Page 90 of A Forgotten Heart
It had never been more obvious than in those moments on the boardwalk. She hadn’t thought of Arnold once after Nick’s arrival. Her entire focus had been on Nick.
One corner of his mouth pulled in a chagrined smile. He closed the space between them. “I was hoping to hear something different. But, Elsie, friendship can be a great foundation for a marriage to be built on.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes again. She wanted more. She wanted love. “A friendship isn’t enough to sustain a marriage. Besides I…I want to continue teaching.” A choked laugh that sounded almost like a sob released from her throat. “I love everything about it.”
Arnold tapped his fingers on the nearest desk, thinking. “Your students will always grow up and leave you,” he said quietly. “A family—children of your own—is something I know you want.”
His words sent a pang through her. Only days ago, she’d dreamed of that. Being Nick’s wife. A family of her own. Finding a way to teach, even if she was married. She’d been foolish to dream that she could have both Nick and the job that she loved so dearly. Things didn’t work like that.
Arnold was a good friend. He knew the things she wanted. She just didn’t want those things with him.
“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” he said quickly, before she could refuse him a second time. “Give me a chance to win your heart.”
He set the ring on the nearby desk, then walked away, leaving her more confused than ever.
Chapter 18
The next morning, Nick tried not to think about anything at all. He shoved his arms through his coat, getting ready to go check the cattle. On Christmas morning. The job his family needed him to do.
He’d slept for only a few restless hours after he’d arrived late at night, the cabin cold and empty.
Now, the sun brimmed over the horizon, its light spilling through the winter cabin’s window. The single room with only a stove, a bed, and a chair, was bathed in the red glow of dawn.
The morning chill bit his skin, and he shivered. He banked the fire in the little stove so it’d be ready for him after a long day in the saddle.
Patch had been glued to Nick’s side since last night, watching his every move. Nick patted his head. “Ready to go count head?”
As he straightened, paper in Nick’s pocket crinkled.
He pulled out the folded stack of land papers.
He should probably do something with the deed before going out. He couldn’t risk damaging it. But as he pulled it out of his pocket, he stilled. Beneath the land papers was another paper.
He unfolded his application for teaching school. What-might-have-beens tore at his throat.
It was time to let go. Time to press forward and stop chasing rainbows. Pa had been right all those years ago.
Clenching his molars so tight they hurt, he swung open the iron stove’s door. The application in his fingers trembled, then he flung it in the fire.
Before emotions got the better of him, he turned toward his bed to safely store the land papers in his knapsack.
But as he reached beneath his bed, his hand brushed against a wooden crate.
What was this?
With a furrowed brow, he slid out a crate, but it didn’t contain his personal items. Instead, it contained piles and piles of books.
How had these gotten here?
He blinked hard, his head starting to pound. They were the books from when he and Ed had stayed up here several years ago. After his father had passed and they’d gained permission to run cattle on this land. Back when he’d still had dreams.
He hesitated before picking up one of the books.
McGuffey’s Fourth Eclectic Reader. He ran his hand over the spine. He’d been the only one in his class to be in the fourth reader. Most of his classmates had only made it to the second.
He opened to the title page, its script familiar.
He’d been so proud back then. What good had it amounted to?
