Homespun Bride

moved to stroke the mare, and that ruffled skirt hem fluttered with the movement. The foal startled and her long legs splayed in four different directions. Down she went with a skid and a look of puzzlement.
    “Is she all right?”
    “She looks a little taken aback, but her ma is reassuring her.” He watched while the mare checked her foal over and gave her a tender nudge. “It’s gotta be tough when everything is brand-new, even your own feet.”
    “She’s back up.” Noelle tilted her head slightly, listening carefully to the foal’s movements. “Did I startle her?”
    “Your skirt ruffle gave her a moment of terror.”
    “That was exactly Henrietta’s reaction when I went to pick up this dress from Miss Sims’s shop.”
    Thad laughed, he couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since he’d laughed so readily. “You have quite a protector in your aunt.”
    “I certainly do. Henrietta is very shielding of me.”
    “Rightfully so.” He reckoned he felt the same way—always had. Always would.
    The foal, with her mama watching over her, inched forward, nose down and neck stretched as far as it would go trying to figure out that scary ruffle.
    His heart ached as he watched Noelle hold out her hand slowly, palm up, waiting for the filly she couldn’t see to come to her.
    He’d given up his dreams and put others aside for later, but it looked to him as if she’d lost all of hers. She had no marriage, no children, no horses she’d gentled and trained, not one of the things they’d talked about long ago.
    He would give up all of his goals yet if it could give her what would make her truly happy. The foal gave a nip at her hem ruffle, which she could probably feel judging by the way she smiled. He wished she could see the dainty pretty filly as she braced her four long legs awkwardly.
    The mare came close to press against Noelle’s hand. “You have a beautiful baby, girl. You did great.”
    Solitude nickered warmly, a proud mama.
    Thad reckoned he would give just about anything in his life or anything yet to come for Noelle to smile for him the way she did the horse. The longing for it was so keen, he felt sliced down to the quick of his soul. He was no longer much of a praying man—he used his prayers for her—but this one time he wanted to spend one prayer on himself and ask that she, just once, look at him with trust and love. The way she used to.
    “Thank you, Thad.” Her heart rang in those words. “Thank you for seeing the foal safely here. And for... everything. ”
    She smiled at him, and it was tentative and unsure, but he was glad for it all the same.
    “No trouble at all.” He felt much taller, suddenly, at her side.
    After spending the last hour listening to the soft bed of straw rustling and the soothing nickers as the mama spoke to her sleepy baby, Noelle sighed with contentment. She hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Thad in a new light.
    Or, she realized, maybe, because she was now blind, she had to rely on a deeper way of seeing—with her heart. Understanding why he’d left was coming to her as softly as a Brahms’s air.
    “I suppose it’s time to leave Solitude and her baby alone together.” She regretted saying those words. She wanted to make this moment last forever.
    “You’re shivering. You must be getting cold.” Thad moved closer with a rustle. “I kept you out too long.”
    “Not nearly long enough.” She wasn’t sure if she was talking about the time spent with the horses or the time spent with Thad. Maybe both.
    “I can bring you out to see the little filly again.”
    “That’s very generous. I just might accept your offer.”
    “Then I just might come for you tomorrow about this time.”
    She let her smile of pleasure be her answer, because she didn’t trust her voice. No, her emotions were tangled up like a knot in a skein of yarn.
    “Come with me.” His intonation was light and friendly.
    She reached out and before she realized it, her hand was on his. She could feel the roughness of his skin and the calluses on his palm from years of hard work. His were a man’s hands, strong and capable. As he was. It was impossible not to respect that. To respect the man he’d become.
    As she let him guide her down the aisle, the symphony of the storm accompanied them. The rise and fall of the low-noted wind played a haunting harmony to the steady, steely beat of the iced snow against the roof. The