Winter Is Past by Ruth Axtell Morren

Author:Ruth Axtell Morren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2003-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Simon stood outside the door that had been left ajar. He had been lifting his hand to knock when he overheard Rebecca’s questions to Althea about marriage, and stopped, curious to hear her answers.

As the conversation took on a religious turn, he wondered whether it was right for Althea to instill her theology in his daughter, but just as quickly he admitted he had nothing better to offer her. He ran his uplifted hand through his hair in frustration. All he had were empty platitudes, nothing that could really help her in the face of death, if indeed she would have to face it.

He cleared his throat and gave a light knock.

“Come in!” came his daughter’s voice.

He pushed open the door. Both females turned to him, his daughter bright-eyed and smiling, as he usually found her when she was talking with Althea. Althea half turned toward him, attractive in her pale green gown, her upswept hair golden in the lamplight.

“I came up to bid you good-night.”

“Are you going to dance with Miss Althea?”

“I don’t know.” He considered the idea, distracted momentarily from his earlier, more sobering thoughts. “I suspect Miss Breton is more accustomed to grand ballrooms where dancing is very formal and elegant.”

He turned to Althea, noticing she did not participate in the conversation. He watched her hang up his daughter’s clothes.

“Were you not trained in the minuet and waltz?”

She replied with her back to him. “I haven’t danced in years. Besides, I have probably danced more simple country dances, which are not nearly so formal as the minuet.”

“You don’t find the dances downstairs excessively primitive?”

She set Rebecca’s slippers beside her bed. “I enjoyed watching the dancers. It put me in mind of the marriage of Cana.”

“I’m afraid you may be disappointed by our poor example here, then. You will find no miracles at this one.” He didn’t know why he was always trying to provoke a response from her. Was it because he resented that he seemed to need these dialogues with her more than she did?

“Oh, I think our Lord was enjoying Himself just fine before He was ever asked to turn the water into wine.”

Althea lowered Rebecca’s lamp, and Simon held the door open for her, forcing her to accompany him out. He could smell her sweet fragrance as she passed by him. Soft, wispy tendrils curled around the nape of her neck. Simon caught himself thinking what it would feel like to kiss that part of her skin. The notion astounded him and he stopped momentarily, gripping the door handle.

He had to quicken his stride to catch up with her. Halfway down the hallway, he asked, “Doesn’t your God allow dancing?”

She seemed to consider his question. “I think God enjoys seeing his children enjoying themselves.”

“Then, why is it you haven’t danced in so many years?”

“Perhaps I never enjoyed it much the few occasions I did dance.”

“Perhaps you never had the right partner.” Why did he continue this ridiculous topic of conversation? Was it because she was being so annoyingly serene in her replies to him tonight?

“Perhaps not.

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