CHAPTER 6
They had almost reached her cabin when the storm broke loose and Blinks jumped out of the sleigh.
“You head inside. I’ll get the goat and stable the horse,” Daniel hollered to her over the whipping wind.
Clara nodded, already feeling the icy sting of snow particles down the back of her neck. She paused only long enough to see him grab the lantern from the sleigh, then hurried indoors. The howl of the storm was a dim roar outside that seemed to taunt her with its power as the minutes passed. She bit her lip and found herself praying for Daniel and Blinks. Then she could stand the wait no longer and grabbed her own lantern from the tabletop and headed back outside.
The snow was near-blinding and took her breath away with its intensity. She knew how easy it was to get lost in a storm, so she carefully navigated to the clothesline that was stretched from the side of the cabin to one of the small, unused outbuildings, and grabbed hold of the rope like a lifeline. She tried to call out for Daniel, but her voice was carried away by the wind. Then she felt something warm inside her chest, almost as if she were being given a massage from the inside out. She stood still a moment, confused, then looked up and saw the ready glow of Daniel’s lantern reflecting from the deserted shed in front of her. And she moved on in haste.
She eased open the door to what had once been a small barn and entered in time to see Daniel climbing a rickety ladder to a second-floor overhang that held a few bales of musty hay, some spare wood, and a very determined-looking goat.
She slid the door closed behind her, shutting out most of the wind, then listened worriedly as Daniel tested the worn floorboards of the ladder.
She caught her breath when he took a second step and the wood creaked alarmingly, releasing a fall of dust to the pile of hay beneath; Blinks baaed piteously.
“It’s all right,” Daniel soothed the animal as Clara watched him risk another step.
He’d nearly reached the goat, when a sudden gust of wind blew a few shingles off overhead. Clara glanced up, then looked back in time to see the whole of the overhang collapse at the center. She watched Daniel move fast to scoop up Blinks, and then they were falling to the hay beneath, with Daniel taking the brunt of the fall on his back while his strong arms held her pet close.
Clara gasped and hurried through the debris, flinging away pieces of wood, while Blinks leapt with nimble feet, obviously unharmed, past her to go and stand by the door.
“Ach, Daniel, are you all right?” She dropped to her knees beside his big body.
He laughed from the depths of the old hay and propped himself up on his elbows, blowing a stray piece of straw from his lips. “That goat is a trickster.”
“You might have been badly hurt, but you saved her.... Why did you do that?”
His expression softened and Clara wanted to duck her head away from the warmth in his green eyes. “Because she matters to you, and because I wouldn’t let any animal risk suffering from such a fall.”
“You’re a gut man.” The soft words were out of her mouth before she could even think, and she curved her mouth at his deepening smile.
“Did you just compliment me, Clara?”
She shook her head, belying her words, but he’d leaned upward to sit next to her, his legs pressed against her knees.
“Jah, you did,” he whispered, tilting his head. “And it felt good.”
Her mind raced suddenly, to some sweet, sugary place where more than words tasted good—like the lips of a man. She clenched her jaw as he reached his callused hand up to stroke her soft cheek.
“Ach, Clara . . .” His lashes lowered as he moved even closer, and she suddenly woke to more than sensory awareness.
“Listen,” she cried, ignoring his faint groan. “The storm’s stopped.”
He frowned and gazed upward for a moment. “So it has.” He sighed and got to his feet, reaching a hand down to help her up.
Her fingers tingled in his grasp, and she felt she had nowhere to hide when he bent his broad back to her and brushed a piece of hay from her cloak front. “One storm’s stopped, sweet Clara—but another rages on.”
She swallowed hard. “I—don’t—know what you mean.”
He smiled a gentle smile and pulled her from the straw toward her now-impatient pet; Blinks was butting at the door.
“You know exactly what I mean, but . . . perhaps you can tell me with your sweet baking until you feel ready to tell me with your lips.”
She smiled uncertainly at his teasing, but in her heart, she felt that she had been close to betraying Seth with the kiss of one who had been his best friend.... I’ll have to be more careful in the future, she concluded to herself, but she knew it would be no easy task with someone like Daniel Kauffman.
* * *
“Ya say she’s got a goat? Well, why not a beaver, then?”
Daniel sighed and worked the ground cloves into the gingerbread drop dough while his da sat in affable midnight companionship at the kitchen table. Daniel had returned from Clara’s too keyed up to sleep and had decided to start a batch of an old-fashioned cookie favorite.
“No beavers. One goat.”
“No husband. One admirer,” Sol laughed, pleased with his own humor.
Daniel had to smile. His da’s presence of mind was quicksilver at best, but it was still a joy to hear the grandfather he knew break through now and then. He uncorked the bottle of molasses and added a liberal amount before starting to tell his da about the cookie bake off.
Sol scratched his grizzled head. “When I was courtin’, we kissed not cooked.”
I’d like to be kissing Clara. . . . His mind flashed back to the moments in the hay when he thought he’d had a chance at such pleasurable activity, but she’d shied away as usual. “Clara’s as shy as a doe . . . as shy as a doe. . . .”
“Yer missin’ Seth,” his da said flatly, startling him.
Daniel swallowed and tried to concentrate on stirring in the remaining flour with a wooden spoon. “Jah,” he choked, telling himself it was from the flour dust and not the realization that he did miss his best friend. He wondered bleakly how far heaven was from earth and whether Seth could even see or know what happened on Ice Mountain.
His grandfather laid a big hand over his, and Daniel looked into the bleary auld eyes. “Ye’re too hard on yerself, buwe. You don’t have to have all the answers—only Gott knows,” Sol smiled. “Only Gott knows the difference between a beaver and a goat, and that’s what matters.”
Daniel nodded, realizing it was time to lead the auld man back to bed, but he was grateful for the blessing of their talk all the same.