Gingham Bride (19 page)

It took all his strength to withdraw his fingers from her chin, to step back and hitch up his dignity. No sense letting the girl know how foolish in love he was with her. “Go follow your dream, Fiona.”

Chapter Nineteen

“W
hat about your grandmother’s money?” She could not think straight. The gentle bliss of Ian’s kiss had muddled her mind, and she could not gather it enough to make sense of what he was saying. She only knew that her father would not let her go out of any sense of Christmas spirit. “I can’t allow her to be swindled on my behalf. She was my grandmother’s best friend, I know the value of that bond. I do not want to dishonor their friendship. She has paid for the property. Did my father sign over the deed to you?”

“No, he did not.” The steely mask that Ian kept in place slid away, just a second’s weakness, and she saw the truth and felt it settle in her soul. The bond between them remained, stronger than ever, and she caught his hand with hers, his so much larger and capable of accomplishing so much. She thought of the horses he had been destined to train, champions yet to be proven, and his gentle horseman’s nature. He had sacrificed much for that future. She hated that it would be delayed again.

“There might be another farm? You have a good job. Is that what you are hoping for?”

“No. That road is no longer meant for me.” His fingers twined through hers, locking them together, and that felt like destiny, too. “I sent a draft to Nana to reimburse her for the money. The original offer was for you, not the land. Do you remember?”

“But you wanted the land.”

“No. I want you.”

To have her dream, she finished for him. To take the ticket and leave town, she told her impossibly rising hopes. Not because he loved her. He did not mean he wanted her and he loved her and he felt an endless, abiding devotion, too. Her lips tingled, proof of his kiss—goodbye? Was that why he had kissed her? As a farewell gesture?

Of course, it had to be. She stared at the ticket in her hand. She was the one holding on to him. She was the one with lead feet, unable to move. Wasn’t she the one who had fallen? And yet his grip tightened, his fingers clutching hers. As if he did not want to let go.

Hope lifted on wings within her. All the things he had done for her, all that he had said came back to her anew.

“Where did you get the money?”

“I sold my mares, all but Duchess.” His throat worked, and his granite mask was back in place. Only the tic of tension in his set jaw revealed the cost of that decision.

“You sold your thoroughbreds? No. I don’t believe it.” She couldn’t make her brain accept it. “You couldn’t have. They mean everything to you.”

“Not everything.” Tender, those words, and layered with something more, something deeper. “I did it for you, Fiona.”

“For me?” A terrible cracking rent through her, the last of her denial, the last of her old, useless beliefs she had been clinging to. That there were no noble men, that no man would love her, that she did not believe in love. Those notions shattered like glass, their shards landing on the dirt at her feet, useless and impossible to pick up. Falsehoods she could no longer believe in.

“Midweek I sent a telegram to my friend, the one keeping what was left of my herd.” No sorrow rang in the deep notes of his voice. Only peace. “Jack was happy to buy them.”

What did she believe in? Ian. She believed in his noble heart, in his compassionate spirit and in the love polishing him in the lantern’s coppery light.

“You have to get them back.” She tore her hand from his, whirling away. “This isn’t right, what you’ve done.”

“What isn’t right about it? It is the best thing for you.”

“But what about you?” She had been prepared to care for her parents, find a job in town to help support them and do her share of the work forever, if it meant Ian could have his land. Was it too late to give him what he wanted most? What he deserved? “If you take Flannigan right now and hurry to town, you can make it before the depot closes. You can send a wire and get your mares back.”

“Dear, sweet Fiona.” He came to her, both comfort and might. No sorrow shadowed his gaze, for there was a greater emotion, one pure enough that nothing could mask it. “Do not be so upset for me. I am glad to do this. I have been able to pay the last of my grandparents’ debts. My burden is lighter.”

“But I could see them here, those beautiful horses like Duchess grazing in these perfect green fields, their coats of every color gleaming in the sunshine. And you—” Her breath hitched, betraying her sorrow for him. He might not be sad, but she was. “You were supposed to train them and prosper. I know you will be successful. I see you, Ian, all of you, your goodness and your gentleness. Horses love you. Look at Flannigan. He behaved terribly most of the time. He was afraid of men, all save my brother, and you came along and turned him into a kitten. Look at him. He adores you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

For a moment it did not seem as if he were speaking of the horse. More hope rushed in, making her long for the impossible—a lifetime loving him.

“So you can go with good conscience now, lass. I will be well. My grandmother will be able to buy back her family jewelry. And you can have that little house somewhere with flowers all around it.”

“I cannot go,” she confessed. “I spent all but five dollars of my savings.”

“On what?”

“Your Christmas gift.” She broke away from him, the silence of the barn echoing like a great stillness. The animals had quieted, watching intently. Mally, sitting on a stall rail, did not blink. Not even his tail moved as she opened her bag to withdraw the finished garment. “It’s the warmest fabric I could find. A riding coat, for working with your horses.”

“The horses I do not have?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, lass, but you have touched me. You have captured me heart and soul. How am I to let you go now?”

“Do you not want me to go? But you sold your horses so I can leave you. This train ticket—”

“No, my love. I want you to be free to choose.” He brushed her cheeks with his thumb, and her tears glimmered on his glove. “Remember I said that a marriage between us always has been your decision and no other’s?”

“I do. I choose you, Ian McPherson. You have made me believe in true love and noble men.”

“And happily-ever-afters,” he finished. Not sadness, then, driving those tears, but the same poignant emotion driving him. He felt it when she laid her hand on his chest, her small hand over his heart. He loved her; the infinite gentleness he felt for her had no bounds, no ends, no reason.

Happiness roared through him, strong enough to drown out all his old losses, and he knew that the past was gone. There was a future to build, the only one that mattered, the one God had led him to. For surely it was God’s presence gentle in the air above them, and in the proof of their love so strong. “I cannot give you a mansion full of fine things and servants.”

“I would not want it if you could.” In her perfect blue eyes, on her beloved face, her love shone for him. Unmistakable and the greatest gift he could imagine. The best Christmas gift on this holy night of love and saving grace. She smiled up at him, their hearts and souls as one. “A little house someday, with a happy family. All I want is for you to love me, Ian, and I will have the greatest of all riches.”

“We will be very wealthy indeed.” He drew her into the circle of his arms, where she was safe, where she would always be cherished and protected. “Marry me, Fiona. Be my treasured wife.”

“It would be an honor.”

Their kiss was perfection, as pure as the night. The winds stilled and the last flakes of snow tapered gently to the ground. Heavenly moonlight fell between the breaking clouds as if to bless the love of a worthy horseman and his gingham bride.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Angel Falls. This Montana town has become a beloved place to me, full of fond friends and new ones yet to meet. I hope you feel the same way. In this story, you will see familiar faces, like Cora and her nephews (from
A Blessed Season
) and new ones, like Fiona and her friends.

Gingham Bride
is a story I have been wanting to tell for a long time. It is a tale of how love comes to a girl who has not known it before and the good man who can win her heart. I hope you are touched by Fiona’s journey, Ian’s sacrifice for her and their discovery of the true riches God has blessed them with. Meredith’s story is next!

Thank you for choosing GINGHAM BRIDE.

Wishing you the best of blessings.

Merry Christmas,

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. Describe Ian’s reaction the first time her sees Fiona. Do you think this is love at first sight? What does he see in her that no one else does?
   
2. How would you describe Fiona’s opinion of most men? How would you describe her first impressions of Ian? What does she see that is different about him?
   
3. Why does Ian decide to stay with Fiona? Why do you think he has come to this decision? What sacrifices has he made for her? What does this say about his character?
   
4. How do you think the past has influenced Ian? Why can’t he let go of the past?
   
5. How do you think Fiona’s childhood has influenced her? Why does she cling so hard to the idea of a future alone? What does this say about her character?
   
6. What is the story’s predominant imagery? How does it contribute to the meaning of the story?
   
7. Fiona is not sure how God works in her life. Ian tries to follow where the Lord is leading him but is unsure how it can end well. How do these issues of faith develop for each character? How are they resolved?
   
8. When we first meet Fiona, she is determined not to trust in love and believes there are no noble men. How does Ian change that? How does he touch her heart?
   
9. How is God’s leading evident in the story?
   
10. What do you think Fiona and Ian have each learned about the power of hope?
    
11. What values of Christmas do you find in this story? What do those values mean to you?
    
12. What do you think of Ian’s Christmas gift to Fiona, and of hers to him? What does this say to you about the kind of love they share? What do you think they have learned about love?
    

ISBN: 978-1-4268-4348-8

GINGHAM BRIDE

Copyright © 2009 by Jill Strickler

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.

® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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