Stay With Me (27 page)

“It’s sign language,” Sarah said. “It’s a way
for the deaf to communicate with each other and with hearing
people.”

“Where’d you learn sign language?” John
asked.

“In California.”

“How come you never said anything?”

“The subject never came up. It’s not that big
of deal.”

John studied her. “Maybe not to you. Sounds
like it might be a big deal to Missy. Where are your sister and
brother, Helen?”

“Down at the creek.”

Sarah walked over to the cabinet that held
the children’s clothes. “John, I’ll pack a few things if you want
to go get them.”

“Fine. We’ll be back in ten minutes. Helen,
you want to stay here and help Sarah or come with me?”

“I’ll stay.”

John had barely closed the door behind him
when Helen began her questioning. “So, are you and Mr. Beckett
getting married?”

“Married?” Sarah almost shut her finger in
the cabinet. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You look at each other like people do when
they’re getting married. You wouldn’t even have to change your last
name. It’s already Beckett.”

“That is convenient,” Sarah said, wanting to
talk about anything else. “Does Thomas have any other clean
trousers?”

“Hanging on the line. Pa and me washed
clothes last night before he left.”

“Go out and grab them. And anything else
that’s out there. We’ll take it with us.”

“If you and Mr. Beckett get married, you
could sleep in the same bed. Just like my ma and pa. Maybe even
make a baby.”

“That’s true,” Sarah said, making an effort
to swallow. “Let’s get those clothes packed.”

“God sees a man and a woman lying together in
a bed and he knows it’s time to give them a baby.”

Sarah licked her lips. She had no
responsibility to set the record straight. “Is that how it
works?”

“Yes. God puts a baby in the ma’s stomach and
she hollers like crazy for it to come out. And when it does, the
baby hollers right back at its ma.”

“Sounds about right,” Sarah said. “Will Missy
want her doll?”

“Tom Turnip said my pa and Miss Suzanne might
get a baby.”

“Oh.”

“I told him he didn’t know what he was
talking about.”

“I’d just forget about what he said,” Sarah
said. “Let’s take this box out to the wagon.”

Helen held the door. “It’s not like I’d mind
so much.”

Sarah almost dropped her box. “Mind
what?”

“If Pa and Miss Suzanne got married. I would
have the most beautiful mother of all the girls in school.”

Sarah knew she should leave well enough
alone. “Have you ever,” she asked, “told your pa that?”

Helen’s eyes filled with tears. “No. Grandpa
told me that Pa is sad sometimes because he misses my mother. I
don’t want to make him sad by talking about things like mothers.
It’s not like I have to have one. Even if I get one, she probably
won’t want a kid as old as me. She’ll probably just want the baby
that God brings.”

Sarah wrapped her arms around the child.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Someday you’ll have a new mother and she’s
going to love you very much. She’s going to appreciate having such
a good helper, especially if there is a new baby.”

Helen brushed the tears from her face. “Do
you think it’s bad to want a new mother? What if Ma is looking down
from Heaven? I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten her.”

Such a heavy load for an eight-year-old. “I’m
sure she is in Heaven. She’s proud as can be of how you’ve helped
your pa take care of Thomas and Missy but she knows how important
it is for a girl, especially a girl who is getting older like you,
to have a mother. Somebody to talk to. Somebody to tell secrets
to.”

“Maybe you could be my mother? Since you and
Mr. Beckett aren’t getting married.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’d be honored.
Really. But I can’t. I’m leaving Cedarbrook in less than a
week.”

“Why? Don’t you like it here?”

“I love it here,” Sarah said. It was true.
She’d stopped thinking about showers and flush toilets and shopping
malls. “I have to leave. If I don’t, there’s a little boy, about
your age, that won’t get the medical care he needs. He’s dying. I
have to help him.”

“Help who?” John said, coming up behind them.
He had Missy on his shoulders and Thomas at his side.

Sarah winked at Helen. “Help you. I need to
help you get this wagon loaded so that we can get home. We don’t
want that cow having her baby without us.”

“I get to help,” Helen said, looking at
Thomas.

He stuck out his tongue at her. “I saw Pa
stick his arm up a cow’s—”

“Never mind, Thomas,” John said. “Get in the
wagon.”

Missy tugged on Sarah dress. “Bee,” she
spelled. “Sting”. She pointed at her arm where Sarah could easily
see the bright red skin.

Sarah made a face. “Hurt,” she spelled. Then
repeated it.

Missy nodded, looking proud. Sarah didn’t
know if she was proud of the sting or proud she’d remembered how to
spell the words.

John stood there, a look of awe on his
face.

Sarah smiled at him. “Shut your mouth, John.
Flies are getting in.”

***

By the time Suzanne arrived late that
afternoon, Missy had learned the entire alphabet, Helen had helped
bring a calf into the world, and Thomas had fallen out of two
trees. All in all, Sarah thought, stretching her back, it had been
a great day.

Sarah got Suzanne and Missy settled at the
table and went in search of John. He’d come back from checking
fence an hour earlier and had gone to the barn to finish the
evening chores.

She slid the heavy barn door open. “John,”
she called.

No response.

“John.”

Nothing.

She walked farther into the barn, stopping at
the stall where the mother cow nursed her newborn calf. “You’re a
good mommy,” she said. “You’ve got a beauty there,” she said,
wondering how the calf’s thin legs managed to hold up his body.

She took another six steps. The barn was dark
and smelled like animals and hay. Earthy. Solid.

“John,” she called again.

“What?” he whispered, grabbing her from
behind.

She shrieked as he wrapped his arms around
her middle, lifted her up off the ground, keeping her back to his
front, and then turned in a circle, swinging her around and
around.

“Put me down,” she said, laughing.

“Not unless you do exactly what I tell you,”
he said.

“Anything. I’m getting dizzy.”

He slowed down the turning and gently set her
feet back on the ground. He held her steady when she swayed.

“I hate carnival rides.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said, turning. He
stood so close, just barely inches away. His big body held the same
richness of the barn, the earthy smell of a hardworking man. He had
straw in his hair and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He looked
adorable.

“Kiss me,” he said.

She did. He pulled her closer still and his
hot, moist mouth consumed her.

“I have to go,” she said, after finally
breaking away. They were both breathing hard.

“Stay,” he said.

She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be smart.”
The cows didn’t need that kind of excitement.

“I need someone to help me with chores.”

She shook her head at him. “The old
I need
help
might work on Helen but I’m a lot older and a little
wiser.”

He kissed her again and she felt her resolve
weaken.

“I came out to tell you supper would be ready
in thirty minutes,” she said, barely able to catch her breath.

“I’m hungry now,” he whispered, and ran his
fingers down her back, stopping when he reached the hollow of her
spine. He looked her straight in the eye, all traces of teasing
gone. “I want you. I want you with a fierceness that, until you
came back, I’d only dreamed about.”

She wanted to throw him down in the hay and
keep him there for a couple weeks. “John,” she said, brushing her
fingers across his lips, “nothing has changed since yesterday. I’m
still leaving on next Wednesday’s stage.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“It does. I can’t really explain why. It just
does.”

“Yesterday, up on that mountain, I felt
something when I kissed you. I think you felt it too.”

She nodded. It would be foolish to deny
it.

“That doesn’t make any difference to you? It
doesn’t matter? You can still walk away?”

She could hear the hurt in his voice and she
felt her resolved weaken. She tried hard to remember Miguel Lopez
and his desperate mother.

“It’s difficult to explain,” she said. “It’s
not easy for me to walk away. I thought it would be, but it’s
not.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t
want you to go, but I don’t know what to say or do to keep you
here.”

She’d waited a lifetime for someone to say
those kinds of words to her.

“I wish it was that easy, John. It’s so much
more complicated. Let’s just say I don’t belong here,” she
said.

“You belong in California?”

“I guess,” she said.

“You guess? What kind of answer is that?”

“It’s the best I can do. I work there. I
guess that means I belong there.”

“Work?” He raised an eyebrow.

Too late she remembered that women in 1888
rarely worked outside the home and based on what she knew about
Sarah One, it made it seem even more preposterous.

“I work with children. Kind of like a
teacher.”

“We’ve got a school in Cedarbrook. If it’s so
important for you to work, you could get a position there.”

She shook her head.

His head fell forward. He took one tanned
hand and massaged his temple. “You said there wasn’t another
man?”

He hadn’t even looked up. As if he couldn’t
bear it if he was wrong. She took her hand, placed it under his
chin, and gently lifted his face.

“There’s no one,” she said.

His big body shuddered. The electricity, the
pent-up emotion, it shook her very soul, burning her, marking
her.

She would never be the same.

“I need to finish up here,” he said, pulling
away.

“John,” she said, reaching for his arm.

He took a step back. She slowly lowered her
arm and let it hang next to her side. It felt cold, like life had
been stripped out of it. “Supper will be ready when you come in,”
she said.

“I’m not hungry.” He turned away from
her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said,
speaking to his back. “You and I don’t have to fight about
this.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m working, Sarah. That’s
what I do. I work.”

“Fine,” she said, tossing her head back.
“Then you need to eat. I don’t want you to go hungry because of
me.”

He let out a loud sigh. “Take it from me,
Sarah. You don’t always get what you want.”

She silently counted to ten. “Just please
come inside and eat. I feel bad enough about things. I don’t want
to feel bad that you’re hungry.”

He turned, his broad shoulders moving so fast
that she felt the breeze on her face. His jaw was set and his eyes
flashed fire. “I damn well can decide when and where I eat. Now get
the hell out of my barn, Sarah.”

She could smell his fury, the edgy, hot scent
of an angry predator. She took a step back. Then another. She
whirled, hiked up her skirt, and ran. She yanked open the heavy
door.

“Sarah.”

It sounded as if her name had been ripped
from his soul.

“Sarah,” he said, softer this time.

She looked over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

He looked as if he’d lost his best friend.
“It’s my fault,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m being an ass.
Look, tell the children I’m busy with the stock. Send Thomas out
with some dinner later.”

***

Sarah and Suzanne slept in the double bed and
Helen and Missy curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Thomas slept in the barn with John.

Sarah, waking up first, quietly slipped out
of bed. She added wood to the stove and lit it. She stood close,
grateful for the immediate heat. Knowing it wouldn’t be enough to
warm the big room, she carefully stepped over Helen and Missy,
added some kindling to the big log in the fireplace, and lit
it.

At times like this, she really missed her
microwave and her gas furnace.

She filled the coffeepot with fresh water
from the bucket near the door. Then she added the coffee grounds
and put it on the burner to brew. She slipped off her cotton
nightgown and pulled on her skirt and blouse. Pushing her feet into
Franny Goodie’s worn shoes, she grabbed a basket from the
table.

By the time the children woke up, she’d have
a plate of scrambled eggs waiting.

When she opened the cabin door, the absolute
perfection of the spring morning hit her. Birds chattered in the
trees. Flowers waved in the light wind. The bright orange sun,
almost over the horizon, bathed the land in a warm richness.

She took a deep breath and walked to the
chicken coop. Within minutes, she had a basketful of light brown
eggs. She walked back to the house, holding the basket with two
hands.

“You’re up early.”

She juggled the basket, barely keeping it
from turning upside down. She whirled to stare at John. “You scared
me,” she accused.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The dark circles under his eyes made him look
tired. “Where’s Thomas?” she asked.

“Still sleeping. He’s a lot like his father.
He snores.”

“Did he keep you awake?”

“Some,” he said. “How about you? How did you
sleep?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.” He looked at her like he
wanted to eat her up, then quickly looked down at the ground.

She lifted the basket, holding it out, as if
it were some sort of prize. “I was going to make some
breakfast.”