North by Night by Katherine Ayres Read Free Book Online

of the new year.
    I tiptoed downstairs and made for the front door. I pushed it open to touch the snow, to taste the cold, sharp cleanness with my tongue. As I pushed, something fell from the door, as if wedged there. I bent to pick it up. A letter. I brushed snow off the paper before it could melt and cause the ink to run.
    I allowed myself only a moment to savor the white world, then hurried to the kitchen and poked up the fire, added a log, and fanned it into flame. I held the letter to the light and saw my name. I didn’t recognize the handwriting.
    15
January
    Dear Lucinda
,
    Nearly a week has passed since last I saw thee. Every day thoughts tumble about in my mind, running every which way like children playing at tag. I’ve tried to write, but each time I burn the letter. This time I will not burn it, but rather I will share all my thoughts and thee must make of them what thee will. Sort them and choose which is wheat, which is chaff. I am at thy mercy
.
    To begin, I beg forgiveness for my first, impetuous kiss. I hope thee understands that I was driven to it. I could not help myself. I hope I did not offend
.
    There, that’s said. I hope thee wears a smile on thy face and remembers the kiss with fondness, for though I had not intended it, I do not regret it. If I must tell the truth (and we Friends require that of ourselves always), having tasted one kiss, I wish I had stolen many more. Given the chance, I shall do just that. But that is for thee to decide. And if the clouds bring snow, as it seems they will, thee will have much time for thy deliberations
.
    If indeed the snow comes, I shall try a winter’s journey, for I’ve a fondness for travel by sleigh. One can drive for miles without seeing a soul, and the falling snow and wind erase one’s tracks and make the ground new again. There are joys in such a journey, for me at least. Especially these days. But I’ll be cautious in my adventures, I’ll carry wagon wheels along in case the snow melts before my journey is successful
.
    Pray that I will succeed, dear Lucinda, for there is always risk with winter travel. I hope to return before the coming snowhas melted, and if thy heart is so inclined, perhaps I’ll find a reply to my letter
.
    Do write to me, and have a care for thyself. Watch over thy charge, for Sister Mercer depends on thee. I believe she is in the best of hands, and when I return, perhaps thy burden shall be lightened, God willing. And may God bless thee and watch over thee
.
    Thy admiring Friend
,
Jeremiah Strong
    Jeremiah.
    Who would have thought such warm words could come from him? He is as affected as I. I’ve read the letter over and over. The words are scribed in my heart, so I barely need the page, but I will keep it, of course, under my pillow. He writes so cleverly, he places no one at risk. Except himself as he travels.
    Jeremiah does make me laugh. I am not such a siren that men fall at my feet and fling kisses upon me at every turn. Why, if Jeremiah was driven by the fires of love to kiss me, he’s had chance after chance, for he’s made many a trip to my door late at night. But …
    He wants to kiss me again. I close my eyes and see his dark hair and dark eyes, the way his cheeks redden with the cold or when he has fervent feelings about something … And he has fervent feelings about me!
    Bless the winter, bless the snow, bless the measles and Miss Aurelia and all the wild geese who have drawn us together.
    Jeremiah.
    Jeremiah.
    Jeremiah Strong.
    F RIDAY , J ANUARY 17, 1851
A FTERNOON
    I am still no dappled mare. It has snowed and snowed, drifted and blown and whirled until the whole landscape glows white in the dim light. How I got through this day I’ll never know, for I kept Jeremiah’s letter tucked inside my pocket and patted it every other moment. Surely Miss Aurelia and Emma suspected something. But perhaps they blamed it on the snow. It made me a little reckless.
    “A spell of snow won’t hurt,” Miss Aurelia