by Jillian Hart
He was being polite, that was all. No need to read anything more into it. She stacked her books, hearing the school bell ring. Noise burst out around her. Books slammed shut, kids bounced up from their seats, shoes knelled against the floorboards. Conversations drowned out the last echoes of the bell. All she could think about was seeing Ian again. Knowing he would be waiting for her outside Miss Sims’s shop was like a gift, one she couldn’t wait for.
“Poor Lorenzo hasn’t been the same since he met Ian.” Scarlet leaned close, whispering as they made their way through the emptying classroom. “I think you broke his heart, Fee.”
“Whose heart?” She wondered if Ian would be shivering in his too-thin coat.
“I think she did, too.” Lila spoke up, all sympathy. “Maybe I can offer him a few kind words during caroling practice to soothe his wounded feelings.”
“You certainly should.” Earlee’s wistfulness was that of a staunch romantic. “Lorenzo does look downcast today, poor dear.”
“And it’s all Fee’s fault.” Kate winked.
“What did I do?” she asked, hardly realizing she hadn’t buttoned her coat yet. In fact, she couldn’t remember fetching her coat from the hallway or walking through the schoolroom, or even getting up from her desk. The sunshine blinded her as she waltzed out into the winter afternoon, squinting against the brightness as she searched the roadway for him. Ridiculous, because she knew he wouldn’t be there, but did that stop her from looking for him? Not one bit.
“There’s no sense trying to talk to her,” Scarlet said, chuckling warmly. “I talked Ma into making a cake for our party on Friday.”
“Perfect. My stepmother is going to help me fix chicken and dumplings.” Lila sounded excited. “Fiona, will you bring the biscuits?”
“Sure.” She didn’t realize how much she could miss Ian. It made no sense. It wasn’t as if she cared for the man, right?
“My brother has agreed to come fetch me if the weather is bad, so I can come for sure,” Kate commented happily.
“That’s wonderful!” Earlee clasped her hands together prayerfully. “This might be our last celebration together. Our sewing circle might break apart after graduation. You never know where life will take each one of us.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Fiona sank into the snow, but it was more than her shoe sliding into the icy drift. “Our last sewing-circle Christmas party. That sounds so sad.”
“Depressing,” Scarlet agreed. “Which is why we do not have to think about it. Instead, it will be the best party we have ever had.”
They parted ways—Scarlet and Lila headed off to the church for caroling practice, Kate climbed into her father’s sleigh and Earlee walked away with six of her younger siblings. She did not have time to walk uptown today, for she was needed at home.
It was a beautiful day. The sun tossed diamonds onto the pristine snow, and she followed its sparkling trail. She was as cheerful as the lemony rays of sunshine, thinking of the tatted snowflakes she had finished and blued last night. They would be dry and perfect when she got home. Her gifts for her friends were done. Her parents did not celebrate Christmas with gifts, so she had all the presents she would need for the holiday—all but one.
Ian. Her thoughts looped back to him. All roads led inexorably to him. The church steeple rose above the cluster of trees and the tall storefronts, reminded her of how perfect yesterday after the church service had been. The looks they had shared across the sanctuary, how Ian had appeared different with worries and responsibilities lifted from his strapping shoulders. Of what he had told her about his family and his grandmother. She thought of the older woman, who had been best friends with her grandmother.
In her mind’s eye she could see her own grandmother’s kind face as she told of the McPhersons. Love, she realized, was the reason Ian was here—for his grandmother, and respect for what two girlfriends had shared long ago.
She turned onto the main street, snow tumbling off her shoes and onto the boardwalk. Perhaps, then, it was not so strange she and Ian felt such strong friendship for one another. Maybe she did not need to fight it so much.
“Good afternoon, Fiona,” Cora Sims greeted from behind the front desk. “It has been a busy day. Let me finish up this sale, and I will be right with you. There is tea steeping on the stovetop. It will warm you right up.”
“Thank you, Miss Sims.” Fiona liked the older woman. Cora Sims had been her inspiration for her future life. The lady had come to town long ago and started her own dress shop. She had made a fine life for herself, sewing for others. Maybe, thanks to Ian’s help, she could do the same one day.
What used to give her joy to think about now weighed her down. That future did not seem as bright. It was not only the prospect of leaving her friends, but something else. Something that hurt worse, and that made no sense.
Ian. She felt his presence as surely as the warmth from the stove. She unbuttoned her coat, searching for him through the wide display window. There he was across the street, confident and manly, tethering Flannigan to the hitching post. The big horse nudged the man’s hand affectionately, as if wanting one last nose rub. Ian obviously agreed, his affection clear. He was a true horseman in a worn-thin coat. He had to be freezing, his teeth looked to be chattering, but he made no hurry to end his time with Flannigan to rush out of the cold.
“I’m pleased to see you, Fiona. I hope this means you have the basting done so soon?”
“Yes, Miss Sims. I worked most of the weekend on it.” She opened her book bag and carefully withdrew the folded dress. “The collar was tricky, but I got it set just right. See what you think.”
While the seamstress shook out the garment to study it, Fiona let her attention wander back to the street. Ian had left Flannigan’s side and was lumbering up the steps onto the boardwalk, cane in hand. The sun brightened because he was near. Tenderness stirred within her, reverent and sweet. Tenderness she wanted to deny, but couldn’t.
“This is excellent work, Fiona. Let me get your wages.”
She blinked; for a second she had forgotten where she was. She nervously brushed a curl behind her ear. “Do you have any good heavy wool in stock? Something suitable for a winter coat?”
“Some new bolts came in on Friday’s train.” Cora tapped toward the front desk. “I put them out this morning. Just to your left, next to the buttons display.”
It did not make any sense to spend so much money, but did that stop her from wandering over to the table? Not one bit. There was no looking or debating. A bolt of black wool stood out from all the others, and she snatched it without thought. The finest quality, judging from its weight. She didn’t even ask Cora the price per yard.
“Will you hold this for me?” she asked. “I can come by after school tomorrow to pay for it.”
“That would be fine.” Cora smiled knowingly as she took the quality fabric and unrolled it with a thump onto the cutting counter. “Why don’t I cut it for you now, and you can take it with you? That way you can get started on it tonight. Christmas is fast approaching. How many yards do you need?”
“Enough for a man’s coat,” she whispered, for the bell above the door jingled. Ian’s uneven step tapped into the store, the sound meaningful to her. This was more than friendship she felt. Much more. Ignoring it or denying it would not change that fact.
“I’ve had a talk with your horse.” He took off his hat, revealing a relaxed, happy smile. He must have gotten the job. “Flannigan would like you to drive him home.”
“How thoughtful of him.” She stepped away from the counter, hoping Ian would not notice the fabric. “What else did Flannigan say?”
“That he misses you. You used to spend your evenings in the barn.”
“And he would like me to do that again, would he?”
“I believe so. I’m sure Riley would not mind at all, either.” He held out his hands to warm them at the stove. “Or the cat. He has set his cap for you, I fear.”
; “Oh, you do not fool me one bit, McPherson.”
“McPherson, is it? Again? You must be mad at me.”
“Blaming all that on the animals. Yes, indeed. If you want me to know you wouldn’t mind sharing the barn with me in the evening, then you could simply say so.” She thanked the shop owner with a conspiratorial smile and tucked a brown-wrapped package into her book bag. “Thank you, Miss Sims. Have a good afternoon!”
“Goodbye, dear. Same to you.” The sewing lady looked mighty pleased and gave him an approving smile. He had been getting a lot of those lately. Word had traveled about town he was here to marry the O’Rourke girl. Her hardships were no secret, nor could they be with the fading yellow bruise on her cheekbone.
Gentleness filled him. He resisted the need to pull her close and lay an arm around her shoulder. He wanted her step to remain light as she waltzed to the door. He opened it for her and followed her into the sunshine gracing the boardwalk.
“Did you get work?” She whirled around in a swirl of red gingham. “You look happy, so that must mean yes.”
“Aye. I start in the morning. I’m afraid you will have to walk to school.”
“I don’t mind. I usually stop by Earlee’s house so I can walk most of the way with her.” She skipped down the steps, her twin braids flying behind her.
He would forever remember this picture of her with dark wisps curling around her heart-shaped face, her happiness contagious, her wholesome beauty.
“C’mon, Ian. I can’t wait to drive.” She glided across the street, one step ahead and all that was dear to him. Her dark hair gleamed blue-black, her porcelain skin blushed by the winter air.
How precious this time with her was, he realized as he followed her across the road. The bustle of town, the approaching whistle of the train, the too-slow beat of his pulse were too commonplace for this moment. When Fiona turned to him, he sensed more than tolerance in her manner. Perhaps more than friendship.
“I see you have had a very busy day without me.” She touched his sleeve, nodding toward the sled’s bed. “What do you have under the tarp?”
“Fence posts. When I went to repair the broken board in the corral, I decided it would do little good if the post was ready to fall down. So I stopped by the lumberyard.”
“I’m sure Flannigan will be pleased. He will get to romp in the corral again. Right, boy?” Although she had drifted away from his side, a form of closeness remained. A tie Ian could not explain or prove, but he felt it.
Or he surely hoped he did. He worked the tether free, watching as Fiona ran her fingers through the horse’s forelock. He enjoyed her musical laugh as the gelding tossed his head, preferring to have his nose stroked instead.
“All right, have your way, big fella.” She obliged. “As long as you know I am boss when we drive home.”
The gelding nickered low in his throat, perhaps a bit of a protest, and Ian felt hope as Fiona laughed again. She had the kind of spirit that she would be happy wherever her future took her.
“Did you hear that, Ian? I think he is planning on giving me some trouble.” She didn’t look worried, no, she looked like perfection. She was his dream come true.
Please, Lord, he prayed. If it is Your will, let her know it one day. I am a patient man. I do not mind waiting.
No answer came from above, but then, he did not expect one so soon. He took hold of the driving reins, for the gelding did have trouble glinting in his adoring eyes. He knew just how the horse felt.
“Aye, I think Flannigan is making plans.” He helped her into the sled, something he wouldn’t mind doing the rest of his life. “I guess you had best be making some plans of your own.”
“You’re going to leave me to deal with him if he runs away?”
“Don’t think you can give over the reins to me when times get tough.” He spread the lap blanket over her, tucking it in so she would be warm.
“Who else would I turn to, Ian?” She took the reins from him, but it felt as if she took something else. Likely it was his eternal devotion, for she already had his love. “There is no one else in this sled.”
“You think I will rescue you whenever you need it, is that it?” He settled on the seat beside her, taking care to double the blanket over so that she had all of it. The thermometer in the tailor’s store window said it was fifteen degrees below. “You know me too well, for I will always be here when you need me.”
“I know.” Deeper meaning layered her words and chased away every shadow. What she didn’t say—perhaps what she couldn’t—remained between them, a sweetness he felt soul deep.
“I care for you, too, lass.” He tried to keep all the affection he felt from his voice, but he failed. It was too great to hide, too powerful to hold back. Like an avalanche it crashed through him.
Never in his life had there been a love like this. He laid an arm across the back of the seat and drew Fiona close against him. She did not shy away. She bowed her head, studying the reins for a moment as if she could find some answer there.
Flannigan broke the moment and darted into the street before Ian could know Fiona’s reaction. Would she say the same, or would she turn away from him? The horse had impeccable timing, that was for sure.
“Tighten the reins more,” he advised. “A little heavier bit will give you more control.”
“I like going fast.” She didn’t draw up the reins but she didn’t move away, either. The town’s last block flew by in a blur and they raced toward the dazzling white prairie together, blessed by a winter-blue sky.
Storm clouds gathered at the horizon, but for this perfect moment it was a clear day.
Fiona loved driving. She loved the feel of Flannigan’s strength telegraphing down the thick leather reins and into her hands. She liked being the one to direct the horse, to give him his head so he could run as fast as he wanted and she would feel the wind whipping through her hair.
“You are as bad as the gelding.” Ian’s hands closed over hers. “You will have to slow him down or we will never make the turn.”
“You’re afraid I am going to crash your sled.” She rather liked that his arms were around her, and she leaned into the curve of his chest. Never had she felt so safe and comforted. Nothing in her life had ever been like this. She was utterly secure and gently cherished.
This cannot be love, she told herself firmly. Sure, it was a great deal more than friendship, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who lost her heart.
“I’m afraid you are going to tumble us into the ditch.” He was laughing. “While you probably think that is nothing less than I deserve, that’s how I broke my leg in the first place.”
“In a sleigh accident?”
“No, going too fast. In a race.” He tensed, every muscle, every tendon. Tightness snapped in his jaw. “You haven’t been so wrong about me. I was once a desperate man.”
It was hard to believe he would do something wrong. “What happened?”
“After selling off parcels of our land, I couldn’t stand to do the same with our last quarter-section. Raising and training horses is an expensive endeavor, especially when a false rumor made my last customers panic. Owners pulled their thoroughbreds from my training stable, and I was left with bills I couldn’t pay. That had been my hope to restore the family name—training winners for other men so I could bankroll the training of our champions.”
“It was a gamble.” She saw the cost. The wince of pain, and the weight of his failure. “You lost because of someone’s cruel words about you?”
“Worse than that, afterward I took a bet. I know the Lord frowns on such things, but I didn’t want to have to explain to my grandmother she would have to leave her home. The house Grandfather had built for her was filled with all the memories of their life together. So I bet the rest of my land, and all but a dozen horses, that I could win a cross-country race. Not a legal race, mind you, on the track. But a private one through the low country, dangerous to man and beast. It was funded by wealthy men. The cha
nce to win so much money was something I could not turn down.”
“You would have lost your family home anyway.”
“That was my reasoning. My justification to do what I knew was wrong. But the lure of winning a fine amount of money was enough to make me saddle my best stallion and ride.”
“And you fell?”
“The horse landed wrong on a jump over a fallen tree. He broke two legs and had to be put down. The cost of my foolishness.” He pulled away, withdrawing his arm from her shoulders. Maybe it was because the sled had come to a stop. He studied the horizon, where the first blaze of sunset stained the encroaching clouds. “I splinted my leg, carved a pair of crutches and pressured men I knew for a job. I cleaned stalls day and night.”
“On an injured leg?”
“I could not lie abed. Nana was ill, there were enough doctor bills without my adding to them. So I did what I had to do. I kept a roof over my grandmother’s head and her needs met.” He cleared his throat, battling something she could not see.
Flannigan nickered, tossing his head for attention, reminding her she held the reins still. They had reached the barn, she realized, but she could not move. Ian felt distant, as if he were miles away instead of beside her. She wanted to reach out to him, but she stayed motionless on the seat. “A lot of men would not have stayed in the first place. They would have fled their responsibilities.”
He said nothing more, although his throat worked, as if he had more to say. He swept off his hat, knocking snow from the brim, but he could not hide his trembling. From cold, from the failure dogging him, perhaps from something more she could not see.
“Come on.” He climbed out of the sled. “Flannigan isn’t happy standing. It’s too cold, and he’s worked up a lather.”
Fiona wasn’t fooled. Whatever Ian’s faults and the mistakes he had made, he had done them for the greatest reason of all—love. Respect filled her, slow and sweet and endlessly deep.
He lifted the blanket away from her and folded it so that she would not trip on its cumbersome length. When he gave her his hand, as he always did, as she knew he always would, a force swept through her. She loved him. She wished she could stop it, hold back her tenderness like a dam in high water, but she could not.