His Prairie Sweetheart

by Erica Vetsch

  “What else do you do for the holidays?” He stabbed a slice of ham from the platter.

  “Well, on Christmas Eve, we have a party at our house. Guests arrive for dinner at eight. There are speeches and toasts and dancing. It’s one of the few times the ballroom on the top floor gets used.” She leaned her forearms on the table. “Then, just before midnight, we all get in our carriages and drive to the church.”

  “That sounds nice,” Tyler said. “We have a Christmas Eve gathering at church, too, though earlier than midnight. It’s my favorite service of the year.”

  “Oh, that will be lovely,” Savannah said. “On Christmas morning, we’re supposed to sleep in, but that never happens. Aunt Carolina used to insist we eat breakfast before we exchange gifts, but we finally wore her down. Now we have brunch afterward. I think she secretly likes it better this way, though she would never admit it. She can be a bit of a Tartar, but I love her.”

  This time, the homesickness in Savannah’s voice was unmistakable, reminding Elias that she was far from those she loved and held dear. He noted her hands in her lap, fingers laced gently. He wanted to reach out and cover them with his, but he hadn’t the right. He wasn’t going to court her. She might last through this one school year, and he prayed she would, but by her own admission, her home was in North Carolina and she had every intention of returning there come spring.

  He’d do well to keep that in mind, especially over the next week or so while she stayed here in his parents’ house.

  * * *

  Christmas Eve afternoon, with all the baking done and the presents wrapped, Savannah sat at the table penning a letter to her family. An ache sat heavily in her heart. Had they forgotten about her? None of them had written in the past couple weeks, and Savannah had given up hope of hearing from them before Christmas. She’d mailed off her own gifts to them in plenty of time, objects she’d bought from the neighbors, beautifully rosemaled jewel chests for the girls, a stunning silver brooch for Aunt Georgette and a hand-crafted knife with a carved wooden handle for her father. Aunt Carolina had been the most difficult to buy for, but then again, she always was. Finally Savannah settled on a Hardanger-embroidered dresser scarf. The cut and open work was so precise, it reminded her of her aunt.

  She imagined what her family must be doing right now.

  The house would be in an uproar, preparing for tonight’s party. Her sisters would be primping and dressing, calling out to one another from their rooms upstairs. Aunt Georgette would be fussing with the flower arrangements, and Aunt Carolina would be sailing from room to room, overseeing the staff, serene and in charge.

  How Savannah wished she could sit and talk with Aunt Carolina, who would give her some perspective on her current disquiet of heart.

  “Brace up, child. You have much for which to be thankful.”

  And she did. God had brought her through so much these past few months. And yet she longed for home. This would be the first Christmas Eve party Savannah had missed since she was old enough to attend.

  A pang hit her chest as she imagined the lights and music and dancing. One year ago tonight she’d first laid eyes on Girard Brandeis. He’d come in with a large group of friends, but he’d stood out among them. One look at him and she’d been swept away in a rosy fog of romance. And he’d paid court to her all night, treating her as if she was the only woman in the room, in the world. And all along he’d been hopelessly in love with another.

  A knock on the door jerked her back to Snowflake.

  “Come in, Svenby. Merry Christmas.” Ian held the door open, and a gust of cold air swirled into the room.

  “Afternoon, Ian.” He unwound his muffler to reveal red cheeks. “Was passing through and thought I’d deliver these letters to Miss Cox. Had a feeling they might be greetings from home.”

  Savannah rose from the bench. “Oh, thank you! I was just indulging in a bit of homesickness.” She took the fat envelopes, holding them to her chest. “This is such a blessing.”

  “Then you’re going to like what else I brought. Left it on the porch.” He turned and retrieved a large parcel. “Package came with the letters.”

  They hadn’t forgotten her. She pressed her lips together and blinked hard against the happy tears. “Thank you so much for bringing them out. I was feeling rather sorry for myself.”

  Elias grinned from the corner where he was repairing a saddle cinch. “You realize you have to wait to open those until tomorrow, right?”

  She gasped. “Tell me you’re teasing. I can’t possibly wait.”

  Tova gave him a quick slap on the shoulder. “Do not be playing, you rascal.” She pulled the coffeepot to the front of the stove. “You can stay for kaffe and kake, Mr. Svenby?”

  “I shouldn’t. I need to get home and do the chores before it gets any colder. Merry Christmas to you folks.” He wound his muffler around his face and slipped out the door.

  Savannah cradled the package in her arms, uncertain. She wanted to rip into it, but perhaps it would be more polite to wait until tomorrow morning?

  “Go ahead.” Elias stood and slipped his folding knife from his pocket, snapping it open. “I was just kidding. I wouldn’t be so mean.”

  Setting the box on the table, she stepped back so he could cut the cords. “There you go.”

  Eagerly, she opened the flaps and sank her fingers into the excelsior.

  “Oh, they remembered.” She shook the curls of packing material off a box.

  “What is it?”

  “Pralines from my favorite chocolate shop in Raleigh.” She smoothed her hand over the picture on the top, of a beautiful antebellum home with white pillars and large trees. “I can almost smell the jasmine and magnolias.”

  “What’s a praline?” Ian leaned over her shoulder.

  “Only the best candy ever made.” Opening the box, she drew out one of the candies in its little paper cup. “Try this.”

  He bit into the confection, and his eyes closed. “Mmm.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” She offered the box to Elias and Tova.

  “That just might be the tastiest treat I’ve ever had.” Ian licked his fingertips. “They make those in your town?”

  “Yes.” Savannah gave one to Tyler, who had laid aside his book. “A few blocks from my home. Tonight, there will be trays of pralines on the buffet table at the party. My aunts must’ve known how much I was missing them. There’s nothing like a taste of home.”

  Elias tried his. “That’s good candy,” he said, gruffly. He had a thoughtful look she couldn’t decipher.

  “What else did they send?” Tova asked.

  Savannah set the candy box on the table and withdrew a long, slender package wrapped in tissue. A painted silk fan. Flicking it open, she fluttered it under her chin. “Isn’t it pretty? I love fans. Did you know there is an entire communication system based on fans? How you carry them, how you move them.”

  “Might be some time before you need a fan around these parts.” Elias looked out the window, where fat flakes piled up on the mullions. “What sorts of things can you say with a fan?”

  “Oh, lots of things. Everything from ‘I am spoken for’ to ‘Please ask me to dance’ to ‘I wish to speak to you in private.’ Even ‘Stop bothering me’ and ‘Go away’.”

  She set the fan on the candy box and reached through the packing material once more. This time she withdrew a bulky parcel in brown paper.

  “A new riding habit.” She gathered the green wool in her arms, then shook out the jacket and held it up. “Isn’t it smart? I left my other riding costumes at home, but I mentioned to Aunt Carolina that I’d had the opportunity to go horseback riding. I told her it had ruined one of my dresses. She must’ve remembered.” Savannah smoothed out the skirt, checking for the button and loop along the right side, so she could bustle it up out of t
he way when riding. The day she’d gone riding with Elias, racing across the prairie with the wind tugging at her hair, had been the day she’d first begun to heal from Girard’s betrayal, the first day her heart had felt a ray of hope. The memory was dear to her.

  The last thing in the box was a packet of sheet music for the harp: “The Skye Boat Song,” “I Love to Tell the Story” and Carl Bach’s “Sonata for Harp in G Major.”

  “Vill you play for us?” Tova asked. “Ven you played in church, it vas so beautiful.”

  “I’d love to.” She went to the harp case and opened the clasps. Her beautiful harp lay in the velvet bed, and she drew it out. “I’m sorry about the tuning process, but I’ll be quick.”

  Using her pitch pipe and peg wrench, she started with the middle strings and tuned the harp as fast as she could. Plucking one string at a time, she frowned. Something wasn’t right. Not with the harp, but with her hands.

  Her joints ached, and she felt clumsy and slow, as if she was trying to play while wearing mittens. When she finished tuning, she placed her hands on the strings and slowly picked out the tune to “Silent Night.” She stilled the strings and began again, but her hands seemed trapped in treacle, almost as if she was playing underwater. She hit several wrong notes, and stopped again, shaking her head.

  “What’s wrong?” Elias leaned forward, his forearms on his knees.

  “My hands.” She looked at them, feeling as if they belonged to someone else. “I can’t...”

  “Are they paining you?”

  “A little, but not like they did before. They don’t burn. It’s my joints. They feel stiff and achy.” A flutter of panic rose in her breast. “Is this normal? After frostbite?”

  Tova rocked in her chair, her crochet hook poking in and out of the heavy wool yarn. “I haff seen dis before. It vill take time.”

  “But will it get better? Will I be able to play again?” The flutter grew. Not to be able to play her harp? What would she do?

  Ian scrubbed his jaw. “Most likely, you just need more time, like Tova says. And you’ll have to be careful, since once you’ve suffered frostbite, you’re more susceptible to it in the future.”

  “I imagine you never had to worry too much about frostbite in North Carolina, did you? I’m sorry you encountered it here.” Elias came and took the harp from her, laying it in the case. “I’m sure that if you just give it some more time, your dexterity will return.” He placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment, and warmth spread through her veins, making her heart trip. Tova’s watchful eyes rested on them, and Elias jerked his hand away. “I’m going to go hitch up the sleigh. Don’t want to be late for the Christmas Eve service.”

  He hustled into his coat and hat and slammed the door behind him.

  Ian stood, tugged his watch from his pocket and compared it to the clock ticking softly on the wall. “Wonder what’s wrong with that boy. He’s edgier than a new knife.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Savannah chipped away at the ice coating the schoolhouse steps. The storm on January 5 had been more sleet than snow, and had encased the stairs, making them an adventure to traverse. Now, a week later, the ice still clung stubbornly.

  At least the sun was shining. The local newspaper had reported that Snowflake had received a record three feet of snow in December, and January had started out with more of the same.

  She smiled grimly as a big chunk of ice broke off and skittered across the porch. Resting on the long handle of the ice breaker, she breathed deeply. The air felt different today, like a promise of spring. There was moisture in it, and the breeze blew softly from the southwest. She unbuttoned her coat. Her exertions had warmed her thoroughly.

  Small dark dots appeared in the snow on the horizon, her students coming to school. How she’d come to love them, from the burly, nearly grown Hakon to tiny Ingrid with her sparkling eyes and quick smile. Savannah cheered their successes and celebrated their milestones. Even difficult days weren’t that hard now.

  “Hi, Miss Cox.” Johann slid from his pony and lifted Margrethe down. He rode right by the Thorn place every day and picked the little girl up on his way. “Nice day, is it not?”

  “Very. I hope we’re in for a stretch of good weather. Mr. Parker said sometimes you get a January thaw?”

  He nodded. “Almost always we get a few nice days.”

  Margrethe lugged her lunch pail and books up the stairs, careful to step with her little boots in the places Savannah had cleared. When she reached her side, she looked up from under the edge of her woolen bonnet. “Teacher, can ve play fox and geese today?”

  Savannah looked at the trampled snow around the schoolhouse. “If we can find a clean patch to play on.”

  “Vill you play vid us?”

  The last time they’d played, the students had cajoled Savannah into taking part. The game consisted of tramping down a giant wheel-and-spokes path in the snow, then designating someone to be the “fox” while the rest were “geese.” The fox chased the geese, and the only rule was that you couldn’t step off the trampled path. If you were caught, you became the fox.

  “We’ll see.” She had enjoyed running and laughing in the snow, but she didn’t want to undermine her authority as the teacher by roughhousing with her students too often.

  More students arrived, and she rang the school bell to signal the start of the day. “Good morning. Lars, I believe it is your turn to read.” She handed him her Bible. “Psalm 91 today.”

  “‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.’” Lars read slowly, sounding out the words in English.

  Savannah nodded each time he worked his way through a long or difficult word.

  “‘He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him.

  “‘With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.’” The boy looked up, closing the Bible with a grin.

  “Well done, Lars. Your reading is really coming along.”

  Just before the midmorning break, Hakon raised his hand. “Miss Cox, can I be moving to another desk? The fire is too varm for me.” As the oldest student, he sat in the back of the room nearest the stove.

  Savannah gave him permission and glanced outside. Water dripped off the edge of the roof from melting snow. It was so warm in the schoolroom she contemplated cracking a window, but thought better of it lest she give the children a chill.

  Rut leaned over and scratched her leg just above her boot top. She caught Savannah’s eye and jerked upright, a flush staining her cheeks at her unladylike behavior. Savannah hid a smile. She knew just how the girl felt. Her own flannels were itchy and hot, and she longed to scratch the irritation away. Aunt Carolina would be mortified...though Aunt Carolina had never worn so many layers of flannel and wool and cotton on a rapidly warming day.

  “You may put your books away and go outside. Although it is warm, wear your coats and gloves. You can leave your hats and mufflers off, but if you get cold, come in and get them.”

  They scrambled out, and Savannah leaned back in her chair. It was good for them to get some fresh air and sunshine after so much dismal weather.

  Sliding her top drawer open, she took out her aunt’s Christmas letter and a clean sheet of paper.

  Dear Aunt Carolina,

  I’m sorry I’ve been so tardy in replying to your Christmas greetings. The gifts were wonderful, and I love each one. Thank you so much. I was staying at the Parker house over the holidays, and I was able to share with them some of the pralines. Cassidy’s Chocolates are still the best. I have held back just enough for a special treat for my students.

  I am well, though I do have something to share. A few weeks ago, I had the misfortune to get my hands frostbitten. The fault was entirely my own. Bef
ore you scold, let me assure you that I am fine. My hands are still sensitive to extreme cold, but I am getting better. I have even begun to play the harp once more, though it has been a fight to regain my nimbleness. I first tried to play again on Christmas Eve, when your package arrived, and you would’ve thought I was wearing bulky gloves for all the dexterity I had.

  The homesickness I felt over the holidays has abated some. I find that while I miss all of you fiercely, I am putting down roots here in Snowflake. I have begun to appreciate the resourceful nature of the people here. The way they work together, the way their lives are intertwined and the way they have drawn me into their circle is so comforting. I can finally admit that Girard’s defection shattered my confidence in myself. It has taken months for me to begin to feel “right” again.

  Savannah set aside her pen and propped her chin in her hand. Aside from missing her family, there had been only one jarring note to the holiday season.

  Elias.

  She never would’ve thought he’d be subject to moods, but that’s what it had felt like. One moment he’d be laughing and talking, and the next frowning and silent. It seemed as if every time she mentioned something about home, he’d clam up. The rest of the family had been interested in learning about North Carolina, about her aunts and sisters, about her church and her life there, but Elias would scowl, cross his arms or find a reason to head for the barn.

  He hadn’t seemed any happier when she and Tyler discussed school or books they’d read. Throughout the week, Elias had been restless, as if he couldn’t wait for her to be back at the Halvorsons’.

  It had certainly been deflating.

  The children’s squeals and shouts pulled her back, and she glanced at the clock. Time to call them in. A shame, considering this was the nicest weather they’d had in weeks. Maybe just a few more minutes. She turned back to her letter.

  I hope you are all well. My boss, Mr. Tyler Parker, gave me an end date for the school year—May 25. Just a little over four months from now. This time away has done what I had hoped it would. I no longer grieve for Girard, and I’ve gained some perspective on what’s truly important, both in life and in what I would look for in a mate in the future...not that I’m contemplating anything like that.