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A Rose in Winter

By Janis Jakes

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The basket in Lucy’s hand grew heavy as she
stood in the cold air outside the home of Elton and
Rebecca McElroy.
"Lucy never did have a lick of sense," Elton said
from beyond the cabin’s threshold. "Tell her to close
the blasted door before she freezes us alive."
She bristled. Elton had been an ornery little boy,
and he was even more so as an adult. Why on earth
Rebecca had married him baffled Lucy.
His petite wife paid him no mind, ushering Lucy
inside with a wave of her hand. "You shouldn’t have
come in the dark. Not with this weather."
"I’m surprised Matthew didn’t put up a fuss."
Elton shook his head. "With all the trouble brewing—"
Lucy cringed. If she heard one more word about
the trouble she might just scream. The only trouble
she’d seen so far came from men who wanted to shoot
first and ask questions later.
"Please don’t start that again." Rebecca frowned.
"You’ll scare the girls."
Lucy removed her mantle, draping it on the hook
by the door. Melting snowflakes dotted the wool with
remnants of white dusting her boots. She was glad to
see the color had returned to Rebecca’s cheeks. "Good
to see you out of bed."
Rebecca lay her hand across her belly. "This baby
is taking all there is of me." A smile lifted the edges of
her lips as she glanced at the basket. "I can’t tell you
how much this means."
Despite Elton’s presence, Lucy found the cabin’s
atmosphere welcoming. The red-orange fire crackled in
the hearth, its flames flickering in a playful dance. The
dull smell of candle wax lingered about in a faint haze.
The three-year-old twin girls played on the rug in front
of a single rocking chair—stacking cups and giggling
when their makeshift boulders fell over.
Lucy unwrapped the basket and set it on the table,
pulling out a core of cheese, several hearty slices of
cured ham, and an apple pie—courtesy of her own
hands. The scent of cinnamon and baked apples burst
into the room.
Rebecca inhaled. "Now that smells heavenly." She
began pulling plates from the cupboard, looking over
her shoulder. "I’ve been craving apple pie something
fierce. How’d you know?"
"What’s the matter, Lucy?" Elton rose from the
chair and stood to his full height. He was a tall man
with a wide chest and a solidness about him gained
from pushing a plow, chopping wood, and swinging a
hammer. "Think I don’t know how to care for my own
family? Think I’d let us all starve?"
Lucy steeled her shoulders. Did every encounter
with Elton have to go this way? "Of course you can
take care of your family." She didn’t flinch. "I wanted
to do something kind for a friend. That’s all."
"A thank you would be nice, Elton." Rebecca’s
gaze toward her husband was filled with annoyance.
He grumbled something that didn’t sound close to
thank you and then turned to stoke the fire.
Twin girls toddled over, both with shiny noses,
red cheeks, and natural waves framing delicate
features. They struggled to pull themselves up into
chairs.
Lucy’s heart warmed at the joy she saw upon such
precious faces. Any irritation she felt toward Elton
faded into a bittersweet longing. Oh, how she
hungered for children of her own! The familiar pain
burrowed itself into her bosom—a thorn within an
open wound.
"Would you like to join us?" Rebecca’s words
snapped Lucy back to the moment at hand.
"No, thank you," she said. "Matthew wasn’t well
when I left. I need to get back."
"I pray he’s not coming down with the flu,"
Rebecca said. "The Junipers are already bedridden."
Elton crossed the room in slow steps, reached
above the door, and pulled one of his rifles off the gun
rack. "I’ll walk you home."
Lucy’s brow dipped in a frown. "No, really, that’s
not necessary."
"I ain’t letting Matthew Shaw’s wife walk home
alone in the dark," he said. "What type of neighbor
would that make me?"
"I walked myself here without any problem,"
Lucy replied, feeling flustered. "There’s no need for an
escort."
Elton pecked his wife on the cheek and turned
back to Lucy. "What are you waitin’ on? Let’s go."
Rebecca leaned over, whispering into Lucy’s ear.
"He’s trying to be a gentleman. Best he knows how. Let
him."
With a steady but agile gait, Elton led the way
through the darkness. His feet crunched into the snow,
and his large frame broke frozen tree twigs like a bull
snapping sticks of hay. He didn’t seem to consider that
she walked several steps behind him and had to scurry
across slippery ground to keep up with his long-legged
strides.
He muttered a few words to himself along the way
but said nothing to her as they cut a path through the
snowy veil. They made their way across the icy
wooden bridge leading to the valley where she and
Matthew had claimed their homestead.
They’d topped the incline with her cabin in sight
when he stopped, letting her catch up. The snow was
coming down hard now—pelting them both with
white flakes.
"Thank you, Elton," she said, catching her breath.
"I’ll be sure and tell Matthew—"
"I’m not done. I said I’d walk you home, and I
intend to do just that."
"You should head back. Your wife could go into
labor any second."
Perhaps that was stretching it a bit but it was not
an impossibility. Rebecca was overdue. She’d birthed
the twins with a fair amount of trouble, and there was
no reason to think this babe would be any different.
For her sake, he needed to remain nearby.
Elton started down the incline toward their cabin,
ignoring her protests. Lucy resisted the urge to kick
him in the back of the knees and send him rolling
down the hill. She’d never met a more stubborn man.
Why Matthew liked him so much, she wasn’t sure.
Said he was a man of his word and of noble character,
but all she ever saw was a grumpy grizzly who refused
even a morsel of kindness.
A loud whistle burst through Elton’s lips as they
approached the cabin. He slowed his steps as if waiting
for Matthew to come outside. Lucy drew up next to
Elton. She was surprised her husband did not appear.
The faint glow from the hearth’s fire shone within
the cabin, and smoke rolled in hazy wisps from the
chimney. A white blanket of snow lay draped about
the ground and the rooftop. By morning, several inches
would accumulate. Already it looked pristine and
peaceful.
After a few more steps and another whistle, Elton
glanced her way with a frown. "Resting, you say?"
"Yes. He was tired. That’s the reason I came
without him."
He nodded as they approached the steps. Lucy
walked up first, but Elton brushed past her and opened
the door before she could go inside. He froze in the
doorway, preventing her from entering her own house.
She stared up in confusion at his solid shoulders.
"Elton McElroy, what in the world—"
"Lucy..." he began, his voice fading into a
whisper. "Wait outside."
Her insides twisted about in an angry, fearful
knot. "Wait outside for what?"
"Matthew—he’s gone."

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