by Stacy Henrie
With soft footsteps, she stole slowly across the lobby. She paused beside her tree, inhaling its scent once more. She didn’t have a tree in her room at the boardinghouse. Her parents had sent her a few gifts to open tonight, but the holiday wouldn’t be the same without family around and a beautifully adorned tree to sit beside. Especially now that she wouldn’t be spending the evening with Dale.
Maria cast a final look at the tree. Then she turned to the door and reached for the handle. If she could open it silently, she’d be free…
“Going somewhere?”
Whirling around, one hand pressed against her racing heart, she found Dale standing in the doorway of the front office. How long had he been in there?
“I was…heading home.” The intensity with which he stared at her made her swallow hard. There’d be no escaping now, but maybe she could keep him talking about something other than him and Felicity. “Where did Lawrence and James go? I didn’t see them leave.”
“They had a party tonight.” He advanced a step toward her. Maria stepped backward, bumping against the door. “I actually told them to go early.”
“Oh?” She frantically searched her mind for something else to say. “Today was very busy.”
He nodded and took another step forward.
“I don’t know that I’ve seen so many customers come through before.” She waved her winter things at the teller windows, her other hand fumbling for the doorknob behind her. If she bolted, would he follow? “The lines didn’t seem to let up until the very end.”
He kept moving toward her, silently, methodically.
Maria twisted the handle, poised to fling the door open and leap outside. Away from this amazing, handsome man who no longer loved her. “I think we ran out of that second batch of candy canes within the first couple of—”
“Maria.” He stopped a few feet away from her. “Will you please stop talking?”
She released the doorknob to fold her arms and glower up at him. “If you didn’t want to listen to me, then why didn’t you let me leave a moment ago?”
“Because I need you to listen to me.” She started to protest, her stomach churning at his determined tone, but he held his hand up to stop her. “Let me say my piece and then you’re free to go.”
She slumped against the door and lowered her gaze to the floor. As much as she wanted to leave, to escape the inevitable, she wouldn’t hurt him by walking out now. “What do you need to say, Dale?”
“First, you didn’t see what you thought you did yesterday.”
At that, she jerked her chin upward. “So I didn’t see Felicity kissing you on the cheek and exclaiming about how happy she was that the two of you were back together?”
“Not exactly.”
She shook her head. Why would he deny it? “Then what did I see?”
“Felicity came to tell me something. But it had nothing to do with her and me being together again.”
“It didn’t?” Hope flared warm inside her, despite her attempt to ignore it, to dowse it before it grew.
“Felicity told me she was getting married.”
“Married?” Surprise swept through Maria.
“Yes. And because it all happened rather fast, she wanted to tell me in person and hoped I wouldn’t think she hadn’t ever cared.” He took another step, bringing himself within an arm’s length of her. “I promise you her kiss was nothing more than a friendly gesture.”
Maria peered up at him. “But you’re still leaving.” That fact hurt as much as her earlier assumption that he’d chosen Felicity over her.
Dale ran a hand over his face as though suddenly tired. “I meant to tell you, Maria. A dozen different times this weekend. But every time I went to say it, I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate the idea of leaving you.” He closed the space between them to gently grip her shoulder. His familiar touch eased her hurt and fear, as it had the other times he’d so willing helped her. “Which is why I decided this afternoon to decline the position. I’ll write my old professor tomorrow and tell him my answer is ‘no.’”
“What?” The word exploded in the quiet of the bank. “You can’t do that, Dale. Please don’t do that.” Maria swallowed hard, trying to sort through the tide of emotions and revelations rocking through her. Dale loved her. Loved her enough to give up the closest thing he had to being a surgeon again. But she wouldn’t let him. “You have to do this.”
He glanced away, his face set with determination. She had to make him see reason.
Stuffing her hat, scarf, and gloves into one pocket, she reached into the other and withdrew the box. She lifted his hand and placed the gift on his palm. “This is your Christmas present.”
Dale released his hold on her shoulder to examine the box. “It’s incredible,” he murmured. His awed tone warmed her from head to toe. She’d picked the perfect gift.
“I had the man carve the medical caduceus on the top.” She watched Dale finger the intricate curves of the symbol. “Now open it up. There’s something inside.”
He lifted the lid briefly to glance inside the box, then shut it. “Pep-O-Mints,” he murmured, his voice choked. “Thank you, Maria.”
She covered his hand where it still gripped the box. “I want you to put it on your desk…” Her throat filled with tears. “In the office you’ll have as a professor. Please? You were born to be a doctor, Dale. Not a banker. This is your chance to still do that. And I won’t let you give it up for me.”
He studied her a long moment before bringing his warm hand to rest against the back of her neck. Then he was kissing her, firmly, tenderly. Maria’s pulse hummed loud and fast in her ears. She loved him, so much so she wouldn’t let him give up his dream.
When Dale eased back, his somber expression had been replaced with a hopeful smile. “I love you, Maria. You’ve believed in me from the very start, even when I doubted myself.”
“I love you, too. But I won’t let you—”
He pressed another kiss to her lips, silencing her protests. His gaze sparkled in the lights of the Christmas tree. “I’ve been so caught up in trying to figure out how to tell you about the teaching job, I didn’t get you a gift. But I do have something I’d like to ask you.”
“Yes?” Anticipation sang through her.
Taking her hand in his, Dale lowered himself to one knee and set the box next to him on the polished bank floor. Maria’s heart hammered even harder. “Maria Schmitt, will you come with me when I leave to go teach in two weeks? Not as my dearest friend or traveling companion, but as my wife?”
Her free hand rose to cover her mouth. Maria had no words. The adoration shining on Dale’s face as he stared up at her left her speechless.
“I know I have little to offer, as a one-eyed college professor. And I’ll be taking you even farther away from your family and from a job you love.” He turned her hand over and placed a kiss on her wrist, causing a pleasant shiver up her arm. “But I promise to love you every day of your life, and we’ll come back to visit as often as we can.”
Joy filled her to bursting at Dale’s proposal. As if the Christmas star itself were lit within her. “Do you think there might be a bank where we’re going?” she countered, doing her best to hide the smile begging to break through.
Dale looked puzzled for a moment, then a slow grin brightened his expression. “I know of several banks in the area. And I’m certain one of those…” He climbed to his feet and tugged her close. “Could use the expertise of a certain bank clerk I know.”
Maria leaned into his chest, her chin tipped up to see his face. That beloved face. “But a female bank clerk?” she teased.
“I’m confident you can squash any concerns in that regard.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “So what do you say? Will you be my wife, Maria Schmitt, and come with me?”
She could no longer hold back her smile. “There is nothing in this world,” she answered softly, bringing her lips close to his, “that I wo
uld rather be or do, Dale Emerson.”
His radiant smile weakened her knees. “Does this mean your plans for Christmas Eve have changed then?”
“My plan for tonight and for all the days and nights after this is to be at your side.”
“I rather like the sound of that,” he murmured against her mouth, right before rewarding her with another heart-pounding kiss.
A kiss full of tenderness and promise for a future together, now and always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stacy Henrie has always had an avid appetite for history, fiction, and chocolate. She earned her B.A. in public relations from Brigham Young University and worked in communications before turning her attentions to raising a family and writing inspirational historical romances. Wife of an entrepreneur husband and a stay-at-home mom to three, Stacy loves the chance to live out history through her fictional characters, while enjoying the modern conveniences of life in the twenty-first century. In addition to being an author, she is a reader, a road trip enthusiast, and a novice interior decorator.
In a time of war, love is the inspiration…
A preview of Hope at Dawn, by Stacy Henrie, follows.
Chapter 1
Iowa, March 1918
Of all the birthdays Livy could recall, this one would certainly go down as the most memorable—but for all the wrong reasons. Ironic, she thought, smoothing the skirt of her blue silk taffeta dress for surely the hundredth time. I always thought turning twenty would be special.
She fanned herself with her hat, wishing she’d selected a chair near the back of the dance hall, where the door had been thrown open to let in the cool night air. The catchy strains of a one-step number filled the crowded room as couples danced in front of her.
Livy glanced at the hall’s entrance, then to the clock on the wall. Where could Robert be? He’d told her he needed some work done on his automobile, so he would meet her at the dance hall at seven o’clock. But with Robert’s army training, Livy knew he meant six fifty-nine. That had been an hour ago.
The song ended and the couples stopped moving to applaud the band. Livy let her gaze wander over the unfamiliar faces. A tall young man with blond hair and broad shoulders caught and held her attention. Not only because of his handsome face and blue eyes, but also because of his lack of a uniform. Most of the men here tonight were older and married or baby-faced youngsters almost out of high school. The few who looked to be in their mid-twenties like the blond young man were dressed as soldiers, likely having returned home wounded, like Robert.
With his cane, Robert didn’t enjoy dancing as he once had, but he’d promised to take Livy for her birthday. The few times they’d come to the dance hall, mostly just swaying to the music, Livy couldn’t help seeing the adoring looks the other girls gave Robert—or the jealousy-tinged ones they threw at her when Robert refused to dance with anyone else. The appreciative glances and wistful sighs were the same wherever they went together.
But tonight she sat alone, with her polished dance shoes and her carefully curled hair. Without Robert. Livy simmered with frustration. She’d looked forward to a lovely evening all week. What would make him so late? A sudden thought turned her insides to ice and she dropped her hat into her lap. The inside of her cheek found its way between her teeth.
“Please let him be sober, God, please,” she whispered, the next song drowning out her quiet pleas. “I’ll forgive him any other excuse, if he’s sober.”
Robert had vowed, just three weeks before, that he was done imbibing—much to Livy’s relief. She couldn’t entirely blame him for turning to the bottle. There was so much he wanted to forget about his time overseas. Things he’d whispered to her, during moments of insobriety, which made her cringe in horror.
Robert’s stories had only increased her anxiety for her two older brothers, fighting in France. What were they experiencing there? Would they be driven to drink because of it?
Livy mentally shook her head at the thought. She couldn’t imagine Joel or Tom ever becoming drunk. They wouldn’t be alone in that resolve either. There were other men in their home town who hadn’t succumbed to drinking—some had even lost arms or legs or their eyesight. So why were they able to stay away from alcohol and Robert couldn’t? Not even Iowa’s statewide prohibition or Livy’s increased compassion toward him had stopped Robert from finding the bootleggers when he wanted.
For a moment, Livy imagined she could smell the fermented scent of Robert’s raw alcohol. She hated that smell and the way it clung to his breath and clothes. She gagged at the memory and sucked in a breath of the stale, warm air inside the dance hall to clear her nose.
She’d learned to read his drunken mood, too. If he was lumbering around the barn, muttering things to himself, he was angry. Angry at the Germans, at God, at her sometimes. She didn’t like the barbed comments he tossed her way, but those were preferable to the intense sadness he experienced more often.
If he was lying back in the hay, bottle in hand, he was consumed with sorrow. No matter what she said or how long she sat holding his hand, she couldn’t talk him through the guilt and regret of his memories. And that cut worse than the smell. Still, she’d always try to coax him into a better mood, then return home exhausted, doing her best to dodge her parents’ questions about her evening.
Robert had promised to give it up, though, and Livy clung to that promise. Especially as her birthday approached. The past three weeks he’d been solicitous and sober, as he had when he’d first come home. At least until tonight.
When another fifteen minutes had crawled by, Livy forced herself to accept the likelihood that Robert—for whatever painful reason—had chosen to spend her birthday with a bottle cradled in his arms instead of her. Hot tears of anger sprang up behind her eyes, and no amount of blinking could keep several of them from leaking onto her face.
“Are you all right?”
Livy whipped her chin up and found herself peering into eyes more brilliantly blue than she’d suspected from her seat across the room. Their clear depths exuded friendly concern in a way that made her feel immediately safe, though she didn’t know this young man. Up close, his Sunday shirt and pressed trousers, though worn, accentuated his strong-looking physique.
She blinked, trying to remember what he’d asked her. Something about her being all right? “Yes. Thank you. I’m fine.”
She swept away the salty drops from her cheeks. Of course her first real cry in ten years would be witnessed by a stranger, and yet his self-assured, compassionate manner made her suspect he didn’t find her silly.
“You look like you could use a dance.” He crouched down in front of her and held out his hand. “How about it?”
Livy darted a quick look at the entrance again. “I’m…um…waiting for my boyfriend.”
“Ah.” He let his hand drop to his side. “Seems to be a bit late.”
She blushed. Who else had noticed her sitting here for over an hour? “I’m sorry,” she offered lamely.
“No, it’s all right.” He stood and started to walk away.
Who was she kidding? Robert wasn’t coming. If he happened to, he’d likely be drunk and unable to dance anyway.
“Wait.” Livy shot to her feet. She could have at least one dance on her birthday. Why should she spend the whole evening hurt and angry over Robert’s absence?
The young man slowly turned back around.
She attempted a genuine smile. “I’d love a dance.”
His face lit up as he smiled in return and held out his hand a second time. Setting her hat on her chair, Livy placed her hand inside his larger one and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. The band began to play a fox-trot—one of Livy’s favorite dances. She and Joel had become fairly adept at the steps before he’d left for the war.
It felt strange, at first, to be in another man’s arms, but the feeling soon left her. The way he held her hand in a confident but gentle grip, his hand warm on her back, helped Livy relax. He led her aro
und the floor, their feet walking or spinning in time with the music. He was as skillful at the fox-trot as her brother, and Livy relished the chance to do more than just sway to the music.
“Are you from around here?” he asked her after a minute or two of dancing.
“About an hour away. And you?”
He shook his head. “I live outside of Hilden. In the county north of here.”
Livy vaguely recalled hearing the town name. “You drove all the way down here, just to go dancing?”
“We don’t have a public dance hall in Hilden. So we have to come here, or head farther north, or drive all the way to Sioux City. Do you come to this one often?”
“I used to, before I went to college in Cedar Falls.”
With slight pressure to her back, he expertly led her through a spin before he picked up their conversation again. “What did you study in college?”
“Teaching.”
“Are you a teacher now?”
Livy frowned, doing her best to tamp down the seeds of resentment the question unearthed. She loved her family and wanted to lift the burden her brothers’ absence had created, but she missed college and the chance to pursue her own dreams.
“I was only able to attend for a year before I was needed here.” Her words drew a look of sympathy from him.
“I know what that’s like,” he murmured. Before she could ask what he meant, he poised another question. “Do you still want to be a teacher?”
“Very much. I’m hoping someday I’ll have the chance.”
The understanding in his blue eyes changed to enthusiasm. “That might be sooner than you think. The teacher at one of the township schools outside of Hilden was recently…” He shot a glance at the floor, his jaw tightening. Livy wondered at the change in his mood. Then he guided her through another spin and his expression relaxed. “Suffice it to say, she’s gone now and I don’t think they’ve found a replacement. It’s a little far away, but you might want to inquire about it.”
