And Then Came Spring by Margaret Brownley

“My fiancé,” she said at last.
    His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry . . .”
    â€œSo am I.” She took a deep breath. “What do you call a woman like me?”
    â€œI don’t understand what you mean.”
    â€œWhen a woman loses a husband, we call her a widow. What do you call a woman who loses a fiancé? Who loses two fiancés?”
    â€œI have no idea,” he said, and the sympathy in his eyes unnerved her.
    She quickly changed the subject. “Eddie told me you fought in the war too.”
    He looked surprised, then pleased. “I didn’t know Eddie knew that about me.”
    â€œI reckon we’d both be surprised at how much Eddie knows.”
    â€œMaybe so.” He studied her. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the war. It must bring back painful memories.”
    â€œThe war’s over,” she said.
    â€œBut the memories remain.” Raw pain shimmered in the depth of his eyes, but whether from memories of the war or grief for his brother, she didn’t know. Probably both.
    â€œYou and Eddie are very much alike,” she said.
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œYou both have strong feelings about what you believe in. The only difference is, Eddie hasn’t yet found a cause.”
    â€œNever thought Eddie and I shared anything but a slight family resemblance,” he said.
    â€œNot so slight.”
    He gazed at her with an intensity that made her blush. For the first time she noticed the intriguing cleft in his chin.
    The clock began to gong, reminding her of the lateness of the hour. “I . . . I better go.” She slipped the chain of her reticule over her wrist. “I have an early train to catch.”
    â€œLet me take you back to my brother’s house.”
    She hesitated. She still felt like an intruder whenever she entered Daniel’s house and yet what choice did she have? “I hope you don’t mind, but I left my belongings there earlier.”
    â€œI don’t mind and Dan wouldn’t either. And I’ll sleep a lot better knowing you have a place to stay.”
    His concern for her welfare made her feel all cozy and warm inside. The emotion left the moment the chimes began to slow.
    She jumped to her feet. “You better wind the clock.” Her voice was edged in panic, but it couldn’t be helped. If he didn’t hurry, the clock would stop, and that meant death.
    He gave her an odd look but said nothing as he rose. He opened the clock’s glass door and turned the key. “There,” he said, closing the cabinet. He frowned. “Are you all right?”
    With an uneasy glance at the clock, she nodded. The chimes continued all the way to nine. “I’m just tired, is all. It’s been . . . a hard week.”
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    A big yellow moon hung in a star-studded sky as they walked to Daniel’s place. The wind that had swept through town the day before had stopped, leaving the air cool and delicately scented with sweet verbena.
    â€œTell me about Eddie’s father,” she said as they walked along streets lined with shuttered establishments.
    â€œWhat can I tell you? Things always came easy for Dan.” They walked past a sleepy farmhouse and newly tilled fields before he continued, “He could read by the time he was three, and he was successful at everything he did.”
    â€œMust run in the family,” she said. “A war veteran and sheriff. That’s pretty impressive. I say you’ve both gone and done your parents proud.”
    â€œMy parents were pacifists.” His voice was without bitterness or rancor, but she detected a strain of resignation. “My way was never their way.”
    â€œBut your brother’s way was,” she said, reading between the lines. “I reckon they never figured out that every family needs a warrior.”
    He flashed a smile and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight.