Frozen Fancy

by Tabetha Waite

  He spoke as he removed his outerwear. “I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the surprise.”

  He winked, and Elise’s stomach did a little flip. “I see. In that case, you should eat, for all that conspiring is surely to work up an appetite.”

  Chauncey chuckled as he took a place at the table, and Elise closed her eyes temporarily. For all her days she would never forget the sound of that deep laughter rumbling out of his chest.

  She tamped down her sudden melancholy that someday, that merriment would be ripped from him again, and set down the fare of bacon, eggs, and toasted bread on the table.

  He instantly began to dig in, giving a light groan of satisfaction as he took the first bite. “Your culinary skills never fail to impress me, Miss Erindelle.”

  “Then you should prepare yourself,” she said primly. “For this evening I plan to bake a chocolate cake.”

  He glanced at her, and his dark eyes warmed. “Very tempting, indeed.” After a rather heated moment, he returned his attention back to his plate and added, “What’s the special occasion?”

  Elise was almost hurt when he hadn’t remembered that today was her birthday, the official first day of the winter solstice. But instead of drawing attention to the fact, she shrugged and said, “No reason.” Nevertheless, she shoved a few items around on her plate.

  “The clouds looked rather ominous this morning. It appears that another storm is headed our way.”

  Elise wanted to laugh at the fact they were reduced to speaking about the weather. She’d thought they were past such mundane topics, but apparently not. “I fear it will be quite a rough start to the season. We’ve already gotten more snow than I’ve seen in the past two years. If this keeps up, I’m not particularly looking forward to January.”

  He paused. “Perhaps this will be the last year you’ll have to contend with all of this.”

  She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean? This is my home.”

  He folded his hands together and appeared to choose his words carefully. “You don’t have to stay here forever, Elise. You can move on if you wish. I have some money saved and I would be glad to—”

  She stood up, tears stinging her eyes that he might soon be out of her life. It was a possibility, but she didn’t want to think of such maudlin things on her birthday. “That’s enough of your foolish talk. You’ll need that money for your own endeavors. Besides,” She lifted her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.”

  He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just wanted to help you if I could.” He swallowed. “Before I don’t have the means to offer any assistance at all.”

  Elise set her hands on the table and eyed him directly. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Cade, but I don’t accept charity.” She hesitated. “And if the time comes where I decide to move on, rest assured I’ll find a way.”

  ***

  Chauncey couldn’t do anything more than stare at Elise as she turned on her heel and busied herself in the kitchen. He didn’t want to keep comparing Elise to Martha, for they were different in many ways, and not just their hair color. But then, they were a lot alike as well, both stubborn to a fault and extremely strong willed.

  His chest ached as memories of his past assailed him, but he found that it hurt even more to imagine a future without Elise in it. After all this time he could imagine a life beyond the pain. If only things were different, he would marry Miss Erindelle in a heartbeat. That was, if she would have him.

  Considering her current mood, he wondered if he should even dare to show her the surprise he’d planned for her birthday. He could tell she thought he’d forgotten, but he’d been busy all morning in her hothouse getting everything ready, because he knew that was the first place she always went. And yet, he’d already found a way to irritate her.

  He hadn’t meant his offering to come across as a charitable endeavor, only that he wanted her to have what little money he had in his possession to start a new life beyond this Texas mountainside, if that’s what she wanted. It would definitely be better than allowing his captors to take off with it, laughing as they slammed the jail door in his face.

  Chauncey watched as she finished her task in the kitchen and then went over to the door to gather her cloak. He stood and began to shrug on his bearskin coat. She glanced over at him curiously. “You don’t need to escort me, Mr. Cade, if that is your intention.”

  He winced. She was as prickly as a cactus now. “I have some things to attend to myself,” he returned vaguely, hoping that she didn’t question him further or else he’d have to fabricate some sort of catastrophe that needed his immediate attention.

  Fortunately, she merely concentrated on her task and headed outside.

  Chauncey was careful to follow her, although he made it appear as though he wasn’t anxious to see her reaction. He looked up through the canopy of pine trees and saw that the clouds were still heavy with the threat of more snow. He could almost scent it upon the air; feel the cold seeping into his bones.

  Then again, the gray dawn was perfect when it came to showcasing the brilliance of the light shining through the glass of the hothouse.

  He could sense the confusion in the way Elise drew closer, and when she opened the door where they were flooded with the brilliance of several lit candles placed about the interior, he heard her gasp as she placed a hand over her heart. Chauncey had also gone even further to clear a space for a small tabletop Christmas tree that he’d decorated with various scraps of cloth tied into bows on the branches, bits of extra material that he’d procured from his time doing the mending.

  Beneath the tree was a single gift wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine that he’d been lucky enough to find in the root cellar when he’d cleaned everything up from the deserters’ visit.

  She turned to where he remained leaning casually in the doorway, although it struck him in the gut when he saw tears glistening in her gaze. “Is this what you were doing this morning?”

  He nodded.

  Elise stared at him, as if trying to find the appropriate words. “I haven’t had a Christmas tree since—” She broke off, but he knew what she’d been about to say.

  “Neither have I,” he admitted quietly. He moved forward and gestured to the small tree. “But this isn’t exactly a Christmas tree, is it? It’s a birthday tree.”

  “A birthday tree?” she echoed with a laugh. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Haven’t you?” He lifted a brow and said, “Maybe it’s just Canadian folklore, but my mother believed that each child’s spirit could be traced to a certain tree, depending on when they were born.”

  Elise tilted her head to the side. “Like the constellations?”

  “Something like that.” He smiled. “Since your birthday falls on the winter solstice, you are a kindred spirit with the fir tree.”

  She grinned in return. “So what does that mean?”

  “That you’re mysterious.”

  She laughed, and his blood warmed at the feminine sound. “What about you?”

  “I’m a cedar tree. Strong and resilent.”

  Her blue eyes warmed significantly. “That you are.”

  They regarded one another for a moment, the temperature in the hothouse rising with every moment as the sweet scents of the various blooms around them caused the air to sizzle with awareness.

  He stepped around her and took the paper wrapped gift from under the tree and handed it to her. “Happy birthday, Elise.”

  ***

  Elise took the small package from him, inhaling sharply when their fingers brushed. But she quickly focused on the item in her grasp. She couldn’t imagine what he might have given her, but instead of allowing her own curiosity to claw at her, she removed the twine and pushed aside the paper to reveal a small wooden box with a pearl inlay design of a dove.

  “It’s lovely,” she breathed, touched by such a magnificent and thoughtful gesture.

  “Open it,
” Mr. Cade instructed.

  She frowned, thinking that the box would have been perfect enough, but when she lifted the lid, she gasped upon the discovery of a small mechanism inside that immediately started to play a familiar melody, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. She had heard Grannie play it at the hotel during the supper hour when she entertained her guests. It had always been her favorite.

  She was touched as she whispered, “This is…amazing, Chauncey. Thank you.” After a moment where he was silent, she glanced up to see him looking at her rather oddly. “What is it?”

  He shook his head, as if he was trying to come out of some sort of trance. “That was the first time you’ve called me by my first name.”

  “It was?” Elise couldn’t really remember. She always tried to stick to the proprieties around him, but she always thought of him as Chauncey. At least, she had in private.

  He walked over and took the music box out of her hand and laid it back under the tree with the lid still open. He removed his bearskin coat, leaving him in his wool capote, and then he turned to her and extended his arm, palm upward. “May I have this dance, Miss Erindelle?”

  Elise couldn’t speak. So she did the only thing she could, she accepted his hand. He gently pulled her within the circle of his arms, his left resting on the curve of her waist while he brought their enclosed right hands upward. And then he began to lead her in a waltz.

  It took a moment before the movement returned to her, for it had been years since she’d danced with her father, who had taught her the steps. But she quickly discovered that Chauncey was quite accomplished, as he easily led her around the flowers in the hothouse and made up for any of her blunders. She closed her eyes and smiled, taken back to a place in her youth when things had been more carefree, where she didn’t have the burden of the world on her shoulders and she could run among the hills in childish abandon and let her imagination roam as wild as the forest surrounding her.

  However, when she opened her eyes, the image of those days vanished, to be replaced with the growing desires of a woman. This man, this Canadian outlaw, with his coal black hair and beard with eyes as dark as the sky at midnight, stirred something inside of her that she had never thought to feel. She had resigned herself to this isolated cabin in the woods, because she imagined that this was all she would ever have—that it was all she deserved because she was different. Or, at least, that’s how some of the people in Charming had made her think of herself.

  With Chauncey, the only thing she saw was a future with endless possibilities, a true home, a family with children and—love.

  Elise stopped abruptly.

  She loved him.

  His forehead creased as their dance ended. “Elise? Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “No. Nothing.” She forced a smile. “Thank you for the gift, Mr. Cade. I will treasure it always.” She turned away. “But I really need to tend to my flowers.”

  With that, she shut the lid on the music box and filled the hothouse with silence.

  ***

  Chauncey wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he knew when he was being dismissed. He put his bearskin back on and snorted as he walked back to the cabin. Women were such a conundrum. As long as he’d known Martha, having been childhood sweethearts, there were still times when she had made him wonder what was going through her mind.

  He paused as he stepped inside the door, in the process of removing his outerwear. Perhaps she was upset that he’d given her something that had belonged to his deceased wife, although he’d made the wooden case that the mechanism was housed in. But then, it was all he’d had to offer. It wasn’t as though he had ample opportunity to head down the mountain to the Miracle Mercantile and procure something special. For him, Elise was everything that music box embodied—charm, uniqueness, and even a part of himself, for he had worked tirelessly to make sure it was perfect, having given it to Martha on their one year anniversary, just before Thomas was born.

  If that was what had truly distressed her, then it was good he had one more trick up his sleeve. But he wouldn’t show his final ace until later that evening.

  Chauncey rubbed his hands together by the fire to warm himself, and then he set to work in the kitchen. He hoped that he wasn’t overstepping, but he’d decided that morning that it wasn’t right that Elise should have to make a birthday cake for herself. And while he wasn’t as accomplished in the kitchen, he knew how to operate a stove. All he needed was a recipe to get started.

  He glanced around the expanse and found one that looked as though it had seen quite a bit of love, for the pages were stained and crinkled from use. Surely there was a favorite chocolate cake recipe in there somewhere. He flipped through the pages until he came across one written in a neat feminine script.

  A smile crossed his features as he began to gather the ingredients.

  Chapter Ten

  Elise stayed outside in her hothouse longer than she normally did, but then, she hoped that her eyes weren’t too red rimmed or swollen, proof of her emotional breakdown in the middle of the peonies. She chided herself more than once regarding her shameful behavior toward Mr. Cade after he’d been so thoughtful in giving her that magnificent music box. She’d never seen its equal before, and she doubted she ever would again.

  She was sitting on the solitary bench amid the flowers with the box in her lap. She traced the outline of the delicate dove on top and frowned slightly. She had no doubt that this must have belonged to the former Mrs. Cade. No doubt Chauncey assumed that was what had brought on her sudden coldness, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She was touched that he would give her something that had obviously meant so much to him. The memories attached to it must be acute, and yet, he’d wanted her to have it. Just like Beau’s welfare, he entrusted her with the things that had any sort of value to him.

  Little did he know that he held her heart in the palm of his hands.

  Elise sighed heavily. How could she tell him that she’d fallen in love with him? Should she even tell him? Pouring her heart out would surely make things more painful for both of them if the authorities arrived to cart him away like he imagined they soon would. Whereas, if she kept her love locked up inside, he could face trial without another burden to bear.

  That’s it then. She would keep her secrets to herself until such time his name could be cleared. But how would she even go about offering her assistance?

  She thought for a moment and decided that perhaps it was time she made a trip down to Charming. She could tell Mr. Cade that she intended to pick up some more supplies from the Mercantile, but instead, she would seek out Grannie’s advice. The older woman had always been there when she needed her, offering a kind ear when the other children had made her life difficult, and sage advice when she’d asked. And if there was ever a time she needed a friendly, familiar face, it was now, when her emotions were so jumbled together, twisted and gnarled like the roots of a tree.

  She stood and gathered her cloak around her. Holding the music box close to her, she left the hothouse and returned to the cabin.

  However, the moment she walked in, chaos ensued. The small interior was filled with billowing white smoke. At first she feared that the chimney flue had clogged again, but that was generally during the spring when the birds decided to build a nest inside it.

  But then she noticed Chauncey in the kitchen with a strip of linen. He was coughing and saying a few choice words as he attempted to clear the air from the charred pan of…something. It was hard to even decipher what it was he’d been trying to prepare.

  “I’d prefer that my house isn’t burned to the ground on my birthday.”

  He instantly glanced up. It was obvious he’d been too preoccupied trying to clean up his mess to be aware of what was going on around him, since he hadn’t heard her return. He lowered his arms with a chagrined look on his face. “I didn’t want you to have to make your own cake,” he muttered.

  Elise couldn’t help but
smile as she removed her boots, hung up her cloak and tied her apron around her waist. She touched his arm as she walked past him to inspect the damage. The “cake” in the pan resembled a piece of scorched firewood, but there didn’t seem to be anything else amiss other than a bit of flour he’d failed to wipe off the counter. Thankfully, it could have been much worse.

  “I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Cade, but I can take it from here.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How embarrassing to admit I can’t even cook.”

  Her lips twitched as she fought a laugh. “Most men don’t. My father never stepped foot in the kitchen, even to boil water and my mother was thankful for it. His services were best performed outdoors.” She scrunched up her nose. “Rather like you, Mr. Cade.”

  He offered a smirk in return. “I suppose sewing is my solitary feminine pursuit.”

  “And that is perfectly fine with me,” she returned. “Now, if you don’t mind taking this pan outside and scraping the worst of it out, I will take care of the rest.”

  She heard him grumble under his breath, but as he took his leave, Elise just laughed.

  ***

  That night, after supper was over, Elise cut them each a piece of the chocolate cake that she’d prepared, complete with a rich, creamy icing to match. Chauncey groaned as he slid the first bite off his fork. “How did I ever think I could duplicate your culinary skills?” he remarked.

  Elise shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with having dreams,” she retorted.

  He laughed, that rich baritone she adored so much and finished off the rest of his cake, scraping the plate with his fork until not a single crumb remained. Once he was done, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied curve to his lips. “Shall we have another round of cards this evening?”

  “Of course, Mr. Cade.” Elise stood and gathered the plates and took them to the kitchen. Once she’d washed them and put them away in the cupboard, she gathered her mother’s love tokens and returned to the table where she stopped.