Olivia tilted her head at the door, listening, and stepped toward the sound of voices that were not raised but tight. She stopped, exasperated.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, they make talking about the weather sound like torture.”
Angel hesitated, then asked, “You came back in part because Nathan’s father disappeared. How can you be so sure he won’t come back?”
Olivia paused, hand on the door latch, then said, “I am sure of many things—that the sun will rise in the east tomorrow, that Clark loves me—”
She eyed Angel, then added, “That Nathan cares for you, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.” Angel flushed. Olivia continued. “There are no sureties where James is concerned. I would like to believe that he will never come back. But it is easier for me to convince myself he had nothing to do with Effie’s death than it is for me to believe he is gone for good. James has done very little for good in his life.”
With that, Olivia pushed open the door. Angel stood motionless, unable to shake the heaviness that had settled into her stomach. For the first time since she had first stepped in its walls, the thought of Nathan’s cabin didn’t fill her with feelings of safety.
Olivia hesitated, resting her hand on the doorjamb. She then turned and laid a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Please know that should circumstances change, you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need.”
Olivia’s kind offer caught Angel off guard. She found herself nodding her thanks before she had thought about Olivia’s words and following her downstairs to where Clark and Nathan sat tolerating one another.
Nathan looked relieved to see her, and he rose to his feet as she walked into the room.
“I’m fine,” Angel reassured him, and he smiled back.
***
Nathan was relieved when they finally stood to leave. Supper had passed pleasantly enough, with Clark and Nathan even managing to find a neutral topic neither of them cared enough about to argue over. Admittedly, their discussion of the intricacies of wood grain had nearly put both Olivia and Angel to sleep.
Now, Nathan and Angel stood at the door to leave. Olivia reached out and touched Angel on the arm. “If it’s fine with you, dear, I’d like to pay you a visit tomorrow, just to make sure you are feeling well.”
Angel smiled. “I am feeling fine, but I would welcome the visit.”
Returning Angel’s smile, Olivia nodded. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
As Nathan and Angel were walking to the wagon, Angel suddenly stopped, raising a hand to her neck. “My necklace. The clasp must have come loose when I was lying down upstairs.” Angel’s eyes widened. “I need to find it before we leave. It was my mother’s.”
Nathan laid a hand on her arm. “I’ll run upstairs and find it.”
Angel started to protest, and Nathan interrupted her with a grin. “It will take less time if I do it—if you go in, you will stop and start talking to Olivia again.”
Angel sighed, then nodded, and Nathan walked back into Clark and Olivia’s house.
Startled, Olivia looked up from an object she was cradling in her hands.
“Angel lost her necklace. She thinks it’s upstairs,” Nathan explained.
“Oh, of course. You are welcome to look,” Olivia said distractedly.
Nathan found the necklace easily and returned downstairs the same way he had come—taking the stairs two at a time. When he reached the ground floor, his attention was drawn yet again by Olivia, who was now sitting at the kitchen table, still holding something in her hands.
“Olivia?” Nathan asked. Startled, Olivia looked up. Nathan gestured toward her hands. “What are you holding?” he asked.
Olivia smiled sadly, then turned her hand palm up and uncurled her fingers. She was holding a large piece of the broken platter. “Your mother gave me this when Clark and I were married.”
Looking intently at the shard, Nathan spoke softly. “I know.” The two stood in silence for a moment, then Nathan said, “You said it wasn’t important.”
Olivia glanced at him. “Your mother was—is—important. But the platter was only a reminder of her. Angel is here now, and therefore, she is more important than a broken serving dish, no matter what memories are associated with the dish.”
For the first time, Nathan felt something like gratitude toward his aunt. “Thank you,” he said.
Olivia nodded, and Nathan exited through the door for the second time that night.
When he came out, Angel asked anxiously, “What took so long? Did you find it?”
Nathan handed Angel her necklace. “Nah, I found it quick. I just started talking to Olivia.”
Angel hid a smile behind her hand. Nathan chose to ignore the motion.
***
Silvery clouds of mist rose from their mouths and noses as they traveled, the moonlight reflecting off the warmth they breathed. Angel interrupted the silence first.
“What did you and Clark talk about while I was upstairs?”
“The weather, mostly. He seems to think we’re due for another storm.”
“Do you think he’s right?”
“I don’t know,” Nathan said, then added under his breath, “I hope not.”
Angel wasn’t sure whether Nathan’s lack of enthusiasm was due to the prospect of another snowstorm, or the idea of Clark being right.
“What about you and Olivia?” Nathan asked.
Angel opened her mouth to reply, then realized that even if it were possible for her to tell Nathan what she and Olivia had spoken of without breaking strict confidences, it wouldn’t be possible to condense even the main points of their conversation into an appropriate response. She shrugged and replied lamely, “Many things. Not the weather.”
Nathan didn’t press. They traveled wordlessly until the cabin came into view, and Angel couldn’t resist asking the question pressing on her mind.
“What if he comes back?”
“What if who comes back?” Nathan answered, bewildered.
“Your father, James.”
Nathan was silent for a moment, then turned to Angel. “Where did you hear my father’s name? I never told you.”
“Olivia told me.”
“You two must have covered a pretty wide range of topics. You asked Olivia about my father?”
“Well, no, not exactly. She brought him up.”
Nathan eyed Angel. “And why did she bring up my father?”
“She told me that you weren’t like him.”
Nathan didn’t seem to know how to respond and did not reply. Finally, Angel broke the silence again and asked, “Did you know your father threatened to kill them—and you—if they tried to take you with them?”
Nathan’s grip on the reins tightened, and he let out a long breath of air. “No. I didn’t know that. When did this happen?”
“At your mother’s funeral.”
“Of course he did,” Nathan said bitterly, almost to himself.
He turned his attention back to Angel. “Why would Olivia tell you this?”
“I asked her why they came back.”
“You asked point-blank, and she told you? Just like that?”
“Well,” Angel hesitated, “yes and no. Yes, I asked and she told me, but it was not ‘just like that.’” Angel sighed and hoped Nathan wouldn’t press as she explained, “There was an entire conversation that led up to it.”
Nathan shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Clark didn’t want you to know. He told Olivia it would be worse for you to know your father threatened to kill you.”
Nathan’s expression, which had darkened at Angel’s first words, seemed to soften slightly as she finished speaking, although a trace of the anger still remained in his eyes. He shook his head in disgust. “That’s just like Clark,” he grumbled, “always thinking he knows what’s best for someone else.”
But even though Nathan’s words were gruff, Angel could tell that Clark’s sentiment had struck a chord. For the first time since his aunt an
d uncle’s return, Nathan seemed just a little bit lighter, rather than weighed down, after the mention of Clark’s name.
Nathan shook his head. “Every time I think my father can’t get any worse, he manages to prove me wrong. Impressive, given that he’s not even here.”
“What happens if your father does come back?” Angel asked.
The wagon came to a stop as they pulled up next to the cabin. Nathan turned to face her.
“I don’t know what will happen if he comes back. I hope he never does. But if he does and you’re still here”—Nathan paused, holding her eyes—“I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”
Angel nodded slowly. She climbed carefully from the wagon seat and, pausing midway down, reached out a hand to touch Nathan’s, still outstretched from helping her from the wagon seat.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
Nathan nodded silently, watching as Angel walked toward the cabin, making sure she made it inside safely before he pulled the horses forward to unhitch them from the wagon and brush them down. Just before she closed the door behind her, she saw Nathan’s gaze move thoughtfully down to land on the hand she had touched, and he drew his thumb across the knuckles of his fingers where hers had brushed his.
Angel was awake when Nathan returned from the barn. The comforting sound of boots on the wooden floor came closer and then paused, hesitating as though Nathan was deciding whether to knock on her door. But no knock came, and again she heard the sound of boots on the floor, growing softer as they moved away.
Chapter 12
And then there was Effie. I wanted to care for her. I did care for her. I made sure I wasn’t ever drinking around her. I know people warned her, but I’ve heard it said love is blind. In her case, it was both blind and deaf.
***
Nathan walked into the store, nodding a greeting to the storekeeper as he strode through the door. The cabin’s supply of flour and sugar was running low, so Nathan had gone into town to purchase those, along with a few other sundries—kerosene for the lantern, ammunition, molasses, thread, and the like. Whether he agreed with him on other matters was questionable, but Nathan had to admit Clark had a decent sense of the weather. If Clark said there was another storm coming—and he had—Nathan wanted to be well stocked when it came.
Besides, Olivia was visiting Angel back at the cabin, and as much as he hated to admit it, Nathan felt better knowing someone, even if it was Olivia, was with Angel while he was gone.
Nathan shook his head. The two had formed a strange bond that he didn’t understand, and even if only for Angel’s sake, Nathan would have tried to be friendly toward Olivia regardless. But seeing Olivia hold so tightly to the piece of the serving dish her sister—Nathan’s mother—had turned a switch inside Nathan. He no longer felt the bitterness toward his aunt, or even his uncle, that he had carried for years.
“. . . that Evans boy.”
Nathan’s attention was drawn back to his surroundings as he heard his last name at the end of a whispered sentence. Slowly, he turned to see the source of the whispers. It was Nelle Davis, the doctor’s wife, and her niece, Valentine. Nathan groaned softly to himself. It was Valentine, of course, who was speaking. Nelle’s face was pinched, and she seemed to be biting her tongue—whether she was refraining from speaking against himself or Valentine, Nathan could not tell.
As he struggled between confronting the women or quietly exiting the store before anyone else could recognize him, snippets of the conversation wove their way through the store goods and to his ears.
“. . . come to church . . . living with him . . . who does she think she is . . . doesn’t even have the decency to act embarrassed . . .”
Nathan’s ears burned, and he was grateful Angel was not with him to hear Valentine’s words. He had just made up his mind to quietly exit when Nelle spoke. She didn’t bother to whisper.
“Oh, come now, my dear. What if there is a perfectly good explanation for all this? Perhaps they are relatives.”
Valentine sniffed. “They don’t look related.”
“Well, perhaps there is another explanation. Perhaps we should be thinking how kind Nathan is to help someone in need.”
Valentine hmphed. “Perhaps,” she mimicked her aunt, “he is too kind, and she is too willing to be helped. Whatever trouble she is in that she might need help out of, I’m sure she brought it on herself. It’s shameful, really.”
The flame in Nathan’s ears moved to his face, but the flush was no longer from embarrassment. It was from anger. He wanted to tell the truth to this thoughtless girl, to try to make her understand even though he knew she wouldn’t. He stepped into the aisle, behind Valentine but into Nelle’s line of vision. Before he could open his mouth, Nelle met his eyes and spoke again.
“Child,” she said firmly to Valentine, and the title was no term of endearment, “you have much to learn of people, and life, and love, and kindness. Let’s have no more of this silliness.”
Then, she nodded hello to Nathan.
He nodded back. “Afternoon, Mrs. Davis, Miss Thomas.”
Valentine had the grace to blush as she turned to face Nathan. She had once tried to flirt with him when her parents weren’t watching. Now, she tried to smile sweetly at him, but her smile faltered uncertainly when he failed to smile back. He’d had little patience, then and now, for Valentine’s games.
He excused himself, but as he passed the two women, he hoped Nelle saw the gratitude he was trying to silently convey with his eyes.
***
Nathan was considerably more cheerful on his return to the cabin than he had been when he had left. When he arrived, he was surprised to find Angel and Olivia outside, standing next to another wagon—Clark was there.
“I know Olivia walked here this morning,” Clark explained hurriedly as Nathan pulled up beside him, “but I thought with the storm coming, it would be best if I picked Olivia up.”
Nathan nodded curtly. “Shows good sense. I’d think you were a fool if you had taken a chance with her getting caught in a blizzard like the one we had a few weeks back.”
Clark eyed Nathan, but didn’t reply. Nathan turned his attention to Angel.
“Are you still feeling well?” he asked.
Angel, smiling, nodded. “I just needed some rest.”
In that instant, Nathan couldn’t help disliking Olivia less. The Angel standing outside in the sunlight almost reminded him of the Angel he had seen in the meadow the day before the first winter storm came—somehow lighter, unburdened and happy. Beautiful.
“I hate to leave when you’ve only just made it back, Nathan, but I think we’d best be heading home before the storm hits,” Olivia interrupted his thoughts.
Nathan nodded his agreement. “It’s not bad out there yet, but I think Clark had it right. There’s clouds starting to show on the horizon. They don’t look like they’re moving fast, but I’d guess the storm will hit us before nightfall.”
Olivia laid a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”
As Olivia passed Nathan on her way to the wagon, she spoke quietly so only Nathan could hear. “Make sure you keep an eye on her.”
Startled, Nathan glanced back at Angel, then nodded his agreement.
When she saw that Nathan would do as she asked, Olivia smiled again and walked to the wagon. Clark helped her step up and then turned to say goodbye. Nathan, who had followed Olivia’s path as she walked back to the wagon, stretched out his hand and said, “Travel safely. I hope you can make it back in good time.”
Shock spread across Clark’s face, but to his credit, he stretched out his hand to clasp Nathan’s in his own almost immediately. Olivia hid a smile behind her hand, but by the time Clark looked at her in question, the expression had disappeared. The moment passed almost as soon as it had begun, and the two released their handshake, stepping back as though nothing had happened. They all waved their goodbyes, an
d Clark and Olivia set off at a brisk pace.
Nathan walked back to Angel. Even though she claimed to be feeling better, she still looked tired. As he and Angel went inside the cabin, Nathan saw that Olivia had been kind enough to start supper while she had been there, and he felt another wave of gratitude toward her rush over him.
Angel sat with her elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands. Her hair was braided so loosely behind her that it was almost falling out of its binding.
Nathan sat across from her and asked, “Did you enjoy your visit with Olivia?”
Angel smiled. “Yes, it was nice. I wish you could like Clark and Olivia better. I don’t mind seeing them, but I know it bothers you.”
“Olivia is growing on me,” Nathan admitted.
“Really?” Angel asked curiously. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know. She’s been good to you these last couple weeks—especially yesterday and today—and I guess that makes me think that they can’t be all bad. Or at least Olivia can’t be,” he answered.
Angel shifted in her chair, and as she did, a tress of hair came loose from her braid, falling around her face. Nathan’s instinctive reaction seemed so natural that he followed it without thought. He raised his hand to brush the hair back from Angel’s face before he knew what he was doing, then froze, hand in midair.
He wanted to kiss her.
Nathan felt the heat rise in his face and jerked back as the realization hit him. Ah . . .
Angel looked at him strangely, and Nathan realized his strangled exclamation had not remained silently in his head. He scrambled backward, and the chair he had been sitting on toppled as he hurriedly rose to his feet. Suddenly all of his movements seemed painfully clumsy, and he retrieved the chair and set it right side up with exaggerated care.
“I forgot something,” he offered in explanation. “In the barn. I need to go take care of it.”
“Right now?” Angel asked, confused. “What did you forget?”
“Ah, something, nothing important. I just need to go. I’ll be back.”
As Nathan spoke, he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his coat and walked to the door. Unable to meet Angel’s gaze, he lifted the latch and bolted. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see the confusion in Angel’s eyes. He was afraid if he saw it, he would want to explain it away.
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