brushed snow off his hat, turning to head home. “Maybe God has been waiting all this time to bring the right woman into your life. He knows your heart.”
Then He knows my failings, Cole thought, watching the veil of snow close around the minister, stealing him from sight. The jingle of a harness speared his attention. The sight of his gelding clomping toward him, led by the stable worker, reminded him of where he was headed next. Home. There was no more delaying it. No more denying it.
He mounted up, riding bareback through the outskirts of town. The driving snow chilled him and hastened Frosty’s quick gait along the snowy road. When he’d proposed to Mercy, he’d imagined her to be hardened by the world, weary of hardship, content to find the sanctuary of a convenient marriage and a good home. From her letters, she’d sounded like a practical, no-nonsense kind of lady. A good mother, gently spoken, proper to a fault.
Just what he’d been wanting. Instead, he’d gotten a beautiful young woman full of hopes and full of life. He could still picture her zipping down the hillside on Amelia’s sled, skirts flying. The music of her laughter, the pull of her heart on his, the way she’d dismantled half of his defenses with a single, caring touch. She was tearing his world apart.
Worse, he acknowledged as the countryside rolled by, she was tearing him apart.
The house came into view on the knoll just outside of town. The windows glowed golden with lamplight, drawing him like a candle in the darkness, the only light by which to see. He rode close enough to spy a figure pass in front of the kitchen window and linger.
Mercy. She must be preparing supper, he reasoned, noticing the way she leaned slightly forward, intent on a task before her. Light gleamed on her blond hair, polished the lovely curve of her cheek, highlighted her soft full bottom lip as she turned to smile at someone else in the room. Likely his daughter. Mercy’s face lit, radiating a mother’s love. Nothing could be more beautiful. His pulse stammered, affected, and his heart vibrated with agonizing pain.
It was too much. He tore his gaze away, dismounted and led Frosty into the barn. The horses, who’d retreated to their stalls for shelter from the storm, poked their heads over their gates to welcome him with neighs and nickers and curious eyes. Howie looked especially dapper, his brown gaze shining with happiness. Cole didn’t need to guess why. Clearly George had spent part of the day with him.
As he put up Frosty and closed the rest of the horses into the barn, he held himself as still as he could, letting his broken heart rest. No thinking of Mercy, or the wedding or the decision he had to make. He shook his head, bit his lip. How could he marry her like this? He could not be what she wanted, and he was sorry. Very sorry. He didn’t even know how to be the man of deep feeling he’d once been, when he’d been whole, when wife and baby hadn’t taken the best part of him with them. He was left with the shell of the man he used to be, and it was no good for anyone. Not Amelia, not George and especially not Mercy.
He’d wanted a wife to step in and be the parent he could not be, caring and involved, emotionally there for Amelia. At her age and with the changes of womanhood coming, she needed that. But he couldn’t endure a wife who reminded him of the emptiness within him, the hollow place that remained where his heart used to be. Where his love used to be.
He couldn’t endure the knowledge of what that would do to Mercy.
The minute he stepped foot outside the barn, closing the doors behind him, her light drew him through the storm. He tried not to look up; he tried not to be moved by her. The anguish inside him strengthened until it felt as if every bone he owned was breaking. Snow tapped against his hat, brushed his cheek, clung to his coat as he marched up the hill toward the house. The minister’s words stayed with him, too. She is a gift from God. A much-needed blessing for your life.
A blessing shouldn’t hurt, he thought, his mind reaching upward as if in prayer. The God he still believed in would not lead him to more pain.
He stepped into the fall of light from the front window. Standing on the steps, ready to knock the snow from his boots, he saw into the house. A green spruce tree stood proudly in the drawing room, grandly holding up paper chains and popcorn strings on its evergreen boughs. George went up on tiptoe to hang a paper snowflake by a yarn loop. The boy bit his bottom lip, button face scrunched up in thought, before choosing the exact spot he wanted for the decoration.
Amelia breezed into view, bubbly and bouncing, happier than he’d ever seen her. Relaxed, delighted, somehow more mature and elegant as she handed George another snowflake to hang. The boy took it gladly and the two of them contemplated where to place it. At their feet lay brightly wrapped presents tied up with ribbons and adorned with bows. The scene looked like something out of a Christmas dream.
This was Mercy’s doing, Cole thought, hand to his chest, grimacing at the soul-breaking crack of his heart. She was changing everything with her love and gentle kindness. Bringing life back to his house, bringing Amelia to her better self, making a home for her son.
Mercy waltzed into sight, resplendent in a new dress, obviously from Cora’s shop. The finely tailored garment, as red as a holly berry, skimmed her slender shape and brought out lustrous red tones in her blond hair. She looked taller somehow, as if no longer bowed down by hardship, her beauty more radiant. Joy polished her with a rare luster.
The sight of her changed him. The faint, muffled lilt of her laughter penetrated the walls and seemed to burrow within him, touching his agonized heart. He swore he felt a hand on his shoulder, a touch of reassurance, but when he looked there was no one there, nothing but the snow.
The rending of his heart deepened. It felt as if he were breaking all the way to the bottom of his soul. He splayed a hand against the siding, holding himself up when the pain became excruciating. Tears burned behind his eyes, and he realized it was not tears, but feeling. Emotion, raw and pure and true. The last stone walls around his heart fell, tumbling and crashing into bits, leaving the broken emptiness within him exposed.
“Cole.” Mercy’s voice, muffled by the wall, drew him, and when he looked up she was crossing toward the door, her loving smile the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Or felt.
The door whisked open, and the warmth and light of home tumbled over him like grace. Mercy smiled up at him. “You’re home.”
“Pa!” two children cried out, turning to run at him, pounding across the room.
But his attention remained on Mercy, her quiet welcome saying so much more. When her hand lit on his sleeve, he felt everything. The gentle weight of her touch, the impact of her caring, the potential of her love. The world was no longer filled with ice and snow, but with merriment and hope, with children running to throw their arms around him and pull him into the house, talking over one another telling him about their day and the tree and the decorations.
The sensation lifted from his shoulder, leaving him alone, his heart whole. He realized the pain had been his heart coming to life, that he was no longer empty. That the pain was gone and Mercy was there, so he took hold of her hand. Her surprised gaze met his and without words, without the need for them, he knew she felt with her heart what he could not say.
Christmas Eve
“Look, Ma!” Amelia breathed incredulously at the blaze of lights gleaming through the church’s windows as the sleigh eased to a stop at the hitching post. “Everyone must have come for the wedding, just
