Gingham Bride (18 page)

Chapter Eighteen

“F
iona! You made it.” Lila greeted her in a warm hug before tugging her into the lovely parlor. “Look, everyone. She’s here.”

“We didn’t think you were going to come.” Scarlet bolted up from a chair and hugged her, too. “You look frozen clean through.”

“Come sit in my seat.” Earlee hopped off the edge of the couch. “It’s closest to the fireplace.”

“Things weren’t going to be the same without you, Fee.” Kate stood to hug her, as well.

“I had just made up my mind to drive out to fetch you.” Meredith took her by the hands and led her to the seat Earlee had vacated. “We are all so glad you could come.”

“I almost didn’t.” Fiona clutched her satchel and her book bag, both stiff with frost from the walk to town. Actually, it had been a run-walk, hurrying as fast as she could and hoping no one came riding after her. “My parents forbade me, but I couldn’t stay away. I have missed you all so much.”

“We have missed you, too,” Scarlet and Kate chorused, and Earlee took her hand in silent agreement.

“I have had to sit at our desk all by myself. During class I start scribbling a note to you on my slate, and realize you aren’t there.” Lila poured a cup of tea from the service on the coffee table. “School isn’t the same without you, Fee.”

Her throat burned, and she felt out of place, the outsider in this group where she had always belonged. She was no longer a schoolgirl like they were. Everything within her yearned to go back. If only it were possible.

“I know how you feel.” Meredith took the bags from her and set them on the floor, near to the hearth, so they would thaw out. “Every day I have spent away from you all is a form of misery. Mama thinks she is doing right by sending me away to school, but I’m happiest when I am with my best friends.”

“Remember how we all met?” Lila squeezed in to hand over the steaming china cup of sweet tea.

“In first-grade Sunday school.” Earlee settled into a chair. “Remember? My ma had just left me there. I was the first little girl to arrive, and I was afraid to stay with Mrs. Hadly. Then Scarlet came marching up with her ma. You took one look at me and said—”

“—you are my friend,” Scarlet finished, laughing. She settled on the cushion beside Fiona with a flourish. “I have always been forthright. It appalls Ma to this day. Anyway, the next kid to come along was Narcissa Bell. I didn’t like the way she wrinkled her nose at me and said my dress was, what did she say?”

“‘Common calico,’” Lila supplied as she lifted the china teapot and began refilling everyone’s cups. “As I love calico and was wearing the new rosebud-sprigged dress my mother had lovingly made for me, I took great offense.”

“And I told Narcissa she was
not
my friend.”

“You were an excellent judge of character, even at six years of age.” Meredith stole a sugar cube from the service and handed the bowl to Fiona. “I can see you all arriving in your cute little dresses and Scarlet telling each one of you that you were her friend.”

“It was the first time I was with children my own age.” Fiona remembered how terrified she had been when Ma had left her at the bottom of the basement steps. “I couldn’t make my feet move. I felt everyone looking at me. So when Scarlet strode forward and took my hand, I thought she was wonderful, that you were all so amazing for wanting me.”

“Same thing with me,” Earlee confessed. “Who would have thought that first Sunday-school class what, twelve years ago, would be the start of lifelong friendships?”

“One of God’s great blessings,” Kate agreed, and swiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Which is why I am not going back to Boston.” Meredith’s confession raised shocked comments from them all. “I have been utterly miserable there, and I haven’t known what to do about it or how to make Mama understand. But listening to you all has made me realize something. I have never been happier since the day I walked into Sunday school almost five years ago and you all invited me to sit with you.”

“Narcissa Bell and her group wanted you, too.” Fiona sipped the steaming tea, but that wasn’t what warmed her. Her friends and their memories together did. “Remember? You were a vision in that gown of yours. I’ve never seen anything prettier.”

“Not even Narcissa had anything so nice,” Earlee added. “What I remember was how you held your sisters’ hands, like you were all close. And how Mrs. Hadly split you up by age. I could tell you and your sisters didn’t like it, and that’s how I knew you would fit in just fine with us, although we weren’t so fancy.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Scarlet added.

“It’s going to be fun to have you back in school,” Kate said thoughtfully as she picked up her sewing. “But it comes at the same time we are losing Fiona.”

“Maybe you can still come to our sewing circle?” Lila asked as she threaded her needle.

“I wish I could.” She slid her cup and saucer onto the edge of the table and reached for her bag. She unfolded her work and settled it on her lap.

“That’s beautiful.” Earlee leaned forward to examine the fabric. “Is that something you’re working on for Miss Sims?”

“No, it’s a Christmas present. For Ian.” She smoothed the lapel lovingly. The seam was sitting well, and she couldn’t help being pleased with her work. “He will be bringing out his herd of mares soon, and I want him to have a warm riding coat. Something suited to the stature I’m sure his ranch will soon be.”

“His
ranch?” Scarlet’s embroidery needle stilled. “Does this mean you will be marrying him for real?”

“And soon?” Meredith looked up from pinning a quilt block seam.

“No. Ian does not love me, so he shouldn’t be forced to marry me. And you all know how I feel about marriage. I’m not going to be tethered down.” She didn’t believe in love, right? She was the girl who had never started sewing treasures for a hope chest. The last thing she would ever trust in was a man’s love for her.

And if a tiny voice deep within her wanted to argue, she silenced it entirely.

“But you are in love with him.” Earlee, ever the romantic, put down her crocheting.

“I don’t intend to let any man own or dominate me, not even Ian.” She ran her fingertips over the coat, remembering how Miss Sims had helped her with the pattern and had even cut it for her. How she had spent her evenings pinning the pieces, basting them and stitching each seam with care. She had fitted the collar and sleeves, imagining him astride one of his beautiful mares or training a young colt in the corral.

In truth, the reason she loved Ian was simple: he was not the kind of man to dominate a woman. But this was a celebration, and not a place for her disappointments, so she kept silent about them. “When are we going to exchange gifts? I am so excited for you all to see what I made for you.”

“Oh, me, too!” Scarlet twisted around to tug a bag off the floor. “As is our tradition, I made something for each of our hope chests. Even Fiona’s, although she refuses to have a real hope chest.”

“That’s okay, Fee. We will keep hoping for you when you are out of faith.” Earlee put five equal-size gifts wrapped in newsprint in the center of the table.

“We will keep praying for you when you stop praying for yourself.” Lila rescued five identical gifts wrapped in lovely wrapping paper and put them beside Earlee’s.

“We want you to be happy,” Kate added, gathering her gifts from her sewing basket.

“Even if you can’t keep coming to our sewing circle, we will keep a place open for you. Just like we did for Meredith.” Scarlet added five more gaily wrapped presents to the growing pile.

“We will be here for you, Fee.” Meredith crossed the room to fetch her bag full of gifts. “Always and forever.”

Fiona looked from one dear face to the other—her family, in all the ways that mattered. There were those pesky feelings again, making her far too vulnerable and trying to blur her vision. Touched by the amazing wealth of friendship, she saw for the first time the incredible richness of her life.

Ian knew the moment the sun set. The storm changed, the air turned reverent and the snowflakes floated through the air solemnly. Flannigan, warm in his stall, snorted, as if he could scent night’s approach. Duchess cast an anxious gaze down the aisle, for this place was not home to her.

“We won’t be here for much longer, so rest easy,” he told his mare and gave the pitchfork a final turn. He had rented a two-room house north of town, closer to his job. A place Nana might like, and the owner did not mind if he improved on the fencing. A better place for his future than this broken-down farm of neglect and sadness. The cow patiently chewed at the fresh hay in her feeder. He patted her flank with his gloved hand, to slide behind her and out of the stall. “I’ll be back to milk you, sweet girl.”

The cow blinked her liquid-brown eyes in agreement, content with her dinner.

The cat, however, was not so pleased. He yowled underfoot.

“I’ve not forgotten you, you mop.” Affectionate, he knelt to give the feline a fine scrub around the ears. The rusty, ardent purr was reward enough. “I’ll get to the milking next.”

He felt Fiona’s presence before he heard her—the tug as if a door opened within him, the sweetness of first love, the brightness of hope stirring. The day was no longer ordinary. At the pad of her footsteps, he looked up to see her approaching the open barn door. Snowflakes danced around her as if glad to be with her. The twilight was perfect because she walked through it.

Flannigan nickered, perhaps in love with her, too. Not ashamed to show it, the gelding leaned hard until the wood gate dug into his flesh and stretched his long neck as far as he could go, craning to get a view of her. Riley, with a mouthful of hay, followed suit, and the cow gave a hopeful moo. Even Duchess in her corner stall offered a welcoming nicker and the cat raced the length of the barn as if eager for the privilege of curling around her ankles.

“Good evening to you, handsome boy. I’m glad to see you, too.” She knelt, her hood shading her face, elegant in her thick woolen wraps.

Ian, eager to see the first glimpse of her face, knew he was standing in the aisle like one of the posts, still and staring, but did he care? No, not one bit. He would cherish all he could of this time left with her.

“McPherson. What are you doing here?” She straightened and although he could not see her face, he felt the sting of her glare. “I thought you would be at work.”

“What? You are afraid I am like your father, unable to hold a job?” Tender, he saw what she thought of him; he could not help teasing her. “No. The mill closed at noon. It is Christmas Eve, after all.”

“I didn’t know you would be here.” Her arms were full, and a bag hung from her shoulder, thick and heavy. “I just came in from town.”

“Were you with your friends, like last week? At Lila’s, is that her name?”

“Yes.” She pulled back her hood, icy crystals tumbling from the fabric to rain down at her feet. Flecked with snow, she looked like a storybook princess, too beautiful to be real and too good to want to be with a man like him.

That didn’t stop him from hoping.

“We had our own Christmas celebration. I got a lot of beautiful things for the hope chest I don’t have.” The lantern light found her, bathing her with its luminous glow. She tripped forward to lay her bundle and bag on the grain-barrel lid. “My tatted doilies and matching snowflake ornaments were very well received. Why don’t I finish the chores? You have had a hard week, Ian.”

“One I am grateful for. I have a good-paying job.” He winced at the signs of exhaustion on her face—the shadows smudging the porcelain skin beneath her eyes, and the strain etched into her forehead. He shoved his hand in his pocket to resist the urge to try to smooth them away. All he wanted was to draw her into his arms and shelter her, hold her until she understood everything was going to be all right. “I will finish the barn work, lass. But first, there’s something I want to give you.”

“You mean, like a gift?”

“It
is
Christmas Eve.” A dapper man would know what to say to win her heart. A smart man would know the right way to let her go. But as he was neither dapper nor smart, he pulled the train ticket from his coat pocket. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”

“I don’t understand.” She took the first-class permit, staring at it as if she didn’t know how to read. “You want me to go and fetch your grandmother?”

“No, pretty girl.” He cradled her chin in his palm, unable to hold back the tidal force of his affection. “This is to take you anywhere you want. I am not going to make you marry me. You are free to go.”

“But the farm. Your grandmother paid my da—”

“That she did.” He prayed she would never know how hard this was for him, all that he had given up for her. “Your father and I have come to final terms this afternoon and there will be no marriage. You need never worry about being forced to live your mother’s life. You and Flannigan are free.”

“Flannigan?” Her lower lip trembled; he rubbed the pad of his thumb along her plump bottom lip.

“He is yours. I paid your father for him.”

“But your wages were to go for your mares.” Instead of the joy he expected, her sorrow deepened, and the shadows swallowed her, as if she had lost the last bit of hope.

“What is wrong?” Her sadness splintered him into pieces. “You promised to take him with you. I heard you tell him so the day he tried to run away.”

“But what about you, Ian?”

“My dreams have changed.” If he had thought her beauty great before, it was nothing to her comeliness as the lantern light flared. He knew how that light felt, unable to let go, unable to keep her. “Some things in life are not to be, no matter how much you want them. If I can’t have what I wish, then you will have your happiness.”

He could not help it, he was a besotted man and he wanted her to feel—not just to know—how he cared for her. He leaned forward and brushed her mouth with his. Sweeter than Christmas candy, that kiss, and he savored it—savored her—before he moved away. The memory of it was the last he would have of her.