Paper Roses (31 page)

This time there was no doubt about it. Zach was on the verge of laughter. “You probably should,” he agreed. “One more thing. I’m not an expert, but I’ve heard women like things like this to be surprises.”

“I guess that means I can’t ask Sarah to plan the menu.” Clay plunked his hat back on his head and headed toward the door. Before he reached it, he turned and asked, “Do you really think I need to invite Gunther?”

Laughter was Zach’s only response.

He didn’t look like Austin. His voice wasn’t similar. But Zach’s laugh reminded Clay of his brother, and so he responded as he would have to Austin. “If you hadn’t done that, I was going to tell you I was glad you came to the Bar C.” Clay had even planned to give Zach a raise. Now he’d wait a week. After all, you shouldn’t reward a man for laughing at another man’s predicament.

“I’m glad I came.” Zach nodded slowly. “It was God’s will.”

Clay’s amusement faded. Austin would have said the same thing. The trouble was, both Austin and Zach were wrong. “I suppose it was also God’s will that Austin die. If it was, you can keep your God. I have no use for him.”

“I want you to play very quietly,” Sarah told her sister as they entered the mercantile. Thea had grown so much that she needed a new dress, and that meant buying fabric. Though it was a simple matter, Sarah wanted Isabelle’s advice. Her friend had an excellent sense of fashion and would be able to select the perfect calico. But instead of the smiling woman Sarah had expected, she saw a woman with red-rimmed eyes sitting behind the counter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Isabelle began to sob, covering her face with her hands. “She was horrible, and now everyone knows, and nothing will ever be the same.”

Though her leg throbbed and Thea began to whimper in sympathy, Sarah hurried behind the counter to wrap her arms around her friend. Until she knew why Isabelle was crying, a hug was the only comfort she could provide. “Start at the beginning. What happened?”

“Frau Steiner never liked us.” Isabelle turned and buried her face against Sarah. Though her words were muffled, Sarah understood them. “I remember how mean Frau Steiner was on the boat, always saying nasty things about my family. She hasn’t changed. All she does is look for something bad, and then she tells everyone.”

Sarah couldn’t contradict her friend, for she knew Frau Steiner’s reputation as the town busybody. “What is she saying now?”

Isabelle’s sobs intensified. “I don’t know how she found out, but she learned what happened in the Old Country, how Léon was in trouble with the law. She’s spreading the story, and now he’s being blamed for everything bad that happens here.”

Sarah nodded slowly. There’d been another rash of thefts, and she’d heard Clay grousing about the continuing problem with cut fences. She could only imagine what life was like for Léon if he was being accused of the crimes.

“The only one who won’t believe her is Karl Friedrich. He says he knows Léon didn’t cut those fences.” Isabelle raised her tear-stained face. “Oh, Sarah, I don’t know what to do. This hurts Maman and Papa so much. They thought we could start anew here, and now they’re afraid we’ll have to move again.”

Sarah’s heart ached for her friend and the family that had been so kind to her. How she wished she could reassure Isabelle by promising that everything would be fine, but she couldn’t. All she could offer was faint consolation. “The unpleasantness will die down. Rumors always do.”

But Sarah also knew they were never completely forgotten. It was that knowledge that had led her to accept Austin’s offer of marriage with its chance to begin a new life thousands of miles away from Philadelphia. It was that knowledge that kept her from telling anyone what her father had done. She couldn’t risk letting Thea be hurt the way these good people were.

Isabelle wiped her eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” The phrase was becoming a refrain.

Sarah winced as her comb caught a tangle of hair. That’s what happened when you tried to rush; nothing went right.

“Pretty, Sarah.” Thea fingered the lace-trimmed shirtwaist Sarah had laid out on the bed. Perhaps it was silly, wearing a new garment today. Technically she should still be in mourning, but for the past week Sarah had worn normal clothing to school, encouraged by her youngest pupils, who’d complained that she looked like a magpie in her somber black. It had been eleven months since Mama and Papa’s deaths, and even though many observed a full year of mourning for a parent, Sarah knew her mother would not have minded that she was now in more cheerful garb. Mama herself had worn black for only six months after Grandmama died. But there was a difference between the serviceable clothing she’d worn all week and this delicate rose-colored shirtwaist. It was more suited for a special occasion, particularly since she faced the possibility that it might suffer the fate that had befallen one of her light gray dresses. That one had been irreparably stained when an overly exuberant pupil had signed his name with a flourish, sending drops of ink flying onto Sarah’s skirt.

Though it might be foolish, Sarah slid her arms into the sleeves, enjoying the feel of the soft muslin. The fancy shirtwaist would remind her that this was a special day. Her birthday. A pang of nostalgia swept through her as she recalled the myriad ways her mother had turned birthdays into day-long celebrations for the entire family. This year would be different, for without Mama no one knew it was Sarah’s special day.

“Me ready!” Thea pointed at her shoes, which she’d managed to put on to the correct feet this morning.

Sarah gave her sister a hug. How selfish she was, feeling sorry that there would be no birthday festivities. She had so many more important things to worry about, things like Thea’s future and the unfair treatment Léon was receiving.

Admiring her sister’s shoes, Sarah said, “You’re a big girl now.” And so was she. There would be no pouting. Instead she would enjoy all that she had: her sister, her pupils, her friends.

By the lunch recess, Sarah had almost forgotten it was her birthday. Classes had gone well. Not only were there no flying drops of ink, but—more importantly—Johann Steiner had recited the alphabet perfectly, and Marie Claude Moreau had missed only one number in today’s multiplication table. Both students’ eyes had lit with pleasure over their accomplishments, making Sarah feel as if she too had accomplished something. Now she sat at her desk, munching a carrot and reviewing her plans for this afternoon’s lessons.

The sound of heavy footsteps startled her, for she’d expected no visitors—especially not a male visitor—today. As she looked up and recognized the man, Sarah’s heart began to pound. Why was Léon here? Not only had he never come to the school, but he was supposed to be working on the Friedrichs’ farm.

“Is something wrong?”

He grinned as he shook his head. “No. Karl gave me some time off.” A wry smile lit Léon’s face. “Much good it’s doing me. Isabelle has turned me into her errand boy. That’s why I’m here.”

As her heart resumed its normal pace, Sarah copied Léon’s playful tone. “You mean you didn’t come to learn multiplication tables?”

“I’m afraid not. Isabelle asked whether you and Thea could stop by the store after school. She said she needs your advice on something.”

But Isabelle seemed in no hurry to seek counsel. When Sarah and her sister arrived, Isabelle settled Thea on the floor with a basket of socks, turning sorting them into a game for her. While Thea played, Isabelle chattered. That was the only way Sarah could describe it. Though her friend spoke of a number of things, they were all inconsequential. Given the frequency with which she looked at the clock, she seemed more concerned about the passage of time than in seeking Sarah’s advice.

At length, Isabelle said, “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.” As Sarah nodded, she continued. “I don’t really need your advice, but I do need your help. I know you’ve seen the necklaces Frau Bauer makes out of pinecones.” Sarah had indeed seen them and had admired the woman’s skillful designs. She’d even suggested that the Rousseaus add them to their inventory, but the elderly German woman had insisted she preferred to sell them herself at the town’s open-air market.

“As it turns out, Frau Bauer is at the market this week, and she has some new designs. I wondered if you’d select one for me.” Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “I would have asked Léon, but he has terrible taste.”

Though it was a simple enough request, and Sarah was always willing to help her friend, there was an easier solution. “Why don’t I mind the store so you can go?” After all, Sarah had experience working in the mercantile, and that way Isabelle could choose her favorite design.

Isabelle shook her head. “Maman would be angry. I know she’d say I was taking advantage of you. Please, Sarah. I really want one of those necklaces.” When Sarah looked down at Thea, Isabelle said quickly, “I’ll watch her while you’re gone. Just pick the one you like best.”

The shopping excursion lasted longer than Sarah had anticipated. Apparently expecting her, Frau Bauer had a large selection of necklaces and seemed compelled to describe each one’s advantages. Then when Sarah had finally chosen one, the shopkeeper insisted on wrapping it, even though it required the better part of five minutes to find a piece of cord to tie the package. By the time everything was ready, half an hour had gone by, and Sarah was anxious. If she didn’t hurry, she and Thea would be late for supper. They’d already missed Thea’s riding lesson.

When she rounded the corner, Sarah found the mercantile locked, a note stuck to the door. “Sarah,” the note read, “Thea was fussy, so I took her home—Isabelle.” Sarah shook her head, realizing Isabelle had gotten more than she’d bargained for when she’d volunteered to watch Thea.

As she headed back to the ranch, Sarah flicked the reins, urging the horses to quicken their pace. She could only hope Thea had not developed a full-fledged tantrum. Though increasingly rare, they were alarming and might be beyond Isabelle’s experience. The sense of relief that blossomed as Sarah entered the Bar C’s lane turned to alarm when she saw four wagons, their horses hitched to the front posts. What was wrong? Though she’d expected the Rousseaus’ buggy, she knew of no reason for the others to be here. Had something happened to Thea or Pa? As quickly as she could, Sarah dismounted and entered the house, her heart anxious, her palms moist with fear.

“Happy birthday!” Fear turned to surprise. Sarah froze, astonished by the cries that greeted her. As her eyes adjusted to the lower light, she saw the main room filled with people dressed in their Sunday best.

“Happy birthday!”

There was no doubt about it. Someone had learned that today was her birthday. Sarah’s heart filled with warmth as she looked around the room. There was Thea, happily settled in Clay’s arms, while Zach stood next to Pa’s wheeled chair. Not only was the entire Rousseau family present, but close by were Gunther and Eva, and Mary and David. The Friedrich family completed the gathering.

“S’prise, Sarah. Papa Clay made s’prise.” Thea punctuated her words with big grins.

Clay? Sarah’s amazement grew as she tried and failed to picture her father or any of the men she knew planning a party. Yet Clay had done it. The proof was here. “How did you know?”

He shook his head. “Later. Thea tells me it’s time to eat.”

Keeping one arm firmly around Thea, Clay extended his other to escort Sarah to the table. Within minutes, they were all savoring the meal. Though Martina had prepared most of the dishes, each of the guests had brought something. A bowl of Frau Friedrich’s cucumbers and sour cream sat next to a plate of Madame Rousseau’s pâté. When Mary mentioned that she had made the biscuits, Eva proudly presented Sarah with a jar of peach jam that she’d helped make, insisting Sarah be the first to sample it.

Sarah’s heart welled with happiness. Had it been only a few hours ago that she was feeling sorry for herself because no one knew it was her birthday? Now here she was, surrounded by friends, their smiles telling her they were as glad to be here as she was to have them.

“I know this is probably not as fancy as dinners in Philadelphia,” Clay said softly.