The Visions of Ransom Lake (21 page)

Vaden looked to her aunt.

Myra’s frown deepened. “What are ya tryin’ to say, Ransom?” she asked. She was tentative in her question, as if she feared the answer.

“
Well, I…Myra, I…” he stammered.

“
It’s obvious, Auntie!” Yvonne interrupted. “He’s feeling bad about not being properly dressed, can’t you see?” Vaden glanced at her sister. “Isn’t that it, Vaden?” Yvonne prodded.

Vaden wondered why Yvonne would defend Ransom Lake so.

“
Yes. He did have his arms around me on the way home, Auntie,” Vaden confirmed. “It was so terribly cold. He only meant to keep me warm.”

Ransom Lake looked at her, a frown of disbelief puckering his brow. “But, Myra, I…” he stammered, unable to find his words, for the emotion of surprise seemingly stifled his thoughts.

“
For pity’s sake, Ransom Lake!” Myra exclaimed, throwing her arms around the man and hugging him gratefully. “Do ya honestly think that would worry us at a time like this?”

“
Myra, I—”he began, but Vaden stepped between him and her aunt and met his confused gaze.

“
Thank you, Mr. Lake, for…for coming for me this evening.” And having thanked Ransom Lake for the last time she intended, she turned and entered the house, a worried Yvonne following closely at her heels.

“
Thank ya, Ransom,” Myra whispered. “Thank ya so much. How did ya know? When ya came here…how did ya know?”

Vaden paused just inside the house and listened, for she too still wondered at how the man knew where to look for her.

“
I guessed who might be up to no good tonight and where they might be at it,” he mumbled as he mounted his horse.

For one instant, Vaden nearly turned to rush to him, to plead with him to stay with her, to hold her safely in his arms again. But now even the zealous Vaden Valmont wouldn’t dare to do that, for she had changed in that one late hour. She had changed. Vaden Valmont would never see the world as sweetly rosy and wonderful again. Tragedy, violence, cruelty, and severe, unhealable heartache had irreversibly wounded her this night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Vaden stood at her bedroom window, staring out but looking at nothing. She didn’t think of the beauty of the white, frosty flakes of snow floating through the air during the soft flurry occurring outside. She didn’t evoke a line of lovely poetry from her memory to recite in their honor. She didn’t think of their beauty because she didn’t see their beauty. She didn’t see anything as she stared silently out. She didn’t see the Wimber children run past on their way into the mercantile to ask if their beloved Miss Vaden could tell a story. She didn’t hear their disappointed groans as Myra sent them away with a, “She’s not herself today children.” She didn’t care if the trees had lost their leaves, their branches flocked in glistening frost. She didn’t care whether her Aunt Myra had made a heavenly apple pie for dessert. She didn’t care if Yvonne thought her ignorant, didn’t care if her Uncle Dan wore a perpetual frown of worry on his face on her behalf. She didn’t care that Jerome Clayton dropped into the mercantile four different times that day to ask Yvonne how Vaden was faring. And although she heard Ransom Lake’s voice drifting down the hall from her aunt’s parlor as even he inquired about her well-being, she was too stunned, still too unbelieving of what had happened three nights before, too filled with heartbreak to sneak into the hall and have a peek at he who was such a wondrous attraction.

For there was an inner struggle to face a new day, to breathe, to find the radiant love of life again battling within Vaden Valmont. The horrors that could be in the world had touched her—damaged her emotions and mind. That people could think to be so cruel to another person and then to find humor, amusement, in someone’s terror was beyond comprehension to her. Vaden, who had always seen the shiny side of the coin, who had always seen the beauty in the world and the good in people, now found herself struggling to find any beauty, any good. Vaden, who had believed that true and destined love could be hers, had been shown that it could not. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone for three days. She’d said yes and no when it was absolutely necessary but no other verbal indications. Her smile had faded, and the sparkle of delight in life had dulled and was gone from her beautiful eyes.

“
Ransom Lake is here to inquire about you, Vay,” Yvonne whispered as she entered the room. “Surely you’ll come out for him.”

Vaden only continued to stare out the window, for not only was she facing heartbreak where Ransom Lake was concerned but it seemed the only emotion left to her, felt by her, was humiliation. And she felt it deeply each time she thought of her attempt at capturing the man for her own that night in the wagon bed. How could she ever face him again? What he must think of her!

Yvonne sighed and began wringing her hands mercilessly. She worried desperately for her sister. She even blamed herself, feeling that somehow her constant nagging at Vaden to see reality in the world had caused this to happen to her precious sister—to squelch that delighted joy in life Vaden possessed and spread to everyone who knew her. “Come on, Vay. We could hurry and get you dressed. I mean, he did rescue you from…oh, Vay, won’t you even come out to see Mr. Lake?”

The single spark of happiness, of joy, in Vaden’s heart did glimmer at the thought of him. In fact, it began to burn with a renewed brightness, but as Vaden reminisced again of the humiliation she now felt at having been found by Ransom Lake in such a state as she had been, having acted as she had, she buried the glow and only spoke softly to Yvonne. “Tell him…tell him I thank him. I thank him more than he can ever know.” She was silent again as she unlatched the window and opened it. Perhaps the cold, crisp air of November, of approaching winter, would clear her mind of the horrid memories and the battle raging within her.

“
Oh, Vay,” Yvonne sighed. But she knew it was futile to try further, so she left the room.

Vaden closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the cool air entering her room through the open window. She felt the snowflakes alight on her cheeks, nose, lips, and eyelashes and tried to enjoy the feel of their moisture as they melted against the warmth of her skin. She inhaled deeply again, struggling with everything she was to find a scent of loveliness on the air—something to fill her lungs and chase away the smell of pine and dirt, to drive from her mind the feel of a dirty handkerchief at her mouth, of the ropes that had bound her arms and feet rendering her helpless—something to gladden her broken heart.

And then, as if by magic, a tear escaped her softly closed eyes as a faint scent of a thing beloved and familiar did tickle her senses. It was the scent of shaving soap, of leather gloves, of horsehair and saddles, mingled with the fragrance of freshly baked bread. Myra had been baking bread, and Vaden had been breathing the comforting aroma for some time. But now it seemed stronger, closer somehow, and she opened her eyes to behold the enchanting vision of Ransom Lake standing before her. He stood just outside her window looking in at her, his expression plain and indiscernible, a loaf of Myra’s freshly baked bread wrapped securely in a cloth and tucked beneath his arm.

He put a fist to his mouth as he coughed several times before he frowned and barked firmly, “Snap out of it, girl.”

Vaden parted her lips to try to say something, but no sound could be forced from her throat, for she did not know what to say to him. He coughed again, reached through the window, and took her chin determinedly in his gloved hand.

“
Don’t let it beat ya down. Don’t let one bad thing in life beat the warmth of your heart into the dirt. You’ll lose it forever if ya don’t buck up now. I know the fact of that.” Ransom Lake tugged at Vaden’s chin in his hand, and she leaned out the window toward him. The house’s foundation being only a foot or less from the ground put her gaze nearly level with his, and the warmth of his breath on her face caused Vaden’s heart to begin racing with excitement once more. His face was so near to hers as he stared intently into her eyes that were she to move less than one more inch forward, she might have accidentally been blessed with a taste of his lips, and it thrilled her. She scolded herself inwardly for even thinking of it, for she knew now the consequences of acting so boldly.

“
Rein in, girl. Don’t let it get the better of ya. Next time I’m out this way, I want that spark for life back in your eyes. Ya hear me?” Then he released her, coughed twice more, and, as quickly as he had appeared before her, was walking away down the alley.

Vaden watched him walk away through the flurry of snowflakes, and the glow of love left in her did not fade away but rather stayed, warming her bosom some. She knew it was the feeling of love for the man Ransom Lake that had kept her from completely losing herself. Even if he would never love her, she did love him, and she had been his friend at least. He had said so himself. And that was something. She put her hand out the window then and caught several flakes of snow on her palm.

“
They are charming bits of loveliness,” she mumbled to herself. Her attention was arrested by a small boy running down the street. He twisted and turned as he went, his face turned upward, his mouth open wide and tongue hanging out as he tried to catch the frozen particles of moisture in his mouth. At watching the child’s carefree joy, the corners of Vaden’s mouth turned up slightly for the first time in days.

Myra radiated her joy from every pore as Vaden, fully dressed and feature of face relaxed from frowning, sat down to supper with the rest of the family that evening.

“
Are you…are you feeling better, sweet pea?” she asked.

Vaden smiled and said, “I will. I know I will, Auntie.”

Myra sighed with relief.

There was no reference made to anything too important during supper, and Vaden knew the family was being sensitive to her tender emotions. Dan discussed trivial things about the stock and neighbors, and Myra complained about the condition of her bread, its imperfections caused from having the oven too hot or too cool.

Then, just after dinner as the family was retiring to the parlor, there came a loud knock at the door. Yvonne responded to it and returned momentarily with a small wooden box in hand.

“
This was on the front porch,” Yvonne announced as she entered the parlor. “It’s got a paper here with your name printed on it, Vaden. Rather sloppily if I do say so. Perhaps one of your little fairy tale lovers has left it.”

Vaden reached out, taking the small box from Yvonne. Removing the envelope from its place on top of the box, she placed it on her lap and opened the envelope that simply had
Miss Vaden Valmont
written on it.

“
To Vaden
,” she read from the small piece of paper within. “That’s all it says,” she added, looking at the back of the paper just in case.

“
What is it?” Myra asked, now curious as well and coming to stand beside her niece.

Vaden opened the box, and there, beneath a layer of white linen, lay several tan-colored objects that resembled some sort of cookie.

“
Pralines!” Myra exclaimed! “Oh, they are
so
delicious! And I know of only one person in town who makes those. Sable Clayton!”

Vaden felt her heart immediately sink. “You mean you think…you think…Jerome Clayton left these for me?” she asked in disappointment.

“
Well,” Myra explained, sensing her niece’s rather odd disappointment, “Sable sells them too. I suppose someone could’ve purchased them and left them for ya.”

“
My, my, my, little sister,” Yvonne teased lovingly. “Your first secret admirer.”

Vaden did smile then, for whether or not she desired attention from Jerome, it was a romantic gesture. Picking up a piece of confection, she tasted for the first time the brown sugary, pecan blended flavor of the praline. “Mmmmm!” she sighed. “That is the best thing I’ve ever in my life eaten! Try this, Vonnie.”

Yvonne sighed and nodded. Carefully she broke off a small piece of the candy and placed it daintily on her tongue. “I’ve not tasted anything like that!” she admitted quite sincerely.

Vaden passed the small box around until Dan had taken two and Myra, scolding her husband for being greedy, had taken one. Then, when Myra had given the box back to Vaden, Vaden scowled as she noticed a piece of straw protruding from beneath the linen on which the candy sat. Carefully, so as not to damage the confection, she pulled back the linen and saw a rock nestled in a handful of straw.

“
That’s odd,” she murmured as she looked at it. “Why would the box be weighted with a rock?”

“
Perhaps he, whoever ‘he’ is, feared a wind would come up and blow the thing off the porch,” Yvonne offered.

But as Vaden lifted the linen and candy completely out of the box, she saw another note lying next to the rock. Carefully she drew out the second piece of paper and opened it, reading to herself.

“
For pity’s sake, Vay, what does it say?” Yvonne whined.

“
It says,
Hard, cold, and unfeeling to look at. But look inside. I’d like to see the smile that this will bring to your pretty face, for nothing on earth can match the beauty of your smile.
” Vaden, still too traumatized to be over flattered, frowned, though Myra and Yvonne both giggled with delight. “How can you look inside a rock?”