New Beginnings (New Beginnings Series) (8 page)

As she climbed back in under the covers, she wondered out loud, “I don’t know why I’m so tired this time. It didn’t seem to take so long to get over having a baby before and he was so small.”

Sam turned from his job at the basin. “Doc Brown said the baby was breach. He said you probably wouldn’t have managed to have it on your own.” He hesitated for a moment before asking, “How long were you in labour? It must have been a long time.”

Sara looked at the clock, which sat on the shelf by the cupboards and saw it had stopped from not being wound. “What time did you get here, Sam? Was it morning or night?”

“It was yesterday morning. About half past eight, I guess. Doc came out about an hour later and the baby was born a few minutes after.”

“I guess it was about thirty-two hours. I knew something was wrong. I thought I was going to die. I guess, this time you saved my life, Sam.”

“You did that for thirty-two hours?” He walked over to the bed again and sat down beside her. He set the pot he was drying on the chair next to them. “If only I came sooner.” He pulled her up to him and held her tightly.

Sara whispered, “Thank you for caring enough to come at all.”

Sam held her, hearing those words over and over again, echoing in his mind, “caring enough ... caring enough ... caring enough.” When had he felt concern for anyone before? It seemed he was only interested in someone if it was a benefit to him. If he was paying her back for helping him, as he told himself before, he probably wouldn’t have ridden to her home with a bad leg, in the cold, in the dark. There were so many things he did for Sara he wouldn’t consider doing for anyone else. A little while ago he felt like walking away from it, she told him there would be no physical reward, ever. Suddenly he let himself believe it was beyond caring for her. He loved her. As much as he liked the feeling, it suddenly scared him. What if he had lost her? He pulled back slightly and placed a quick kiss on the nape of her neck.

She lay down, placing her head on the well-worn pillow. Her eyes looked deeply into his, trying to read what he was thinking, but she could not. “Sam,” she paused, “I’ll have to bury the baby.”

“I don’t know where it is. Maybe the doc took it back to town.” Sam was uneasy.

“I know where he is. Lily placed him in the cradle in the other room where it is cool. She did it for me before when the last baby was stillborn.”

Sam went into the next room and found a tiny bundle lying in the cradle as Sara said it would be. Without moving it, he went back into the kitchen. “It will take me a while. The ground is frozen fairly deep.”

“Actually, I was prepared. A couple of months ago I dug the grave myself.”

“Did you never think maybe this time it would be different? Maybe this baby might be fine.”

“I couldn’t let myself think that, Sam. It is really too hard when you do.” Sara started to get out of bed.

“Wait for a bit. I’ll dig a path to the cemetery.” After he put on his warmer clothes, Sam stopped before going out. “I didn’t see a new grave before.”

Sara’s eyes looked down to the floor. “It’s in the back corner, away from the others. I put some boards over it.”

Sam looked puzzled as he turned to go out the door, but he didn’t feel it was the right time to ask questions.

He found a shovel in the room off the hen house. Once again Dickens pushed open the door of the building and this time was lying down in the deep straw. The chickens, not the least bit worried, scratched around the horse. Several roosted on his back, enjoying the warmth his big body gave. Sam placed a small amount of oats on the floor in front of him and the hens were quick to share his breakfast, which didn’t seem to concern Dickens.

The path to the cemetery was fairly easy to shovel, as it was placed in an open area, on top of a small knoll. The wind blew the snow into drifts away from it.

After some time, Sam found the tiny grave, which had a small cross at the head of it. Only a small part of the top of the wood could be seen out of the snow and the shadow of a tiny drift seemed to point to it. He stopped for a moment, wondering why this one was as far from the others as possible and the cross was marked only “Baby”. He uncovered the grave and found boards over the small hole in the ground. As he moved them, he found some straw and under that, loose soil. He realized Sara expected to be doing this on her own and also knew in all likelihood the ground would be frozen. He shovelled the loose dirt out of the hole and found a grave that had been prepared with much care.

Sam followed the path back to the cabin, but wasn’t ready to go back inside yet. He knew this was hard on Sara and for a little longer he didn’t want to face the pain. He dug the path to the outhouse, made a better one to the chicken house and then cleared the porch. Finally there seemed to be no more snow to move and as he was starting to get cold, went inside.

He was welcomed with the smell of hot coffee brewing on the stove. Sara sat in the rocking chair, sound asleep. She was fully dressed. In fact, it looked like she could have two dresses on, to guard against the cold. In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped tightly in a blanket.

Sam removed his outdoor clothing and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. He sat on the bed beside her, the cup warming his hands. The chair started to slowly rock and Sara’s eyes opened. They looked back at him, showing no emotion or feeling. It reminded him of when he first came here and it didn’t feel like the Sara he was coming to know.

She made a motion to rise. “Well, I better get this done,” she said in a rather matter-of-fact tone.

Sam quickly moved from his seated position and placed the half empty cup on the table.

“You don’t have to come, I can do this.” But she couldn’t rise out of the chair without help.

Sam took the baby, placed it on the bed and helped her stand. “You are not going out alone, Sara,” he said strictly and started to put on his coat as she wrapped the thick shawl over her head and around her shoulders. Picking up the bundle she went out the door, pausing at the top of the first step.

“You’re right, I can’t do this alone,” she said as she looked down at the ground, which seemed so far away.

Sam stepped down in front of her and offered his hand, saying, “I could do this for you,” but he knew as he said it, what the answer would be.

“No, I have to do this, Sam.” As she stepped down, holding her breath, he put his arm around her and they walked toward the baby’s final resting place. It was a slow walk and Sam knew Sara was still in a lot of pain, although she said nothing. He thought how odd they would look if someone was watching, her carefully placing each step and he, with his bad leg.

Sara knelt, placing a small pile of straw in the bottom of the grave. She opened the bundle for only a moment to take one quick look and closed it without a kiss or a touch. The last wrapping of the bundle she removed and made a type of sling so she could gently lower the baby into the straw. Releasing the cloth, she put the remaining straw over it before a ceremonial handful of dirt. Sam carefully shovelled on the remaining soil, watching Sara closely, expecting a reaction, but there was no show of emotion, no tears he expected. Sam had to help her to her feet. The only way he knew the pain she felt was the way she took or released a breath and he knew this was very painful.

As he closed the small wrought-iron gate behind them, they paused for a moment to look at the crosses.

“Sara?” he paused, finding it a hard question to ask, “That wasn’t William’s baby, was it?”

She took a few steps before an answer came, “No”, she took a few more steps before continuing. “I told you, I’m the loneliest woman west of Winnipeg.”

He stopped and turned her to him, “I really don’t believe that.”

“It is what everyone in town will believe if those gossips get wind of it. In fact, if they hear you’ve been out here, soon they will say it was your baby.”

“I really don’t care what they say,” he said as he put his arm back around her and proceeded toward the house. He couldn’t help himself as he asked, “Who?”

“I can’t tell you Sam, not yet.” Sara walked in the door, kicked off her boots which were obviously too big for her. She didn’t care where they fell, made her way over to the bed and lay down, using her shawl for a cover.

As he removed his coat, Sam asked, “Where do you keep your willow bark tea, Sara?”

She opened her dreary eyes, “There’s a jar in the cupboard marked W.B.T.” She closed her eyes again and continued, “Is your leg sore?”

Sam took two cups down from the shelf and put a spoonful in each as he said, “A little.” He poured warm water from the kettle in each, stirred them and took a cup to Sara. He sat on the bed beside her and she opened her eyes. “I think you need some.”

She returned a weak smile, “So, you are my doctor now?” But she took the cup from him and drank until it was empty. “Thanks,” she said as she returned it to him and lay down again, quickly falling asleep.

Sam sat watching her sleep and wondered how much a person could endure. He was sure Sara had nearly reached the end and even though some of it was at his hand, she never placed any of the blame on him. Could he have done that? He really didn’t know. After finishing several cups of coffee he went about preparing a supper he hoped would impress her. He decided right then and there he would win her over and together they would find the solution. If they had to travel all the way to Philadelphia, they would find the answer. He paused, shocked with his thoughts. He would marry this woman and they would have babies together. It was then he realized what scared her so much, that he would start thinking this way. He knew these thoughts must only be his own, until she had them too.

She slept for several hours when her breathing started to appear stressed. He knew she was dreaming and it was turning into a nightmare, when a slight whimper came from her. Sam placed one hand on each shoulder trying to wake her.

She let out a scream when her eyes opened and tried desperately to pull away from him, shouting, “Get off of me!”

“Sara, it’s Sam!” he said repeatedly. She seemed to gain consciousness and grabbed onto him as if for dear life. She shook violently and sobbed into his shoulder.

After she settled, he said, “Sara, you’ve got to tell me who it was who forced himself upon you.”

But she stayed silent, just holding on.

They remained this way until well after dark. The supper was probably drying out in the warming oven, but he stayed, holding her. Finally she spoke, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Sh,” he answered, “It’s all right. I’m not going to leave you, Sara.”

For the first time in a long time the words she heard seemed to bring a peace to her. It was so long since she felt the peace that trust brings. And she knew at that moment her heart was his and as much as it scared her, she knew she must follow it.

“Sam,” she whispered into his ear, “we can’t now, but … maybe … if we are really careful …”

She didn’t have to finish her words. Instead his mouth met hers, gently, passionately and completely. A warm feeling started at her toes and moved slowly upward through her entire body and for a moment she had to remind herself to breathe. She felt sixteen again, but this time she felt she could trust it.

The supper did dry out. In fact, it had gone cold before they thought of it again. They climbed in under the covers together and held onto each other and to a dream.

Chapter Seven

Sam pulled the duvet over them and they lay together, each enjoying the presence of the other. A month ago, if someone said he would be where he was now he would have emphatically said “Impossible!” To lie with a woman, just to be with her, to feel her beside him … impossible! But here he was and he found it more fulfilling than he ever would have thought possible. The feeling was completely overwhelming, almost as if he wanted to pull her into his very being. She lay with her head resting on his shoulder and it made him feel like he could protect her from everything. He pulled his arm tighter around her and she looked up at him. Her forehead brushed against his beard and he felt a shudder go through her. “What’s wrong?”

“Your beard tickled,” Sara replied with a smile, but the shiver didn’t feel like a reaction to a tickle. “You hungry? I’m starved.”

“Damn, the supper will be cold.” Sam got out of bed and opened the warming oven. The fire went out in the burner, but the room still held some warmth. He started to put a log into the belly of the stove, but as he was bent over at the pile of wood he felt a tender hand follow the length of his spine. This time, he felt a shiver and even though he continued with his job of relighting the fire, he took a deep breath to help concentrate on his task. Beside him, a bare foot stepped into his vision and as he closed the iron door he ran a hand over a delicate ankle to her knee. He thought maybe she would pull away, but instead she stayed completely still, although occasionally a tremble ran through her. As he straightened, he placed both hands around her waist and drew her to him, looking deeply into those captivating eyes, into her soul. Those eyes were as blue as the sky, no, he decided, as blue as the ocean and as deep and he felt they could pull him in.

This time her lips met his. It felt like the room turned around them. They were the centre of the universe at that moment. As much as he wanted her completely, it seemed totally satisfying just to be there, like they were one.