A Rush of Wings (28 page)

Noelle took it. “That's good.”

“For a twelve-year-old.” Morgan hung it on the tree.

So far the entire box had held homemade ornaments, and one after another the family members claimed their own work and found places on the tree to display anything from yarn and crayon shapes to the cross-stitch designs Therese and Stephanie had completed this year.

With a children's choir singing “The Coventry Carol,” the smell of freshly cut pine, and laughter and banter, the box emptied and Noelle's heart swelled. These were not crystal and gilt ornaments such as she'd seen in Tiffany's. There was no champagne, no hors d'oeuvres, no chamber orchestra, designer gowns, or tuxedos.

These were real people, enjoying their memories and each other, and including her. It was unlike even her memory of Christmas before her mother died. There, all had been festive and glittering but not touchable. She unwrapped a Popsicle-stick cross with “I love Jesus” painted down the front.

She was surprised when Morgan took it from her and hung it on the tree. She pictured him making it as a little boy, before he'd rejected the faith it symbolized. Celia, too, watched him hang it. Though it didn't show in her face, Noelle guessed at the disappointment she must feel. Her son was thirty-one years old and so far from the child who had painted those words on a cross. For a moment, Noelle wondered if Morgan was happier now.

Noelle reached in, but the box was empty. Rick helped her up and stepped her back three paces. “What do you think?” He curled his arm around her waist, provoking Morgan, she was sure, but it couldn't be intentional, not by Rick.

She looked at the tree with colored lights twinkling, handmade ornaments filling the gaps, and cheap silver tinsel dangling where Tara had tossed it in her traditional role. “I think it's charming,” she said.

Morgan shrugged into his coat and went out. No one discussed his absence at dinner, but Noelle noticed Hank left the front door unlocked when he closed up for the night. He looked resigned. Was Celia?

Recalling their conversation, Noelle guessed not.
“I don't want him at odds with God.”
She'd been talking about Rick, but she must feel the same for Morgan. She pictured Celia on her knees. What would prayers lifted by a mother's love accomplish? Could a divine being be swayed by a fervent plea? And what could God do, anyway, if Morgan was in control?

N
oelle startled awake at Rick's touch on her arm. Only the pale dawning light filtered into the room, and Therese still slept soundly in the other bed. He held a finger to his lips, then whispered, “Dress warmly and meet me on the porch.”

He went out and Noelle washed and dressed in jeans and a sweater, then pulled on a coat from the closet and went out. Rick waited in sheepskin coat and Stetson. With the rosy glow of winter sky behind him and the white cloud of his breath as he leaned on the porch post, she stopped just to look. He turned, looped her neck with a scarf, and pulled her close. They kissed, then he wrapped the scarf and handed her some mittens.

“What's all this?” She tugged the red knitted mittens on.

“You'll see.” He took her hand and led her down the stairs. “Last night's snow should help.”

“Help what?” Her feet crunched on the old snow now covered with a fine powder. The brilliance of the sparkles dazzled her eyes as the dawning sun crested the horizon.

Rick wrapped her in his arm as they walked to the barn. It was so natural a motion, it hardly surprised her anymore. And without Morgan looking on, she indulged in its comfort. Smiling, Rick pulled open the door, then stepped aside.

She caught her breath. “Rick! A sleigh!”

“What would you say to a good old-fashioned sleigh ride?” He looked like a boy with his first set of wheels, and he had obviously not
expected an argument. The large black stallion was already hitched and shook its jingle-bell harness. “A little birthday magic.”

She turned, startled. It was her birthday. With everything else—all the Christmas activity and then the worry with Morgan—she'd forgotten. But Rick hadn't. She caught his hand. “Don't tell anyone. I don't want them making a fuss.”

“Our secret.” He lifted her in and pulled the lap quilt over her knees. Noelle smiled as the horse lurched forward, ringing the bells with every prance. As the sleigh glided out of the barn, the wind blew a powdery spray of snow, and she pulled up the scarf Rick had wrapped on her neck.

He nodded. “Don't let the cold get to your lungs.”

“I'm fine.”

“You'd say that regardless.” He reached over and tugged the lap blanket higher.

“No, I wouldn't.”

“Yes, you would.” The shadow of his hat cut across the bridge of his nose and arced down over his cheeks.

“If I were still sick, I'd say so.”

“Okay.”

She tossed her hands into her lap. “I hate it when you do that.”

“What?”

“Say ‘okay' as though you know you're right but you'll concede the point for sheer graciousness.”

He chuckled. “I am right. But I'll graciously concede the point.”

“You're smug.”

“So you've told me.” Rick urged the horse through the gate, which led to the pastures, then out across the fields. The harness had the larger jingle bells that made a varied, throaty song as the horse bobbed along to the top of a gentle slope where Rick brought the sleigh around. He stopped, and she looked out at his father's ranch spread below them: broad, rolling hills sparkling in the new snow, the skating pond with the willows that hugged its edges, stoic and bare. A starling called and received a distant reply, then took wing over the pond. The horse snorted, just tinkling the bells.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed. “We could be a Currier and Ives print, only you need a top hat.”

He grinned. “A suit I'll do, but no top hat.”

“It's not much different from your Stetson.”

He circled the reins around the hook on the rim of the sleigh.
“Different enough. A Stetson serves a purpose, keeps the sun off when there's work to do.”

She flicked the brim with her middle finger. “You just like how you look in it, all western and macho.”

“Do you?” His eyes took on that warm molasses look, and her breath quickened.

Of course she did. His looks had not stood out to her when they met, only his persona. Even now she couldn't say he was the handsomest man she knew, but somehow he was. “Yes.”

He took off the hat, held it behind her head, and kissed her. Her heart swelled with love, full and uncomplicated. She exulted in his touch, ardent but undemanding. He drew out her response without forcing his own. He gave himself and freed her. He cupped her face in his gloved hands. “You're the only woman I've ever kissed, aside from Mom, and believe me, that wasn't the same.”

She believed him.

“I want you to know why.”

She looked into his face. Only Rick could look so serious.

“God made the human heart with a huge hole that only He could fill. All my life it's been pretty easy for me to keep that in sight. I know it's hard for you to understand, but it pleases me to worship and obey the Lord.”

Did he think that didn't show? That she hadn't seen it in his reverence?

“The other thing I've been pretty sure of is that if the Lord had someone for me to spend my life with, He'd bring me that person.”

Noelle glanced to the side. “You didn't make it easy, holed up on the ranch, keeping to yourself.”

“You found it.”

She tugged the blanket tighter to her waist. “You couldn't have had too many choices. Only a handful of single women came up all summer.”

“I didn't want choices. Only the one God had for me from the beginning.”

He couldn't be saying what it sounded like. Yes, his love touched the wounded places, but a worm of fear still ate her.

“I wouldn't say any of this lightly. I hope you know that.”

“You don't say anything lightly.” She threw him a smile, but it didn't break his intensity.

“Not when it's the most important thing I've ever asked anyone.”

Her throat constricted painfully.

“Yesterday you asked me what we should do. I didn't have an answer. But now I think I do.” He folded her hand into his and pressed it to his chest. “Will you marry me, Noelle?”

The blood pumped in her ears.
This is Rick. Rick
. But fear engulfed her, and she trembled, remembering Michael's proposal. She'd exulted, believing every word he said. And it was lies, all lies. She had sold her soul once; she couldn't do it again. Not even for Rick.

His voice was low. “I want a partner. I want to share my life . . . with you.”

Michael's hands like talons on her arms. “Who is it, Noelle?”

“No one. There's no one else.” The blow across her face.

“You're lying! You couldn't do this unless you had someone else.” Another blow
.

She shuddered and closed her eyes. Her words came short and fast. “Rick, please understand. It's not you. You know that.”

He dropped his chin. “I know that hurt won't go away until you let it.”

“I don't know how.”

He pulled her gently into his arms. “Let me love you. Let God do the rest.” Raising her chin, he kissed her.

Her emotions warred inside. What if God were as real as the warmth of Rick's arms, the strength of his kiss? What if He could do all Rick believed? Opening her mind to that thought brought an awesome calm. Her trembling stopped. In its absence, she realized how completely fear had permeated her. Without it she felt empty, new. She imagined herself living at the ranch, helping Rick, raising horses and children. Lots of children, just like Celia. Hope sprang up in her heart. Rick's children . . .

He laid his forehead against hers. “Marry me, Noelle.”

It was radical, daring, impossibly impetuous. It was facing down the dragon and stabbing with all her might. “Yes,” she whispered.

He stared into her eyes, then suddenly he rose to his feet and threw out his arms. “Ye-e-s!” His yell rang over the hills, and she stood up beside him in the sleigh, laughing. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her again.

Lord, you've put her in my hands. You've given me her love. She's the one you made for me. Thank you, Father.
Rick closed his arms around her. He kissed her eyes, her temple, her hair. “Let's spend the day alone.”

Her brows rose. “In the sleigh?”

“It's a little cold for that. We'll go to town, pick out your ring.” The symbol that would seal their promise.

A shadow passed over her face, but she nodded. “Okay.”

He squeezed her. “Good. I don't want to share you with a single sister.” He didn't add “or brother.” And he didn't want to think about it. Morgan had had his chance.

Rick tucked her back in, and they rode to the barn, then took the truck into town. Everything was dressed with garland and ribbons. With Noelle under his arm, he strolled the streets toward the jewelry store that might have a ring she would like. But before they reached it, Noelle pointed. “Rick, there's a gallery.”

He saw her eager expression. “Want to look?”

She tugged his arm. “Of course I want to look.”

Art was important to her. Naturally, she'd want to see what the gallery held. Or was she simply delaying the ring selection? Had he pushed too hard, too fast? He cautioned himself to be patient, as patient as guiding the first awkward steps of a foal. She could have said no, but she had accepted. Give her the chance to get comfortable with the thought. As she scrutinized one painting after another, he walked beside her, unaffected by most of what he saw but willing to participate.

She stopped in front of a watercolor bridge and got that absorbed look in her eyes. “That one's good, don't you think?”

“I like it.”

She reached toward it. “Look at the way this line brings the eye up the page, then fades and lets this curve draw it back down.”

He watched her fingers stroke the air.

“The way this shadow compliments that shine.”

Her nails were narrow ovals with pale crescents at their bases. But her left hand looked bare. He said, “It's nice.”

She looked at him, annoyed. He had obviously not shown enough enthusiasm.

“I'm sorry, Noelle. I'm not an art critic. I can tell you if I like it but not much else.”

She cocked her head. “What if it were a horse?”

“Then I'd tell you all you need to know.” He clasped her in his arms. “I might even buy it.”

“Then buy this.”

“No.”

She pouted. “Why not? Your walls are bare. There's not a picture in the ranch.”

“I'll hang your paintings. And you can put flowers in all the water pitchers, and anything else you want.”

She dangled her head back. “Plaid throws for the couches in the main room, coordinating window treatments, a floral spray above the mantel . . .”

He kissed her forehead. “Leave me something.”

“You can do the barn.”

His growl made her laugh. Her laugh touched him deep inside. The Lord was opening her heart whether she knew it or not. It had been impulsive and perhaps precipitous, proposing marriage in so short a time. But he was sure it was right. Her answer only confirmed it.

“Come on.” He led her into the jewelry store, to the counter that held wedding sets. “See anything you like?” Probably nothing such as she'd find in Manhattan. Maybe they should wait, find a better store, a better collection. “Don't settle for one if nothing suits you.”

“This is nice.” She pointed to an elegant square-cut diamond held between the curved prongs of the band. It was simple but unusual.

“That's my best stone.” The hovering clerk came closer.

Did he just say that, or had Noelle instinctively chosen quality?

“Would you like to see it?”

Rick nodded. He didn't recognize the man, but he hadn't spent much time in jewelry stores during his time in town. The clerk handed him the ring. Rick studied its elegant line. She could choose the gaudiest cluster ring in the case for all he cared. What mattered is what it meant. But this one was lovely.

He took her hand and slipped it on her finger. A little loose, but beautiful. Their eyes met. “Do you like it?”

She nodded, more tense than she'd been a moment ago.

“Do you want to wait?”

She shook her head.

Rick slid the ring off her finger, handed it to the clerk. “Can you size it?”

“My partner's in the back. He's got a couple orders he's working on for Christmas. Sizing this shouldn't take more than an hour or two.”

Rick nodded. “Ring it up.” He glanced at Noelle. “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

He circled her in his arm. “Let's make a pact right from the start to always tell the truth.”

She dropped her chin. “The truth?” Her liquid eyes came up and filled his senses. “I'm terrified.”

He drew her gently to him, kissed the crown of her head, his own heart sinking inside. “You want to reconsider?” Relief flooded as she shook her head under his chin.

“I'm tired of being afraid. I want to make my own decisions.”

Not exactly the reason to commit your life to someone. A serious check seized his spirit. Was he supposed to talk her out of it, now that he'd exulted in the promise? “You have to know it's right.” That was the best he could do.

“That's your department.” She managed a smile.

The weight of what he'd done pressed hard. She trusted him to know.
Lord, I'm walking forward
. He wanted this more than anything he'd ever known, more than his land, his livelihood. Noelle had come to him. A gift. He nodded. “Trust me.”

Her smile reached her eyes. “I do.”

“Let's get some food.”

After eating, they returned to the store and this time the ring fit her finger and stayed there. A surge of pride and exultation filled his chest. It would be all right. It was natural she'd be afraid, but he hadn't forced her decision. She'd made it herself.