Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (10 page)

"We couldn't have been more than fourteen," Ben said
with a hearty grin.

"We left in the morning and were home before nightfall, hungrier than coons," said Jon, recollection showing in
his clear blue eyes. "Weren't too smart, as I recall. We didn't
take enough blankets and hadn't planned on rain. Came back
wetter than skunks swim min' upriver."

"Why don't I remember anythin' about this trip?" asked
Mrs. Callahan, her squinty blue eyes revealing fine wrinkles
at the corners.

"Well, Ma, we figured it best not to tell our parents. We
didn't plan on being gone much past three weeks. Figured
you'd hardly miss us," Rocky said in a joking tone.

"I'd've missed ya come morning when it was time for the
milkin'," said the elder Mr. Callahan, his grey eyes glinting
with humor, his voice craggy with age.

Everyone laughed. Sarah noted that Rachel and Seth had
approached the circle of adults and were snuggling up on
either side of their grandmother. The roundish woman pulled
them up snugly against her, taking the time to smile down at
each. Only Seth returned a hint of a smile, his face disappearing in his grandma's full skirts. It was clear they loved her and
she them.

As the celebration waned and folks had had their fill of
conversation, food, punch, and cake, Mother Callahan suggested that Sarah and Rocky open their wedding gifts.
Although the idea of gifts seemed somehow superfluous in
view of their contrived marriage, Sarah obliged the group by
accepting each gift with enthusiasm. There was a linen, flowerprint tablecloth with silver napkin rings from Ben and Liza,
a pair of silver salt and pepper shakers and matching sugar
bowl from Emma, and a cake basket, ice cream knife, and full
set of cast-iron pans from Sarah's new in-laws. Lastly, Jon presented them with a large family Bible. "It's beautiful," Sarah
exclaimed upon taking the lovely leather-bound edition from
its box. Even Rocky reached across her and stroked the fine
leather. "Thank you, Jon," he murmured solemnly. "We didn't
expect you to give us a gift since you already did us the honor
of performing the ceremony."

"I gave the same gift to Ben and Liza a few weeks back.
Wouldn't want to leave you out. You are to fill in the family
tree as you add new members to your family," he said. "You
can see that I've already included both your names at the top." There was a definite hint of mischief in his eyes as
Sarah's face went from pale to crimson in the space of a few
seconds. Would there ever be more to their family than the
two of them and Rachel and Seth? It seemed unlikely since
they'd both agreed that this would be a marriage in name
only.

Emma broke the moment of awkward silence. "I'm sorry
to break up this party, but I must be getting back to my
boardinghouse. I have a couple of vacancies that I need to
see to."

"And I have a Sunday sermon to prepare," Jon said. "I
expect I'll see you all at the Winthrop's lovely home for services this coming Sunday?"

Sarah glanced at her unresponsive husband then answered
for both of them. "I cannot guarantee that we will make it
this week, but you may count on us thereafter." To that, Rocky
scowled, although she doubted anyone else had caught his
wrathful look. Sarah couldn't help but wonder what had so
embittered his heart toward God. Yes, he'd lost his wife and
son, but others suffered losses and didn't automatically wrap
themselves in bitterness.

The guests said their good-byes, making their way to the
door after offering their final good wishes to the newly married couple, Rocky going before to open the door for them and
to see them out.

Mary Callahan hugged Sarah tightly, then pulled back
and rewarded her with a pleasant smile. "You are to call
on Frank and me very soon, and, of course, bring the children."

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll need your advice from time to time." Sarah noted how both Rachel and Seth hung on the
skirts of their grandma, refusing to let go.

"You'll do just fine," she whispered, then, leaning in,
added, "The children will grow to love you, as will my son,
you'll see. Now that you're here, their hearts will heal."

Sarah felt a burden of responsibility. Was her mother-inlaw expecting more than she was able to give?

"I appreciate that, Mrs. Callahan."

The woman's seasoned face creased into a sudden smile.
"Please, if you wish, call me Mother or, at the very least, Mary.
I know you lost your true mother just recently, so perhaps it
won't come natural, but just so you know-I'll think of you as
a daughter-particularly since I just lost my own dear girl." A
faraway look swept across Mary's face and Sarah's heart went
out to her.

,Just then, Frank Callahan approached, looping his arm
through his wife's. Deep lines etched his weathered forehead
and the corners of his eyes, revealing years of squinting at
Kentucky's punishing sun. He wasn't as tall as his son, but his
broad shoulders, now sagging from age, revealed his former
strength.

"Welcome to the family, my dear," he said, his mouth turning up in a kindly smile. "I 'spect my Mary has already invited
you for supper next week." He arched a white eyebrow and
winked.

Mary Callahan giggled. "I've given her an open invitation
for now. We'll save the formal invite for later. Don't want to
overwhelm the poor girl right off."

Mrs. Callahan bent to hug the children then set them to
the side to whisper something in their ears. Both gave solemn nods. Frank tipped back on his heels and waited for his wife.
"They miss their ma somethin' fierce," he muttered, pulling
on his white beard.

Sarah's throat tightened at the sight of the forlorn little
imps. "These things take time," was all she could manage.

arch stared at one lone spot on the ceiling, pulled the
scratchy wool blanket up under her chin, turned over
on her straw mattress, and breathed in the scents of musty
walls and dusty curtains. It was well past midnight, but her
mind was still too cluttered with thoughts of her wedding day
for sleep to come.

She glanced out the single window of the small room that
had once belonged to Rocky Callahan. Although she'd insisted
she could sleep on the sofa, which she'd discovered during the
course of the evening wasn't bad, save the spring that jutted
from its center, he'd insisted a woman needed her own place.
It seemed he'd fashioned a spot for himself out in the barn,
for when night fell, he gathered up his bedroll, a book, and
a couple of other items, mumbled a solemn good-night, and
headed out the door.

The cabin, while cozy enough, needed a good scrubbing.
Of course, her mother-in-law had tended to the surface cleaning prior to the wedding, but when Rocky and the kids had
given her a tour of the little house, she'd noticed rugs, bedding, and windows treatments all in need of an overhaul. She
hoped her husband wouldn't mind when she handed him a list
of wants for fixing up the place.

She could use her own money, she supposed, but she
wanted to accustom herself to depending on her husband. Besides, what would he say if he learned of her large inheritance? Their marriage arrangement was precarious at best.
Telling him he'd married a very wealthy woman might sting
his ego or even give him cause for sending her back. From all
appearances, Rocky Callahan was a man of strength and great
pride. I won't be beholden to ya, he'd stated. That being the case,
she could hardly picture him accepting so much as a dime of
her inheritance.

Rocky. She tried his first name on her lips and liked the
feel of it. Still, it would take practice before it came off sounding natural to her.

While she lay there contemplating, the scuffle of tiny feet
scampered past her doorway-a mouse?-and she pulled her
blanket up closer, shuddering. A wealthy city girl, she could
not abide the notion that a wild creature, no matter how small,
roamed free within the confines of her home.

In the space of a few days, her life had changed dramatically-from a wealthy, pampered socialite to a farmer's wife. If
nothing else, the house alone demonstrated her drastic shift in
status. Whereas her home in the heart of one of Winchester's
prestigious neighborhoods was spacious and airy, with windows aplenty, this little house stood alone amidst acres of rich,
rising farmland, boasting only two small windows on either
side of the front door, one in each of the two bedrooms, one
over the kitchen sink, and another one overlooking the back.

Built of whitewashed wood slats and a primitive shingled
roof, the house had a small front porch as its only welcoming
feature. The yard and various outbuildings-a large barn,
two sheds, and a chicken coop-made up the cabin's
surroundings, along with the rich, grassy hillsides, framed by a large whitewashed fence, undoubtedly intended for her
husband's livestock.

A town of this caliber will not make you happy, Sarah. She
winced and turned on her side, swallowing past the hard,
dry lump in her throat and trying to ignore her need for
the necessary. She'd never used an outdoor facility before
moving to Kentucky, her home in Massachusetts having
three separate bathrooms: one on the main floor, and two
on the second.

Releasing a weighty sigh, she yanked back the wool comforter and sat up. After getting her bearings, she snagged her
velvet dressing gown from its nearby hook and hastily slipped
into a pair of warm shoes. Next, she lit the little kerosene lamp
beside her bed and crept to the doorway, hoping not to come
face-to-face with the mouse she'd heard earlier.

The house was dark save for the glow of remaining embers
in the centrally located fireplace. When burning at full capacity, the fireplace kept the house warm and cozy. Now, however,
even with her long robe wrapped snugly around her nightdress, Sarah felt the grip of winter's chill.

She passed through the living room and the kitchen and
had just put her hand to the back door when a voice halted her.
"Going somewhere?"

To say she was surprised to find her husband standing mere
feet away was putting it mildly. Cold shock better described
her emotion as she whirled to face him, her hand going to
her heart in an attempt to slow its rapid pace. "I-c-couldn't
sleep," she managed. "I thought you were in the barn."

"I didn't mean to scare you." The moon's reflection traced
the outline of his powerful body, making him appear dark and dangerous, even though she felt certain he wasn't. "I came in
to feed the fire," he said in a gravelly voice. "Sorry to disturb
you.

"You didn't disturb me." A long moment of silence made
her awkwardness increase. She cleared her throat. "It seems
silly for you to walk from the barn to the house to feed the fire
when I could just as easily tend to it."

"No need," he answered, his face coming into view as he
stepped closer. "You have your chores and I have mine. I'd just
as soon keep it that way."

"I see." The gruff manner in which he spoke went against
her grain, but she managed to keep her tongue from retorting. There would be time enough later for discussing household tasks. In the meantime, she had more pressing needs.
"Well," again, she cleared her throat, "I have need of the outdoor facilities."

"Ali, and you think you can find your way?"

"I'm sure I'll manage." It was embarrassing enough to have
been caught unawares, but to be standing here discussing her
basest of needs was downright humiliating.

"It's a tricky path at night, a few dips here and there. You'll
need a light so you don't twist an ankle on your way out. I
should have told you where I keep the lantern." He stepped
past her, his wool coat brushing against her velvet sleeve. The
simple touch created a strange stir in the pit of her stomach.
He opened the cabinet nearest the door and retrieved a lantern and a box of matches. Turning the wick up slightly, he
struck a match against the rough wall, inserted the burning
stick inside the globe, and ignited a low flame. That done, he
handed her the lantern. "I'll walk with you."

"That's entirely unnecessary," she balked, her face heating
with embarrassment.

"I don't mind."

"I wish to walk alone."

"Don't be mulish," he said. "Don't worry, I'll keep my distance once you go inside."

Now she was mortified. "I'm not worried, and that is precisely why I choose to walk alone."

In the lantern's dim light, she saw a muscle clench along
the strong line of his jaw. Just then, she felt his hand seize her
elbow as he escorted, or rather pulled, her out the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrieked into the
icy night, suddenly unconcerned about the children waking. "I
told you..."

He stopped midway down the trail, yanked the lantern
from her hand, and stared down at her. "And I told you I would
take you. Now be quiet, woman, or you'll wake the bears."

"The bears?"

"Yes, the bears. Most are hibernating in their dens, but a
few will wake up about this time of year, hungry for a bite to
eat."