by Caroline Lee
He shrugged. “I’ve been in town for only a few days, but I’ve heard all sorts of interesting stories about godmothers and magic here in Everland.”
Magic. She sighed, a little disappointed he apparently believed. “And you think these stories are true?”
He chuckled and rocked back on his heels, but didn’t move any farther away. “I don’t think a man of God should believe in magic, but I can’t deny I’ve seen miracles in my life, and I can’t deny I find the water and air of Everland to be particularly soothing. So maybe God has a bit of magic in Him as well, and just maybe, others do too, who just may be doing His works. Those who are doing it with good intentions anyway”
Snow eyed him warily, realizing he wasn’t who she’d first assumed. “Man of God?” she repeated.
“Forgive me, I failed to introduce myself properly before.” He snatched his hat from his head and held out his hand. “Reverend Hunter Woods. I’m here to replace Pastor Tuck, who I understand passed away recently.”
A reverend?
In a slight daze, Snow offered him her hand, which he took. “Snow White, Reverend Woods.”
There were two layers of leather gloves between their skin, but Snow swore she could feel his warmth despite them.
And judging from the way he was staring at her, maybe he could as well.
“Snow White,” he repeated in a hoarse whisper, his eyes seeming to drink in her features. “Please call me Hunter. Please.”
It seemed important, so she nodded, noting he hadn’t released her hand yet.
Noting she didn’t mind, not one bit.
They stood for a long moment, just staring at one another, before he seemed to remember himself, and shaking his head, dropped her hand and cleared his throat. “Snow—Miss White, I mean—would you…” He cleared his throat again. “I was on my way to luncheon at MacKinnon’s restaurant. Would you mind possibly accompanying me?”
She was already shaking her head before he finished, and went so far as to take a step back. She couldn’t. She couldn’t afford to spend any more time with him; she was half in love with him already, and they’d barely said a dozen words to one another.
A reverend! A handsome, healthy, unfailingly polite man, who took joy in nature and spoke to her as an equal. What wasn’t there to love?
Oh yes...the fact Lucinda would love him as well.
But Hunter wasn’t ready to give up. He held out his hand, not quite touching her, but as if he could keep her from leaving. “Please, Snow? I’m new in town, and I have my Christmas sermon all ready to go, but I’d love to get some insight into the people of Everland.”
He’d said please. Twice now. And each time, her resolve melted a bit more.
He needed help, her help. She had to give it.
Could she do it? Could she eat with him, help him with what he needed, and keep from falling further in love with the man?
Unlikely.
But still, she found herself taking a deep breath and accepting with a nod.
And felt her heart lurch joyfully again when his face split into a grin, which said his every dream had just come true.
Could he possibly feel even a smidgen of the way she did about him?
“Excellent! I’ve heard good things about MacKinnon’s.”
She forced her voice to work, to pretend nonchalance as he gestured her to precede him. “It’s delicious, but quite fancy. If I’m eating out, I prefer Spratt’s Eatery. It’s the oldest place in town.” It was also significantly less expensive than MacKinnon’s, and belonged to Zosia’s parents.
“But you say MacKinnon’s is delicious?”
He sounded as if he was trying to make conversation—or perhaps learn more about his new home—so she hurried to reassure him.
“Not only that, but the desserts are amazing.” She sighed happily, picking up her pace as they headed toward the restaurant. “Gordon and Briar MacKinnon are wonderful cooks, but Briar’s baking is what makes the restaurant truly special.”
He was smiling at her. “Then we’ll have to be sure to order dessert. Maybe two.”
And she found herself grinning back.
Chapter 4
Hunter had a hard time controlling his excitement, which was an interesting reaction.
First of all, why was he having such a hard time? Second, why was he even bothering?
Maybe he wanted to make a good impression, and he subconsciously didn’t think he could do that if he was skipping through town, yodeling, “Snow’s having lunch with me!”
Actually, that was probably a pretty good bet.
Still, he didn’t bother hiding his wide grin when she glanced at him, and he was pleasantly surprised when she smiled back.
She really was stunning, wasn’t she?
Today she wore the same old coat he’d seen her in two days before, but her headscarf was neater. It was a beautiful cream color, with strands of gold woven throughout, and it made her skin and her unusual eyes positively shine.
Or maybe it was more about being with him?
Stop being so analytical!
He couldn’t help it, not really; it was part of his nature. It was why Nana had always said he shouldn’t follow his father down into the mines, because he needed to go to school. He was good at looking at things from multiple angles, good at understanding, because he analyzed everything.
But he didn’t need to analyze this. He needed to just let himself feel it.
So he took a deep breath—the air really was pristine here, wasn’t it?—and allowed his joy at the prospect of a few hours with Snow to seep out. He realized he was humming, and decided to embrace it.
“Joyful all ye nations rise,” he sang under his breath.
She glanced at him again, then faced forward once more. But still, she joined him in quietly singing the next line.
“Join the triumphs of the skies!”
It took everything in his power not to reach over and take her hand when they sang the last lines together: “Nature rise and worship him, Who is born at Bethlehem!”
Inside his gloves, his palms positively itched to touch her. He could still feel that mysterious warmth which had seemed to fill him when he’d shaken her hand moments before. But he remembered the way she’d reacted in the little clearing beside the lake, and didn’t want to frighten her away. He wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that intrigued him so much, but he very much did not want to frighten her away.
They reached MacKinnon’s Restaurant without him doing any yodeling, skipping, or scaring her away, which was a minor miracle. The first few minutes were spent settling in and preparing to order.
When he offered to take her coat and hang it up, she blinked in surprise, but turned and allowed him to pull it from her shoulders. When he did, his bare fingers brushed against her neck, and although she was wearing a high-collared dress, he swore he could feel a tingling in his fingertips.
How odd. How delightfully intriguing.
He didn’t know if she felt the same thing, but wouldn’t ask, because he also knew he didn’t want her to close herself off again, so he was quick to slip into the chair opposite her and distract her. “So what shall we order?”
She tapped a long finger against the printed paper on the table between them. “Gordon only has one server at lunch, and it’s a limited menu. Things will be slow, but anything is delicious.”
“Well, I don’t mind slow. It’ll give me more time with you.”
When he winked, she flushed and looked down at the menu, which made him feel suddenly awkward. It had been second nature to be so truthful, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“Well,” he said, pushing through the awkwardness, “maybe I’ll order the chicken.”
She nodded, still not looking at him. “I always like the meat pies, because Briar has the best pie crust I’ve ever tasted.”
“You’ve convinced me!”
When the server came over, they both ordered a serving of the pie.
And then they were alone again.
Well, there were others in the restaurant, but they didn’t really count. Not now. Not when Hunter was finally sitting across from the woman who’d been in his thoughts non-stop since he’d arrived in town and after meeting her.
Which, all things considered, was fairly remarkable, considering where he was staying.
The cozy house on Perrault Street was garish, as Doc had said, but was also comfortable, as Helga had promised. There were seven women who lived there, ranging from young Suzy—whom everyone but Doc called Sneezy—up to Doc herself. They were all so different, it was difficult to imagine what had brought them together, and whenever he tried to ask, they’d change the topic.
But the food was always delicious, exotic, and more than sufficient, and the conversation certainly was interesting, so he couldn’t complain. Why, already he’d heard tales of countless romances these women had facilitated, as well as the ironically-named Bashful’s—that wasn’t her real name, of course, but he wasn’t sure he could pronounce it—travels through India and Asia, and Dorcas’s literary theory.
So yes, all things considered, if he was going to be thinking about an interesting woman, it should probably be one of those. But nope, he’d been thinking of Snow.
He’d been remembering her singing and him joining her, and the way she’d decorated the tree in the woods. He’d been thinking about her beautiful smile and her ease in nature, and her strength, holding those pails.
And he had so many more questions.
“So,” he said, planting his elbows on the table and leaning in. “You’ve been here often?”
Her brows tugged down, as if she was frowning without really frowning, and she peeked up at him through her lashes. “No. Remember, I frequent Spratt’s—that’s my friend’s family’s eatery.”
Oh yeah, she had said that.
Flustered, Hunter cleared his throat to apologize, and only just then realized how rude he was being, sitting in a fancy restaurant like this with his elbows on the table. He scrambled to remove them, then cleared this throat again...
And thought of absolutely nothing useful to say.
Uh-oh. Was he planning on sitting here through the whole meal, his hands in his lap, while they both stared at their place settings?
No, of course not. You’ll have to lift your hands to eat, genius.
He almost snorted, but stopped himself in time, though he did roll his eyes at himself.
She was the one who saved him. “You’re…um, you’re a preacher?”
“Yes!” He blew out a breath, glad to have something to talk about. “Yes, I finished my schooling a few years ago, and I’ve been working in western Pennsylvania, near where I grew up. But when we got word of Pastor Tuck’s passing, I volunteered to come out here.”
“Because of the magic water?”
Was she teasing him?
The thought put him more at ease, and he relaxed in his chair.
“Yes, exactly,” he said with a wry grin. “I was raised in Pennsylvania, and even though I haven’t been in the mountains near the mines, I still have trouble with the air sometimes, especially in the spring. A colleague had heard of the healing properties of the water here and suggested it.”
Listening to him talk seemed to put her as ease as well, judging from the thoughtful frown she was giving him.
“Hmm. I wonder how he heard about Everland?”
Hunter shrugged. “Don’t laugh, but I believe his wife has taken to purchasing lotions or cosmetics or something made in this area. The jars all claim the water has magical healing abilities.”
She didn’t look as though she was even close to laughing. In fact, her expression went neutral in a blink, and her gaze fastened on the window behind him.
“I…” She cleared her throat. “How interesting.”
Hmm.
He shrugged. “That’s how I heard about it, but I was also anxious to get away from Pennsylvania. I agreed to come here for a year, so that if it didn’t agree with me any more than the Midwest, I’d be able to go elsewhere.”
Her light brown eyes flashed back to him briefly, but he could tell she was interested. “Where would you go?”
“I’m not sure. Besides, I’ve only been here a few days, and I’m not interested in leaving just yet. Christmas is tomorrow, and this is the most joyful time of the year. And I’ll admit, I’m utterly enchanted by Everland.” He leaned forward slightly. “Halfway in love already,” he murmured.
Oh, blast! He had his elbows propped on the table again.
And couldn’t seem to make himself care.
She was flushing again, and he had to admit he liked the way her skin took on a shade of dark pink. She was the utterly enchanting one, and he wished he could tell her that.
“Was it…” The white dress she wore was a lovely contrast to her dark skin, and there were black lace accents which made him think of her decorated Christmas tree. Her fingers were playing with the lace at the end of her sleeve. “Was it hard to leave your home?”
“No,” he answered truthfully, his gaze remaining fixed on her long fingers. “I was raised by my grandmother and her sister after my father’s death in the mines. Ma had been long gone by then, and Nana wanted better for me. She and Aunt Dotty saved to send me to school, but by the time I graduated, they were both gone.”
“I’m sorry.” She met his eyes, her gaze full of sympathy. “It’s painful to lose those we love.”
“Who have you lost, Snow?” he whispered, without thinking.
To his surprise, she answered. “Everyone. My Mama was gone before we even left Alabama, and my sister Rose married and moved away two years ago. I’m so happy for her, but I miss her. And I miss my best friend, who went away to school.”
He was nodding as she spoke, hoping to encourage her. “You mentioned your step-mother?”
But come to think of it, it hadn’t been a pleasant mention, and her scoff proved it.
“She’s my father’s widow, and we’re all each other has left.”
“But you’re not close?”
Snow actually leaned in, placing her hand flat on the table. “Hunter, for your sake, I hope you never have to meet that witch.”
A witch? His brows rose to his hairline. “Perhaps I’ll see her at Sunday services?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. She’s part of the Women’s Guild, but in the last year, she’s become more interested in other things.”
Before he could ask what she meant, Snow continued. “What will your Christmas sermon be about?”
As he launched into his explanation, he loved the way her sharp eyes followed everything, and loved the way she understood the message he was trying to convey.
Their meals arrived, and it was as delicious as she’d promised, and still he found himself speaking around the food, his elbows propped boorishly as he waved his fork around.
She didn’t seem to mind, which was delightful. Nana had done the best she could, but he hadn’t learned how to interact in polite society until he’d been in school. But even now, as an educated man, it was easy to slip back into the uncouth mannerisms of his youth when he got excited.
And she definitely made him excited.
He told her of his plans for the church, now that he’d had a chance to investigate more of his predecessor’s work, and his goal to preach sermons out-of-doors in the summer, which she supported wholeheartedly. He told her about his childhood near the mines, and how, despite his size, he’d never really thrived until he’d gone away for school. He told her about how he’d always been happier walking in the woods than in the classroom, and how that sense of awe and wonder had prompted him to follow clerical studies.
He told her everything he could think of, and she smiled and nodded, and sometimes laughed and even asked probing, thoughtful questions. Yes, she was a delight…but he still knew next to nothing about her.
“You know, I’m sorry,” he finally said, after they’d ordered the
ir desserts. “Nana tried to raise me with manners, but I’ve never been particularly good at being polite. I just get too excited to remember the rules of what I’m supposed to do.”
She was looking down, but he could see her small smile, and knew she didn’t mind his faux pas so much.
“I don’t think you’re impolite, Hunter,” she said quietly.
“I do! I’ve been completely monopolizing the conversation, and we haven’t spoken of you at all. That’s unforgivably rude.”
She met his eyes, and he saw sincerity in them when she said, “I’ve wanted to learn about you. I…I find myself…” She made a small noise in the back of her throat as she looked down again. “Utterly enchanted,” she finished in a whisper.
His heart slammed against the inside of his chest so hard, Hunter was sure he jerked forward. Hearing his words on her lips, hearing her say that about him…it was enough to leave him breathless.
And more than a little aroused.
“I…um. The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”
Rather than reassuring her, his comment seemed to make her uncomfortable. She flattened her palm against the table again and looked out the window, a frown pulling her brows down, as her eyes searched for something outside.
“Snow? Snow, look at me.”
Still frowning, she glanced back at him, and Hunter didn’t understand what he’d said to upset her. All he knew was he had to make it better, so he reached across the table and covered her hand in his.
And felt lightning flash up his arm.
Judging from the way she gasped and twitched under his touch, she’d felt it too, but there was no way he was going to let her go. Thankfully, the move only made it easier to hold her.
She went stiff for a moment, her wide-eyed gaze on their joined hands, but then she exhaled and turned her hand over, so their fingers were now twined together.
They were holding hands, and Hunter couldn’t remember anything which had ever felt so good.
They didn’t speak. Just sat there, staring at one another, feeling their pulses thump against one another’s palm, until they became interchangeable, for what seemed like forever.
