Homespun Bride

hesitated outside the open doorway, waiting for a break in Henrietta’s reading to speak, and her soul leaned toward him, the way a blooming rose faced the sun.
    It took Henrietta a moment to notice him, for she was absorbed in her reading. When she did, it was with a gasp. “Oh! Mr. McKaslin. I did not see you standing there.”
    “Good morning, Noelle. Ma’am. Want me to build up your fire?”
    “That will be fine, young man. I take it you’ve started the fires downstairs?”
    “That I have.”
    The confident, lighthearted jauntiness to his baritone had changed, Noelle realized. This Thad sounded like a seasoned man sure of his worth and capabilities, and through it all he still had his positive humor.
    Not that she ought to be noticing so much about him. She sat straighter in the chair and smoothed her skirts with her hands, straightening imaginary wrinkles, since she couldn’t see them. It did give her something to do other than to listen to the easy pad of his step and the rustle and whisper of his movements as he knelt down to stir the ashes.
    Thad. Why did it feel as if her heart could see him? She wondered if he’d been warm enough or too uncomfortable to sleep; if he had shaved or if a day’s growth whiskered his jaw. She could not allow herself to ask.
    “Mr. McKaslin?” Henrietta broke the silence. “Might I prevail on you for another favor?”
    “Sure, ma’am. What do you need?” His voice lifted higher, and Noelle could feel him towering behind her, his breadth and height and strength undeniable.
    “After the house is awake, you come back,” Henrietta instructed. “I’m going to need a more comfortable chair if I’m to continue to stay by my husband’s side. My back is paining me something terrible, and I must keep up my strength for him.”
    “That’ll be no trouble at all. I’ll be back.”
    When he walked away, he left behind the sweet scent of hay and an impossible longing within Noelle’s heart. If only he had been the kind of man she could have counted on.
    Henrietta returned to her reading. Noelle struggled to sit straight in her chair and let the Bible’s beautiful words comfort her.
    * * *
    As Thad went around the Worthington place doing chores in the stable and later in the house, he couldn’t get Noelle out of his thoughts. Seeing her sitting quietly in the hard-backed wooden chair with her hands clasped in her lap, listening patiently while her aunt read from the Bible gave him a new view of her.
    It was an image that subdued him as he considered which chair would fit into the space between the Worthington’s bulky bed and the bedroom wall. While he considered his options in the parlor, solemn and subdued voices drifted in from the nearby dining room. The Worthington girls were up and taking breakfast, but it was Noelle’s quiet alto that he picked out like a melody from the other voices. Her dulcet voice was his most favorite sound in the world.
    Once he’d chosen a chair and hefted it up the stairs, his ears strained to keep hearing her. She grew fainter with every step he took and by the time he’d managed to reach the Worthington’s bedroom door, he could no longer hear her. Every bit of him seemed to strain, searching for her.
    Henrietta looked up from her Bible and squinted at him appraisingly. She looked exhausted and sick from worry.
    His heart softened toward her. “Where would you like this?”
    “Where my chair is now. You’ll have to take the wooden one back down to the dining room.”
    “Be glad to.” He eyed the doorway and angled the chair to wedge it through in one try. The missus seemed to watch him carefully, perhaps she was concerned about him scuffing her fancy woodwork, but she needn’t have worried. He set the heavy chair down with as much care as he could and took away the wooden one. “Will that do, ma’am?”
    “I’m grateful, Mr. McKaslin.”
    “No trouble at all, ma’am.” He stopped to take a glance at Robert, who lay ashen and motionless against the stark white sheets. “He’s been stirring?”
    “No.” The strong woman who looked as if she could have commanded the army now looked frail.
    “I’m sure he’ll be rousing soon, ma’am.” It was the only kindness he could offer her. “I’ve seen it before.” He backtracked to the door. “You need anything at all, you send word.”
    “Of that you can be sure.”
    As he hooked the ladder-back chair over his shoulder and headed down the narrow hallway, he had to