by Jillian Hart
“I ask this for me.” His sculpted face turned thoughtful before he fixed his gaze on hers. “I want this for you. No more patches, Willa. I think you deserve more.”
He really was a nice man. He surprised her with his gentle blue eyes and dimpled smile, with the friendly squeeze of his strong fingers around her hand as if to say things really were all right.
“It’s still too expensive,” she leaned in to tell him, aware of Mrs. Pole and Evelyn nearby. “A good wife doesn’t spend all her husband’s money on the first day of their marriage.”
“I’ve waited a long time to find a bride.” Something glimmered deep and private in his words, something that reflected in his eyes and whispered in his voice. “For better of worse, you are it. Three dresses, do you hear me? This one is pretty. It matches your eyes.”
She couldn’t look at the garment he’d taken from the shelf, caught up by the man. She’d been too afraid of being a bride again to truly consider what he’d been telling her. But standing in the cheerful store, with Evelyn’s and Mrs. Pole’s merry conversation in the background and with handsome Austin towering beside her, holding the nicest dress she’d ever seen, she understood the look in his eyes. She heard the silent question he asked.
She knew what loneliness was. She’d grown up in a home where she had to blend in to the background because the sight of her upset her mother. She’d married a man whose best friend was a whiskey bottle. She’d been lonesome as a daughter and as a wife, and she knew how loneliness could eat at you, leaving you longing for a place to really belong, where your heart could be safe.
She couldn’t see how that place existed, but she could read the hope for it in Austin’s eyes as he held the dress up to her, a dress far too fine for her. She did not want to be an embarrassment to him. Clearly his sister did not have a single patch on her dress, so Willa found herself nodding. The garment would be fine.
“And it’s the right size for her.” Evelyn bustled over, eager to help now that the problem had been solved. Now that the man had put down his foot—kindly, but it had been done all the same. “You’re right, Austin, look what it does to her eyes. I can take over now. Stop staring at her like you’ll never see her again. You’ll get her back when I’m done with her.”
“You make sure to take care of her.” He handed the dress to Mrs. Pole, who had rushed over to make the sale, but he didn’t move away. “You brought so little with you, Willa. You need to buy here what you left behind. Knitting needles, an embroidery hoop. Whatever makes you happy.”
“I’m overwhelmed, Austin. Thank you.” She thought of her days as Jed’s wife, blinking back misery and ignoring the latest pain from his most recent beating. She’d scrubbed his clothes on the washboard, head down, while he supervised, determined to watch her every move and make sure it met with his approval.
Marriage was a prison, but this was better than most. She caught Austin’s hand before he moved away, such a big, strong hand. The calluses rough on his palm proved he was a hard worker. The light blue sparkles in his eyes gleamed gently when he gazed down at her. A question arched his eyebrows, and that emotion flickered into his eyes again, a vulnerable wish her heart could not answer.
Perhaps he did not yet know there was nothing lonelier than marriage.
“Promise me that you’ll have fun.” He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. His touch blazed across her forehead like a comet through the sky, lighting up the darkness, but only for a moment.
“I promise.” Because it would make him happy. He towered tall and manly over her, so near she could smell the hay clinging to his shirt and the warm clean scent of him, somehow comforting. A comfort she couldn’t let herself believe in.
Her duty was to be a good wife to him. That’s what she owed him. Her hand crept to her still flat stomach and thought of the babe within. With a final encouraging smile, Austin turned and ambled away, wide shoulders braced, outlined by the windows, looking like a dream she’d made up.
A dream she might wake up from any moment. This isn’t reality, she told herself, as Evelyn chose another dress from the shelf.
Chapter Six
Austin had taken a lot of teasing all through the afternoon from his customers, Reverend Lane, who dropped by to ask how he was faring, and even Mrs. Pole. The merchant’s wife had crossed the street a few minutes before closing with a big bundle of purchases for him to cart home for Willa.
Good thing he’d asked Evelyn to help her out, or he suspected his bride may not have bought more than the few things he’d ordered her to. After he’d returned to the livery from the mercantile, he’d watched for glimpses of Willa through the store window. Images of her and Evelyn talking, images of his bride choosing between one pair of gloves and another and the flash of her sparkling smile—the first he’d seen of it—when she’d tried on a new pair of shoes, those pictures accompanied him out of the livery and into the cold evening air.
Calvin blew out a huff of disapproval and stomped his front hoof. Snow covered him and he tossed the white stuff off his ear with a flick.
“I know, it’s coming down pretty hard. I’m hurrying, buddy.” He gripped the little mare’s reins, led her out of the barn and closed the back door. Knowing the livery was snug and safe for the night, he tromped through the deep snow. Spring felt far away, as if it would never return. He shivered as he tied the mare to the back of the wagon box, swiped the snow out of his eyes, walked to the front of the wagon and patted Calvin’s nose. “Just think. Tonight when I step in through the front door, Willa will be there.”
The gelding tilted his head, listening intently the way only a good friend could.
“No more empty house, no more lonely nights.” He dropped onto the seat and gave the reins a tug, but Calvin was already moving, eager to get home to his warm stall.
The town’s main street swished by in a swirl of white and dark shadows as the storm blew itself into a temper. Mean winds tried to hold them back, blowing hard enough to slice through every layer of clothing until even his bone marrow felt numb.
No matter. This was April. Winter couldn’t last forever. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering and bowed his head into the storm. Snow battered him like wind-driven nails, but its misery faded when he thought of his bride. How lovely she’d looked today in the store’s lamplight with her teeth dug into her lush bottom lip, worrying about the expense of a new dress.
He’d been right in choosing her. There was something extraordinary about her. His heart skipped five beats remembering her reaction when he’d held the blue dress up to her. Her physical good looks had captured him at first, but she possessed an indefinable quality, a strength down deep that held her up. That beautiful strength he appreciated the most.
Miles passed in an instant while he thought of her, while he imagined her standing in the doorway welcoming him home. He couldn’t wait to listen to the fire crackling in the hearth and watch lamplight flicker over her. For the first night since he’d been on his own, he had someone to welcome him home. He could picture it. His very own bride in a pretty dress. The scents of supper cooking would fill the air as he stepped into that warm house made into a home because she was there. His Willa.
Calvin’s abrupt turn off the main road startled him. Then he recognized the twin firs marking the entrance to his driveway and the quiet drifts of snow sheltered by the forest on either side. Anticipation thumped in his chest like a trapped bird. He couldn’t wait to see her.
His chest ached with longing. He wanted to make her smile like she had today in the store. He wanted to see happiness light her eyes and fill his heart. Surely her eyes wouldn’t stay so sad. Surely she wouldn’t always be so shy and wary around him. A woman who’d been treated the way she had needed time. He squared his shoulders, and steeled his spine, pleased to be the man to do that for her. To show her in the littl
e ways and the larger ones that she was safe, she was cherished and already she was loved.
Up ahead light glimmered faintly through the darkness and storm, growing brighter with every step. Calvin rushed past the house, mantled in snow, on his way to the barn. Austin strained to see through the snowfall and inside the house. All he saw was a glimpse of the dancing firelight and the sofa, but not her. He hoped she’d been able to lie down and rest this afternoon and that she no longer felt poorly. He thought of how ill she’d been this morning and wished he could do something to make it better for her.
Calvin raced to the barn door and stopped, swishing his tail, head up, eager to be let in out of the cold. Austin hardly felt the bitter wind as he trudged through the snow to open the barn door. Calvin marched right in, relieved to be out of the storm, which was reaching blizzard strength. Austin followed him in and barred the door.
“It’s all right, girl. You’re someplace safe.” He turned his attention to the quiet, sad-eyed mare still tied to the back of the wagon box. His fingers fumbled with the knot in the reins, too numb to feel the leather straps. Heck, he was colder than he’d thought. Thoughts of Willa had kept him from noticing. When he took a step, he couldn’t feel his feet. He hadn’t noticed that before, either.
“Guess I’d better show you to your new stall, girl,” he crooned to the trembling mare.
Calvin lifted his head, pricked his ears and blew out his breath in a long, burdened sigh as if he had an opinion on the barn’s new occupant.
“Don’t worry, buddy.” He led the mare down the aisle. “This little girl won’t get your big corner stall.”
Calvin blew out an answering huff. Rosie, the cow, poked her head over her stall gate, mooing a friendly hello. The little black mare said nothing in response. She kept her head down, breathing heavily, and her skin prickled with fear.
“It’s okay, girl.” He opened the gate of the stall he’d prepared for her yesterday. The straw crunched crisply beneath her hooves as she slowly stepped inside. She watched him as if expecting the worst as he unbuckled her bridle and slipped it off over her head. The moment she was free, she stayed braced as if waiting for a blow. Anxiety whistled in her fast, shallow breaths.
Poor thing.
Calvin’s ears were pricked with a question when Austin stepped foot in the aisle again. With the latch secure, he headed toward his buddy.
“She’s had a rough road,” he explained to the pampered gelding as he brushed snow off forelock and mane. “Look at it this way. Won’t it be nice to share your stable with another horse?”
Calvin snorted, stomping his back foot.
Austin laughed, amused as always by the gelding he’d raised from a foal. “Seems you and I both have a lot of adjusting to do.”
It took time to rub down both horses, feed them and water them and give the cow the same attention. He noticed the milk bucket was missing, his first clue Willa had taken it upon herself to milk Rosie before he’d come home.
He didn’t like her doing what he considered his job, but he remembered the set of her jaw last night over the dishes and how determined she’d been to finish cooking his breakfast. Showing him she had a good work ethic was important to her. He bid the animals good-night, grabbed the gunnysack full of Willa’s wrapped purchases, secured the outside door and let the blizzard batter him. He trudged through the blinding snow—there were no signs of the house through the brutal storm.
It was the hope for the future that pulled him across the yard, that fueled his dogged steps through the drifting snow and bone-chilling bitterness. Hope that in time the fear he read in Willa’s eyes would fade and a deep abiding love would take its place. That she would smile when he stepped foot inside the house and turn to him with the kind of adoration he’d seen on his mother’s face every time she’d gazed upon Pa.
He stumbled in the darkness, striking the banister hard enough to rattle his teeth. He tromped up the snow-covered steps, his gait unwieldy. Every part of him that had been numb before was now frozen. His gloves slipped on the doorknob. He couldn’t seem to turn it, but it opened for him. Willa stood in the fall of light, backing away to make room for him. The lamplight burned his eyes after the inky darkness of the storm. It was the dark, he told himself, and not emotion.
“I was starting to worry,” she confessed, closing the door after him. “I didn’t know if you would be safe coming all the way from town.”
“I know every step of the way by heart.” It touched him that she’d been concerned. The crinkle in her forehead and the way her eyes searched him as if to make sure he was all right touched him down deep. Feeling twisted to life in his chest in a painful coil.
There was hope for something special between them. He could feel it in his soul. He took comfort in that as he dropped the bag to the floor and unwound his scarf. Ice crackled, breaking apart in the warmth of the house.
“Here, let me help you.” Her slender fingers plucked the scarf away from his face. “Goodness, your skin is so white. Almost bloodless. You’ve gotten too cold, Austin.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t.” Concern wreathed her exquisite face, drawing little adorable tucks around her eyes and the soft corners of her mouth. Her blueberry eyes darkened a shade as she tugged off his gloves and covered his fingers with her much smaller ones.
He couldn’t answer her. His throat closed right up. His tongue tied into knots. Her concern for him was about the loveliest thing he’d ever known. His chest filled with emotion.
“You’re like ice.” The song of her voice drew him after her. She didn’t need to tug him along. Her voice held him captive as she waltzed ahead of him deeper into the room. He couldn’t look away from the swirl of her skirts, the quiet pad of her shoes and the straight elegant line of her back. Her braid swished from side to side with her gait, drawing his attention. She was wearing her old calico work dress, not the new one he’d bought her. Not the new shoes he’d told her to get.
The woman had a stubborn streak, but he forgot to be upset about it as she held his hands in hers. She was here, and that was all that mattered. When she reached the golden glow from the hearth she turned to him, releasing her grip to wrestle with his snow-caked coat buttons. But her hold on him remained, unbroken.
Please come to love me. The plea welled up within him with the power to blind him. With every tug of the fabric, every button that came free, his heart beat with the melody of what could be. He shrugged out of the coat, hardly aware of doing it or of the roar of the fire. Only her nearness mattered. The whisper of her movements, the sigh of her breath, the brush of her hair against his chin, as soft as silk.
He wanted to love her, too. With all the heart and devotion he had in him. He took his coat and gloves from her; she really shouldn’t wait on him. “I always get cold like this. No need to fuss, but it’s nice, Willa.”
“I’ve got a cup of coffee poured for you. I’ll go fetch it.” Her gaze locked on his, as if searching to make sure he was all right, before she rustled away.
Definitely better coming home to a wife. Gratitude burned like a hot lump in his chest, chasing away some of the numbness. Chills set in as he thawed out. Pain streaked through his fingers and needled his toes.
The images of what could be spread out before him. A little babe napping in a basket, and Willa in that pretty blue dress turning from the counter with a cup in her hand and a contented smile lighting up her face. Love would shine in her eyes with the same brightness as in his heart.
That was his wish, all he’d ever wanted. And now he wanted it with Willa. He’d never been so close to his dream before and she seemed to bring the hope of it with her as she breezed near.
“This should help warm you up.” She held out the cup with careful fingers. A crinkle dug into her forehead as she watched him intently. “I put a little sugar in it. Do you w-w
ant anything else?”
“No, Willa. You don’t have to wait on me. That’s not why I brought you here.” He resisted the urge to cup the dear side of her face with his free hand, needing to touch her. But his skin was ice-cold and he would be too numb to feel the warm satin of her skin anyway. He read the anxiety shadowing her eyes, making those blueberry depths dark.
“Isn’t that what a wife does?” She shrugged, swirling away with a flash of the faded dress. “I’ll have supper on the table in a few minutes. Thank you for sending Evelyn over. She was very helpful today.”
“Yes, she usually is,” he drawled dryly. “Exactly what helpful information did she give you?”
“She told me you like roast beef and thick pan gravy.” She padded into the kitchen to put a pot on the table. “Also that you like baked potatoes, but if there’s gravy you like them mashed.”
“And you went to the trouble of mashing them tonight?” He watched as she removed the lid, steam lifted and whipped potatoes sat, smooth and buttery in their pot.
“It was no trouble.” She felt aware of every movement she made and of his eyes on her, watching. The fragrance made her stomach rumble. Thank goodness her nausea was faint and hardly noticeable as she gave the thickening gravy a final stir. A dash more pepper and she poured it into the gravy boat. “Supper is ready, if you’re thawed out enough to eat, that is.”
“Somehow I’ll manage. Everything smells good. My mouth is watering from here.” He hadn’t said anything about the coffee he carried in one capable hand. Jed would have been in a rage by now, because sugar wasn’t enough to flavor an evening cup of coffee. Whiskey was the best sweetener.
So far, she hadn’t seen Austin drink. Just concentrate on the meal, she told herself. The meat had rested long enough, so she took up the meat fork and the knife and made the first slice.
