Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,21
too late. The words were already out, her secret already spoken.
“Where do you keep the kerosene?” He moved through the darkness, his uneven gait commanding.
It took her a moment to realize the lantern had sputtered out. “Here, on the shelf, but there isn’t much left in the can.”
“It will be enough.” He stood beside her, close enough to touch. “You work for wages in town, too?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to.” She shivered, not only from the chill air driving through the unceiled board walls. “Ian, you won’t say anything to them.”
“To your parents? No, I will not.”
“Good. It will be our secret.” She glanced upward into the dark rafters and thought of her savings buried there. An uncontrollable urge to go check on it rolled through her, and she fisted her hands. She could not do so now, not with Ian here.
“What sort of work do you do? Wait, let me guess.” His voice smiled, making her wish she could see the shape that grin took on his face. His boots padded across the barn. “You sew.”
“How did you know?”
“The extra sewing basket in the empty stall.” His footsteps silenced and the lantern well squeaked as it was opened. “I noticed it when I was putting up the horses. You come out here after supper and sew when you can.”
“Some afternoons and most evenings.” She wrapped her arms around her middle like a shield. “I realized that without my brother, I was as good as on my own. If I wanted something better than my life here, I had to work for it.”
A match flared to life like a spark of hope. Although darkness surrounded him, the light bathed him in an orange-gold glow as he closed the glass chimney and carefully put out the match. The single flame struggled to live and then grew, brightening like a blessing on the cold winter’s night, a blessing that touched her deep inside. Even standing in the shadows, she did not feel alone.
“Now that our agreement is broken, you are free to marry someone else.” He came toward her empty-handed, except for his cane on which he leaned heavily. There was no disguising the tight white lines digging into his forehead.
Was he in pain? The new, gentle light within her remained, growing stronger with every step he took. She didn’t know what was happening or why she felt as if the vast barn were shrinking and the high rafters coming down to close her in. Everything felt small—she felt small—as Ian opened the stall gate next to her.
Realizing he was waiting for her answer, she cleared her throat. “I don’t want to be any man’s wife.”
“You don’t want to marry?”
“No. I’ve always dreaded the notion. Our betrothal has been hanging over my head since I was a little girl.”
“Were you that frightened of me?” His fingers brushed a stray curl from her face. “I hate to think the thought of me worried you all these years.”
“Yes. No.” She swallowed; her throat had gone unusually thick. Her thoughts scrambled, too, and she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say. The caress of his thumb against her temple could soothe away a bushel of her fears, and the way he towered over her made her feel safe, as if nothing could hurt her. “I don’t want my mother’s life.”
“Aye, I can understand that.” He pushed the strand of hair behind her ear. “What about children? Don’t you want a family?”
“I want a real family more than anything.” The truth lifted through her, a force she could not stop around Ian McPherson. “When I was a little girl, I would pray every night as hard as I could for God to use His love to heal my family. To make my mother smile and to want to hug me, and to make my father kind. But, as you can see, it did not work. Apparently God’s love cannot fix everything that is broken here on earth.”
“And that makes you afraid to believe.”
“If God’s love is not strong enough to heal what’s wrong, how could a mere man’s be?”
“That’s a puzzle I can’t answer.” He withdrew his hand, but the connection remained. “There is a lot wrong in this earthly life and more challenges than a man feels he can face. But I believe God will make it right in the end. Maybe you will find your family one day, Fiona.”
A family? She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to keep a