Hometown Cinderella: Hometown Cinderella\The Inn at Hope Springs (16 page)

Sarah’s words came back to her about having a spouse with whom to share the journey. No, she mustn’t contemplate that option. Even though she had sensed an interest in a few of the widowers she’d met in town or the hamlet, she didn’t trust herself to choose any better than she had the last time. Granted she’d been young and naive, but she’d never dreamed Klaus could be one person in public and another so different character in private. Never again would she forfeit her freedom—or Dietrich’s well-being—to a man who could rule over her. Better to scrimp and save, put up with Carina’s criticisms until such a time as they could afford a room of their own somewhere.

And as for those times of loneliness, when her burden seemed heavy, she knew the Lord and His grace were sufficient for her. He’d brought her this far, He would continue to make a way for her to provide for Dietrich.

With a whispered “Thank You” skyward to the Lord for all His blessings in the past year, Mara took another deep breath of the night air and headed back to the house.

She secured the iron latch of the shed door behind her. Turning around in the dim light, she almost dropped her lantern at the sight of the shadowy form looming up behind her.

Chapter Thirteen

M
ara clasped a hand over her mouth. “Gideon—”

“I’m sorry, Mara—”

He was standing so close to her, he must have heard her galloping heart. They stared at each other, as if in shock at the use of their given names. For several seconds neither of them moved. In that moment, Mara read something new in his gaze.

He was as aware as she of their position alone in the shed.

If she leaned forward only a few inches and he the same, they would be touching. For those seconds, she allowed herself to long for it. Oh, to rest her head on his broad chest!

Her eyes strayed to the lower half of his face. His lips looked firm yet soft and inviting.

No, she mustn’t think such thoughts!

She lowered her hand to her heart, as if to shut off its ache to be held, to be loved…

“You startled me,” she said with a nervous laugh, taking a step back but hitting the door instead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He backed up into the darker shadows of the shed. With a gesture of his hand, he bade her precede him. “I saw you hadn’t come back and…” His Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed. “I guess I was a little worried.”

She held up her shawl. “I just went to retrieve this.”

“You could have told me. I’d have fetched it for you.”

He continued to amaze her with his thoughtfulness—and threatened to breach her defenses. “But you couldn’t have taken a breath of fresh air for me.” To take away any sting in the remark, she smiled, adding, “There’s nothing like standing under the night sky…to say one’s own private thanks on this holiday.”

He regarded her, nodding slowly. “That’s so. I’ve done it on many occasions myself.”

His gaze lingered. She tightened her hold on her shawl to prevent her hand from going to her hair. She had come out without even her hat. Her hair must be windblown.

She sensed rather than saw him make a move toward her.

“Well, I’d better get back inside.” Like a rabbit scurrying for cover, she hastened past him toward the kitchen door.

Once inside, she carefully closed the door behind her, her eyes having to readjust to the light in the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are, Mrs. Keller. I’ll take that from you!” A woman took the lantern with a chuckle. “Have to make a trip out to the barn!”

The few women there laughed.

Mara relinquished the lantern with limp fingers, her face a rigid mask, revealing nothing of the emotions waging war within her. Longing and fear. Regret and relief.

She must never find herself alone with Gideon again, she told herself sternly.

She was not strong enough to resist him if he ever displayed the slightest inclination to make an advance.

And once that happened, all her resolve would crumble like ash in the stove.

When they left the McClellans’, the first snowflakes had begun to fall. Both Dietrich and Lizzie shouted and held their hands and tongues out, trying to catch the soft flakes.

“How much snow is going to fall, Mr. Jakeman?” Dietrich asked, climbing aboard the carryall.

Gideon squinted at the clouds. “Hard to say. You may wake up tomorrow and find everything white. Now, take this end of the blanket and give your mother the other half.” He spread the thick woolen lap robe over the boy’s knees, knowing if he had handed it to Mara first, she probably would have taken it from him without allowing him to help her. The way she had run off like a frightened doe when he’d found her in the shed told him clearly she wanted nothing to do with him.

The fact hadn’t been lost on him that she’d scurried into the backseat for the return trip as if she couldn’t get far enough away from him.

Squelching the sorrow this caused him, he walked around the carryall to Mrs. Keller’s side. “You all tucked in there, ma’am?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good.” He leaned forward to make out Lizzie between the two. “How about you, Lizzie?”

“Snug as a bug in a rug!” Laughter gurgled out of her.

“Not too crowded back there? One of you could sit up front.”

“We’re fine, Papa.”

With a nod, he took his position beside Mrs. Blackstone, giving the reins a slap to start their trek homeward.

“I’m relieved you didn’t make us sit in the cold any longer, Mr. Jakeman.”

He frowned at the older woman’s oblique criticism. “Just making sure everyone was tucked in.”

The flakes started falling faster and thicker by the time he guided the horse out of the drive and onto the dirt road. “Looks like everything will be all white tomorrow morning,” he said over his shoulder to the children.

Dietrich bounced on his seat. “Yippee! Did you hear that, Lizzie? We can go sledding and make snowmen!”

“Settle down there, young man,” Mrs. Blackstone scolded. “I hope you’ll get us home in one piece,” she added with a nervous laugh in Gideon’s direction.

“Old Bessie knows these roads like the back of her hoof.”

“I’m relieved to hear it!” With a few rustles, Mrs. Blackstone settled in her seat.

Gideon let the sounds of the children’s voices wash over him as he allowed the horse her lead, his thoughts turning inward. What had occurred between him and Mrs. Keller a while earlier in the woodshed? Had he imagined it all, or had she looked at him with longing in her eyes? The same kind of longing he’d felt.

Before hers had been replaced by a look of fear.

The way she’d run told him he hadn’t imagined the moment. And the fact that she hadn’t spoken to him except for the absolutely necessary words since then. There had been music, and she’d been prevailed upon to sit at the spinet to play a few songs, while he and a few others had been asked to sing along. Then she’d resumed her place and he’d taken up the fiddle for some dancing.

He’d noticed Paul dancing with Lizzie during “Lady of the Lake.” He’d never seen Lizzie so animated with a young man. But he reassured himself that it was the type of dance that didn’t allow her to be with her partner exclusively. But each time young Paul swung her around, the two looked at each other in mutual admiration.

His glance then sought Mrs. Keller—in time to see her refuse another man with a gentle but firm smile. Her glance met his but quickly skittered away.

He’d never had his attention so distracted when playing for a dance. Keeping an eye on Lizzie and watching Mrs. Keller. At least Lizzie hadn’t danced exclusively with Paul but with several boys in the reels and jigs. She seemed to be having a grand time with them all. So he shook aside any concern on that score.

But whenever he looked toward Mrs. Keller, she was not looking at him, though she seemed to be enjoying the music, her foot tapping or her chin moving in time to his playing. His thoughts wandered, wondering what it would feel like to lead her in one of the dances arm in arm, or swing her around or promenade with his arm about her waist…

He was crazy to be thinking such thoughts. A woman—
lady
—like Mrs. Keller would never consider a simple farmer like himself. Look how she turned down every man who approached her and seemed to stick by the elderly womenfolk as if she were already long past her prime. But then, she hadn’t been widowed too long, only a few months according to his cousin. Clearly, she still mourned her husband.

When they’d finally collected their things to go home, Mrs. Keller had hardly met his eyes or spoken directly to him.

He longed to crane his neck around and see how she was doing back there beside Lizzie, but she sat directly behind him, so it would take more than a quick glance backward.

Mrs. Blackstone stirred at his side. “Well, I must say that was a fine evening, Mr. Jakeman. Your cousin outdid herself. Of course, I ate too much.”

“I guess we all do on Thanksgiving.”

“I say once a year isn’t too bad. But I’ll probably be up all night regretting my transgression,” she added with a laugh.

He chuckled, thinking that if he was up, it would be for other reasons. Dreaming of nonsense…

When they arrived at Mrs. Blackstone’s farm, he got down, hoping he’d be able to help Mrs. Keller down, but first he was obliged to go to Mrs. Blackstone. By the time he’d assisted her, Mrs. Keller was already shepherding Dietrich up the path to the doorway. He hurried up to her to relieve her of the burdens she carried. “Here, let me.” Without waiting for her reply, he took the satchels she carried, with the empty pie plates they’d brought.

“That’s all right, they’re not heavy,” she began at once, but didn’t protest when he relieved her of them.

He reached the door first and opened it for them. “Thank you, Mr. Jakeman,” she said. “I’ll bid you good-night here. You and Lizzie need to get home before the snow gets any thicker.”

His tongue felt glued to his mouth so he could only nod and make an unintelligible sound before stepping aside to allow Mrs. Blackstone in. “Good night, Gideon. You’d best get Lizzie home now.”

“Good night,” he finally managed.

Lizzie was already in the front seat, holding the reins when he climbed back up.

“Oh, Papa, I haven’t had so much fun in an age! I wish it wasn’t all over now till next year.”

“Well, there’ll be other sociables with winter here,” he said as he maneuvered the carryall back down the long drive.

“And you’ll let me attend them…I mean, to dance and behave like a young lady and not a girl?”

He turned to her in the dark. “As long as you behave like a young lady.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, Papa? Would I ever shame you?”

He reached over to squeeze her mittened hand. “Of course not. I just know what it’s like to be young and fancy somebody.”

“Like Mama?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you fancy anyone before her, or did you know when you met her that she was the one?”

He didn’t have to think on that one. “I knew she was the one.”

“Since which moment?”

“Well, let’s see… We knew each other, o’ course, having grown up in the hamlet, but she lived on the other side of the harbor, so I didn’t see her too often. Then one day, I saw her at a sociable—we’d both finished school by then. Neither of us went beyond the grammar school. So, it had been a while since I’d last seen her. There she stood, looking all of a young lady. Just like you did tonight.”

“How old was she?”

He thought back. “Almost seventeen.”

“So, she wasn’t much older than I when she fell in love with you?”

He chuckled. “A few years older. But not everyone falls in love so young. And we didn’t get married right away. I was eighteen and my folks told me I needed to wait and save up money before I was thinking of marrying. I worked at the sawmill in town for a year, coming home on the weekends to help my pa on the farm. When I’d saved up enough my folks gave their blessing and we were married. But I kept working another year before coming home and farming full-time.”

“So, I may fall in love soon, just like Mama.” She gave a satisfied sigh.

The mare stepped around a low spot in the road, which was already covered in snow. “I still want you to attend high school in town next fall.”

“Oh, Papa, I don’t need more schooling.”

“Well, if I went to work in the sawmill to satisfy my parents, you can do the same for me, eh?”

Lizzie was quiet for a few minutes which told him his words had found a mark. Before she could reply, he added, “Mrs. Keller has been a help, hasn’t she?”

“Oh, yes!” She turned to him on the seat as they neared their own drive. He turned into it, glad to be out of the thickening snow and cold. “I think that’s why I felt so…so, I don’t know—”

“Confident?” he supplied for her.

“Yes, that’s the way I felt today. And it seemed to make a difference in the way the boys treated me. It was like I was a different person.” She laughed. “Even when I was the same old person they’ve seen forever.”

He stopped the horse in front of the barn door. “Except you weren’t completely, were you?”

She stared at him in the dim light of the lantern as if surprised at his insight. “No, I wasn’t.”

He ruffled her cap and smiled. “You’re growing up. Too fast for me, but I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Papa. And I’ll do as you want and go to the high school next fall.”

His smile widened. “That’s my girl.”

He got down and Lizzie held the horse while he slid open the barn door. He sent Lizzie into the house while he looked after Bessie. “Good girl,” he told her as he unhitched her from the wagon. “You brought us home like you always do.”

After he’d seen to her and shut everything up for the night, he paused a moment before going inside. Once again, his thoughts went to Mrs. Keller.

How he longed to take her in his arms and kiss away the haunted look in her eyes.

Who had put it there? Her late husband? Or life’s circumstances?

Mara trudged home from a full afternoon in town. Her schedule had filled up with pupils so she would soon have to add a second afternoon.

Her shoulder ached from the weight of her satchel. The walk was made more difficult now with the addition of snow on the road and the cold. She pulled the scarf up over her chin and mouth and hunched against the wind.