Homespun Bride

Jillian Hart259* * *Noelle listened to the rain sing against the parlorwindow. The wind lifted and fell like a cello’s hauntingtones. The limbs of the hawthorn tree outside thewindow rubbed against the eaves with a tuba’s lownotes. The fire in the hearth crackled in counterpointto the gusts of wind and beat of rain. It was a hauntingsymphony, one that spoke of sorrow and regret.Regret for the lost years between them. Regret thatshe never had a voice in Thad’s decision to leave.Regret at the years she’d wasted. Regret that therewould be only wasted years ahead without real love.She swiped the last of her tears from her eyes. Sheknew for certain that she would love only Thad forever.I’m hoping for a wife one day. Someone who sees life theway I do. You work hard, try to do what’s right and atthe end of the day rest up for another hard day on theranch. Her blindness separated them more successfullythan her parents’ had. There was no solution to that.She heard her cousin’s hurried gait well before thedoor opened on a chorus of wind.“That rain is cold.” Matilda shut the door behind her,dripping water on the floor. There was a rustle as if shewere shedding her sodden wraps and her shoessquished wetly on the floor coming closer. “I need tosit by the fire and warm up. Papa said maybe we’re infor a spot of good luck. This could be a warming spellthat brings us an early spring.”“I hope so.” Noelle prayed her voice sounded normaland feared that it didn’t. “Then you can take me forrides in the buggy. How did your driving lesson go?”“Fine. We rode up to the waterfall and back. It’sroaring with all the snowmelt and rain.”