by Jillian Hart
Utter silence. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. Not a shuffle or a rasp or an exhale.
“Noelle” came Robert’s voice from his chair at the far end of the parlor. “Invite Thad in for a chat, won’t you?”
“No,” Thad answered smoothly, quietly, before she could agree. “I’ve got to get home. Work to do.”
“Work?”
“Aiden’s land. We’re about done building another barn. Next there’s the fences to mend, harnesses to repair, and as soon as the snow melts, we’ll be turning sod.”
“What about your plans for your own ranch?”
“It doesn’t change my obligations to my brothers. Don’t look troubled. I don’t mind hard work. I figure the Lord set a good example. He worked six days out of seven.”
“I thought you were no longer a praying kind of man.”
“I guess I’m more of one than I thought.”
He took a step back, hating that the time had come to leave. The thud that seemed to rattle his chest was his heart falling even more in love with her.
Friends, she’d said. And that she’d like to see him again. Friends was far more than he’d expected. How about that.
He hesitated on the top step. “I’ll be coming back around to see you.”
“All right. I won’t even pretend not to be home when you do.”
She smiled and it was a sight that chased the chill from the air and the snow from the sky.
As he tucked down the brim of his hat and headed out into the increasing snowfall, it seemed as if he walked in sunshine.
Chapter Thirteen
Noelle hadn’t realized how much she’d been listening for any sign of Thad until he was gone. Oh, he’d found someone to replace him—although no word of it had been mentioned. A worker had shown up to carry in the morning’s wood and tend to the stable work.
After the girls had left for school, Matilda had come in to quietly mention that Thad had sent the youngest brother of the Sims family. But there was no mention of the older boy—Emmett Sims—as Matilda poured a second cup of tea and carried it away to the library with a slight clatter. The mention of the Sims family had upset her.
That’s all my fault. Sadness eked into her, dimming the warm touch of the morning’s sun through the dining room window. Her well-meaning words in town before Robert’s accident haunted her now. She’d meant to protect innocent Matilda, that was all. But as she was listening to the crackle of the fire echoing in the empty room around her, she remembered how it had felt to twirl on the ice and know that Thad was at her side. It had been pure joy.
What had happened to her? On the ice she’d caught a glimpse of the real Noelle—the one who’d once known how to live and love. The one who used her heart, her whole heart.
Noelle reached for the teapot with trembling fingers and found the crest of lid and round of the handle. You might think that breaking my promise to you that night came pretty easy, Thad had said. I can honestly say it was the hardest decision I ever made. His words troubled her like little teeth taking a bite of her soul.
She’d blamed him, judged him and—for a time—despised him. She’d let those things into her heart, into her soul, and although she’d told herself she’d found forgiveness and had handed her pain up to God, it was not the whole truth. The stain of it, like tarnish on silver, remained, and shame filled her.
She slipped her forefinger against the rim of her teacup and poured with her other hand until she felt the lap of the beverage against the tip of her finger. She set down the pot with care. She’d held all that pain in her heart—without meaning to and in spite of her best intentions—and for what? Thad had done what he’d thought best in leaving her. She knew her parents well enough to see clearly what they had done. Her father, bless his soul, would have used any means to protect her, for that’s how he would have viewed it.
She’d been the one to change her heart and her life. She’d been the one to stop believing. To stop living. To stop dreaming. Long before the accident took her sight. She’d decided life and love were about sensible decisions and emotions—nothing else.
She scooped a lump of sugar from the bowl and slipped it into her cup with a plop. The house seemed silent around her. It was best to be steeled to the truth in life. It was best to be practical. She almost said so to Matilda but held back the words.
Once, like her cousin, she’d been young and filling her hope chest with embroidered pillow slips and a girl’s dreams. Maybe that was a part of the way life went. Maybe she would be a different woman if she’d been able to hold on to some of those dreams, or at least the belief in them.
But she was a woman without dreams.
She took a sip of tea and turned her mind to her music lessons for the rest of the morning. While there was no sound of Thad—no lazy snap of a training whip, no rhythmic trot of a horse he was working, and no familiar gait in the yard outside—her mind turned to him. Always to him.
If her heart squeezed with caring, then it was an emotion she could not afford to acknowledge. Wherever he was this morning, she hoped the Lord would bless him and hold him safe.
After attending Sunday service, Noelle felt more at peace. Of course, the delicious roasted goose and trimmings for Sunday dinner might have helped, too. Full and content, she sipped at her piping hot cup of tea while Sadie padded around the table, clearing away the dessert plates. She might not have seen Thad for the better part of a week, but he was never far from her thoughts.
The family’s cheerful din rose up around her. There was some discussion as to the extent of Angelina’s bad behavior earlier in Sunday school. Voices rose and fell in discussion, and Noelle had to wonder. If her parents had not intervened, she would be married to Thad. Would she have children? Would she and Thad have been happy? Would she still have her sight and her parents? Would she still be the full-hearted girl she’d once been?
“Noelle, are you feeling well, dear?” Henrietta’s concern broke into her thoughts. “You look troubled.”
Troubled? How could she begin to explain? “I’m fine, truly.”
“You were overheated at the dress shop yesterday. It’s a wonder you haven’t caught your death. A heater in every room is lunacy. What are people thinking nowadays? You ought to lie down for a bit.”
“Goodness, no.” She couldn’t resist teasing her aunt just a little. “I actually feel quite healthy. Perhaps that is due to that overly warm dress shop.”
Angelina burst out laughing. “Yes, Mama. We must get a heater in every room. Maybe even a furnace.”
“It would be very practical,” Minnie chimed in. “We wouldn’t have to wear our woolen underwear all the time. It’s scratchy.”
“Girls.” Henrietta did her best to sound shocked at the mention of undergarments, but there was the warmth of amusement in her voice. “Settle down and stop this teasing. We’re at the table.”
“Where we could use a heater,” Minnie pointed out. “I’m always stuck in the drafty corner.”
The maid padded from the direction of the kitchen. “Looks as if we have company on the way.”
“Company? On Sunday afternoon?” Henrietta’s chair scraped against the floor, as if she were standing up to take a peek out the window. “Goodness, it’s a horse and sleigh. I don’t know that horse. Whoever could it be?”
There were rustles of movement as if everyone were taking a look. Robert’s low chuckle was sheer amusement. “It looks like a caller coming for one of the girls.”
“A suitor!” Angelina sounded intrigued. “But Mama won’t let us have a beau until we’re eighteen.”
“Perhaps it’s for Matilda,” Minnie offered.
“Oh, there would be no one coming for me.” Matilda’s tone was light.
Noelle wasn’t fooled. She didn’t know if she was the only one who could hear the quiet despair—or, maybe it was just empathy. Matilda might be without prospects, but she wasn’t the only one. She regretted her words to Tilly.
Dear, Lord, s
he prayed with all her heart. Please let it be someone for Matilda.
“I know who that is!” Minnie’s voice hit a few high notes of delight. “It’s Mr. McKaslin.”
Thad? Her teacup hit its saucer with a clatter.
All around her chairs were scraping back, shoes beat away from the table, and Robert chuckled warmly. “I wondered how long it would take that fellow to get up his gumption.”
“The gumption for what?” Noelle asked him.
“You’d best get your coat. Looks like he’s coming up to the door.”
Sure enough, the door was rasping open and Henrietta’s voice rose above Angelina’s and Minnie’s footsteps. “Mr. McKaslin! What a pleasure to see you on this fine afternoon. What can I do for you?”
“Is Noelle at home?”
So he’d come for her, just as he’d promised. Noelle tried to ignore the buzzing expectation in the air and everyone’s advice. From Matilda’s quietly spoken, “Oh, just what I’d been praying for!” to Robert’s advice, “Go on, now, go have a nice time,” to Angelina’s shocking comment, “I’m predicting a May wedding. June at the latest.”
She truly hoped Thad had not heard that. She was on her feet without realizing it. Matilda had her elbow and guided her to the front door. Henrietta thrust the coat into her hands. And Thad was there, his unmistakable presence had her turning toward him, and she felt his smile with all of her heart.
He thought this was funny, did he? She stepped through the open doorway and let him help her into her coat, aware of her family members’ careful and excited scrutiny.
“Goodbye, now!” Henrietta practically sang. “You be back in a couple of hours, Mr. McKaslin.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Thad sounded as if he were smothering laughter, and the moment her coat was fastened and he took her hand in his, she could feel the connection between her heart and his. That rare, emotional bond they’d always had was here again, anew, and she felt the strong bright happiness that matched her own.
He’d come for her as a friend, just as he’d said. She let him guide her down the steps and along the path.
She was going to enjoy these moments she had with him because she had learned the hard way in life that nothing lasted. Everything changed. Before she knew it, Thad would be busy with his ranch and his dreams, and she would never see him again.
She waited until the door shut firmly behind them before she apologized. “I don’t know what has overcome my aunt, but she has jumped to conclusions.”
“So I heard. Everything.”
“Angelina’s comment, too?”
“Yep.”
He was probably not put into a panic at the mention of a wedding—in the way of men in general—probably because it was a bold impossibility. As surely as the ground was at her feet, there was no way Thad was harboring any wedding thoughts for her.
She knew better than to think it. When he let go of her hand, she stood in darkness, listening hard to hear what he was doing. There was the softest rustling sound—of a lap blanket, perhaps?—and then the prettiest jingle of bells sang out in a short burst. The horse must have shaken his head with impatience.
“Whoa there, boy. Stand still for the pretty lady.” Thad’s patient voice must have reassured the horse for there was no more shaking of the bells.
Just the ring of appreciation in her heart. “You’re taking me for a sleigh ride?”
“Yep, and I’m grateful you’ve agreed to come along with me. I need the help.” His hand found hers again.
“Help? What do you mean?”
“I bought this saddle horse for Finn, and I want to break him to the harness. So I need to take him out for a drive, and I was afraid I’d get lost.”
“You need me to help you find your way around the countryside?”
“Don’t think I could do it without you.”
“Then it’s good you came by, although the reason for asking me is going to disappoint Henrietta terribly.”
“Funny. I didn’t think she liked me much.” He took her by the elbow, helping her, always helping her. Tenderness filled him right up. “I’ve got the riding blankets out of the way, so go ahead and climb on in.”
“Do you know what my aunt values in a man more than affluence and social position?”
“Ah, I’ve got the good sense not to buy a horse that will kick me.”
“No.” She chuckled; she couldn’t hold it back as she settled onto the cushioned seat. “Character.”
“Character, huh?” He leaned to tuck the soft fur robes around her. “Then I’m all out of luck.”
Oh, she loved his humility. She loved how caring he was with her, and how his sense of humor could make a cold February afternoon seem like a treat. When he had settled in next to her beneath the warm robes and had gathered the reins, she decided not to tell him that ever since her accident she didn’t like driving fast.
She took a deep breath and let the icy air tingle in her lungs. The tingling seemed to drive out the last of her uncertainty. She would not allow herself to be anxious, not with Thad driving. He could handle any horse and any situation. She trusted him.
“Why isn’t Finn training his own horse?” she asked, because she was curious. “Does that mean that he’s not doing well?”
“Oh, he’s doing just fine. Finn doesn’t have the patience for serious horse work. He’s better at other things. We have him putting on the sides of the new barn Aiden and I put up before the last set of storms came in.”
“In this weather?”
“We figure it’s penance for all that he’s putting us through. Work him hard, and maybe he’ll get on the straight and narrow.”
“What was he in prison for?”
“Stealing a horse. He was lucky he wasn’t hung. There’s still a lot of vigilante justice in these parts.” Thad’s chest closed up. It was hard to talk about, especially to her. The differences between them suddenly felt as wide as the sky and about as impossible to fly across.
“You hurt for him.”
Her sympathy touched him. It did more than that, her sweet face was marked with understanding, and it reassured him. “There’s no way to measure how hard we all took this. He’s smart and talented and he has a good heart.”
“Sort of like his older brother?”
Now, that was just what he needed to hear. Snow brushed his cheek like grace, changing his heart, changing his life. Thad took a shaky breath. “Finn’s got our pa’s weakness for liquor.”
“And it’s hard for him to resist?” When he didn’t answer, she nodded once, as if she understood why without words. “You want him to be stronger than that.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“I’ve felt that way about a family member.” Her forehead pinched. “My parents. I am sorry for what they did to you. My father was a man who could be very persuasive. What did he say to you?”
“That you wouldn’t be happy living a simple life with me.”
“And you believed him?”
Her voice, her face, her eyes vibrated with pain. A pain he felt like a dagger sink into his heart. What else could he do but to tell the truth. “I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t let myself.”
“You left me because my father threatened to demand payment on your mortgage, didn’t he?”
Thad bit his lip. Hadn’t the truth hurt her enough?
“You don’t have to answer. I know it’s true.” She tucked the robe around her more tightly, as if unable to say more. She was hurting, clearly she was hurting.
“It’s tough when the people you love aren’t the way you want them to be.” The cold scorched his face like fiery ice, and yet it was warmer than the pain that settled in him. He was no longer too numb to feel it. Because of her.
“And so you know, my father was wrong,” she said. “All I wanted then, all I needed then, was you.”
Her words were like coming home. Like Christmas morning and happy new year and every birthday rolled into one. The beautiful wo
rld was all around them, so he began to describe it to her. “The mountains, their faces are hidden in the clouds. The sky is a darker shade of white guarding over the white prairie. The snow is quiet today. Nothing sparkling or glistening. Just a still silent white.”
A small smile curved her rosebud lips.
They rode on in silence, gliding over the rise and draw of the rugged plains. They listened to snow whisper and tap, and shared a quiet that felt companionable. Peaceful.
Meant to be.
The sleigh was slowing, and before she could ask why, she heard the waterfall. Angel Falls. She loved the cascading music of the charging water. Even before she lost her sight, it was one of her most favorite sounds. Maybe because she’d built so many dreams around it. It was painfully ironic that she had inherited this property from her father, one of the last investments he had acquired before his death.
“That sounded sad.” Thad drew the horse to a stop.
She tilted her head, listening carefully but there was only the snort of the horse, the water falling and the whirl of snow against the dash of the sleigh. “What sounds sad?”
“You. You sighed.”
“Did I?” She wasn’t aware of it. Then again, it was hard to feel anything. The tangled ball of emotion had returned and expanded like regret in her soul. “Is the water gray like the clouds? Or green from the mountain snowmelt?”
“Green as moss.”
She closed her eyes, searching for a visual memory of the falls in winter, but the one that came to her was vivid with color and cheerful wildflowers polka-dotting rich green fields.
“The snowfall is as gray as the clouds,” Thad told her. “The snow is white, but it’s pure white and gray shadows and a thousand shades between.”
She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t let herself. She struggled to dim the memory in her mind’s eye of rainbows the sun made on crystal blue water. And there, on the rise where the meadow met the hills, she used to envision a log house with wide windows glinting in the sunshine and a porch to sit and watch the falls in the evening’s light.