Homespun Bride

Seven
    F rom her uncle’s bedside, Noelle heard the faint chime of the downstairs parlor clock marking the early hour—five chimes. She’d been up all night. She thought Henrietta had fallen asleep in the chair on the other side of the bed, but she wasn’t sure.
    It was hard not to let all the worries in. She had personal ones for her dear uncle, for it had been a blow to her head that had stolen her sight. She prayed harder than she ever had before for him to awaken and be fine.
    Exhaustion pulsed through her, and she fought another yawn. She would stay with Henrietta as long as she was needed. The embers popped in the bedroom’s hearth, and she thought of Thad. How had he fared in the stable? She wasn’t exactly sure why he’d stayed, but she was deeply grateful to him.
    Grateful. The hard nugget of emotion—of the thing she hadn’t forgiven—hurt like a blister. And it made it easier for her to remember past the hurt of Thad’s abandonment to the time before, when she’d been so happy. Happy, because his love had made her that way.
    She was no longer the kind of woman who believed that love was strong enough to build anything on, for it was only a dream. But the girl she’d been, who had believed, remembered and mourned.
    “Why, I must have drifted off for a moment there.” Henrietta broke the long-standing silence. “Oh, my heart stopped. He’s still breathing. I vowed I’d not take my eyes from him, and here I am, drowsing in this chair.”
    Noelle could feel her aunt’s anguish. “It’s been a long night for you.”
    “You would know, as you sat up every moment with me. Unnecessary, dear one, but terribly appreciated.” Henrietta’s voice broke and she cleared it, but perhaps failing to clear away all the emotion, went on to say nothing at all.
    How hard it had to be for a loving wife to fear every ticktock of the clock that passed. The doctor had warned that Robert’s head wound was not the most serious of all his injuries. The kick he’d sustained to his ribs had damaged him deep inside. There was no telling if he could heal from that.
    “I’ve been reciting what I can remember from Ecclesiastes.” Noelle searched with her fingertips along the bedside table, where she’d put the family Bible for safekeeping, and handed it in her aunt’s direction. “Perhaps you ought to resume where I left off.”
    “Your voice likely needs a rest.” The chair creaked as Henrietta took the treasured book. “Relax, dear. I’ll read until our reverend arrives. He promised to stop by first thing.”
    Noelle squirmed in the uncomfortable wooden chair. Her spine burned as if someone had set it afire. She couldn’t find a more comfortable position, gave it up as hopeless and set her mind on ignoring her discomfort.
    The pages flipped softly. “His color looks to be improving. I’m most certain of it. The doctor said his making it through the night would be telling, and I am sure beyond all doubt that my Rob is going to be fine.”
    If will alone was strong enough, Noelle knew that her aunt’s would be. “His breathing sounds steadier.”
    “His pulse strengthens, too.” The pages stopped ruffling. “For once I am thankful for newfangled ways. The doctor is newly out of medical school back East. Do you suppose he is married?”
    Noelle bit her lip, taking comfort in Henrietta’s irrepressible concerns. “Don’t you think it would be more appropriate to wait until Robert can give his permission before you go marrying off one of your daughters?”
    “It’s a woman’s duty to marry. Would you like me to start quoting passages and verses?”
    “You can’t fool me, my dear aunt. I know down deep you are a true romantic. That’s what’s behind all your hopes for your daughters. You want them to know happiness the way you have.”
    “I’ll not admit to such weakness as soft feelings. True love.” Henrietta tsked. “Well, perhaps you’ve caught me at a rare moment of weakness. The greatest gift is to be loved as I have been loved. As I love.” Her voice trembled and she fell silent.
    Noelle fell silent, too. Love was the last thing she wanted to think about. She was glad when Henrietta began reading, in a quiet steady voice. “‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.’”
    She felt Thad’s approach like a touch to her spirit, just as she’d used to. Her heart was aware of him long before his familiar gait tapped quietly through the house. He