Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (20 page)

Oh, her parents had been Christians, as Stephen's had
been, but to say they'd been exceedingly committed would
be an error. The Woodward family had attended Sunday services out of a sense of duty and pretension, not devotion, and
they even donated financial support to all kinds of worthy
causes. Rarely, however, except toward the end of her life,
had Sarah's mother meditated on God's Word. Even then, it
was because Sarah read to her from her own Bible. And she'd
never once caught her father, a successful oil manufacturer,
studying the Word.

Perhaps that explained why, after the deaths of both her
parents, nothing remained to tie her to the Boston area. Most
of the friends she'd made over the course of her life, save
Nancy Belmont, weren't much interested in spiritual matters. If anything, they thought her a bit too zealous in her faith and
convictions.

"Mama read her Bible every night," said Rachel, her voice
a mere whisper.

Sarah lifted her head, knowing the importance of treading softly. "Your mother must have been a wonderful person.
How lucky you are to have her Bible."

Rachel gave a slow nod. "She was fun-before she got
sick."

Sarah rested a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Would you like
to tell me about her?"

"I don't know." Rachel tipped her face upward and revealed
a glittering of raw hurt in her sky-blue eyes. "Sometimes I cry
if I think too hard about her."

"I know exactly what you mean," Sarah answered, turning
on her side and pulling a bit of the blanket with her, taking care
not to disturb Seth's slumber. The boy had stretched straight
out in front of the couch, his bare feet protruding from the
oversized blanket he shared with Sarah.

"'Cause your mama died too?" Rachel asked.

"Yes. I miss her terribly." Her mother had never been
much for nurturing; her societal activities, fund-raising balls,
art auctions to benefit the poor, and charity luncheons always
took up a good share of her time. Yet, in spite of that, Sarah
always knew she was loved.

Rachel seemed to think that over. "I miss my mama, too."

Sarah weighed her words carefully. "Maybe if you just tell
me about some of the good times, you won't feel quite so sad.
Can you remember a few?"

The child brightened. "We used to walk to the city square. There was a park there with swings and stuff. Mama would
share the seesaw with me. She was too heavy for the other end,
so she would push off the ground with her feet and then come
back down, and it made me almost fly off my end." With that,
Rachel actually giggled.

"Oh, I know what you mean. I once had a friend who was
much bigger than I was. She loved to trap me up in the air by
sitting on her end for long periods of time," Sarah said. Now
they both laughed quietly. "Tell me more," Sarah urged.

"Well, once, when Seth was very little, Mama and me and
Seth all went grasshopper huntin'."

"Grasshopper hunting? I thought you lived in the city."

"Oh, we never caught any, but Mama said we was huntin'
for 'em anyways. We took a jar and everything. She said she
used to hunt for 'em when she was little, so she thought we
should practice the skill of it."

Sarah couldn't hold back her own giggle despite the nagging ache at the base of her skull. "I see! So it requires skill,
does it?"

"Mama said so. She said you had to sneak up behind and
make a surprise attack. They have good ears and will hear you
comin' otherwise."

Sarah nodded. "And how are you supposed to catch them
once you spot them?"

Rachel turned to face her. "With your hands, silly."

Sarah deliberately frowned, which made Rachel laugh.
"Maybe you can show me how in the springtime," Sarah said,
"provided you and Seth do the actual catching."

"Will you still be here in the spring?" Rachel asked, her
eyes holding hope.

The question set Sarah back. Did the children expect her
to desert them? "Of course I'll be here, sweetie. Now, tell me
some more wonderful stories."

For the next several minutes, Rachel shared stories from
her heart, stories of happy times that brought a smile to her
face and an occasional giggle. Sarah resurrected a few of her
own favorite memories to add to the collection, and in those
quiet moments, the two began to build an alliance of sorts, the
early stages of an enduring friendship.

Sometime later, while Sarah was slowly navigating around
the house, tending to a few minor chores, and Seth and
Rachel were playing with some toys in their room, she heard
the sounds of approaching horses. When she glanced out the
kitchen window, a smile found its way to her lips.

It seemed her husband had sent for his mother.

He didn't care what Sarah said-she needed help around
the place, and he would not take no for an answer. He didn't
know why he hadn't thought of it sooner, but bringing his
mother over to stay for a couple of days seemed the perfect
solution. It would mean he'd have to go back to bedding down
in the barn, but it would be worth it to have peace of mind. He
didn't trust his wife to get the rest she needed.

Fortunately, once Rocky had explained to his parents
about Sarah's accident and the doctor's orders for bed rest,
Frank Callahan had sanctioned the idea of lending his wife
out for a few days. Had his father's health worsened, Rocky
wouldn't have considered it, but as it was, the man looked as
healthy and fit as ever. Having suffered one heart attack, he now had a heart condition that seemed to come and go, but
Doc said he could outlive them all if he took care of himself.

"Why don't I wait outside while you go talk to your wife?"
Mary Callahan suggested once Rocky reined the team in and
jumped off the rig. She sat atop the wagon seat, bundled in her
winter gear. Rocky led the horses to the hitching post before
he looked up at her.

"Thanks, Ma. This'll only take a few minutes. I'll tend to
your horses later if you don't mind." Sparky, tethered to the
back of the wagon, gave a loud snort, as if to remind Rocky of
his whereabouts.

"Take as long as you need," Mary prompted. "If Sarah is
as stubborn as you seem to think she is, she may not take to
the idea of her mother-in-law intruding. That's why your pa
and I have kept our distance. We wanted to give the two of you
plenty of time to adjust to each other."

"Well, it wouldn't have mattered if you'd come by, Ma. It's
not as if we're living the life of blissful newlyweds."

Mary lifted her brows until they disappeared under her
wool hat. "I see. In other words, you don't share a bed."

Rocky blushed in spite of the cold. Conversations such as
this didn't occur often between his mother and him. "No. The
arrangement was that she would look after Seth and Rachel
in exchange for a place to live. It's a marriage in name only,
Ma."

"Ali, and you're happy with that?"

"Ma, let's save this conversation for another time."

The lights of her eyes shifted and then she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "I don't think we'll need to discuss it further.
Things will iron themselves out, son, you'll see."

It would be senseless to argue the point, so Rocky merely
gave a quick nod and headed for the house.

When he opened the door, Sarah was sitting on the sofa.
She gave the appearance of having been sitting there for some
time, but he knew otherwise. The kitchen looked considerably
tidier than when he'd left it, and there was a steaming teakettle on the stove. Seth and Rachel seemed to be entertaining
themselves in their room.

"Where's your mother?" she asked. The question threw
him. So she had seen them come up the drive.

Prepared to do battle, he pulled back his shoulders and
walked straight across the room to face her head-on. "I'll have
no arguing on the matter, Sarah. It's clear you need some help
around the place. You don't seem to agree with what Doc Randolph suggested as far as bed rest goes, and so I think my decision is a smart one.

"You don't need to worry about Ma intruding on your
space, if that's your concern. And she certainly won't tell you
how to manage the household chores. She will, however, be
glad to do whatever you ask of her because she's concerned for
your well-being.. just ...as...I am."

His sentence petered out toward the end because of the
way her large, liquid eyes, more blue than green today, flashed
in a familiar display of impatience. "I asked you a simple question," she said.

"Huh?"

"Where is your mother? Are you making her wait outside,
just as you made the children sit outside at Winthrop's Dry
Goods that first day I met you?"

Now he felt duly reprimanded. "It was-her idea. I wasn't, well, she wasn't sure how you would react to her-coming to
stay-for a few days."

"For gracious' sake, Rocky, invite your mother inside."
When all he could do was stare down at her, she quickly added,
"Please." That's when he saw of glint of humor pass across her
face.

"You don't mind, then?"

"Why should I mind? I will be thankful to have the company. I think it was a wonderful idea."

Relief flooded through his veins. "You do?"

Her smile broadened in approval. "Yes. Now, do I have to
invite her in, or are you going to see to that?"

In the space of a second, his mood went from apprehensive to buoyant, heavy to lighthearted. Without further ado, he
hurried to the door.

"Ma! Come on in!" he called. His mother looked up and
quickly went about unbundling herself from her array of
quilts.

"Shouldn't you go help her?" Sarah asked.

"Oh. Right."

Just as he headed out the door, he heard the excited cries
of Seth and Rachel trailing behind. "Grandma? Is Grandma
here? Yippee!"

randma, can I help?" Seth asked the next day, pulling a chair to kneel on up to the table. His grandmother had her flour-ridden hands in the center of a huge ball
of bread dough, her palms and fists aptly kneading as she'd
done a thousand times before.

"Of course you can help," Mary Callahan replied, tearing
off a lump of dough for her grandson and pushing it to the
side, her tone so chipper that Sarah was hard-pressed not to
giggle.

Although her headache and dizziness had temporarily
subsided, she'd been forced to rest, moving from the trusty old
couch to a kitchen chair and then back to the couch when the
throbbing returned and became too bothersome. She wished
she could help, but she had relented when Mary insisted it was
her pleasure to take over the duties.

So far, her mother-in-law had scrubbed the sink, shelves,
stove, and countertop, complaining to her son when he made
an appearance that he should think about replacing the roughhewn work surface in the kitchen. "Your bride could get slivers
cleaning it."

He'd given Sarah a hangdog look before casting his
mother a warning glance. "I know, Ma. Anything else?"
Sarah stifled a giggle and Mary shrugged. "Well, if you want
a list, I'm sure between Sarah and me we could easily come
up with one."