Homespun Bride

knew it. But that did not keep the love in his heart from growing until it was as solid as the Montana Rockies and just as lasting. Until nothing in this world could alter it.
    He resisted the urge to brush away wisps of pure chestnut from her face. The thick coil of her braid fell over her shoulder, and she could have been a painting, framed in the soft spill of the lamplight and the glow from the fire. His chest cinched with a physical pain as he backed away.
    He might be low on faith, but he was starting to believe there was a reason God had led him back to Angel County. Maybe he was meant to be here to help her through this time. Perhaps he was meant to watch over her until her uncle was able to do so again.
    And then what? Did he have a chance with her?
    As he climbed the stairs in search of the missus, he couldn’t rightly see how Noelle was ever going to forgive him for jilting her. He had to be sensible. As much as he wanted her to forgive him, it wasn’t likely she would ever trust him again.
    His steps were heavy as he headed down the long hallway. He had a lot of work to do before nightfall. Maybe it would be best if he concentrated on that.
    * * *
    The school bell’s final tones lingered on the crisp February afternoon as she tried to avoid the deep drifts of snow between the school yard and the road. She didn’t want to ruin her new shoes, so she’d hiked her woolen skirts and flannel petticoats up to her ankles. She was in the middle of taking a shockingly unladylike step over the drifts when she heard a familiar chuckle.
    “Careful there, you might slip.”
    Noelle’s shoe hit the ice on the street side of the snowdrift, and for one perilous instant she felt the heel of her new shoe slide. If she fell on her backside in front of the handsome Thad McKaslin, she’d have to let Mother send her off to finishing school in Boston, as she’d been threatening to do for the last year, because she could have never faced him again.
    Heaven was kind to her because her shoe held, she heaved herself over the drift and realized Thad had stopped his horse and was standing beside his sleigh. He tipped his hat to her, and a quivering hope sprinkled through her like the snow through the sky.
    He held out his gloved hand. “This is my lucky day. I was just in need of some help.”
    “You need my help?”
    “Yep. I just finished building my sleigh, and I need to see how she drives with two passengers.”
    “I see. You couldn’t find anyone else?”
    “Who else? I don’t see anyone. Only you.”
    One look at that grin of his, wide and dimpled had her smiling, too. A gaggle of smaller schoolkids went screaming past them, and Noelle didn’t tell him the school yard and the street were both crowded with lots of other students.
    “I know exactly what you mean,” she told him shyly as she placed her hand on his palm. “I don’t see anyone else, either.”
    His fingers closed over hers, and the tenderness she felt in his touch showed in his blue eyes, too. His eyes were blue as her dreams. As blue as forever.
    Thad. Noelle woke with a start and a heart full of longing. The fringe edging of an afghan tickled her chin. When she sat up, it slipped to the floor with a swish. The vibrant images of her dream clung to her. The blue sky and brilliant snow and handsome man faded in clarity and color until there was only darkness. Disoriented, she realized where she was by the steady tick of the clock, the lick of the fire in the big fireplace, and the sofa beneath her.
    She wasn’t sure what had awakened her, but her heart wouldn’t stop aching like an open wound that could not heal. She bowed her head, folded her hands and prayed with all of her might. Please, Father, take the memories of him I can no longer bear.
    There was no answer but a pop of wood in the hearth and the eerie howl of the wind kicking up against the north side of the house. She shivered, although she could not feel the cold wind, and she wished, how she wished that Thad McKaslin had never come back into her steady, placid, safe life.
    She had to stop thinking of him. She had to bank that tiny light of caring within her. He was not the right kind of man. He’d never been the right kind of man. She—a woman grown and wise to love and life—did not want Thad McKaslin. No, these feelings were coming out of what was past, out of memory of the schoolgirl she used to be, nothing more.
    She felt for the heap of the afghan and lifted it off the floor.