Gabriel's Gift. Cait London
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be a start for Miranda’s routine. Day by day, she’d build a life for her child that was safe and good. Just now, she wasn’t ready to expose herself to anyone but Kylie and Tanner. But eventually she would have to deal with gossip. A younger, more vulnerable Miranda had already handled rumors and sympathetic looks by Freedom Valley’s townfolk.
All those years ago, teenage Gabriel had hurt her terribly. “I don’t want you. Don’t even think of marriage between us, or anything else,” he’d said grimly. She’d cried horribly, hiding from her family, trying not to show her pain. He’d torn away her heart and deep inside she’d hated him, vowing never to forgive him.
Years later, another man’s confession had jolted her. She’d been startled by Scott’s reaction and rejection, but not hurt. It was as if her emotions with him hadn’t been deep enough to wound. He’d been truthful, though, and she admired that more than a man who forced himself to submit to a life he didn’t want.
Miranda slid down on the couch, snuggling into the familiar warmth of her homecoming. She closed her eyes and wondered why she could not remember the Nordic texture of Scott’s crisp waving blond hair, and yet the coarse, straight texture of Gabriel’s black shaggy mane seemed so familiar.
Was he happy? Gossip said he hadn’t married, that he kept to himself and his mountains. Miranda frowned and closed her eyes wearily, her hand smoothing the baby nestled within her. Why did he seem so uncomfortable with her? Did those sweet days of their teenage years still curl around him as they did her? Gabriel, you look so hard and lonely. What happened to you? Then, a tiny kick beneath her hand claimed her thoughts of the future.
Two
The most gentle of hearts can be found in unsuspecting places. Women tend to think that only another woman can give comfort, but men—given the chance—can offer kindness to a troubled heart.
Anna Bennett’s Journal
Gabriel followed the snowplow as it passed Anna’s small farm, leaving small mountains of snow on either side of the road. Departing immediately after their wedding for their honeymoon, Kylie and Michael had missed the heavy snow that now bent the trees and blocked some roads and airports. The light lacy snowflakes hit Gabriel’s windshield and the clack-clack of his wipers created the pattern for his thoughts.
After the wedding, he had packed a two-week supply of groceries into his battered Jeep. Then he had settled down with his friends at the Silver Dollar Tavern, the site of the wedding reception. He was more comfortable there, with the loud country music and the smells, than in the church, with a tie tight around his neck. The sounds had vibrated in the tavern’s smoky room, a jarring contrast to his very quiet, solitary log home. Though he visited Tanner and his lifelong friends throughout the year, Gabriel was always glad to get back to his mountains. The Bachelor Club—Koby, Fletcher, Dylan, Brody and the rest of his friends—had toasted their “dying breed.” Because Dakota Jones’s little sister, Karolina, alias “Super Snoop,” had been in a snit, mourning her “old maid” status, the men had taken turns dancing with her. But Gabriel had danced the last dance with Miranda. Another time, when a woman would ask a man for the last dance, it would mean she chose him for her future husband. Gabriel wasn’t likely to follow the local customs—love had passed him by, and he’d settled for peace in the mountains.
Later, only a little of the tension remained from holding Miranda in his arms. He’d stayed the night at Michael’s house, the newlyweds bound for a sunny, tropical honeymoon.
Filled with thoughts of yesterday’s wedding and seeing Miranda again, he kept his four-wheel-drive Jeep a respectable distance behind the snowplow. At six o’clock in the morning, the flashing red light of the snowplow shot off into the darkness. Behind the wheel of the charging beast, Mac Reno would be in an evil mood, pained by a Saturday night hangover. Mac had once gotten in an argument with Willa, the owner of the Wagon Wheel Café and the mayor of Freedom; he’d used the snowplow to bury her car.
After the joy of Kylie and Michael yesterday, and Gwyneth and Tanner’s delight in their coming baby, Gabriel’s solitary life seemed as gray as the morning. The woman in the smoke—her eyes warm upon him, and her body rounded with his child—was only a dream he used to fill the ache inside him, a self-induced medicine to give him momentary peace. He’d made the right decision when they were teenagers—
Gabriel ran his hand over his jaw, the sound of the scrape as raw as his emotions. He didn’t like being unsettled, tossed back into the past when Miranda danced close and sweet against him. She wore another man’s ring, and now she carried his child—Why had that shadow crossed her face when asked about her husband?
Gabriel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. If she had been mistreated—He pushed away that ugly thought. She looked as if she were blooming, the pregnancy sitting well on her.
But she had leaned against him in the old way, when troubles came too deeply upon her. As a boy, he’d been stunned that she would give so much to him, letting him see her doubts and trusting him with her thoughts. She’d grieved then for her father, Paul, a good man who had died of a terminal disease.
Miranda smelled the same—of sun and wind brushing across the lush sweet-grass meadows. Her eyes were still the shining green of new grass, clear and bright and happy—she’d looked that way when he’d given her that wildflower bouquet all those years ago. Now she was a woman, preparing for her child, and yet she seemed so fragile, light and willowy in his arms. He feared holding her too close, keeping his distance, for just then, he was uncertain of himself.
Gabriel glanced at Anna’s driveway, at the snow the plow had piled high, barring the entrance. Out of habit, he eased the Jeep over the snow and reached to the back to push aside the snowshoes resting over his shovel. Anna had always been good to him, and he was only one of many who would clear her driveway. In no hurry to return to his empty house, Gabriel glanced at Anna’s home and found light streaming from all the windows, creating golden patches into the gray dawn. The house was much like Anna had left it a year ago, though both Tanner and Kylie had taken turns living in it. Tanner had explained that none of Anna’s children could bear separating her things. Filled with warm scents and Anna’s tender presence, the house would be a ghost to Miranda now. She would be doing her prowling, missing her mother, and that wound would be slow to heal. How could her husband not see to her at such a time, not come with her? To know such a woman and not care for her was unthinkable.
But then Miranda was her own woman, very independent, and it wasn’t for Gabriel to mull her life.
When he opened the Jeep’s door, the freezing temperatures hit him. He sucked in the icy air, letting it cleanse him, and then began to shovel the snow. The earth needed snow for nourishment, and to make the grass grow lush and green—Miranda’s eyes were still as green, softer now with her coming baby nestled inside her. The thought jarred him, how easily she stepped into his mind after all those years. Perhaps she had always been there.
The image of her teenage disbelief slashed across him. In curt terms, he’d told her that they weren’t meant for each other and that she should take the scholarship offers coming to her, that she should leave Freedom Valley. He’d told her that their paths were not meant to be one—that his life’s path was not for her—and the shock in those green eyes had shamed him. Her slender body had recoiled as if taking a physical blow. Though his heart had been tearing, he tried not to show his anguish and how much her tears hurt him. The memory added force to his shovel’s blow against a shrub, shaking the branches and dislodging the heavy snow before it could break them. He tempered the other blows, pushing the shattering image into the past for a time.
The birds began to chirp and he smiled briefly. Anna’s feeders were always kept well filled and suet balls hung from the trees. Coming from a close family, Miranda would honor her mother’s desires. When would she leave? Would he see her again?
Gabriel thrust the unseemly thoughts from him. She was another man’s woman, and it was not his way to—In the stillness of morning, a soft moan sounded amid the chirping birds, and there at the base of Anna’s front steps was—
Gabriel ran toward