Stay With Me (20 page)

He handed her a cup. “I understand Fred came
to see you last night,” he said.

She bobbled the cup, spilling some coffee on
her skirt. Pastor Dan smiled and handed her a cloth napkin. He sat
down across from her. “Three church women have been to see me this
morning. One brought a chicken for my lunch and the other a ham
that will last me a week. My son-in-law should get out more. I’d
never have to cook again.”

He didn’t sound mad, he didn’t sound happy.
Just very matter-of-fact.

“Pastor Dan,” she said, “this is awkward for
me. I just came to tell you that I won’t be there on Sunday.”

“That disappoints me,” he said. “I expect
I’ll have the biggest congregation I’ve seen in months. I thought I
might make a special appeal for the church to get a new roof.”

“I don’t understand,” Sarah said, taking a
sip of her coffee. She really, really needed caffeine. All the
brain cells hadn’t started to fire yet.

“I know why my son-in-law was at the hotel
last night.”

“You do?” she asked, her voice squeaking a
little.

“Yes.”

She waited. He took a big bite of his roll.
“Do you want to tell me why?” she asked.

He patted his mouth with his napkin. “You
were there. I don’t think I need to tell you.”

This wasn’t working. “Pastor Dan, I’m
confused. You’re not mad?”

“No.”

“You don’t believe the women who came here
this morning?”

“I choose to believe that they came without
malice. I forgive them for their lack of knowledge.”

“I don’t have the technique to tiptoe through
this minefield, Pastor Dan. Do you think that Fred and I are…?”

“Having relations?”

“Yes,” she said.

“No.”

Sarah got it. The coffee, the sugar from the
rolls, it all kicked in. Pastor Dan knew exactly who Fred had been
visiting last night. “How long have you known?” she asked.

“For several weeks.” Pastor Dan stood up,
walked over to the coffeepot and refilled both their cups. “I am a
man of God, Sarah, and every day I pray for the wisdom and the
courage to carry out the will of God. I pray for my grandchildren,
that they will live in a world of peace. I pray the prayers of
grandfathers from centuries past.”

And centuries forward. When would there be a
time when people didn’t have to pray for peace.

“I married when I was twenty-five. I loved my
wife a great deal. We were blessed with sweet children and spent
thirty-three years together. When Margaret died, I missed her
dreadfully. I missed her smile, I missed her humor and I missed her
in my bed.”

“Oh.”

Pastor Dan smiled. “Even a man of God has
needs and wants. I am an old man but I remember. Fred is still a
young man, and his needs and wants are that of a young man.”

“He doesn’t think you know.”

“Fred is struggling,” Pastor Dan said. “He
wants to believe that his body is disloyal to Franny but that his
heart is not. That makes him feel better.”

“You don’t want him to feel better.”

“I want him to be very happy and to continue
to raise my grandchildren. As importantly, I want him to come to
terms with Franny’s death and with the realization that he lives
on.”

“It’s almost like he’s punishing himself,”
Sarah said. “Like he’s to blame for her death.”

“Yes. I imagine you understand his pain
better than most. After all, it wasn’t all that long ago that you
lost your own spouse.”

“That’s true.” Oh, boy. She was really going
to hell now.

“At least Fred had the chance to say goodbye.
It must have been horrible for you when you got the news of the
silver mine collapse. Then that long wait only to find that Peter’s
body would never be recovered.”

So that’s how it had happened? The
information helped her understand the pain she’d heard in John’s
voice when he had talked about Peter. He’d have wanted to bring his
brother’s body home, to bury him on the ranch. He’d have wanted to
dig the grave and mark it with a sturdy cross. He’d have wanted to
handle things. He’d have craved closure.

Pastor Dan had found closure. He wanted the
same for his son-in-law. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, “I
think Fred really likes Suzanne.”

“I imagine he loves her. I think nothing less
would make him lie to me, to his children and to his best friend,
John.”

“You’re okay with all this? I mean, she is a
prostitute.”

“Yes but I don’t think she will be for long.
Regardless of what Fred does, Suzanne is on the cusp of making a
life-changing decision. God will lead her. God will protect
her.”

Sarah leaned back against the couch cushions.
She shook her head at Pastor Dan. “Suzanne’s doing better. I might
be able to make tomorrow’s stage. If I don’t for some reason and
I’m still here on Sunday, I’ll play the piano.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

“I’m not sure it’s in your best
interest.”

“I think it will be an excellent opportunity
to preach about the vice of judging others.”

Sarah stood up, walked over, and gently
hugged the old man. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t realize until
just now how important it was that someone understand.”

“Hold your head up high, Sarah. You’ve done
nothing wrong.”

“I called Rosie Brickstone an ugly cow.”

He shrugged. “If the hoof fits. Sarah, you’ve
been misjudged. Our Savior Jesus was often in that same
predicament.”

She held up a hand. “Trust me on this. I’m no
one’s Savior.”

He walked her to the door. “I didn’t think
you were. However, I did hear that you play the piano like an
angel. I’m looking forward to Sunday more than ever.”

“Who told you that?”

“I had another visitor this morning. He
didn’t bring me any food but he carried wisdom in his empty
hands.”

“Who?”

Pastor Dan shook his head. “I don’t think
he’d want you to know.”

“Just tell me one thing. Was it John?”

“No. I’ve not seen John. I imagine he’s had
some company at his ranch this morning. I suspect you’ll be seeing
him shortly."

She was so not looking forward to that
conversation. She walked down the front steps and then turned
around. “Hey, isn’t the church supposed to be a safe haven? Maybe I
could just claim a pew as my own?”

Pastor Dan smiled and shook his head. “Face
your fears with confidence,” he said. “The reality is rarely as bad
as the imagination.”

He obviously didn’t know John Beckett that
well.

***

Sarah walked back to the hotel and found
Freedom sitting on the bench outside the front door. She pulled
money from her skirt pocket, enough to get food for her, Suzanne
and some for him, too. She hated giving money to the Brickstone’s.
“This town needs a McDonald’s,” she said.

“What’s that, Miss Sarah?”

“It’s not important. Here. It might be better
if Rosie doesn’t know it’s for us.”

“I don’t have to explain why I’m buying food.
If Freedom’s got money, that’s all Freedom needs.”

“Don’t ask. Don’t tell. It worked well for
the military for years.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Just hurry. I’m sure Suzanne is
starving.”

“Freedom thinks she’s sleeping. She had a
visitor last night.” Freedom hitched up his pants and took a
step.

“Wait a minute,” Sarah said. “How’d you know
that?”

“Freedom’s got eyes, don’t he? There ain’t
nothing that goes on in this hotel that I don’t know about.”

She’d totally forgotten about Freedom.
“Whatever you saw last night, you need to forget it.”

“Don’t you worry. Like you said. Freedom
don’t ask. Freedom don’t tell.”

She resisted the urge to salute. She hugged
the small black man instead. “You’ve been a big help, Freedom. I’ll
never forget you.”

“I ain’t never going to forget you either,
Miss Sarah.”

She watched him, her eyes moist with tears,
until he got to the end of the wooden sidewalk and stepped off onto
the dirt road. When she turned, John Beckett stood behind her.

Her heart thumped and her stomach
growled.

“I want to talk to you,” he said. “Now.”

She sat down on the bench, resigned to her
fate. “Okay. Talk.”

“I don’t want to sit. And I don’t want to
talk somewhere where Turnip can stick his ugly face out the window
and hear me. Let’s walk.”

He started off, walking toward the open
country, not toward town. She skipped to catch up with him. They
walked ten minutes in silence.

“Is the plan to walk all the way back to your
ranch?” she asked, a little breathless. She had to take two steps
for every one of John’s long strides.

He stopped. “Look around,” he said. “What do
you see?”

That wasn’t exactly how she’d expected the
conversation to go. “John?”

“Just look around.”

She turned, doing a full circle, taking the
time to study the landscape. Cedarbrook stood off to her left and
the Big Horn Mountains, rich and rugged, a soft green with their
Scottish Pines, stretched out on her right. She and John stood on a
dirt road bordered on both sides by new bright green grass, not yet
bleached out by the summer sun. Tall trees, full of springtime
bounty, waved in the morning wind. In the far distance, she could
just make out a small herd of deer, ambling across the open
fields.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“This is my home, Sarah.”

“I know that.” She still didn’t
understand.

“This is Fred Goodie’s home. This is where
he’s chosen to raise his children.”

Bingo. “Look, John. I’m not sure what you’ve
heard but—”

“I’ve heard three versions. Each more
detailed and disgusting than the previous one. The details don’t
matter.”

Sarah shrugged. “Actually, the details can be
kind of important.”

John shook his head. “I can’t believe that
you almost had me fooled. Even after I saw with my own eyes how you
ruined my brother’s life, I had almost convinced myself that you’d
changed. But you’re the same selfish bitch that seduced my brother
a year ago and now you’ve come back for Fred Goodie. God damn you,
Sarah. I won’t let you do it.”

Sarah opened her mouth and gulped in air. She
felt like her throat had closed, that her lungs and her chest had
tightened and all the air had been sucked from her body. His words,
said with cold fury, slapped her, making her weak.
You’re the
same selfish bitch
. He hadn’t even considered giving her a
chance to explain.

He’d already judged her. He’d judged her by
the woman he’d known, not the woman she was.

“The stage goes tomorrow,” he said. “You’re
going to be on it. None of this pretending that you’re staying to
help Suzanne. I know better. Suzanne’s just a convenient
excuse.”

He’d seen Suzanne. He’d seen the blood and
the bruises. Did he think so little of her that he believed she’d
profit from the other woman’s misfortune? That somehow she
encouraged Suzanne to languish in bed so that she could snag Fred
Goodie. How he must hate her. Only hate could fuel those kinds of
thoughts.

“Nothing to say, Sarah? Not going to try to
talk your way out of this one? How much money will it take to get
you to leave this time?”

She slapped him. Hard enough that the jolt
went up through her arm. He balled his fist, pulled his arm back
and she waited, heart pounding furiously.

He stood perfectly still, his arm at the
ready to swing forward and knock her senseless. Then he took a step
back and slowly lowered his arm. “Go back to where you came from,
Sarah. You don’t belong here and all you do is cause heartache.
Leave us.”

He turned and walked, heading back toward
Cedarbrook. Sarah watched him, staring at the grassy hillside, long
after he’d vanished behind the hill. Then she sank to her knees,
wrapping her arms around her middle. She felt cold and empty, like
he’d ripped her soul from her body.

***

When John got back to Cedarbrook, he mounted
his horse and turned it toward Fred Goodie’s ranch. He dug his
spurs into the horse’s flesh, urging him to gallop. The faster he
got away from Cedarbrook, the better. Before he did something
stupid like apologize to Sarah.

Christ, she’d looked almost shocked. Just
showed what a fine actress she was. She’d been acting since she’d
come to Cedarbrook. Acting like she cared about him when he’d been
sick. Acting like she’d enjoyed his kisses, that they’d meant as
much to her as they’d meant to him. Acting like things could be
different.

The only thing different this time was that
he’d gotten smarter. He wouldn’t sit back and watch, hoping that
everything would work out between Sarah and her man. That had cost
him his only brother. He wouldn’t let it cost him his best
friend.

He raced down the lane to Fred’s house,
arriving just as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Missy and
Thomas played on the tire swing and Helen sat off to the side,
drawing pictures in the soft dirt with a stick. “Hi, Uncle John,”
she said.

“Morning, Helen.” He waved to the younger
children. “Where’s your pa?”

“Inside. Taking a nap. He said he was
tired.”

John’s gut churned. He knew exactly what had
made his friend tired. “I’ve got something to say to him. Can you
take your brother and sister for a short walk?”

She nodded and he patted her on the head as
he walked past. Whatever their father had done, the children
deserved to be protected from it. John walked in the house, pulling
the door shut behind him with a sharp slam. Fred, on his side, lay
stretched across the braided rug, so big that both his head and
feet hung off the edges. His back faced the door.

“I’ll be out in thirty minutes,” he mumbled,
without turning over. “I promise. Then we’ll go down to the stream
and catch some fish for lunch. Go back outside, now.”

John quietly walked around the man’s head.
Then with one booted foot strategically positioned on Fred’s
shoulder, he pushed, flipping the man on his back. Fred’s head hit
the wooden floor with a thud.