Paul reached for her with his good arm and drew her to him. They kissed each other tenderly and hugged as best as they could without bothering his shoulder. Amelia produced the ring box, opened it and held it out for him to take. Then holding her left hand out to him, he placed it on her finger.
Paul stroked her hair and whispered, “Thank you, Angel. I love you too.”
She still wasn’t sure what kind of wife she’d make, but if he never took a chance, she’d never know for sure.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paul stood in the parlor, peeking through the curtains as he waited for Amelia’s arrival. The thick blanket of newly fallen snow must have slowed her down. She may have to wait for someone to guide her through the deep snow. That would mean it would be almost noon before Corrin would be ready to leave home. He couldn’t bear not seeing Amelia on such a pretty morning and considered going to get her himself. But then reality grasped him, reminding him of his present state of physical weakness. Most days he couldn’t even negotiate his own stairway without stopping to sit down and rest three fourths of the way up. No, he would simply have to wait for her.
Less than two weeks had passed, and Paul was up from his sickbed, getting around fairly well. He still needed much rest. Regaining his strength was a slow process---too slow for Paul. He had asked Mr. Farley, his newly appointed foreman, to bring him some paperwork from the mill for him to work on during this rehabilitation period. Doc Glover cautioned him sternly about the dangers of doing too much too fast. He forewarned Paul that even though he felt better, he should continue to take it easy. So no matter how eager he was to get back to work, Paul stayed home and constantly fretted about the mill.
But his days were filled with Amelia’s presence. He loved that she was always there, always near, as he had dreamed it would be when she would become his wife. She would sometimes read to him from her new Braille books, and she often practiced the piano with Paul sitting in a nearby chair, an adoring audience of one.
He pressed her to marry him immediately so that she would never have to leave his house again. But Corrin wouldn’t hear of his spoiling her big wedding plans with his talk of elopement. She had planned another trip to Glenwood Springs to purchase Amelia’s wedding dress and was as excited as any mother would be at her own daughter’s impending wedding.
Everything about his fiancé delighted Paul: her beauty, her intelligence, the way she reasoned things out, her love of pink even though she had no real concept of colors. He marveled at the way she could read Braille and her ability to play the piano. And he smiled at her delightful sense of humor, her wet shirt sleeves from attempts to get a glass of water from the pump, her demure smile after a kiss. He had never known this kind of genuine love before and was consumed by it and by her.
He busied himself at the dining room table, trying to concentrate on the paperwork laid out before him. But he couldn’t sit for more than ten minutes at a time before he would find himself looking out the parlor window again.
He heard the sound of someone shoveling snow nearby and went out on the porch to find the neighbor boy engrossed in cleaning off their walkway.
“Say, Tyler. Are you hiring your shovel out again this winter?”
“Sure, Mr. Strupel. I can do your walk just as soon as I finish ours, if that’s all right with you.”
“That’ll be fine. Thank you. Be sure to stop in when you finish so I can pay you.”
“Sure will, Mr. Strupel.” The thirteen year old was more than happy to shovel for pay.
After looking down the street for signs of Amelia, he returned to his paperwork, alternating it with peering out the window. Without his Angel, time seemed to almost stand still.
› › ›
Amelia was aware that there was an unusual stillness in the air as she arose to begin her day. The air felt more crisp and fresher than usual. She was thankful that her Aunt had stoked the fire in her small wood stove in the corner of her room before she retired sometime in the middle of the night. Otherwise it would certainly have been quite chilly in there now.
She went through her usual morning rituals and was finally ready to head out the kitchen door to visit the privy and then on to visit her Sweetheart.
Jeremiah had insisted that he walk behind her for the first week after Paul was wounded, just to be sure she wouldn’t get lost going there by herself. He knew she was in love with Paul and that she had accepted his proposal of marriage, and he remained a wonderful friend to her. Amelia smiled to think of her big mountain man friend.
After taking her first step out the door she quickly withdrew it, for there was something unusual on the ground that she had stepped in. She poked and prodded with her cane and soon discovered that whatever it was the ground was covered with it. Then she remembered Paul and Corrin trying desperately to describe snow to her.
“That’s it. This must be snow!”
Excitedly, she bent over and touched the chilly fluff and then scooped some up in her hands. It was cold and wet and it scrunched together when she squeezed it, forming into a firm mass. This must be a snowball. She threw it, but didn’t hear it alight on the ground.
She hurriedly went back to her room to get the goulashes and kidskin gloves Corrin had purchased for her, and then hastened back outside, bumping into things carelessly along the way.
Outside again, Amelia found the corner of the saloon, backed against it, and then began her trek to the outhouse. Her cane didn’t seem to be as useful as usual, unable to make the familiar tapping noises. And it was difficult to walk in the substance. She quickly discovered that she had to lift her feet high before setting them down again. Because of this, her steps were bigger, and she arrived at the outhouse sooner than usual, bumping her forehead against the side of the wooden structure.
Amelia quickly realized that if the size of her footsteps were off, she would be in danger of walking right past Paul’s house. She would have to have an escort. But who? Her aunt wouldn’t arouse from her comfy bed for hours yet, and Amelia longed to be with her Fiancé. He needed her to help him up the stairs, to play the piano for him, or to read to him from the marvelous Braille books he purchased for her.
The thought occurred to her that if she could just be patient for about an hour, Beau would be along, and perhaps he wouldn’t mind taking her to the Strupel home. So she retreated back inside and retrieved a book to read in the kitchen for awhile, but tired of it quickly. When the anticipation of her plan had become too overpowering for her to sit still any longer, she gave up and tromped her way around the perimeter of the saloon to the front porch to wait for Beau there. The air was still and silent and cold. And she loved it.
Shortly, she heard the familiar barking and soon the two, very wet dogs jumped onto the porch and put their front paws on her lap and licked her face.
“Mike, Toby! Stop that now, you hear me? Good morning, Miss Jackson. I reckon I didn’t expect to see your pretty face out here on the porch on such a cold morning as this one.”
“Good morning to you, Beau. I think this is a fine morning. This is the first time I have ever felt snow, you know.”
“Naw, can’t be! I don’t reckon I ever heard of a body that ain’t seen snow before.”
“I’m not fooling you, Beau. Where I come from, all we ever get is rain---no snow. Actually, the reason I am out here on the porch is that I wanted to ask you if you would do me a favor, if you please.”
“Me? Why I reckon I’d be right pleased to be doing something for you, Ma’am. What’ll it be?”
“Well, you know how Paul Strupel got shot about ten days ago?”
“Sure, Ma’am. Was a right awful thing that happened to such a nice fellow as Paul. We’re pretty good friends, I reckon. Known him now going on thirty years. I went to see how he was getting along the other day.”
“Yes, I remember. Well, because of the snow on the ground I can’t go to him unless I have someone to guide me---”
“Don’t you worry your pretty lit
tle head no more, Miss Jackson. Why, I’d be right proud to see you to Paul’s house. You ready to go?”
“Yes, I’m ready. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this favor. If there is ever anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
Amelia demonstrated to him how he should hold his arm up for her and asked him to walk slowly so she can keep up with him. In the past, he usually just grabbed her hand and dragged her along. She was delighted at the carefulness he displayed as he gently helped her get through the snow. She slipped twice, and both times he put out a strong hand and caught her, keeping her from falling. He behaved as if he were escorting the Queen of England.
“Never did I think I’d be escorting the prettiest lady in town,” he said as he chuckled. “Don’t you suppose those society ladies in their big houses would be jumping plumb out of their breeches if they saw you and me just strolling on down the street?” Beau’s laugh was loud and hearty and contagious.
He was great company, and he definitely had no lack of conversation. From previous encounters with him during the early morning hours, Amelia realized how easily she could get him to tell her a story from the mountains where he lived. They were sometimes amusing or endearing and often, unbelievable. And he was engaged in one of those now. This one was about the time an old bear came down from his lair and almost ran off with his ‘littlest youngun’. The stories he told were often ludicrous, but the knack he had for spinning tales was enchanting.
In practically no time at all they were at Paul’s house. She heard his door open and close and knew he must have been anxiously waiting for her and figured he was probably now on the porch.
“Hello there, Paul,” Beau called from the gate. “You’re starting to get your color back I see. I brought your pretty little lady friend here. She was a might anxious to be seeing you, I reckon.”
“Thanks for bringing her, Beau. I reckon I was a might anxious to be seeing her, too.” Paul said, imitating Beau’s speech. They laughed and shook hands and talked for a couple of minutes.
Amelia delighted herself by playing in the yard. She scooped up the wondrous, cold matter and packed it, trying to form it into recognizable shapes, but was having no luck. So she walked along the perimeter of the porch, giggling at the difficulty of the simple task that caused her to fall into a soft pillow of snow.
Beau finally said good-by and offered his services to Amelia any time she needed something.
“Thank you. Beau,” she called to him as she lay in the snow in a giggling heap. She pulled herself up, and in her silly state of mind, managed to scoop up some snow with one hand and hid it behind her back. She came around to the steps and climbed onto the porch to her awaiting fiancé. As soon as he took hold of her, she flung her hand up and smashed the snow in his face.
Paul let out a yell as she carefully slipped back down the stairs out of his reach, laughing the whole time.
“I can’t believe you did that to me!” He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his face.
Amelia heard his footsteps heading down the stairs and then into the yard, and she thought she had better flee. She turned and began to run, but the thick snow tripped her up and she fell again. He was quickly standing over her. Remembering how he had let her go instead of throwing her into the river that fine summer’s day, she was certain he would extend the same courtesy to her now. So she reached her hand up to him and he pulled her to her feet.
He hugged her tenderly. Then he reached down, scooped up a huge handful of snow and flung it directly at her face.
She shrieked and stood frozen while icy water droplets dripping down her neck under her mackintosh, soaking the collar of her shirtwaist.
Paul laughed and then wiped her face with his handkerchief.
“I still owe you one more, you know.”
“Yeah, I suppose you do.”
Arm in arm they walked into the house, shed their overcoats, and sat on the settee near the fire in the parlor to warm up, Paul needing to rest awhile and Amelia needing to dry off.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the man’s anemic voice hailed Corrin as she washed glasses behind the bar. “I was told you would know where I could find Miss Amelia Jackson.”
Corrin sized this man up quickly. He appeared to be quite ill, was very pale and it seemed as if just standing was a chore. His Southern accent was quite evident and something in the tone of his voice she thought sounded familiar, but it was raspy and weak due to the evident illness that had overcome his body. He was tall, very thin and looked old beyond his years. His slightly graying beard and mustache were bushy and unkempt. And his blue-gray eyes had a deep, hollow, haunting look to them.
“Hello. I’m Miss Jackson’s aunt, Corrin Dannon. And to whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” She extended her hand in friendship, but his handshake was meager and quick. His eyes shifted around the room, looking everywhere but directly at her.
“My name’s Jack Morrison, Ma’am. I am pleased to meet you. Would you mind if I sat down for a moment. You see, I am not a well man, Miss Dannon.”
“Of course. Please, sit here.” She led the man to a nearby chair, and the two sat while the gentleman regained his strength.
“I came a long distance to see your niece, Miss Dannon. You see, I have something I am compelled to give her. It belonged to her father.”
“Amelia is at her fiancé’s house right now.” Corrin was sure Amelia would appreciate receiving a memento from her father. Her own disillusionment must be set aside for Amelia’s happiness.
“Miss Amelia is engaged to be married? But, she’s blind!”
“Mr. Morrison, being blind doesn’t mean having to be locked up in a dark room and never experiencing anything this wonderful world has to offer. She accepted a proposal for marriage about ten days ago and is nursing him back to health from an accident. I can see you’re not up to the walk, but I’ll have Harry hitch up a buggy, or maybe a sleigh and I’ll take you over there. Otherwise, you may not see her until quite late tonight.”
“If you do not mind the trouble, I would sincerely appreciate it.”
Corrin made the necessary arrangements and prepared herself to go out into the wintry day, readying herself for further memories from her past that would no doubt be dredged up.
Soon they pulled up in front of the Strupel residence and as they proceeded up the newly shoveled walkway, they heard wondrous piano music coming from within.
“That’s Amelia playing the piano.” Corrin beamed proudly at Mr. Morrison who looked stunned. She opened the door and escorted him through the parlor and into the music room where Paul sat on a chair, mesmerized by the angelic figure of a young woman playing the piano. Paul motioned to them to sit down.
Sometimes when Amelia played she would almost feel herself transcending her own abilities and became so absorbed in the music that she would blot out everything going on around her, except the music. Whenever this happened she played more perfectly, more beautifully, more intensely than usual and would hold her captive audience spellbound. The look on Paul’s face demonstrated that this was such a time, and he was thoroughly enthralled by her.
Corrin watcher her with the heart of a proud mother.
And Mr. Morrison looked stunned. As he watched Amelia, Corrin noticed he was studying her intently, looking her over from head to toe and trying to follow the movement of her fingers, trying to look into her eyes. Corrin grew uneasy about him.
Amelia finished with a grand finale, and her audience rose to their feet, generously applauding in appreciation. She curtsied like royalty.
“Who’s here, now?”
“It’s me, Sweetie,” Corrin said as she walked over to the piano. “That was exquisite. I’m so proud of you.” Corrin hugged her niece and then began introductions, gesturing to Paul first.
“Mr. Morrison, this is one of my dearest friends and Amelia’s fiancé, Mr. Paul Strupel. Paul, this is Mr. Jack Morrison, from...” she stopped to
allow Mr. Morrison finish the sentence.
“Georgia. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Strupel. And may I offer you my sincere congratulations at your recent engagement.” Mr. Morrison was definitely sizing Paul up as they shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I’m pleased to meet you also.”
“Mr. Morrison, this is my beautiful niece, Miss Amelia Jackson. Amelia, Mr. Morrison has come from Georgia to see you. He says he has something special to give you.”
Corrin watched the gentleman walked over to Amelia, and as she held her hand out to him, he reluctantly reached for it as if it were a piece of priceless crystal. He trembled as he held her hand in both of his. He studied her face, gazing into her steady eyes and finally said in a quiet, raspy, quaking voice, “Miss Jackson. I...” He cleared his throat and continued in the grand fashion of a true Southern gentleman.
“I can scarcely believe my good fortune that the Lord has seen fit for me to gaze into your lovely face before I pass over to the other side.”
The look on Amelia’s face told Corrin that her niece wasn’t quite sure what to say or do, so Corrin took charge.
“Shall we all go into the parlor and sit down.” She took Mr. Morrison by the arm and led him into the other room.
› › ›
As Paul took Amelia’s hand to escort her to the parlor, she caught him by the arm, leaned over and whispered to him. “Please, don’t leave my side.”
“Don’t worry, Angel. I’ll never leave your side.” He patted her hand. “Is everything okay? Is there something about this man that worries you?”
She shook her head and walked in silence into the parlor.
Mr. Morrison and Corrin had already found comfortable chairs and Amelia was grateful when Paul escorted her to the settee and sat beside her. She moved very close to him and grasped his hand firmly in hers.
Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Page 19
