Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The last time Miranda had gathered greenery with Gerard had been sixteen years ago, the Christmas before he went to sea. He would be with the men and the yule log if his knee would have allowed him to keep up, or allowed him to ride a horse without pain.

He joked with Ellie and with the other children, but every so often, the distant sound of a man’s voice in the woods made him look up, and a harshness would settle over his face like a mask. Or rather, perhaps his cheerfulness was the mask.

—From The Spinster's Christmas

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