Page 66 of A Late-Blooming Rose
Rose glanced out the window. After several days of being homebound, the idea of getting outside appealed to her. “Oh, very well.” She gave in with bad grace.
“Dress warmly,” he cautioned.
She lifted her eyebrows. “You think I don’t know that?”
He raised a hand in placation. “Allow me a protective impulse.”
I know where that behavior leads.
Not long after, the two were nestled inside the tiny sleigh, pulled by the two black Falabellas that Andre had bought for Micah.
The snowfall transformed the landscape along the street that she’d come to know well. Tree branches were frilled with white. Dry snow squeaked underneath the runners. Cold stung her nose and cheeks, but the hot bricks at her feet and heavy fur blanket kept her warm. Footsteps, hoof prints, and a few lines of sled-runners marred the smooth run of the empty road.
Leaning sideways to look more closely, Rose saw the tracks of birds and animals, probably up and about their business before the humans ventured outside. “It’s so quiet,” she said in a soft voice. “I mean, after living in the cacophony of New York, Sweetwater Springs is already quiet. But this is different—a hush over the land.”
“Snow muffles a lot of the sounds. I find this winter wonderland soothing.”
Andre’s voice was low, too, and she wondered if the beauty and peace of the setting was having the same effect on him.
A red cardinal, perched on the branch of a pine tree, ruffled its feathers, sending snow showering just as the sled passed underneath. Droplets spattered Rose’s cheeks, and she laughed behind her scarf and shook her head to dislodge them.
Toward them came a shiny black sleigh pulled by a showy white horse. Both the driver and his female passenger waved, and then the man slowed his horse to a stop until the sleds were even.
Andre halted the Falabellas.
The driver looked down from his higher perch. “Lovely day for a sleigh ride, Mr. Bellaire. Amazing that those tiny fellas can pull the two of you.”
“Indeed, Mr. Masters,” Andre said in a jovial tone. “But we’re only going a short ways.”
“We haven’t had a chance to meet your guest, but we’ve heard who she is. Miss Collier, this is my lovely bride, Marian.”
The woman had a heart-shaped face and translucent blue eyes. She blushed, smiled, and then leaned across her husband’s lap to talk to them. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Collier. Our wedding was ten months ago, so I don’t think I qualify as a bride anymore.” She straightened.
Mr. Masters glazed down at his wife, his expression full of love. “You’ll always be my bride.”
Watching them made Rose feel a deep ache of envy.I want a relationship like they have!She glanced at Andre, but he was staring at the couple. She bit her lip.I must stop hoping. I’m only hurting myself.
Mrs. Masters leaned forward again. “Miss Collier, I’ve heard you’re soliciting books for the library.”
Rose brought her mind back to business and nodded.
“Indeed, we are.”
“Put us down for five.” Mr. Masters transferred the reins back into both hands. “Whatever ones you need. When the time comes, I’ll order them or give you the money and you can place the order, whichever works better. Now, we must drive on. Our grandson is skating at the pond, and we need to pick him up.” He flicked the reins.
“Most generous,” Rose said with a smile. “Thank you.”
With a blithe wave from Mrs. Masters, the other sled moved on.
Rose expected Andre to do likewise, but he kept his hands still on the reins. “What?”
“A year ago, Elias Masters was called the Miser of Sweetwater Springs, and Marian Hutchinson was a widow, struggling to bring up a grandson after the death of her only daughter and son-in-law. Story was…Elias courted her many years ago, until they had a fierce quarrel, and she up and married someone else. Now look at them.” Andre shook his head and finally glanced at her. “Guess some lucky people get second chances.” His tone suggested he and Rose weren’t so lucky.
His attitude is too cavalier.Resentment began to boil inside her. Rose lifted her chin, indicating the street. “We’d best be going,” she said in clipped tones.
Rose wanted to say more, to spill out every angry thought she’d had for almost a quarter of a century. She clenched her hands tightly together, lest she begin screaming like a banshee. The town would think their librarian had lost her mind, and she’d speedily become theirformerlibrarian.
He hesitated and then flicked the reins, his jaw tense. The Falabellas started forward.
