Page 27 of On a Midnight Clear

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills , from whence cometh my help ...

The words blurred together as Noah sat in the barn the next morning. The warm glow of the lantern lit the area around his bed pallet, and the crackling fire in the cookstove took the chill from the air.

Help . In his case, God had sent help during the snowstorm. In the form of Hope.

She was a special woman—unlike anyone he’d ever known. Her vibrant smile, her fierce determination, the way her presence filled a room . . . filled his mind. Even when he was trying to focus on something else, like these quiet moments with the Lord.

He squeezed his eyes shut to clear his thoughts. But that only made him remember their kiss. He huffed out a breath. A lot of good he was at making himself focus.

He rested his head back against the cold barn wall and stared up at the rafters. “I’m sorry, Lord. Help me focus on You. Clear out these distractions.”

His mind snagged on that last request. Maybe instead of pushing Hope out of his thoughts, he should deal with his questions, here and now.

With a sigh, he searched for the words. “Show me Your will in this. Show me what I’m to do with all these thoughts she stirs up. We’re so different. Our lives are in two very separate places. She’s happy here at this stage stop, following the legacy her parents left for her. And I’m...”

What was he? Two days ago, he would have said he was a successful businessman, with a prosperous life ahead of him. But was that really what mattered to him?

He was good at his job negotiating shipping deals and lining up all the details. Many days, he wished he didn’t have to be indoors so much. But he loved working with Charles. That part he did truly love. The man was so much more than an employer. Even more than a friend or mentor.

In truth, Charles felt like a father, a feeling Noah couldn’t remember, since he’d never known his own father. Charles had become the family Noah always wanted.

So that left him with what? A friendship he valued and a job he appreciated.

And where did Hope fit? Should she belong anywhere in his future?

Or were all these thoughts and attractions merely the effects of being hidden away in this remote place for a few wonderful days?

Getting to live a simple life without the complications of society or business deals or the expectations of others?

He focused on the rafters again. “Please, God. If you mean for me to leave Hope behind, take away these feelings. Help me to see clearly.”

He stayed in that prayer for a long moment, letting his spirit commune with the Almighty, the Maker of heaven and earth, the One who knew everything about him, even the number of hairs on his head.

A sense of peace sank through him, so rich his entire body relaxed. “Is that a yes, Lord? Would you have me pursue courting Hope?”

That sense of peace lingered, settling his insides.

“If this is your will, I trust you to create a way for me to see her again. Make our way plain.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath of the sweet fragrance around him. Thank you , Father.

At last he opened his eyes and finally stood. He should go to the house and see what he could help with. Martin had gone hunting again early this morning before breakfast, searching for meat for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner.

As he left the barn, his boots crunched in the softening snow as he sank through the layers. The sound echoed in the stillness around him, shattering the tranquil silence of the morning.

As he closed the door behind him, the sun’s rays warmed his back, glinting off the snow to send shafts of light in every direction.

A movement to the right caught his focus.

Martin strode from the trees, two plump wild turkeys dangling by their legs from one gloved hand. “Finally!” He grinned.

Noah couldn’t help smiling back as he strode forward. Hope would be pleased. “Looks like they’re beauties.”

Martin’s green eyes sparkled. “Reckon the warmer weather drew ’em out. Just in time.”

Noah nodded his approval, eying the distinct red-and-blue heads and iridescent feathers of the large birds. His grandfather had taught him how to dress game. The unpleasant task had always turned his stomach, so he’d avoided helping Grandfather once he was old enough to do other chores instead.

But out here, skills like those weren’t an option. And if he ever wanted to entertain the thought of joining Hope here—though he still had no idea how that would work out—he needed to see if he was man enough for everything it required.

He swallowed hard against the queasiness that rose in his gut at the thought of what would come next. “You want me to help clean those?”

Martin shot him a surprised look. “Sure, if you’re up to it.”

He nodded. “I think so.” In truth, he wasn’t sure himself, but he’d volunteered now. And maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he remembered.

He followed Martin to the woodpile behind the house where they could work without making a mess. Once they had everything spread out on the ground, Martin handed over one of the birds. “You know where to start?”

The cool weight of the turkey settled into his hands, the familiar shape bringing back memories of hunting trips with Grandfather.

Those days held some good memories. He eyed Martin’s knife, already poised over his bird.

“I remember some, but you might need to talk me through it.” He remembered enough to know there were tricks to accomplishing each step without making things harder and destroying precious meat.

Martin proved an easy teacher, voicing each step as he worked.

Once Noah remembered the process, they worked in silence, each focused on his bird.

The knife Martin handed him cut through the skin more easily than he remembered, and the smell wasn’t quite as bad as it had been when he’d helped Grandfather all those years ago.

Maybe that was just because everything smelled different outside in the fresh air rather than the squalor of a row of shanties.

As he pulled feathers from the flesh, his thoughts drifted back to Hope.

She was deeply rooted in this place, her love for the inn and the frontier life woven into every fiber of her being.

Could he really ask her to leave all that behind for the bustle and noise of the city?

And what of his own dreams and ambitions?

The thought of disappointing Charles left a hollow feeling in his chest.

Noah let out a long sigh, his breath clouding in the chill air. If only there were some way to bridge the gap between their lives.

He glanced over at Martin, who’d begun to dig through his pack. Could this younger man be the key? If he were willing to take over running the inn, maybe Hope would be more open to the idea of life in the east.

Noah cleared his throat and did his best to sound casual. “So, do you and Hope plan to always run the inn together? Or has one of you ever talked about taking over completely?”

Martin looked up, surprise flickering across his face. “Well. I can’t say I haven’t thought about going back east, getting into bigger business ventures. But I couldn’t leave Hope. She loves it here. She’s poured her heart and soul into this place. And she can’t run it by herself.”

Of course not. And Hope would never be content as a businessman’s wife, attending an endless stream of social gatherings and navigating the politics of high society.

She came alive in her role as the Split Rock’s innkeeper. This business had been in her family for generations. And he wouldn’t want her to change for him. He loved her just as she was.

No, if he wanted a future with Hope, he would have to be the one to come to her. Was he ready to do that? To turn away from everything he’d worked so hard to attain in order to pursue a relationship with this woman?

He was good at business, but it wasn’t something he felt passionate about. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t care about making money. He cared about meeting the expectations of the man who’d given him a chance when no one else would.

Martin glanced up again, eyeing him. “Why do you ask?”

Noah’s chest tightened. Martin had been gone hunting so much these past few days, he might not realize how much attraction crackled between Noah and Hope. Maybe it was time to be up front with the man.

He took in a deep breath. “These past few days, getting to know your sister, have been some of the happiest of my life. I’d like to get to know her better, to court her, if she’ll have me.”

Martin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Noah nodded. “It wouldn’t be easy, with me living back east and her heart so tied to this place. I don’t want to take her away from the life she loves or ask her to be someone she’s not. And I have obligations of my own I can’t ignore.”

He gazed down at his knife. Laying it out like that made their situation sound hopeless. But if God was in this, he would make a way.

He lifted his focus back to Martin. “Your sister is special. Worth the challenge.”

Martin studied Noah for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he nodded. “I appreciate your honesty. You seem like a good man, and I look forward to knowing you better.” Then a corner of his mouth tipped as a twinkle touched his eyes.

“The rest I’ll leave to Hope. She’s got a mind of her own, that one. ”

Noah huffed out a laugh. “Don’t I know it.”

Martin returned his focus to his work, and Noah did the same.

The glint of sunlight on metal caught Noah’s eye, and he glanced over at the knife Martin was using. Its ornate antler handle bore a single word, carved with care into the smooth surface.

He straightened. “That knife . . .” Realization settled in a rush.

Martin glanced up, then at the knife in his hand. One corner of his mouth tipped up as he raised the blade. “Nice, huh?”

It had to be. He reached out. “Can I hold it?”

The blade was half-covered with turkey innards, but the word carved into the antler handle was easy to make out. Palmer .

“Where did you get this?” He shifted his focus to Martin.

The man shrugged. “My other knife broke a few days back, and I remembered seeing this one in Hope’s trunk a while ago. Figured I’d borrow it until I had time to forge a new blade.”

A chuckle forced its way through Noah’s chest. All this time...

He wiped both sides of the blade in the snow, then held the knife up to inspect it again. The blade was old, no doubt, but looked sharp and carefully cared for.

Martin was watching him, more patiently than Noah would have.

He shook his head and turned to him. “I’m pretty sure this is the knife Hope’s been looking high and low for. We’ve searched every corner of the house and barn.”

Martin winced. “I meant to ask her about it, but she was never around when I’d think to.”

“Can I tell her?” Even if Martin said no, he wasn’t sure he could keep the news from Hope more than a minute.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Noah pushed to his feet, holding the heirloom with care as he strode around to the front of the house. What would she say? Would she be angry with her brother? Probably just relieved.

Before he opened the cabin door, he tucked the blade into his coat pocket. When he stepped into the room, all three occupants turned to him. Sam sat up on his bed pallet, leaning against the wall. He seemed to be finally feeling better. Miss Whitmore and Hope both worked in the cooking area.

He met Hope’s gaze and tried to tone down his grin as he sauntered toward her. He was doing a poor job of looking casual, though, for her eyes narrowed at him.

“What is it?” She wiped her hands on a cloth and stepped toward him, and when he reached her, he slipped the blade from his pocket.

As she stared down at the knife, her beautiful eyes widened. “Is that..?” Her gaze lifted to his.

She must know it was the right knife, but he nodded anyway. “The blade on your brother’s knife broke and he remembered seeing this one in your trunk. He forgot to tell you about borrowing it.”

Martin had come in behind him. “I’m sorry, Hope. Didn’t mean to make you fret.”

She didn’t respond to her brother, just refocused on the knife and reached for it. She took the tool in both hands and examined it, turning it around with her fingers like a roasting spit.

Then she finally looked up, and her gaze met Noah’s. “He was in the barn until so late last night, I didn’t get a chance to ask him about this. Thank you.” Her words came quiet, for him alone.

She moved around him, placing the knife in her palm as she stood before her brother.

“This knife first belonged to our great-grandfather on Papa’s side.

He carved our family name in it, then gave it to Grandad when he went west to fight the Indian wars.

Grandad gave it to Papa. You were too young when Papa passed, so Mama asked me to keep it safe until you were old enough to truly appreciate it. ”

She extended the knife on both sets of fingers, like the gift of the Magi.

“Now I give it to you, Martin Palmer. Keep it safe, and every time you use it, remember you come from a line of strong Palmer men. Men who’ve fought and suffered and worked for what mattered to them.

Men who’ve loved fiercely and laughed loudly and lived life to the fullest.”

Martin took the knife, and Hope stepped closer to wrap her arms around her brother. “I love you.” Her words were muffled in her brother’s coat, but Noah could still hear the way they broke.

Emotion clogged his own throat. He and his brothers didn’t have an heirloom knife to remind them of their ancestors.

But they did have each other, something he’d lost sight of these past years since he left his grandparents’ home.

But as soon as he had a spare week or two, he would visit his brothers.

Then maybe he could talk his older brother into coming with him to see their youngest. The three of them hadn’t been together since their grandparents passed.

For a man who mourned the loss of the family he’d never had, he’d certainly not been grateful for those he did have. He still needed to sort through how he could court Hope—what their life could be like and whether he could continue working for Charles.