Homespun Bride

knew. He had been the one to cover her up.
    A horse nickered, and it sounded like a scolding. She couldn’t believe she had forgotten the mustang.
    “Sunny, please forgive my manners,” she said, feeling her way along the rail. She kept one firm grip on the banister in case she hit an ice patch and moved to a much safer subject. “How are you doing this fine day?”
    The horse gave a snort, and his bridle jingled as if he’d nodded his head to say “fine.”
    “He’s looking forward to the long ride to town,” Thad answered for his horse. “I promised to give him his head so he can pick the pace.”
    “You do that often?”
    “I’m not lord and master of this horse.” He said the words as if there was more, a story behind it, and a question she was supposed to ask.
    A question she could not, would not ask. She had to keep Thad at a distance—there was no other choice. She tugged off her glove and was rewarded with Sunny’s warm, velvety muzzle. She rubbed his nose gently. He exhaled into the palm of her hand, tickling her.
    Laughter vibrated through her. Making her feel like her old self again. But only for a moment. She fell silent when she felt Thad’s gaze like a touch to the side of her face.
    Why did a tiny spark of caring quiver to life within her? It was impossible to go back and repair the past like a rip in a seam. It was impossible to forget how he’d shattered her down to the soul. There was nothing to be done but to turn around and head toward the house, which is what she had to do.
    “Goodbye, Thad. Have a safe trip,” she said over her shoulder.
    “I will. You get some more rest, darlin’.”
    His caring was like a knife cutting deep. With every step she took away from him, the longing for him grew. And for what could have been.
    That’s all this is, she told herself as she closed the door shut behind her. All that could never be for her. Even if the past did not separate them, even if Thad had not jilted her, she was blind. Having a good husband to love her, her own home and children to look after was not possible for her. She’d accepted that years ago. Why was she upset now? God had chosen this path for her. She had to walk it.
    She shrugged out of her cloak and hung it with care on the tree. The warmth of the fire lured her closer and when she was safely in her chair, she held her hands in the direction of the hearth to warm them. Thoughts of Thad came with her, too. It was not easy knowing the best part of her life was behind her—and would always be.
    Once her hands were warm, she tucked away her feelings and headed upstairs to check on the family she did have, the people she was deeply thankful for.

Chapter Nine
    T he days began to blur together as her uncle slowly improved. Life had stood still for the two weeks Robert had been bedridden and in so much pain he could scarcely breathe. Gradually life returned to some normalcy. The girls started back up at school, the minister’s visits were more social than serious, the doc was openly optimistic when he’d last driven away, and Noelle’s piano lessons resumed.
    One thing remained constant. Thad arrived twice a day to care for the horses and tend to other chores. When she was in her music room, she could hear him the best. Sometimes the wind would snatch his voice and carry a snippet to her. Or the rhythmic beat of a horse on a lunge line would interrupt her concentration during a lesson. The scrape of a shovel on the brick walk, the spill of wood into a metal bin, the low rumble of his voice in the kitchen when he returned a tray Sadie had made for him.
    It wasn’t easy keeping her feelings tucked away. She made sure Sadie packed a few treats for his mother to take with him at the end of the day. A loaf of freshly baked bread. A pan of cinnamon rolls. A plate of oatmeal cookies.
    The day Robert took his first few wobbly steps with a cane marked an occasion for celebration. Henrietta ordered a celebratory meal, sending Cook into a flurry. The morning was suddenly in chaos, and no fire had been lit in Noelle’s music room.
    She pushed through the kitchen door in search of the maid and heard the faint ring of an ax outside the back door. Thud, thud, thud, chink. The sound repeated itself like a refrain, over and over in nearly perfect rhythm. Thad was here again.
    “Noelle.” Sadie’s voice came from somewhere near the kitchen hand pump. “I meant to light the fire in the music room, but there was not enough wood.