If he only knew.
“I asked if you'd like to take a walk.”
“Sure,” Laurel said, not exactly certain she wanted to be alone with Robert. He helped her with her coat, and Laurel wondered if she were being disloyal to Celeste, who was crazy about Robert. Laurel hooked the buttons, pulled the hood over her head, and pushed her hands into fur-lined leather gloves.
Robert opened the door and held it for Laurel. She stepped out onto the open porch. Cold air chilled her face and stung her lungs with each breath. The children were building a snowman and barely noticed them.
Snow crunched beneath their boots as Robert and Laurel walked toward the road. The world was white—snow blanketed fields, trees, the plow, and the wood shed, and the nearby mountains were buried. The landscape shimmered in winter's dusky sunlight. “I never thought about how bright snow could make the world look,” Laurel said. “I always envisioned winter here as being dark. I love how it's all frozen and white. It's beautiful.”
“I like it too.” Robert linked arms with Laurel.
She felt a bit awkward. Was it wrong to allow Robert to think she might care for him? Maybe she did.
Robert pointed toward his farm. “My barn looks awfully small from here.”
“That's because everything around it is so big—the mountains and the sky.” She shook her head slightly. “I never understood how it would be to love a place so much. It's strange because I haven't lived here very long, but I don't ever want to leave.”
“That's how I felt from the beginning, like I belong here. I'm never leaving,” he stated flatly. Robert stopped walking and faced Laurel. “I know you're not interested in any kind of serious attachment, Laurel … but I was wondering … if you'd mind going to the dance with me tomorrow night at the community hall? It should be fun.”
Laurel's first instinct was to say no. But what would be wrong with going to a dance with a friend? She let out her breath, and icy fog hovered between them. She remembered Adam's tender farewell and wondered if it held a promise? No. He has his life, and it doesn't include me.
She looked at Robert. “Yes. I'd like to go with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
SOMETHING SIMPLE, LAUREL THOUGHT, SORTING THROUGH HER FEW DRESSES. She stopped at a light blue cotton. It had a scoop neckline, short sleeves, and a full skirt. Lifting it, she studied the dress. This should work, she decided, taking it off the hanger. I don't want Robert to get the wrong idea.
Pushing her arms into the sleeves, she pulled it over her head and smoothed the skirt over her hips. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, she studied her reflection. The pale blue softened her golden complexion and brightened her hazel eyes. Laurel pirouetted, and the skirt flared away from her legs. It would be perfect for dancing. She smiled, pleased with her choice—nice, but not too dressy.
Oddly, she was excited about going out. It's only Robert, she told herself, brushing her hair and clipping back a portion.
She smoothed a touch of rouge on her cheeks, then carefully applied a hint of lipstick. Standing back, she surveyed the effect and decided she liked it. Staring at her reflection, she reminded herself, It's only Robert. But Laurel knew things had changed. She'd decided to make room for him in her heart. It was the reasonable thing to do.
Adam's letter rested against the mirror on the bureau. Laurel picked it up and considered rereading it. She'd already read it several times and could recite much of it. She set it back on the dresser.
A soft rap sounded at the door. “Laurel? May I come in?” her mother asked.
“Yes.” The door opened, and warm air from downstairs flowed in. Laurel had forgotten how cool the room was.
Jean stepped in, closing the door behind her. “You look beautiful. Since you took to wearing those overalls, it's easy to forget you've grown into a lovely woman.” Jean smiled. “I just came up to tell you Robert's here, and I must say he looks awfully handsome. You know, he's such a fine young man. I'm happy you two decided to go out.”
Laurel knew her parents considered Robert a perfect match for her. Holding her arms away from her sides, she turned around and asked, “This blue look all right?”
“Yes. It's perfect. Robert will love it.” Jean glanced at Laurel's legs. “Are you sure you want to wear silk stockings? It's cold. Maybe your wool hose would be better?”
“No one else will be wearing them. It'll be warm enough indoors. I can put a blanket over my lap in the truck.”
Jean nodded. “Well, I don't think you ought to keep Robert waiting.”
Laurel grabbed her handbag from the dresser and followed her mother out the door and down the stairs.
Robert stood in the front room, hands in his pockets, his coat draped over one arm. He looked stylish, dressed in knit slacks and a sweater. His eyes followed Laurel down the stairs. “You look real pretty,” he said when Laurel took the last step.
“Thank you.”
Will set his newspaper on a table beside his wing chair. “You two be careful. The roads are icy.” He looked at Robert. “What time can we expect you to have Laurel home?”
“The dance is over at ten o'clock, sir.”
“All right then. You ought to be back here by ten-thirty.” Will smiled, softening his decree.
“I'll have her home on time,” Robert assured him, putting on his coat. “You ready?” he asked Laurel.
“Yes. I just have to get my coat and boots.” Laurel headed for the back porch. Sitting on a bench by the door, she pulled a pair of galoshes over her pumps, then took down her coat from its hook. Robert held it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. After putting on knit gloves, she gave her mother a kiss.
“Have a good time,” Jean said, handing Laurel a lap blanket.
“We will,” Laurel promised and stepped outside.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Hasper,” Robert said.
“Night.” Jean stood at the door and watched as the truck headed down the driveway.
The cold ran icy fingers up and down Laurel's bare legs. She shivered, and thinking she'd been foolish to wear silk stockings, laid the blanket over her lap.
Robert peered through a small section of cleared glass in the iced-up window. Weak headlights illuminated nearly imperceptible tire tracks in the snow. The pickup bumped over the rough, frozen roadway, snow and ice crunching beneath its tires.
“I wish we'd been able to bring our truck. Life would be simpler. Right now, just getting back and forth to town is a problem.”
