Epilogue #3
She looked down to see her sister pointing sternly toward the wagon, then the church’s booth.
“Help.”
Ruth sighed and smiled. Whatever mysterious thing Henry was doing could wait; for now, there were walnuts to unload and arrange.
***
The fair grew busier as the afternoon wore on.
The church stall was surrounded by a constant flow of people stopping to admire preserves, dried herbs, decorations, and Clara’s carefully arranged collections.
The square rang with laughter, music, and voices, layered over one another until the whole town was alive with movement.
Ruth tied another little bundle of dried juniper with twine while Clara stood beside her, collecting coins and dropping them carefully into the collection box.
Clara was becoming something of a sensation. Every few moments, someone would pause to admire her contributions, and Clara accepted every compliment with the grave dignity of someone conducting very important business.
Ruth looked up again and frowned. Her eyes moved through the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time.
Still no sign of Henry.
Children ran between stalls with sticky fingers and red cheeks. Men clustered around livestock pens and auction tables. Women moved past carrying steaming cups and parcels wrapped in paper.
But no Henry.
Where on earth has he gone?
Just then, she spotted George standing near the cider stall with several ranch hands, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.
She marched over and tapped him on the shoulder. “George.”
He turned and seeing her, smiled weakly. “How’re the walnut sales going?”
She folded her arms. “Where is he?”
George blinked innocently. “Where’s who?”
Ruth stared. “Henry.”
George looked toward the sky. “Hmm … Looks like we might get some rain.”
“George …” she warned, pitching her voice low and drawing his name out so he’d know her patience was wearing thin.
He sighed dramatically. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“Tell me.”
George pressed his lips together, but a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I can’t.”
“George!”
“Nope.”
Ruth stomped her foot, jabbing his chest with her finger. “You tell me right now, or I swear, I’ll?—?”
Suddenly, her mouth snapped shut as she spotted Henry, who’d finally appeared through the crowd near the far side of the square.
He wasn’t alone.
Ruth frowned, and for a second, her mind refused to understand what she was seeing. But as they got closer, her breath caught; there was no mistaking it now.
Millie …?
Her friend’s light curls were pinned neatly beneath a bonnet trimmed with blue ribbons, and she wore a brown traveling coat buttoned tightly against the cold. She looked healthier, somehow, and definitely happier—and she was staring at Ruth with tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Ruth!”
Ruth didn’t even realize she’d started moving; one second, she was standing beside George, and the next, she was running.
“Millie!”
They crashed into one another, laughing and crying, holding on to each other so tightly, Ruth thought she might actually break apart.
“Oh my goodness!” Millie laughed through tears. “Oh my goodness—look at you!”
Ruth laughed helplessly. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Neither of them seemed capable of letting go, so for a long moment, they simply embraced while the entire world disappeared around them.
Finally, Millie pulled back to look at her. “Oh, Ruth …” Her eyes shone. “You look so happy.”
Ruth felt fresh tears sting her eyes, but Millie’s gazed moved past her.
Then, she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She walked straight over to Clara and crouched, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Look how you’ve grown!” she said.
“Hello, Millie,” Clara said.
Millie looked ready to cry all over again. “And you’re speaking!”
Clara nodded and then pointed toward the church stall. “Will you help?”
Millie blinked, then looked at Ruth uncertainly.
Ruth laughed. “I think you’ve been recruited.”
Within the hour, they’d completely sold out of Clara’s foraged treasures.
Ruth had already known that Millie possessed a gift for charming people, but even so, she watched in amazement as her friend laughed with customers, persuading them to buy extra jars and decorations because the church ladies had “worked ever so hard.”
Soon, they were free to wander the fair, and the afternoon passed like something from a dream. They sampled honey cakes and warm bread and little pastries dusted with sugar. They watched fiddlers playing near the center of the square and children racing after one another.
Henry took Clara to roast chestnuts over little iron braziers while Ruth and Millie carried steaming cups of hot cider to a bench nearby.
For a while, they simply sat together. Ruth was still unable to believe this was real.
“Is it your day off?” Ruth asked.
“No,” Mille confessed.
Ruth frowned. “Did you run away from the Velvet Rose?”
“No, nothing like that. I … Actually, I met someone.” Her cheeks turned pink. “He’s a good man,” she said, “from a modest family. But he loves me.”
“Oh, Millie …”
“It wasn’t easy, but I left the brothel.”
Ruth blinked. “But how?”
Everyone at the Velvet Rose knew that their madam wouldn’t let her girls go without a handsome payment.
“Archie—that’s his name—he had some money saved up,” Millie explained. “I didn’t want him to use it on me, but he insisted.”
Ruth watched her friend for a moment; then, she threw her arms around her again.
“Oh, Millie, I’m so happy for you!”
Millie hugged her tightly. “We’re getting married.”
Ruth pulled back. “What?”
“I know, who ever thought that anyone would want to marry me?” Millie laughed, but her lips trembled. “I’ll finally have a home—a family.”
Ruth’s heart swelled; she knew exactly how much that meant. Anyone who’d lived like they had would.
After a moment, Millie’s smile gained a bittersweet edge. “I can’t stay long. My fiancé’s taking me to meet his family for Christmas,” she explained. “They live all the way in Wyoming.” She squeezed Ruth’s hand. “But I promise I’ll write.”
Ruth’s heart sank, but she nodded quickly. “And you must visit.”
“I promise—whenever I can.”
After another embrace, Ruth took Millie’s hand. “Come on. I’ll ask George to give you a ride back to the train station.”
A short while later, George had left with Mille.
Although Ruth wished they could have had more time together, she could not forget the relief and joy seeing her friend and hearing her happy news had brought her.
Escaping that life was not something many girls ever had the chance to do—and not only had Millie escaped the brothel, but she’d found love and a future.
Just then, Henry’s strong arms wrapped around Ruth’s waist, and she leaned back against him, resting her head against his chest.
“How?” she whispered.
He smiled against her hair. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”
Ruth turned, and he looked a little sheepish all of sudden.
“I stole one of your letters,” he admitted.
Ruth stared. “You what?”
Henry grinned. “I didn’t read it,” he said quickly. “I just needed her address.”
Ruth waited.
“I didn’t know if she would come, but I sent money for the ticket,” he continued. “I just know you miss your friend.”
Slowly, she reached up and cupped his face. “You are the sweetest man.”
Before he could respond, Ruth leaned in and kissed him, and the fair seemed to disappear around them.
Suddenly, something soft and cold landed on her cheek.
Ruth pulled back and lifted her head to see tiny white flakes drifting lazily through the air: the first snowfall of the season.
Around them, children laughed and reached upward while townsfolk smiled and pointed toward the sky.
Ruth looked back at Henry as snow gathered lightly in his dark hair.
For one perfect moment, standing in the middle of the town square with the man she loved holding her close, the world felt like magic.
THE END?
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