Homespun Bride

well tomorrow, then I’ll head home.”
    “Th-that’s decent of you, Thad.” And more than she expected of him.
    The coffeepot landed on the trivet with a clang. “Your uncle is going to be bedridden for awhile. Is there any family you can send off to and ask to come help?”
    “I’ll m-mention it to Henrietta.”
    “I’ll pitch in until then.”
    No matter how hard she fought against it, she could not keep her emotions still. They rose up like a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore them, praying they would go back down into the dormant place within her heart. “But aren’t you needed at home?”
    “It’s true, I have obligations.” His baritone dipped, low like an invitation to lean and listen.
    “What kind of obligations?” The question rolled off her tongue before she could order herself not to ask it.
    “I would have thought that you’d heard.”
    “Heard what?”
    “My younger brother’s had some trouble with the law.”
    “Finn? Oh, I didn’t know.” Noelle choked the words out past the expanding lump in her throat. She swallowed but it refused to budge. “Is it very serious?”
    “Serious enough or I would have never come back to help my ma and Aiden out.”
    Of course. His exciting cowboy life. Impossibly, the emotions tangled up in her throat expanded more, and she could not speak.
    “Where do you want your coffee?”
    “Oh, I can carry it.” She’d never felt so awkward.
    “I don’t mind. Besides, I filled it awful full.”
    “The parlor, then.”
    “Follow me.” His steps struck like thunder in the whir of her mind. Somehow she made her feet carry her around the table and through the door, which he held for her.
    “I came in to check the wood boxes,” he told her, talking uneasily. So, he did feel the awkwardness between them. “Is there anything else that needs doing? I might as well make myself useful as long as I’m here.”
    Throat aching, heart aching, she could only shake her head once in response. His boots were a slow and sure rhythm in contrast to her own.
    She almost forgot to count her steps as she left the corner of the dining room table to make the long path to her armchair by the hearth. The familiar cadence of his gait, his scent of hay and winter and horses, the rustle of his movements and the coziness of his presence all sweetly affected her, and against her will.
    “On the table by the chair?” he asked.
    “Please.” She slipped into her chair.
    “There’s a Bible on the table, too.” His tone dipped with tender understanding. “You must miss being able to read that.”
    “Very much. The Bible was my mother’s, and it’s a comfort just to have it near.” One of her questions about him rose to the surface like a soap bubble. “I remember you said you’re no longer much of a praying man. Why?”
    “It’s complicated, like most things.”
    “Yes, faith is complicated. I wrestled with it for a while after the buggy accident.”
    “I imagine so. It’s hard to understand why God would let someone as gentle and kind as you be blind.”
    Always kind and gentle, that was Thad, too. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him. “I’ve learned to accept it.”
    “Seems to me that would be awful tough.”
    “It was for a while, but I’m blessed in so many other ways.” That was a dark time she tried not to think about. She had learned to accept. “Whatever you’re struggling with, you should never let anything come between you and God.”
    “Don’t you go trying to bring me back to my faith. I’ll find my way, don’t you worry.” His footsteps reeated. “Tell the maid I’ll be out in the stables if Robert should need the doc again.”
    “Thad?”
    “What is it, darlin’?”
    “There is one thing you could do for me. There’s a sorrel mare in the corner box stall.”
    “I know the one. She’s a sweet thing. If I don’t miss my guess, she’ll be foaling in a week or two.”
    “Would you keep a careful watch on her? Solitude is special to me.”
    There was a moment of silence. “Then you can count on me.”
    Was it her imagination or were his words heavy with regret? Or was it sadness? She listened to his steps fade and the kitchen door whisper shut. Even if she sat perfectly still, she could not stop all the ways her heart felt for the man.
    And all the ways she didn’t.
    She reached for her Bible, careful not to disturb the full cup of steaming coffee, and hugged the treasured volume to her.