Song of My Heart (23 page)

He turned in the opposite direction the Baxter twins had gone and caught sight of Sadie at the other end of the block, preparing to cross the street. Although he knew it wasn’t polite to shout at a lady, he cupped his hands beside his mouth and hollered, “Sadie, wait!”

Thad broke into a trot, his boots thundering on the planked boards. She waited, the toe of one boot peeping from beneath the full skirt of the brownish-red dress she wore to church each Sunday and for her performances. The dark color provided a perfect backdrop for her shimmering locks of gold. She looked so lovely there in the sunlight, a Bible cradled in her arms and a little hat perched slightly askew on her carefully combed hair, that he couldn’t stop a smile from growing.

“I’ll walk with you. It’s my Sunday for Reverend Wise’s teaching.”

Wordlessly, she slipped her gloved hand into the curve of his elbow. Together they crossed the street. He puzzled at her odd silence. She’d been standoffish and skittish in the weeks prior to him tackling her in the street, but he thought their talk yesterday afternoon had chased away her reserve. He stifled a chuckle, remembering how she’d asked for another hug after agreeing to allow his courtship.

Then his humor faded as he recalled how she’d skirted past him after her performance last night, murmuring the excuse that she was tired and wanted to turn in. He’d been understanding, but later when he’d made his nightly rounds, he’d spotted her sitting on the back porch stairs with her cousin, Sid. He’d kept his distance, not wanting to intrude on a private conversation, but now he wondered what they’d discussed. His warmly affectionate Sadie had faded into a cool, distant woman again.

They entered the clapboard building without her uttering a single word. The two long benches behind the minister’s lectern which served as a choir loft were already filled. He gave a nod toward the front. “You better skedaddle. Choir’s in place.”

“I’m not singing today.” She spoke so softly, he almost missed her words.

“You feeling sickly?” If she were ill, it would explain her strange behavior.

She shook her head.

“Well, then, why not go sing?”

Turning her face away, she set her lips in a firm line and didn’t answer.

What had gotten into her? He wouldn’t have guessed she’d be prone to fits of moodiness. Swallowing his irritation, he pointed to an empty bench midway between the front and the back. “Let’s sit there.”

She pulled her hand free of his elbow and gave him a sad look while shaking her head. “I’ll sit with Cora.”

Thad glanced around the half-filled sanctuary and spotted Cora on a crowded bench near the front. There wasn’t room for both of them up there. “You don’t want to sit with me?”

Again, that sad shake of her head. She made her way up the center aisle and slid in next to the café owner, who welcomed her with a soft smile Sadie didn’t return. Thad crunched his brow. At least her uncharacteristic detachment extended beyond him to others. It was small consolation, but consolation all the same.

He plopped down on the end of the bench he’d chosen and tried to pay attention as the choir rose and opened the service with a hymn. But he sent furtive glances in Sadie’s direction throughout the service. As much as he wanted to listen to the minister’s lesson, her odd demeanor troubled him even more than the rumor that had reached his ears about a shipment of bottles and corks delivered to an abandoned dugout east of town. One of the local farmers had glimpsed the crates being unloaded and stored in the dugout. But when Thad went out to investigate, the place was empty. He’d seen lots of wheel tracks, and the dust had been stirred up inside the little shelter, giving evidence of recent activity, but nothing remained that would provide a hint as to who’d been there and why.

He’d hoped the tale about the bottles would finally lead him down the trail to the unknown liquor maker. But without so much as a cork to prove the bottles existed, he was as clueless now as he’d been when he first moved to town. Hanaman was getting impatient with him, pressing him to make an arrest. But who should he arrest?

To his surprise, he glanced up to see that everyone else was standing. He leaped up, mortified by the titters of a trio of children seated behind him. Some minister he’d be if he couldn’t even pay attention to someone else’s sermon. He joined the congregation in singing the closing hymn; then he watched for Sadie to pass by so he could walk out with her and get to the bottom of her aloof behavior. But Doyle Kirkhart, the town barber, stopped to talk with him, and by the time they’d finished their conversation Sadie had disappeared.

With a groan of frustration, Thad charged across the grassy yard to the corner. He scanned the street, but he didn’t see her anywhere. He rubbed his chin, trying to decide what to do. He had the fixings for a simple lunch, so he could walk to the mercantile, ring the buzzer, and ask her to join him for another picnic. Maybe he could pry loose what was troubling her. But what if she wouldn’t tell him?

He slapped his hat on his head. Females! One minute smiling and forgiving, the next taciturn. He set his feet in motion, stirring dust with every pounding footstep. He wouldn’t spoil his Sunday playing twenty questions with Sadie. As he closed himself in his little living area at the back of his office and reached for his supply of bread and cheese, his righteous indignation fizzled and died.

Who was he fooling? Sadie’s sorrow was his sorrow. He felt it in the depth of his soul. She wanted some privacy or she wouldn’t have sneaked off without speaking to him. So he’d give her privacy. For now. But come tomorrow, he’d stop by the mercantile and ask if she’d changed her mind about allowing him to court her. And he prayed she wouldn’t say yes.

22 

S
adie hid a yawn with one hand while unlocking the mercantile door with the other. She’d gotten very little sleep last night, and even less the night before. Bits and pieces of her conversation with Sid from Saturday evening—“He’ll fire us both if you don’t sing at those special invite-only shows, Sadie”—collided with advice from Papa’s letter—“I know it’s hard for you to be far away, Sadie-girl, but the Lord is always with you. Follow His ways, and you’ll land on your feet every time.” Sadie felt certain doing what Mr. Baxter asked wouldn’t be pleasing to God. But not doing it would create so much conflict. For her, for Sid, for her family. So what was best?

She crunched her eyes tight and whispered the same prayer she’d offered a dozen times in the past two days. “Lord, show me what to do.” But when she opened her eyes, only the familiar street scene of Goldtree greeted her. How she wished God would pen His reply across the awakening sky so she’d have clear direction.

As if sent on a lightning bolt, another bit of wisdom from Papa’s letter winged through Sadie’s memory:
“Keep reading your Bible every day and talking to God.”
Guilt pricked. In the past weeks, she’d failed dismally in following her parents’ example. At home, Papa read nightly to the family. But here in Goldtree, between working at the mercantile and preparing for her performances, it seemed she never had a minute to spare. Exhaustion at the end of the day encouraged her to drop into bed at night for sleep rather than taking the time for Bible reading or prayer. How disappointed Mama and Papa would be if they knew.

Shame lowered her head, and out of the corners of her eyes she caught sight of a little wax-paper-wrapped bundle waiting on the porch. She sighed. She’d told Sid on Saturday night to stop leaving her the gifts, but apparently he’d chosen to disregard her request. She appreciated his kind consideration, even while she rued his bold persistence. Yet no matter how many thoughtful deeds Sid performed, she still viewed him as her childhood playmate and cousin. Never a beau. If only her heart would rise and take wing within her chest when Sid approached—the way it responded to Thad’s presence—how much simpler things would be.

Sadie lifted the package and peeled back the paper, revealing a sweet roll from Cora’s. Still warm. He must have been there only moments ago. The scent of cinnamon wafted upward, tickling her nose. Sadie had always loved the scent and flavor of cinnamon—it reminded her of Mama’s apple pastries—but today her stomach roiled. Sighing, she scuffed her way to the storeroom and tossed the sweet roll in the rubbish bin. She stood, staring down at the treat, tears threatening. Until she was able to put her worries to rest, she wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep. Or allow herself a moment of time with Thad.

One tear rolled down her cheek, and she whisked it away with the back of her hand. It had nearly broken her heart to hold herself aloof from him yesterday after he’d been so kind, retrieving her letter and asking to court her. But if she were going to leave Goldtree, she must protect her heart. And his.

“Sadie?” one of the twins bawled from the main room. “Where are you?”

Sadie bustled out of the storeroom. “I’m right here. What do you need?”

Miss Shelva rattled off a list of duties she expected Sadie to accomplish during the morning. Sadie sprang into action, and the hours slipped quickly by. At noon, Miss Shelva hung the little hand-scrawled “LUNCH—BACK AT 12:30” sign on the door and ushered Sadie upstairs, where Miss Melva had their simple meal waiting on the kitchen table.

Although the soup and rolls looked inviting, Sadie couldn’t carry a single bite to her mouth. Each time she tried, her throat constricted and she knew she wouldn’t be able to swallow. She lowered her spoon to the table and sat back in her chair. “May I be excused?”

“But you ain’t even ate a bite yet!” Miss Shelva scolded.

“You didn’t eat breakfast, neither,” Miss Melva said, waving her spoon at Sadie. “Gonna waste away to nothin’ if you don’t eat.”

Miss Shelva put in, “How you expect to keep up your strength with no food in your belly?”

Miss Melva chuckled and poked her sister on the arm. “Maybe we oughtta fetch the sheriff—reckon he could convince ’er to eat.”

Sadie’s face flamed. Miss Shelva opened her mouth to add her comments, but before she could speak, Sadie pushed away from the table. “Excuse me,” she said, and fled. She zipped past her bedroom door. If she went in, one or both of the sisters would surely follow. So she clattered downstairs instead. Both twins called after her in strident tones to come back, but she ignored their insistent appeals. It was her lunch break—she’d use it as she pleased. And right now she needed time alone more than she needed food. She had to
think
.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she pushed open the back door and ran across the small yard. A huge cottonwood grew at the far edge of the property, casting dappled shade across the sparse, wilted grass. She sank down beneath the tree, using a few gnarly roots as a lumpy seat, and leaned against the rough bark. Closing her eyes, she began an earnest, lengthy prayer for guidance. For wisdom. For peace.

“Give me an answer now, Lord,” she begged, “so I know what I’m to do.”

“Sadie.”

She gasped. Her hands flew upward to prevent her wildly thudding heart from leaving her chest.
God?
Then she spotted Sid a few feet away, his face somber. “Oh my . . . I thought—” Had she really thought the Lord would speak aloud to her? She shook her head in self-deprecation. “You frightened me. What are you doing here?” Couldn’t people leave her alone for even a few minutes?

“The Misses Baxter told me you’d taken off. Glad you didn’t go far. I . . . I gotta tell you something.” Sid bent on his haunches before her. He pressed a crumpled sheet of stationery against his knee, smoothing the page. “Sadie, I got a letter from home. An’ . . . it’s bad news.”

His sober expression, coupled with the catch in his voice, sent a chill through Sadie’s limbs. She braced her palms against the cool ground. “W-what?”

With his eyes on the paper, Sid drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Pa wrote to let me know about Uncle Len.” His eyes flicked to meet hers, then dropped again.

Papa?
Sadie’s pulse beat so hard in her temples she could hear the blood rushing through her veins. Fear took a stranglehold, holding her voice captive.

“The infection in his leg . . .” Sid gulped, his head low. “He died, Sadie. Over a week ago.”

Sadie shook her head wildly, tendrils of hair slapping against her cheeks. “No!” She dug her fingers into the moist dirt beneath the tree. “No, he can’t be dead. He just sent me a letter. And Mama would have told me if he was gone.” But even in her panicked state she recalled the date the letter from Papa had been mailed. Three days earlier than the one from Mama, which had blown away. Surely the lost letter contained the heartbreaking report.

With a start, Sadie realized Papa must have penned the letter only a day or two before succumbing. During his final hours, she was on his mind. How much he loved her, even though she wasn’t truly his.

Papa . . . oh, Papa, no . . .
Her mind screamed the words, but somehow her tongue refused to work. Sid’s image swam as tears flooded her eyes. She pressed a fist to her mouth to hold back wails of agony. She tasted earth on her fingers—a familiar flavor from years of gardening with Mama, of digging fishing worms with Papa, of making muddly-mud pies for Effie.
Oh, I want to go home!

She jolted to her feet and stumbled toward the mercantile.

Sid pounded after her. “Sadie, wait.”

He caught her arm and spun her around. The sun hit her full in the face. She squinted at him, wriggling to free herself. “Let go. I have to pack. I have to arrange for a stage. I have to—”

“Go home?” He barked the question. “Going home won’t bring him back.” Sid’s harsh voice stung like a lash. “Going home won’t change nothin’.”

“B-but, Sid, I . . .” A sob choked off her protest. She placed her hands against his chest, which heaved with the force of his rapid breaths.

Sid gave her a little shake. “He’s gone, Sadie. An’ that means he won’t ever be able to care for your family again. Don’t you see what you gotta do? You gotta stay here. Work. Keep earnin’ that pay. At least until Effie or the boys’re bigger an’ can help out some, too.”