned against him in the old way, when troubles came too deeply upon her. As a boy, he’d been stunned that she would give so much to him, letting him see her doubts and trusting him with her thoughts. She’d grieved then for her father, Paul, a good man who had died of a terminal disease.
Miranda smelled the same—of sun and wind brushing across the lush sweet-grass meadows. Her eyes were still the shining green of new grass, clear and bright and happy—she’d looked that way when he’d given her that wildflower bouquet all those years ago. Now she was a woman, preparing for her child, and yet she seemed so fragile, light and willowy in his arms. He feared holding her too close, keeping his distance, for just then, he was uncertain of himself.
Gabriel glanced at Anna’s driveway, at the snow the plow had piled high, barring the entrance. Out of habit, he eased the Jeep over the snow and reached to the back to push aside the snowshoes resting over his shovel. Anna had always been good to him, and he was only one of many who would clear her driveway. In no hurry to return to his empty house, Gabriel glanced at Anna’s home and found light streaming from all the windows, creating golden patches into the gray dawn. The house was much like Anna had left it a year ago, though both Tanner and Kylie had taken turns living in it. Tanner had explained that none of Anna’s children could bear separating her things. Filled with warm scents and Anna’s tender presence, the house would be a ghost to Miranda now. She would be doing her prowling, missing her mother, and that wound would be slow to heal. How could her husband not see to her at such a time, not come with her? To know such a woman and not care for her was unthinkable.
But then Miranda was her own woman, very independent, and it wasn’t for Gabriel to mull her life.
When he opened the Jeep’s door, the freezing temperatures hit him. He sucked in the icy air, letting it cleanse him, and then began to shovel the snow. The earth needed snow for nourishment, and to make the grass grow lush and green—Miranda’s eyes were still as green, softer now with her coming baby nestled inside her. The thought jarred him, how easily she stepped into his mind after all those years. Perhaps she had always been there.
The image of her teenage disbelief slashed across him. In curt terms, he’d told her that they weren’t meant for each other and that she should take the scholarship offers coming to her, that she should leave Freedom Valley. He’d told her that their paths were not meant to be one—that his life’s path was not for her—and the shock in those green eyes had shamed him. Her slender body had recoiled as if taking a physical blow. Though his heart had been tearing, he tried not to show his anguish and how much her tears hurt him. The memory added force to his shovel’s blow against a shrub, shaking the branches and dislodging the heavy snow before it could break them. He tempered the other blows, pushing the shattering image into the past for a time.
The birds began to chirp and he smiled briefly. Anna’s feeders were always kept well filled and suet balls hung from the trees. Coming from a close family, Miranda would honor her mother’s desires. When would she leave? Would he see her again?
Gabriel thrust the unseemly thoughts from him. She was another man’s woman, and it was not his way to—In the stillness of morning, a soft moan sounded amid the chirping birds, and there at the base of Anna’s front steps was—
Gabriel ran toward Miranda, curled into a ball. Birdseed was scattered on the snow, and the skid mark on the icy top step told the story. Tearing off his leather gloves, he crouched to her side. He eased away the corner of her shawl and found her face too white, a thin trickle of blood at her forehead.
How long had she lain in the freezing temperatures? Trembling, Gabriel eased his arm beneath her head. “Miranda?”
His heart stopped beating while he waited for her to answer. “Miranda?”
This time she moaned slightly and tensed, as if in pain. When she moved, Gabriel saw the blood soaking the white snow. He eased away her long, heavy coat and grimly acknowledged the likelihood that Miranda had l
ost her baby. “Shh, Miranda,” he whispered as he began to work quickly.
Through the pain tearing at her body, Miranda looked up at Gabriel’s darkly weathered face. He looked so tired and worried, his black eyes soft and warm upon her. “Miranda?”
Her head throbbed, and the cold cloth on her forehead came away with her blood. She remembered falling, trying to protect her baby and icy terror leaped into her. “My baby?”
“Miranda, you’re in Anna’s house. Upstairs in your bedroom—”
She reached to snag his flannel shirt, to fist it with both hands. “Tell me.”
“Miranda, you have to help me. The roads are closed and the doctor can’t get here soon. You have to tell me what to do. Mother is a midwife, but I can’t reach her. You helped your mother at times like this. You’ve got to think—”
“My baby?” she cried again and knew from the emptiness inside her that the baby had come too soon.
Gabriel took her hands in his and shook his head. “I tried. He was a fine boy.”
Her wail ripped through the still shadows. Or was that the sound of her heart and soul tearing apart? Oh my little love, wait for me…Mommy will take care of you…wait for me…
“Miranda, come back to me,” Gabriel said firmly. “Tell me what to do. The doctor told me some of it, but you know what your mother would have done. Where are Tanner and Gwyneth? They’re not answering their telephone.”