Fire and Ice

by Leah Atwood

  “Can I have your name?” He gave her a charming grin. “Years from now, when I tell my grandchildren how I saved a beautiful woman from a raving mad duck, I need to have a name for her.”

  With his creative plea, how could she deny his request? “Sophie Thatcher.”

  She put the car in reverse and backed out from her spot. Once in her client’s driveway, she realized she didn’t get the stranger’s name in return. Her heart thumped harder and an inexplicable sense of loss came over her. The brief interaction with the man affected her in a strange way.

  With a dose of reluctance, she admitted he attracted her. He was comfortable in his own skin, something she’d always wished for herself. He had a sense of humor and enjoyed life, despite his wife passing, leaving him alone as a single dad. Most importantly, he was a Christian, unafraid to bring it into the conversation. On the surface, he was nothing she’d ever looked for in a potential boyfriend, but below the surface— well, the pull was undeniable.

  Excerpt from The Most Wonderful Bride of The Year

  The Most Wonderful Bride of the Year

  September 1888

  Dakota Territory

  “Here goes nothing,” Eli Farley muttered under his breath as he folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope.

  He walked to the door, took down his open sign and made his way to the post office. Perspiration beaded along his brows and he swiped it away with his free hand. When he’d last glanced at the thermometer hanging outside the mercantile, the mercury had read fifty-five degrees and he doubted the temperature had increased much since then. Which was a sure sign the moisture forming on his face was due to the outrageous nature of his pending inquiry.

  Ridiculous and pitiful was his situation, so said the women of the town when they thought he was out of hearing range. They’d gather in one corner, shaking their heads in pity for him. Amazing, how well sound traveled inside his store. Such a shame, they would whisper. There must be some eligible woman for him, they’d cluck. Whenever the comments floated back to his range of hearing, he tried to take them in stride, knowing the ladies only wished to see him happy.

  However, many times, he’d voiced those same thoughts, but only when he was alone and no one but God could hear. This was his last effort at finding a wife. If nothing came from this, then he would give up and take it as a sign he was meant to be a single man for all eternity. There was only so much a man could take before he lost all dignity.

  The post office was a mere ten feet away. A few more steps and he’d mail off the letter he hoped would change his life. Lifting a booted foot, he took a step from the dusty dirt road up onto the boardwalk. At the same moment his foot connected with the boards, a loud scream caught his attention. Gut instinct made him turn around just in time to see Widow Anderson in mid-air, her feet several inches off the ground and her rear side headed straight for hard, packed dirt. He sprinted to her, catching her just before she hit the earth. Her portly figure made him stumble backward a step, but he maintained his hold on her, and once they were steadied, lifted her upright to her feet.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Anderson?”

  The elderly lady’s face flushed with embarrassment and gratitude. “Silly me, wasn’t watching where I was going. Thank you, Eli, for coming to my rescue. You’re a true gentleman.”

  “Only did what any man would.” He realized his hands were empty. In his haste to help Widow Anderson, he’d unconsciously released the letter.

  “I’m still grateful. Let me buy you dinner at Tatum’s to show my appreciation.”

  Eli scanned the ground for the missing envelope while still being attentive to the conversation with Widow Anderson. “That’s really not necessary, though I appreciate the offer.”

  “Nonsense. If nothing else, share a meal with a lonely old widow. There’s something I’ve wanted to discuss with you anyway.”

  Her words stopped him. He would accept her offer—not because he believed he was owed anything for rescuing her, but because he sensed the loneliness in her voice and empathized. “I’d be honored to share a meal with you but on one condition.”

  “Which would be what?” Her azure eyes brightened.

  “You allow me to treat you.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m in your debt,” she protested.

  “Those are my conditions,” he stated firmly but allowed his mouth to curl into a smile.

  “You drive a hard bargain, young man, but I’ll accept. I have a few stops to make first. Can you meet me in an hour?”

  “That will be fine. I have a few errands to take care of as well.” He glanced around again in search of the letter. “Oh no,” he muttered under his breath, dejection filling his chest. In spite of the dry spell the town had seen for almost three weeks, there was a puddle in the street. And of all places the letter could have landed, it managed to find its way to the water.

  That’s it. He just wasn’t meant to find a bride. Ever. This entire year had been proof of that. As if to confirm that fact, a horse walked by and its hoof stepped on the stationery, thus fully submerging Eli’s hopes and dreams into the mud.

  With a blank stare, Eli rubbed his jaw, resigning himself to his fate. For a few seconds, he’d forgotten all about Widow Anderson until her wrinkled hand touched his arm.

  “Are you okay, Eli?” Her voice held all the concern a town’s matriarch would have.

  He shook his head, bringing his mind back to the current situation, and forced a smile. “I’m fine, just got distracted for a moment. I’ll see you at Tatum’s in an hour.”

  Widow Anderson’s features relaxed, apparently mollified by his answer. “Don’t be late.” She shook a finger, her eyes twinkling all the while.

  An hour later, Eli met Widow Anderson outside the restaurant. They went inside and he pulled out a chair for the older woman. She sat down, her slow movements giving away her advanced years.

  “Your mama taught you well,” the widow told him.

  “She was a wonderful woman.” Memories of Mama and Pa surfaced. They’d been exceptional parents, but had met an early death when they were caught in a sudden blizzard five years ago. It was because they’d been so happy together that Eli was so determined to find his own helpmate.

  “How are your sister and her adorable baby doing?”

  He couldn’t hold back the wide smile. “Merilee is great and so is little Matthew. I went out to the farm last week to see them. Matty is trying to walk now.” His nephew was his pride and joy.

  “Such a sweet little boy.” She took a sip of coffee that Holly Tatum had just placed on the table. “I was worried when I hadn’t seen them in church the last two Sundays.”

  Heat rose in his neck. He knew the reason Merilee had missed church, but it wasn’t proper to mention. “She’s been a little under the weather,” he said.

  “But you just said she is great. Which is it, boy?” Widow Anderson tapped her fingers against the table. He was still trying to think of a polite way to explain when understanding lit her face. “Ah, am I to guess that you will get another niece or nephew in the near future?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The widow beamed and clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful news. I must go visit her soon.”

  “Let me know when and I’ll send some peppermint sticks with you. Merilee says they help her when she feels ill.”

  Holly Tatum returned, staying at the table just long enough to take their orders. When she left, Widow Anderson leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at him intently. So much so, that he had the sudden urge to squirm in his seat.

  “I have a proposition for you.” She spoke the words low, for only his ears to hear.

  Taken by surprise, he coughed before answering. “Pardon me?” Had he heard her correctly?

  “Are you still searching for a wife?”

  He cleared his throat again. “I… I’ve given up on that.” A slice of remorse wedged itself between hi
s heart and lungs.

  “Nonsense. Don’t lie to me, Eli Farley. I’ve known you from the day you entered this earth so don’t be telling me falsehoods.” Her voice rose, attracting the attention of a young couple sitting at a neighboring table. Discreetly as possible, he inclined his head toward the young couple now observing them. Widow Anderson clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing how loud she’d become.

  “It’s true,” Eli told her, shaking his head, his heart heavy.

  “But why? After all you’ve been through, why now give up on the desires of your heart?”

  A long sigh preceded his words. “Earlier, I was on my way to send a letter to a newspaper in the east, hoping to find one of those ‘mail-order’ brides. The letter fell from my hands and landed in the lone puddle in town. I took that as my final sign marriage is not to be a part of my life.”

  Widow Anderson burst into laughter, once again drawing attention from neighboring tables. “I’m sorry,” she apologized when she calmed herself.

  Affronted that she would find amusement in his situation, Eli busied himself spinning his cup between his fingers before he said something he’d regret. There was nothing funny about what he’d been through in the past year, nor in the dissolution of his dream.

  “You lost your letter when you helped me, did you not?” Widow Anderson asked.

  “Yes.” He nodded, glummer than ever.

  She reached over and placed her age-spotted hand on his. “Providence, my dear child, has been at work today. As I said, there is something I wish to discuss with you.”