Gingham Bride (15 page)

“Have you heard from her?”

“No, but I expect a letter in the mail any day. This is the first Christmas we will spend apart.”

“What was Christmas like for your family?”

“Nana would always serve a roasted duck, candied yams and her mother’s baked bean recipe. Buttermilk biscuits light enough to float in midair. Hot chocolate and angel food cake afterward by the fire. That was Christmas dinner.”

“You mean there is more?”

“Presents piled under the tree. Christmas Eve service the night before, of course. We would have dinner in town at the hotel after a day of stringing popcorn and making cookies. When I was a little tyke, I would help my mother decorate the Christmas cookies. After she passed, Nana and I carried on the tradition. Nana would spend part of both days playing Christmas carols on her piano. We would gather round with eggnog or tea and sing until we were hoarse.”

“You have lived a dream, Ian. Or at least, a dream to some people.”

“I’ll not argue.” The rundown shanty where Fiona’s friend lived came into sight, the few windows glowing across the ever darkening landscape. He gave Flannigan more rein, letting the horse run some, as he seemed to want to do.

“One day I pray you have that again.” Her hand covered his, and through the layers of wool and leather, he could feel the depth of her wish for him.

The heavens were kind to him and saved him from answering, for the driveway rolled into sight and beyond that the joyless shanty with one window aglow with light.

“We’re home.” She breathed the words out like a sigh, and it was as if the twilight fell with her happiness.

“I pray that one day home will be a welcome place for you, pretty girl.” He reined the horse toward the barn, drawing him gently in from his run. Because he did not want to reveal anything more, he let silence settle between them. Her hand remained on his until the sled came to a stop.

“Next time, Fee, be kinder to the poor young men who have lost their hearts to you.” He dragged away from her side, hating to put distance between them.

“What are you talking about?” She scowled, her face scrunching up adorably.

Sad that he was falling ever harder for her. Love was not finite, he realized. It was an infinite place that kept pulling a man apart. Resigned, he offered to help her from the sled, but she hopped out on the other side.

“Lorenzo.” He patted Flannigan before kneeling to unbuckle the harnessing. “And those other school boys. What were their names? James and Luken and that blond-headed kid.”

“Funny. What could have possibly given you the idea that half the graduating class of boys is carrying a torch for me? Surely.” She rolled her eyes, laughing at him, unaware of the doting man who stood right in front of her. Of course she had not noticed the others, either.

“I am telling you the truth.” He worked one buckle free and circled around for another. “You are breaking hearts, Fiona, right and left. Think of the poor fellows, would you? It is all I am asking.”

“No one is ever going to love me.” She looked vulnerable in the thickening twilight, certain as she tucked her Bible into the crook of her arm. “I don’t intend to let anyone close enough to try.”

“What? Not even me?” Instead of working the harness free, he ambled closer. “I heard you and your girlfriends. It sounds like you’ve already let me far too close.”

“They
were talking about weddings and forever, not me.” Her voice trembled. “I hope you don’t think I told them—”

“No,” he interrupted, saving her from having to say the words aloud. “We both agreed there would be no wedding. Just a long engagement.”

“Yes.” She didn’t move away. She didn’t look away. She couldn’t. “I hope this will be a benefit for you, too. I hate to think that your staying here for me would hinder your dreams.”

“I am exactly where I want to be. Trust that.” His knuckles grazed her cheek tenderly. “You are wrong about my dreams, Fiona. The only ones I have are for you.”

Chapter Fifteen

W
hat was the man doing to her? He made it impossible to forget him. All night long he had snuck into her dreams like a bandit, out to steal her heart.
I could not make myself ride another step east, so I followed my heart back to you. I’m going to make sure you are never frightened like that again.

All morning his velvet-coated promises and declarations drove out all other thoughts. Standing at the front of the classroom, she gripped her hands, trying in vain to find historical facts in her head. But all she could locate were Ian’s startling confessions.
You are wrong about my dreams, Fiona. The only ones I have are for you.

What did that mean? Surely she was not part of his dreams. No, that could not be right. He had meant that he wanted her happiness. As a friend might.

A friend. That’s what she was to him. That was exactly what she wanted to be. And if disappointment whispered through her, she was determined to ignore it.

“Miss O’Rourke,” the teacher scolded, her frown as severe as her tone. “I’m afraid you will have to study this lesson again.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lambert.” Miserable, she hung her head. She could not remember what she had learned about the battle of Gettysburg. There was nothing in her mind but Ian.

Lila grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed in sympathy.

“That is all, class. You may return to your seats.” Miss Lambert laid her history book on her desk, watchful as the twelfth-grade students filed down the aisles, quietly so as not to disturb the others who were studying industriously.

Fiona slipped into her desk. She had never failed a lesson before. She wanted to blame Ian, but the fault was hers. She was the one who could not stop the images of him in the barn doing the evening chores, of how relaxed the horses and the cow were in his presence and how happy they seemed. She hardly recognized Flannigan, who no longer looked prairie-ward with longing in his eyes. Ian, who had walked her to the house and with one stare at her da, ensured that not one cruel word was spoken to her. Ian, who had driven her to school in the morning, helping her from the sled at the schoolyard, tipping his hat in goodbye to her like any courting man.

He was being polite, that was all. No need to read anything more into it. She stacked her books, hearing the school bell ring. Noise burst out around her. Books slammed shut, kids bounced up from their seats, shoes knelled against the floorboards. Conversations drowned out the last echoes of the bell. All she could think about was seeing Ian again. Knowing he would be waiting for her outside Miss Sims’s shop was like a gift, one she couldn’t wait for.

“Poor Lorenzo hasn’t been the same since he met Ian.” Scarlet leaned close, whispering as they made their way through the emptying classroom. “I think you broke his heart, Fee.”

“Whose heart?” She wondered if Ian would be shivering in his too-thin coat.

“I think she did, too.” Lila spoke up, all sympathy. “Maybe I can offer him a few kind words during caroling practice to soothe his wounded feelings.”

“You certainly should.” Earlee’s wistfulness was that of a staunch romantic. “Lorenzo does look downcast today, poor dear.”

“And it’s all Fee’s fault.” Kate winked.

“What did I do?” she asked, hardly realizing she hadn’t buttoned her coat yet. In fact, she couldn’t remember fetching her coat from the hallway or walking through the schoolroom, or even getting up from her desk. The sunshine blinded her as she waltzed out into the winter afternoon, squinting against the brightness as she searched the roadway for him. Ridiculous, because she knew he wouldn’t be there, but did that stop her from looking for him? Not one bit.

“There’s no sense trying to talk to her,” Scarlet said, chuckling warmly. “I talked Ma into making a cake for our party on Friday.”

“Perfect. My stepmother is going to help me fix chicken and dumplings.” Lila sounded excited. “Fiona, will you bring the biscuits?”

“Sure.” She didn’t realize how much she could miss Ian. It made no sense. It wasn’t as if she cared for the man, right?

“My brother has agreed to come fetch me if the weather is bad, so I can come for sure,” Kate commented happily.

“That’s wonderful!” Earlee clasped her hands together prayerfully. “This might be our last celebration together. Our sewing circle might break apart after graduation. You never know where life will take each one of us.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Fiona sank into the snow, but it was more than her shoe sliding into the icy drift. “Our last sewing-circle Christmas party. That sounds so sad.”

“Depressing,” Scarlet agreed. “Which is why we do not have to think about it. Instead, it will be the best party we have ever had.”

They parted ways—Scarlet and Lila headed off to the church for caroling practice, Kate climbed into her father’s sleigh and Earlee walked away with six of her younger siblings. She did not have time to walk uptown today, for she was needed at home.

It was a beautiful day. The sun tossed diamonds onto the pristine snow, and she followed its sparkling trail. She was as cheerful as the lemony rays of sunshine, thinking of the tatted snowflakes she had finished and blued last night. They would be dry and perfect when she got home. Her gifts for her friends were done. Her parents did not celebrate Christmas with gifts, so she had all the presents she would need for the holiday—all but one.

Ian. Her thoughts looped back to him. All roads led inexorably to him. The church steeple rose above the cluster of trees and the tall storefronts, reminded her of how perfect yesterday after the church service had been. The looks they had shared across the sanctuary, how Ian had appeared different with worries and responsibilities lifted from his strapping shoulders. Of what he had told her about his family and his grandmother. She thought of the older woman, who had been best friends with her grandmother.

In her mind’s eye she could see her own grandmother’s kind face as she told of the McPhersons. Love, she realized, was the reason Ian was here—for his grandmother, and respect for what two girlfriends had shared long ago.

She turned onto the main street, snow tumbling off her shoes and onto the boardwalk. Perhaps, then, it was not so strange she and Ian felt such strong friendship for one another. Maybe she did not need to fight it so much.

“Good afternoon, Fiona,” Cora Sims greeted from behind the front desk. “It has been a busy day. Let me finish up this sale, and I will be right with you. There is tea steeping on the stovetop. It will warm you right up.”

“Thank you, Miss Sims.” Fiona liked the older woman. Cora Sims had been her inspiration for her future life. The lady had come to town long ago and started her own dress shop. She had made a fine life for herself, sewing for others. Maybe, thanks to Ian’s help, she could do the same one day.

What used to give her joy to think about now weighed her down. That future did not seem as bright. It was not only the prospect of leaving her friends, but something else. Something that hurt worse, and that made no sense.

Ian. She felt his presence as surely as the warmth from the stove. She unbuttoned her coat, searching for him through the wide display window. There he was across the street, confident and manly, tethering Flannigan to the hitching post. The big horse nudged the man’s hand affectionately, as if wanting one last nose rub. Ian obviously agreed, his affection clear. He was a true horseman in a worn-thin coat. He had to be freezing, his teeth looked to be chattering, but he made no hurry to end his time with Flannigan to rush out of the cold.

“I’m pleased to see you, Fiona. I hope this means you have the basting done so soon?”

“Yes, Miss Sims. I worked most of the weekend on it.” She opened her book bag and carefully withdrew the folded dress. “The collar was tricky, but I got it set just right. See what you think.”

While the seamstress shook out the garment to study it, Fiona let her attention wander back to the street. Ian had left Flannigan’s side and was lumbering up the steps onto the boardwalk, cane in hand. The sun brightened because he was near. Tenderness stirred within her, reverent and sweet. Tenderness she wanted to deny, but couldn’t.

“This is excellent work, Fiona. Let me get your wages.”

She blinked; for a second she had forgotten where she was. She nervously brushed a curl behind her ear. “Do you have any good heavy wool in stock? Something suitable for a winter coat?”

“Some new bolts came in on Friday’s train.” Cora tapped toward the front desk. “I put them out this morning. Just to your left, next to the buttons display.”

It did not make any sense to spend so much money, but did that stop her from wandering over to the table? Not one bit. There was no looking or debating. A bolt of black wool stood out from all the others, and she snatched it without thought. The finest quality, judging from its weight. She didn’t even ask Cora the price per yard.

“Will you hold this for me?” she asked. “I can come by after school tomorrow to pay for it.”

“That would be fine.” Cora smiled knowingly as she took the quality fabric and unrolled it with a thump onto the cutting counter. “Why don’t I cut it for you now, and you can take it with you? That way you can get started on it tonight. Christmas is fast approaching. How many yards do you need?”

“Enough for a man’s coat,” she whispered, for the bell above the door jingled. Ian’s uneven step tapped into the store, the sound meaningful to her. This was more than friendship she felt. Much more. Ignoring it or denying it would not change that fact.

“I’ve had a talk with your horse.” He took off his hat, revealing a relaxed, happy smile. He must have gotten the job. “Flannigan would like you to drive him home.”

“How thoughtful of him.” She stepped away from the counter, hoping Ian would not notice the fabric. “What else did Flannigan say?”

“That he misses you. You used to spend your evenings in the barn.”

“And he would like me to do that again, would he?”

“I believe so. I’m sure Riley would not mind at all, either.” He held out his hands to warm them at the stove. “Or the cat. He has set his cap for you, I fear.”

“Oh, you do not fool me one bit, McPherson.”

“McPherson, is it? Again? You must be mad at me.”

“Blaming all that on the animals. Yes, indeed. If you want me to know you wouldn’t mind sharing the barn with me in the evening, then you could simply say so.” She thanked the shop owner with a conspiratorial smile and tucked a brown-wrapped package into her book bag. “Thank you, Miss Sims. Have a good afternoon!”

“Goodbye, dear. Same to you.” The sewing lady looked mighty pleased and gave him an approving smile. He had been getting a lot of those lately. Word had traveled about town he was here to marry the O’Rourke girl. Her hardships were no secret, nor could they be with the fading yellow bruise on her cheekbone.

Gentleness filled him. He resisted the need to pull her close and lay an arm around her shoulder. He wanted her step to remain light as she waltzed to the door. He opened it for her and followed her into the sunshine gracing the boardwalk.

“Did you get work?” She whirled around in a swirl of red gingham. “You look happy, so that must mean yes.”

“Aye. I start in the morning. I’m afraid you will have to walk to school.”

“I don’t mind. I usually stop by Earlee’s house so I can walk most of the way with her.” She skipped down the steps, her twin braids flying behind her.

He would forever remember this picture of her with dark wisps curling around her heart-shaped face, her happiness contagious, her wholesome beauty.

“C’mon, Ian. I can’t wait to drive.” She glided across the street, one step ahead and all that was dear to him. Her dark hair gleamed blue-black, her porcelain skin blushed by the winter air.

How precious this time with her was, he realized as he followed her across the road. The bustle of town, the approaching whistle of the train, the too-slow beat of his pulse were too commonplace for this moment. When Fiona turned to him, he sensed more than tolerance in her manner. Perhaps more than friendship.

“I see you have had a very busy day without me.” She touched his sleeve, nodding toward the sled’s bed. “What do you have under the tarp?”

“Fence posts. When I went to repair the broken board in the corral, I decided it would do little good if the post was ready to fall down. So I stopped by the lumberyard.”

“I’m sure Flannigan will be pleased. He will get to romp in the corral again. Right, boy?” Although she had drifted away from his side, a form of closeness remained. A tie Ian could not explain or prove, but he felt it.

Or he surely hoped he did. He worked the tether free, watching as Fiona ran her fingers through the horse’s forelock. He enjoyed her musical laugh as the gelding tossed his head, preferring to have his nose stroked instead.

“All right, have your way, big fella.” She obliged. “As long as you know I am boss when we drive home.”

The gelding nickered low in his throat, perhaps a bit of a protest, and Ian felt hope as Fiona laughed again. She had the kind of spirit that she would be happy wherever her future took her.

“Did you hear that, Ian? I think he is planning on giving me some trouble.” She didn’t look worried, no, she looked like perfection. She was his dream come true.

Please, Lord,
he prayed.
If it is Your will, let her know it one day. I am a patient man. I do not mind waiting.

No answer came from above, but then, he did not expect one so soon. He took hold of the driving reins, for the gelding did have trouble glinting in his adoring eyes. He knew just how the horse felt.

“Aye, I think Flannigan is making plans.” He helped her into the sled, something he wouldn’t mind doing the rest of his life. “I guess you had best be making some plans of your own.”

“You’re going to leave me to deal with him if he runs away?”

“Don’t think you can give over the reins to me when times get tough.” He spread the lap blanket over her, tucking it in so she would be warm.

“Who else would I turn to, Ian?” She took the reins from him, but it felt as if she took something else. Likely it was his eternal devotion, for she already had his love. “There is no one else in this sled.”