There's No Place Like Rhodes (Book 2)

Travel Plans

Charlotte gazed around the bedroom, trying to determine if she was forgetting anything. She was hoping they wouldn't need to travel with a trunk, but it seemed impossible to fit all of their clothing into two small bags.

In three days' time, her and Arthur were taking a train to her parents' house in Chicago to celebrate Christmas. It was early, but she'd wanted to get a head start on packing. Especially since she was stuck between which three books she wanted to bring. She still hadn't fully made a decision when she heard Arthur enter the house.

"Charlotte?" he called.

"I'm in the bedroom. I'll be out in a moment."

When she stepped into the main room, she found Arthur covered in snow, facing away from her and shrugging off his coat. She walked up to him and helped him pull it all the way off.

"How was your drive to the trapper?" she asked as she hung up the coat.

"Slippery with the wagon, but I managed," he answered. "That snow's finally startin' to let up."

When he turned, she covered her mouth of a small chuckle. He'd been growing his beard out and now it was completely dusted in snow.

"What?"

"You look like Saint Nicholas himself."

He brushed off what he could, saying, "I saw wolves lurking down the hill, but they kept their distance. Make sure you take the rifle with you anytime you head outside, ya hear?"

"I will," she said with amusement. "You know that's the fifth time you've told me that."

"They're gonna get hungry soon enough if we get any more bad weather," he warned. "And when they're hungry, they'll get desperate."

She trusted his word explicitly in everything related to the wilderness. She rested a palm on his chest. "I'll remember."

"I'll hold you to it, ma'am."

Arthur leaned down and kissed her. They'd been together for months now and somehow every time his lips met hers, she felt the same lively stirring she had the first time they'd kissed. She leaned against him, more than willing to continue until one of his hands reached up to cup her cheek.

She pulled back, startled at the frigid temperature. She reached up and held his hand between hers. "You're ice cold!" She grabbed his arm, dragging him to the fireplace. "Stand here a few minutes and get warm. I'll pour you a coffee."

"Alright, alright. No need to fuss. I ain't frozen solid." Arthur held his hands above the flames as she strode to the stove top. "Made a decent few bucks on those pelts."

"That's wonderful."

"If I could stand bein' in Annesburg more than a few hours, it'd be a lucrative place for a hunter or butcher to open shop."

She raised a brow. "Is that something you have an interest in?"

"Nah." He scratched his nose. "The hunting part of it I can handle, but runnin' a shop ain't my specialty."

"And what is your specialty?" she asked teasingly as she poured two cups of coffee.

When he didn't answer her right away, Charlotte turned towards him. He was looking at the flames, not her, a grave expression sinking into place across his face.

Charlotte gazed at him with concern. Arthur's bad memories intruded darkly in his day to day. He denied it, but his past still haunted him and what triggered it seemed to be anything.

Once, he'd been helping her set up her bookshelf and had idly looked through the titles. He'd stopped at one and stared at it for the longest time. When he'd grown quiet, she'd read the cover over his shoulder. It'd been An American Eden by Evelyn Miller.