Though Blackie was one of the friendlier horses in the barn, it took her nearly an hour before he let her grab the rope hanging from his halter. She shushed him and gently patted his nose, looking into his brown eyes. Suddenly, he snorted and tried to pull away from her.
Startled, Jasmine fought to keep control. She then turned to see what the horse was looking at. Something she had never seen before was coming right at her, and fast. It looked like a wall made out of pure white. Suddenly, Jasmine realized what it was.
“A blizzard!” She shouted, and yanked on the horse’s rope. The horse whinnied and fought her, scared and confused.
“Come on, Blackie! Come on!” Jasmine tried to yank on the halter, but the horse was much stronger than she. Then, all at once, they were engulfed in the wind and snow. Ice pellets stung her eyes, and the wind came from all directions, making it impossible for her to know which direction she was facing.
Jasmine tried to look around, but the ice stung and she couldn’t see where she was going. She buried her face in the horse’s neck, trying not to panic. The temperature was dropping quickly, and Jasmine realized she wasn’t dressed to be out in this kind of weather.
“Blackie, we have to get back to the house, we just have to.” She pleaded with the animal, the horse had his head down, trying to get out of the stinging wind, but Jasmine couldn’t offer any relief.
She pulled her shawl off her shoulders, feeling the sting of more cold air. She then tied it around the horse’s eyes and did her best to lead him back home. But she had no idea where home was. The snow came from all directions, stinging her hands and face and causing her to close her eyes.
Jasmine suddenly realized she couldn't feel her feet. It was getting harder to walk, and her hands were going numb. Blackie also gave up and laid down, turning his head to face his body. Jasmine knew it would be futile to go on without the horse, and laid down next to him, shielding her face with his body.
She didn't know what was happening to her. Everything felt so hot and cold at the same time. She couldn't look up, and her shouts were drowned out by the screams of the blizzard, so she just huddled against the horse, praying that God would somehow see her through.
Chapter 10 – Happily Ever After
Heat. Uncomfortable heat no matter which way she moved. Jasmine tried to open her eyes and tried to get away from the sweltering heat, but no matter what she did, she felt trapped.
Suddenly, ice came through the heat and slid across her chest. She tried to say something, but nothing came out.
“Is she going to be ok, doctor?” Jasmine recognized Albert’s voice.
“She’s got a terrible fever, Albert. She’s lucky she didn’t lose her hands or feet in that. What was she doing out there anyway?”
“She’d gone after a horse I’m told. You know how the blizzards are up here. They come out of nowhere.” Albert’s voice shook, and Jasmine could hear the doctor sigh.
"Well, she best is staying in the house from now on, if you ask me. I think she'll be ok, but we have to break this fever. Keep a cloth on her forehead, and let it run its course, with time, things should look up."
Jasmine tried to listen to more of the conversation, but the men were walking into the next room, and she was too weak to move. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Her hands and feet felt as though they were on fire, and her entire body ached.
Suddenly, there was another icy blast as Albert laid a cloth filled with snow on her forehead. She wished she was strong enough to open her eyes and say something, but even breathing felt as though it was too much right now.
Albert took a seat next to the bed, and Jasmine could hear him talking.
“Why did you go after that silly old horse? Why? Don’t you know you could have been killed out there? It was just a horse.” His voice trailed off. She didn’t know if he had left, or if he was still sitting there, when suddenly, his voice broke into her thoughts once more.
“I love you, Jasmine. Ever since you came into my life, things have never been the same. I can’t let you go, especially not like this. I’m sorry for what happened out in the barn, and I want you to know that I didn’t mean it. You are more important to me than any old doll, and I need you here. I need you with me.” He was crying now, and Jasmine felt him put his hand over hers.
It felt nice. She could feel his love through his hand and wished she could let him know that she heard what he said. She felt him lean over the bed, and move the cloth out of the way so he could kiss her forehead.
“Please be ok,” he whispered.
Jasmine's eyes suddenly flew open. She thought she had heard something, but it was dark. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Something was different.
Lifting her hands, she suddenly realized she didn’t feel nearly as hot as she had, and her hands and feet weren’t burning. Jasmine reached up and pulled the damp washcloth off her forehead. It was warm, but her forehead wasn’t hot.
“Fever’s broken.” She whispered to herself. Suddenly, she heard the sound again. It was the sound of voices out in the other room. Voices mixed with the sound of something large being moved. She tried to sit up, but she was still weak, so she laid back in bed once more.
She closed her eyes and hadn't realized she fell asleep until she suddenly heard Albert's voice in the room once more.
“Fever’s broken!” He fairly shouted. She opened her eyes, and Albert laughed.
“You crazy beautiful girl! You’re going to be ok!” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then scooped her up in his arms.
Jasmine cried out in surprise, and he laughed again.
“What are you doing?” She gasped, and he winked at her.
"I have a surprise for you." He kicked open the door, and they ducked into the living room. Jasmine gasped. There, in the corner of the room, was the most beautiful Christmas tree she had ever seen. It was decorated with bulbs and a red streamer, but it was what was at the top that took her breath away.
“The angel!” She exclaimed, and Albert nodded.
“I thought she could stay up there for a few days, and when we take the tree down, you could keep her.” He set her down gently on her feet, helping her stay steady. Jasmine looked up at him.
“It’s… perfect.” She breathed, and Albert looked relieved. He cupped her face in his hands and gently brushed her cheeks with his thumbs.
"I am so sorry for the way I've treated you, Jasmine. You are the best thing that has happened to me since…" His voice trailed off, and there were tears in his eyes. Jasmine put her finger up to his lips, and gently shushed him.
He leaned down and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Finally, he pulled back and looked her in the eyes.
“I love you.” He said, and Jasmine felt her heart melt.
"I love you, too." She whispered, and they kissed once more. At last, she pulled back, and the two of them admired the tree together. Finally, Albert spoke.
“I think this may be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He said, and Jasmine nodded.
“Me too.” And she meant it, with all her heart.
THE END
Eva’s Inspirational Journey to Love
Chapter 1
Artist in the West
The shadows on the boulders were like glimmering black gold in my eyes. The surrounding dry land seemed to be an ocean of blissful rest whispering across a hot and exhausted dream. The darkening sky above my head, filled with fiery pink and bruised purples and blues, slowly began to fade away into a blanket of bright stars designed by an amazing and loving God. “How wonderful,” I smiled. A gentle breeze began playing in my long black hair and then pulled at the soft pink dress I was wearing.
“It’s getting late,” my papa told me in his thick Italian accent. Papa was sitting in his brown horse buggy rubbing his white mustache, staring at me with curious eyes. “Eva, why stop in such a place?”
“Oh, Papa,” I said allowing my accent to roam free, “how could
I not?” I pointed at the boulders. “See how wonderful?” I asked.
“I see rocks,” Papa replied in a patient voice and then sighed. “Your momma, yes, you got her spirit and heart, child. Your momma could find beauty in a piece of dirt.”
“Momma was a very special woman,” I told Papa allowing my eyes to rest on the large boulders. “She would be with us today if she had not died saving the drowning child.”
Papa nodded his head. “Your momma was a very brave woman,” he said with a broken heart. “At her age, she jumps into a flooded river to save a drowning child. Who has ever heard such a thing? The child lives, my wife, eh, she is with the angels.”
I glanced over at Papa. He was sad. His face was droopy and his eyes sleepy with wine. “Come,” I told Papa and walked over to the horse buggy, “I will drive us home.”
“Home?” Papa asked in a sad tone, “home is Italy,” he said and helped me up onto the buggy. “Home is not this dry, awful, land. I cannot even grow a simple grape from this miserable dirt.”
“Oh, Papa,” I said and patted his right leg, “we have traveled so far. This is the land your brother left you. He said there was gold on the land. Someday we will find the gold. But while we are here, shouldn’t we enjoy the beauty God has given us?”
Papa glanced up at the darkening sky. “We should be getting back to the house,” he said and pulled a brown blanket over the black trousers he was wearing. “I will make us some stew, and then we will sing songs. Yes, that will be nice.”
“Yes, Papa, that will be nice,” I agreed and asked Bella, the sweet brown horse Papa and I owned, to begin pulling the horse buggy. “Easy, girl. Slow walk under a beautiful sky,” I whispered.
Bella carefully began walking down a dry path filled with rocks and twigs. Papa settled back and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he began to snore. I smiled and let my eyes wander around the darkening landscape. Night, like day, was filled with beauty. Although night always made me feel very sad and lonely inside, I always searched for beauty dripping down from the stars, eager to locate each star drop and explore its imagination and heart. “Each star drop,” my momma would always whisper in my ear at bedtime, “is a dream from an angel.” Of course, as I grew older, I knew my momma was only telling me delightful stories that weren’t true, but still, I always dreamed of finding the star drops and painting them into my heart. “Someday,” I whispered. “Someday.”
The sound of an approaching horse caused me to turn my head. I saw a shadowy rider approaching from the south end of the trail. My heart began to race. Strangers terrified me. Who would be out on the trail at such a late hour? The trail ended on the land my uncle had given to Papa. Who would have business on the area of the trail leading to our house? I gently nudged Papa with my shoulder. “Papa, wake up,” I said, attempting to remain calm.
Papa stirred, opened his eyes, and looked at me. “Yes, what’s wrong?” he asked in a groggy voice.
“A rider is approaching.”
Papa turned in his seat, looked back at the trail, and then looked forward. “The American again,” he said in an irritated tone.
“Joshua?” I asked. “How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” Papa mumbled and closed his eyes. “Now I will have to make extra stew.”
I slowed down the buggy and waited for the rider to catch up. And, just as Papa had said, Joshua McClure rode up to buggy wearing his finest gray shirt and brown pants. “Evening, Mr. Fontana…Ms. Fontana.”
Papa eased his right eye open, peeked over at Joshua and shook his head. “Where do you get such hats?” he asked.
Joshua lifted his right hand and touched the brown hat he was wearing. The hat was new. “Oh…uh, Mr. Connor in town sold me this hat,” he said and blushed a little. Joshua was a kind man with a gentle soul. He was also hardworking, honest and loyal. His family owned a medium sized ranch that skirted the land Papa and I lived on. Joshua’s Papa and Momma were good people who always brought food, milk, butter, and other gifts over to the house at least once a week. But, I sighed, because Joshua wasn’t Italian, Papa didn’t think he was good for me.
“I like the hat,” I told Joshua and looked up into his handsome face. Joshua always brought a sense of peace and happiness to my sad heart. Even though he carried a gun on his hip, he wasn’t a gunfighter. Even though he could use his fist to whip anyone in town, he never raised his fist to harm a soul. The land forced Joshua to be tough—but his heart was that of sweet gold. Joshua thought the same about me. At times I could be fiery, stubborn, and even aggressive—my Italian temper always seemed to win over my heart—but I could never express my feelings toward a person who was not deserving. My momma taught me to chase tigers but be gentle to a lion.
“Why are you so dressed up?” Papa asked. “Is it not a workday tomorrow? Is today not the fourth day of the week?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Joshua replied walking a beautiful Pinto horse next to the buggy. “My folks are having a birthday party for my sister Maureen. They wanted me to come over and invite you to the party. Mrs. Jones bakes a cake…there’s food…dancing…all sorts of good things.”
“Oh, Papa, can we?” I pleaded in an excited voice. “Maureen has been so kind. It would be rude not to wish her a happy birthday.”
“Eva, we have just made a long drive into town and back,” Papa complained. He opened his eyes and looked into my face. Just one look was all he needed. “Yes, fine,” he smiled and patted my knee. “How could I say not to such a face.” Papa looked up at Joshua. “You mind your manners,” he warned him, “or I’ll beat you senseless with a rock.”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Joshua promised.
“Oh, Papa,” I fussed, “what has Joshua done to be spoken to in such a way? Did he not defend me in town against Mark Hayfield?”
“I…suppose,” Papa admitted.
“You suppose,” I huffed and shook my head at Papa. “You saw Joshua fight Mark Hayfield in the street with your own bare eyes. And what a fight it was. People are still talking about how Joshua whipped that awful rodent.”
“Mark Hayfield hits pretty hard,” Joshua said and rubbed his chin. “That guy may be lower than a snake’s belly, but he can fight. I didn’t think I was going to be able to whip him there for a while.”
“But you did,” I told Joshua in a proud voice. “And where is that awful man now?”
“Sitting in prison for robbing a bank,” Joshua said in a happy voice. “Good riddance to him too.”
Papa removed the blanket from his lap and neatly folded it up. “Young man,” he told Joshua, “I admit that you are not horrible, but you are not Italian,” Papa said in a strained voice. “My Eva must marry her kind. You are Irish. Irish and Italian blood is like…vinegar and honey. Please understand that I am very grateful that you defended my Eva and for the gifts your family brings to the house, but…there will never be a chance that I will allow you to marry my Eva.”
“Marry?” Joshua asked and stopped his horse. I brought the buggy to a halt. “Wait a minute…I don’t…I mean, I sure do like Eva and thinks she’s as pretty as the heavens, but I’m not ready to get married, Mr. Fontana. Before I can get married, I have to build my own house, start my own ranch, build a barn, corrals, all kinds of chores.”
“Even so,” Papa said in a stubborn voice, “when the time arrives for you to marry and you have completed your chores, my Eva will not be the woman to be your wife. We will attend the birthday party but merely as neighbors and friends. Yes?”
“Oh, Papa,” I complained, “why must you be like this? Jesus loves all His children. It is not the bloodline that matters, it is the heart.”
“You must—and will—marry an Italian man,” Papa demanded. “This is the way of our people.”
“Uh…” Joshua said and nervously scratched the back of his neck, “maybe I should ride off and leave you two alone. I’ll tell Ma to be expecting you, okay?”
“Yes, fine,” Papa said in an irritable tone.
&n
bsp; Joshua looked down at me, smiled, and rode off. “Oh, Papa,” I said and folded my arms together. “You were very rude.”
Papa reached out and tried to hold my hand. I yanked it away. “Eva, you mustn’t be that way. I know what is best for you. We came to this land to find the gold my brother claims is here, and then we will return back to Italy, reclaim our home, and begin traveling the world.”
“Our home?” I asked Papa. “Our home was stolen from us, Papa, by criminals. How many families in our village had their homes stolen from them? By now our village has been burned down. You insist I marry an Italian man, but the man you arranged for me to marry was the same man who betrayed us. Yes, there are many good Italian men, but there are good Irish men and Joshua is one of those men.”
Papa sighed. “Yes, we were betrayed by our kind—”
“All of God’s people are our kind,” I interrupted Papa. “Jesus did not die only for the Italians, Papa. Jesus died for every person ever born.”
Papa stared at me. “Eva—”
“No, Papa,” I said in a stubborn voice, “you have embarrassed me in front of a man who is kind and decent. You treated him as if he were a diseased breed of horse that isn’t worthy to be in the same barn as me. Why Papa? Because Joshua is Irish? Because his family deals with cattle and horses? Because his Papa can barely read?”
“Eva—”
“We’re going home,” I told Papa and asked Bella to start walking again.
“The birthday party?”
“How can I look Joshua in the face tonight? You insulted his honor, Papa. How would you feel is someone insulted your honor?” I asked. “Yesterday Mrs. McClure brought us fresh milk and eggs and a flour. You were napping.” I looked up at the night sky and spotted the first star. “Mrs. McClure and I sat on the front porch and talked for a very long time. She is such a lovely woman…she has so much of Momma in her heart. And Mr. McClure, he may not be able to read very well, but he has built a very healthy ranch with his own two hands and that takes hard work, Papa. So who are you to judge them because they are not Italian?”
The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels Page 12
