Snow

by Caroline Lee

  She means to kill me?

  Her mouth dropped open. “Stepmother. We’ve lived together for years. Surely you don’t expect me to believe you would kill me just so everyone thinks your potions really work?” After all, surely someone would notice Snow’s absence.

  Hunter would. She held tight to that thought.

  But the gun never wavered. “I gave you the chance to join me, Snow. Skin as white as snow, I did that for you, you know. That’s why I named you Snow.”

  “You named me Snow because of my hair.” She was inching toward the door, a little disconcerted by how steadily the barrel of the gun followed her.

  But Lucinda just smiled, empty and evil. “You could’ve had such potential, girl.”

  Potential?

  It was one thing to have her life threatened, but it was another thing entirely to be insulted. Snow straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.

  “It must gall you to realize Hunter is attracted to me despite the taint of my skin, Stepmother.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed, and a part of Snow recognized the danger in pushing a madwoman too far. But after being declared unworthy, she couldn’t bite her tongue any further. She jabbed her finger at her stepmother.

  “Why would I want to look like you? I’m not your daughter, Lucinda. We have nothing in common, especially blood.”

  To her horror, the gun began to shake, but Snow refused to sidle for the door. Lucinda’s calm was slowly deteriorating, her cheeks becoming blotchy with fury.

  “I shared blood with Rose, and look where that got me! She was the beautiful one, the one who should’ve carried on Reginald’s legacy! My legacy! And look what she did to me! Abandonment!”

  Snow was shaking her head, determined to stick up for the one person who’d always protected her. “Your legacy is hatred. You never appreciated Rose when she was here!”

  “At least she had lovely skin,” Lucinda screeched, the gun barrel wavering so much now, Snow actually ducked a bit, wondering if that would help.

  But still, she wasn’t going to remain silent. “Yes, Rose has lovely skin, and so do I. I’m my mother’s daughter, and I’m proud of it!”

  With a wordless shriek, Lucinda pulled the trigger.

  In the small parlor, the report was terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as that split-second when Snow braced for a bullet to slam into her.

  When the lamp behind her shattered—thank the good Lord the gun hadn’t been steady!—Snow didn’t even bother to suck in a thankful breath. No, she turned, lowered her shoulder, and slammed the door open.

  Behind her, the revolver spat again, and Snow swore she felt something whiz past her. She didn’t turn to look, but instead, lifted her skirts up around her knees and sprinted for the front door.

  She was on the porch when she heard her stepmother curse behind her, and she prayed for the gun to jam, or some other miracle. Snow leapt off the steps, landing calf-deep in what had been the cleared front walk only yesterday morning.

  She kept her knees high, and her skirts higher, as she ran as best as she could for the rise in the distance. Behind her, the gun fired again, but Snow kept her attention—and her hopes—on the town.

  Dimly, she realized her stepmother—the woman she’d never cared for, but whom she’d lived with for years—was actively trying to murder her, over something as silly as what she looked like!

  Panting, she reached the outskirts of town, but didn’t pause. Couldn’t pause. Her fear was too strong, her heart pounding too hard, to stop.

  Hunter!

  Hunter would save her! She had to get to him!

  But he was in church on the other side of town, surely!

  Her steps faltered.

  No!

  A better, closer, idea slammed into her.

  The boardinghouse! She’d be safe there! She’d be safe with those seven strange women with the odd names, in the house no one could see.

  Surely Lucinda wouldn’t think to look there? Wouldn’t be able to find Snow there?

  She changed direction, her breaths coming in great heaving sobs, knowing she had to make it to safety, before Lucinda arrived with her gun.

  And she knew Hunter would be able to find her there.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Christmas service was the most joyful one of the year for Hunter, after Easter morning. Easter was all about rebirth and redemption, but Christmas was hope and faith and new beginnings. It was special.

  Would’ve been more special with Snow here.

  Throughout the service, he’d kept glancing toward the door, hoping she’d come in, even if it was with her hateful stepmother. Everland—and its church—weren’t that big, so he’d determined she wasn’t there within the first two minutes of his sermon.

  And by halfway through, he’d determined she wasn’t coming. But that didn’t stop him from hoping. That was the point of Christmas, after all.

  Now, as he stood in the rear of the church and shook hands as he was introduced to all the townspeople who had attended his services, his mind was on Snow, and what she was doing right now.

  He had to hold onto the hope he’d see her at dinner.

  Soon.

  He had another gift for her after all.

  In a momentary lull, a stately dark-haired woman approached, a regal smile on her lips. He’d met her yesterday.

  Penelope…? Zapato, wasn’t it?

  He nodded. “Mrs. Zapato, happy Christmas!”

  “Happy Christmas, Reverend.” She grasped his hand in both of hers and shook it warmly. “Your sermon about hope for the future was so uplifting, and we all enjoyed it.” She dropped his hand, but shifted so she could look toward the large family in the corner. “Micah and I particularly liked how you tied the Christ-child’s birth to new beginnings and hope. Babies are such miracles, aren’t they?”

  The group in the corner belonged to her—or rather, the orphanage, which was run by her and her husband, as Hunter understood it. Micah Zapato was holding two little ones, a baby and a toddler, while his sister—whose name Hunter couldn’t recall—knelt to wrap two identical girls in matching mufflers.

  Hunter found himself chuckling at the chaos. “They are miracles, and one day I’d love to have a few of my own.”

  One day?

  There was no hope about it. To his complete surprise, he’d found the woman he wanted to marry, to have his children, almost as soon as he’d stepped foot in Everland.

  Penelope was nodding. “Rojita—that’s my sister-in-law, the one who’s kneeling—said the same thing, until she actually had one.” She pointed toward the younger of the two children Micah was juggling. “But little Jesse is enough of a handful, she and Sheriff Cutter have decided to wait a few more years for another one. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have enough children to go around!”

  At that moment, the youngest boy—he had to be around six—fell off the pew and into the arms of an older, stately man, who spoke sternly to the lad.

  Both Penelope and Hunter were chuckling when she turned back to him. “I need to go rescue Mr. Prince, my father-in-law. Blue has likely eaten something sticky, or found a small animal—against all odds—and hidden it in his pocket. But”—she offered another smile—“I needed to tell you that everything’s arranged for tonight’s celebration. The Ladies’ Club agreed it was smarter to postpone the annual Christmas Eve celebration until this evening, on account of the snow. So we’ll all be gathering this evening after our family meals. I do hope you’ll be attending?”

  Hunter nodded politely, his mind half on his upcoming meal with Snow. “I wouldn’t miss it, Mrs. Zapato.”

  She hurried over to her family with a cheerful wave, but Hunter didn’t return it. He was too busy thinking about Christmas dinner and what could possibly be detaining Snow.

  Was it the weather? Could she just not make it into town? Had her stepmother somehow found out about their kiss and forbade Snow from seeing Hunter?

  Would Snow abide by the rul
es of a woman she considered mad?

  Hunter’s lips tugged downward as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his finest suit, the one he saved for preaching, and his gaze moved toward the window.

  Was she at home right now? Or had she already gone to the odd little boardinghouse with the apple trees?

  After the things Vincenzo and Jack had said last night, Hunter had wanted to ask his landladies what they’d meant. But it had been so strange—had Jack hinted Doc and the others were godmothers? Whose?—and Hunter hadn’t been able to bring it up.

  Last night’s sermon had been brief, since the snow was continuing, and afterward, he’d thanked Vincenzo for the beautiful music and ushered everyone out of the church. They were all townsfolk, and had a short trip to their homes, so he’d tucked his chin to his chest, shoved his gloved hands in his armpits, and hurried to the boardinghouse. Once there, he was prepared to question Doc, but he only found Helga and Bashful, sharing a bottle of wine in the kitchen, while they baked a haunch of ham, and he couldn’t interrupt that, now could he?

  By the time the cheerful little supper was over, Hunter had felt like family, and was more certain than ever this wasn’t a boardinghouse at all. But he couldn’t complain, and went to sleep with a full belly and an even fuller heart.

  And now it was Christmas, and he was only a few hours away from seeing Snow again!

  Possibly kissing her…definitely holding her. And if everything went well, he had a special gift for her. It was preposterous to consider giving it to her so soon after meeting, but he couldn’t deny what he was feeling was the truth.

  “Reverend, no frowning allowed on Christmas!”

  The cheerful greeting had him jerking his head up to find Arabella Bellini stepping up beside him.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bellini.” He shook his head ruefully. “I hadn’t intended to frown. I was just thinking of…”

  “Of Christmas gifts?” she asked, a sparkle in her eye. Then she held out a small silk pouch. “Perhaps thinking of a certain person you wanted to give this to?”

  Relief had Hunter’s shoulders relaxing as he blew out a breath and reached for the pouch. “You really don’t mind? You and Vincenzo?” It was heavy in his hand, appropriately so.

  “We would be honored. There’s no jeweler in Everland, and many couples make do with less precious rings, or have to wait to order them. But frankly, Vincenzo and I have more money than Eddie needs, and we’re just putting it aside for his schooling now.”

  She chuckled and waved her hand. “I’m blathering, sorry. I just mean…” One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Vincenzo has bought me more jewelry than I could possibly wear, and that one, well, it doesn’t hold any special meaning for me.”

  Hunter pried open the silk pouch and reverently tipped the small gold ring out into his palm. “But it could to me,” he finished in a whisper.

  “Exactly.”

  When he looked up and met her eyes, he saw nothing but happiness for him there. Still, he had to ask.

  “Are you sure? We only just met, and I know I’m new to town—”

  She stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “You’re here in Everland for at least a year, and you want to start a life with one of our ladies. I have my suspicions who, but I’ll let you surprise us.” She patted him. “That’s good enough for us. Consider it your first quarter’s payment from us.”

  “But the town should be the one—”

  Arabella waved her hand dismissively. “Then consider it a bonus. Oh! Here comes Briar.”

  It was an obvious attempt to divert the conversation from her generosity, so Hunter slipped the ring back into the pouch, pocketed it, and turned his attention to the plump young woman with the smear of flour on her cheek.

  “Arabella! Gordon and I will be a little later than planned. I had to re-do the pie crust, because it wasn’t up to my standards, so—”

  “Yes, dear, I can see,” Arabella said gently, wiping away the flour on the young woman’s cheek. “And we’ll be happy to wait for you. Eddie is far more interested in the gifts under the tree, after all.”

  The other woman grabbed Arabella’s hand and grinned hugely. “I’m so glad we decided to close the restaurant for the day. Honestly, I think Gordon’s most looking forward to just sitting with Vincenzo for a while. He won’t admit it, but he misses their closeness.”

  Arabella smiled softly. “I know Vincenzo misses that too. Christmas is the time to be with family, and I’m so pleased you’re part of ours.”

  She turned to Hunter to include him. “Reverend Woods, this is Briar Rose MacKinnon.”

  The younger woman lunged for Hunter’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “We’re so pleased you’re here, Reverend! We loved Pastor Tuck of course, but today’s sermon was so inspiring. Thank you!”

  He grinned at her enthusiasm. “Thank you. And am I to understand you’re the Mrs. MacKinnon behind the spectacular desserts at the restaurant? Snow and I both enjoyed your apple pie and apple crumble.”

  “Snow, hmm?” Arabella murmured, but Briar just bobbed her head.

  “She always orders my apple pie and my meat pie, which is how I knew it was her. I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I always think it’s odd when someone doesn’t. Not to be rude, but who doesn’t like pie?” She giggled as she rubbed her stomach.

  “I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t enjoy your baking, Mrs. MacKinnon.”

  “Please call me Briar! And I’ll tell you who doesn’t.” She leaned in and winked conspiratorially. “Mabel Miller, if you can believe it.”

  Arabella snorted softly. “I can.”

  Briar was nodding. “I don’t mean to spread gossip, Reverend. That’s really more of Zosia’s hobby.”

  She smiled again, to show she wasn’t serious, and Hunter’s thoughts snapped to Snow.

  Wasn’t Zosia her friend who’d left for school?

  But then Briar was speaking again, so he stored the question away.

  “Mabel and Sibyl Miller were sitting in the front row. Did you see them? The two blondes? They’ve been sitting there since their daddy moved to town.” Her gaze flicked to Arabella’s. “But do you remember how they used to make their stepmother and poor Ella sit behind them?” She tsked and shook her head. “Since Gaston married Eunice—that’s the middle sister, Reverend—and moved away, they haven’t been quite so high and mighty. But Mabel still treats little Sibyl as horribly as they did Ella.”

  Solemnly, Arabella nodded. “And since their father’s passing, I suspect life on the Miller ranch isn’t quite so pleasant for them, poor things.”

  Hunter’s gaze flicked around the still-crowded church, but he didn’t see the two young women who’d been in the front row. Had they left already? It sounded as if they might need some ministering, especially if they were, more or less, all alone in the world.

  But Briar snorted. “Poor Sibyl, more like. Mabel is a nasty piece of work. I wonder if I should invite Sibyl for tea or something? Oh! There’s Ella!”

  She pointed to a family chatting with another couple. Ella must be the dark-haired, alarmingly pregnant woman, who stood beside a broad-shouldered, one-legged man. He was keeping an eye on a young lad who was trying to out-do the Zapato brood in terms of crazy antics.

  Briar waved, then said to Hunter, “Ella was the Miller girls’ stepsister. Well, I guess she still is. She married Ian Crowne there. Have you been to their mercantile? It’s where I order everything! They’re such nice people.”

  Hunter chuckled, amused at her enthusiasm. “I’ll make sure to meet them today.”

  He was a minister; it was his responsibility to meet as many of his flock as soon as possible, even if all he really wanted to do was rush back to the not-a-boarding-house and, hopefully, find Snow.

  Briar offered him a small curtsy, then grabbed Arabella’s hand. “Happy Christmas, Reverend! I’m going to ask Ella about Sibyl.”

  “Happy Christmas! It was nice to meet you.” As Arabella was being dragged away, Hun
ter lifted his hand to her. “And thank you.”

  She smiled serenely and nodded, as she offered a small wave.

  As they left, Hunter exhaled gently, feeling as if the delightfully cheerful young lady might turn out to be a good friend. He wondered if she’d met Helga yet.

  The next couple who approached him were striking; the tall man had tawny hair, and when he shook Hunter’s hand, obvious calluses—and was that a tattoo?

  The woman’s hair was a deep red Hunter hadn’t seen often, and her dress was flowing. She wore more bangles and necklaces than was expected, and was very pregnant.

  “Excellent sermon, Reverend. I’m Skipper King—my friends call me Skip—and I’m the architect and builder around here. My partner and I have an on-going project in Haskell, the next town over, but if you need anything, I’ll be happy to draw something up.”

  “Thank you,” Hunter said sincerely, as he shook his hand. “I’m not quite ready to look for a new home, but maybe soon.”

  After all, once he and Snow were married, they’d need—

  No. It was a challenge not to think about a future like that, but he couldn’t afford to plan a future just yet, at least not until he’d asked her.

  But she has to say yes.

  Would she though?

  They’d shared an incredible conversation yesterday, on so many topics, and yes, even an amazing kiss. But had it been enough for her to agree to marry him?

  It was enough for him, obviously—he’d known from the moment he set eyes on her she was special.

  But did she feel the same about him?

  Skip was still talking, only now he was smiling down at the woman whose arm he held. “—my wife, Marina.”

  She grinned as she shook Hunter’s hand. “So pleased to meet you, Reverend Woods. I can’t make any nice offers like Skip’s, because I’m not a house-builder.”

  “No,” Skipper said with a wink. “You’re my mermaid muse. For my boats.”

  Boats? For the lake?

  Before Hunter could ask, Marina blushed prettily, and he assumed it was an inside joke—possibly a naughty inside joke—and he wisely decided not to ask about it.