Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (25 page)

Midway through stitching curtains, Sarah stopped to make
the tablecloth. It was large enough to cover the entire rectangular table and still hang almost to the floor, its colorful, flowery pattern standing out against the hardwood flooring and
spindle-back chairs. If there were enough material, she would
make fine matching cushions for each of the chairs as well.

Together, Sarah and Rachel decided where to place the
new rag rugs-one in the doorway, another in the kitchen,
and yet another in front of the entryway to the children's bedroom. Pretty new towels graced the hooks over the kitchen
sink, and matching potholders hung near the stove and to one
side of the fireplace beside the oven.

All in all, the little Kentucky farmhouse had begun to feel
more and more like home to Sarah Callahan.

Not one to interest himself in girlish matters, Seth busied
himself running in and out of the house, his latest adventures
feeding the two hogs at the far corner of the backyard and
tending to the mewing barn cats. Sarah noticed that Rocky had taken to spending more time with the boy and was not so
quick to complain anymore when Seth asked to tag along, even
occasionally inviting him. It was a joy to watch their relationship develop, and she marveled at how the boy seemed to
flourish under Rocky's attention.

Rachel remained mostly sullen, but even she had taken
to smiling more, especially during those times that Sarah
included her in preparing the meals, gathering up the laundry, sewing the curtains, or watering the houseplants. The
girl enjoyed staying busy, so Sarah did what she could to hold
boredom at bay. Thankful for Rocky's wonderful collection of
books, including many of the classics and a few history books
and geographical studies, she read often to the children, creating mini-lessons whenever possible. She'd decided that the
school's closing was no reason to deprive the children of an
education.

It was odd how she was beginning to think of Seth and
Rachel as her own. In fact, she doubted she could love them
more if she'd birthed them.

Rocky came to the door just as Sarah and Rachel had
finished hanging a set of curtains and were standing back to
admire their handiwork. They'd completed three pairs, with
one to go. Rocky gave a smile of approval. "Looks mighty nice,
if I do say so," he complimented.

"Thank you," Sarah said, appreciating the accolade.
"Rachel helped. She is going to be a fine seamstress some
day." Sarah put a hand around the child's shoulder and gave a
squeeze. "She's a quick study."

Rocky nodded and stepped through the door, wiping his
feet on the new rug. "Am I supposed to use this rug?" The guilty look on his face nearly made Sarah laugh.

"That's what rugs are for, Rocky," she said.

He inclined his head at her and made a sheepish face. "I
know that, but this one looks too good for wiping my muddy
shoes on."

"This is your house, Rocky," she said. "You should feel at
home in it."

Lately it seemed to Sarah he'd been bending over backwards to keep the peace with her. She appreciated it, but it
made her wonder what she'd done to deserve it. Was he still
worried about the scene he'd made at the dinner table when
the Broughtons had visited?

He finished wiping his feet, then walked to the kitchen,
picked up a tin cup, and poured himself some fresh drinking water. After gulping down the entire cupful, he set the
cup down and turned to face her. "I plan to start the addition tomorrow morning, bright and early," he announced. For
days, he'd made several trips to and from the sawmill. Behind
the barn, he'd stacked boards, roofing shingles, and a variety
of other supplies.

Sarah heard the little gasp of air that came from Rachel.
"You're really doing it?" she asked, her voice not much more
audible than a whisper.

Rocky eked out a grin for the girl. "Did you think I'd forgotten?"

She shook her head. "No, but-I-never had a room to
myself before. Mama never had..." That's where she stopped.

Sarah glanced at Rocky, whose face had clouded over.
"Well," he said, "it won't be anything fancy, mind you, but it'll
afford you some privacy from that scalawag brother of yours." To this, he smiled, stepped closer to the girl, and dipped his
head at her. Then, patting the top of her head in a tender sort
of gesture, he added, "A girl your age should have a room of
her own."

It was the first time Sarah could remember him touching the child in any way but indifferently, and speaking in so
gentle a tone. Had Rachel noticed as well?

Oh, Lord, it seems You've heard my prayers.

Rachel managed a shy smile and shrugged. "It will be nice
to have a place to read my books."

"Just don't think of your room as a place to hide from the
rest of us," Sarah hurried to say.

"That's right," Rocky said. "You should be playing outside
more, maybe keeping your brother company down at the creek."

Instantly, her blue eyes went bright as a summer moon.
"Could I help feed the animals-like Seth's been doin'?"

Rocky's brow furrowed, as he glanced from Sarah to
Rachel. "I expect Sarah needs you in the house for the womanly chores." The girl's expression dimmed.

"I see nothing wrong with her learning the outside chores
as well," Sarah chimed.

"After all, I'll be tending to the barn chores myself once
planting season arrives. You said so yourself. Maybe we should
both spend time with you in the barn-so you can show us
what to do."

He gave her an inquiring look. "I didn't think you'd actually stay around long enough to..." Now a flickering gaze led
to the beginnings of a smile. "Never mind." Then to Rachel, "I
guess I could use some help feeding those critters. We'll start
tomorrow morning."

Rachel clapped her hands in delight, as if she'd just been
handed her first bouquet of roses. Giving Sarah one last undecipherable glance, he headed for the door. "Seth and I'll be
back at suppertime."

Sarah advanced a step, suddenly intent on extending his
stay. "Where is Seth?"

Rocky chuckled, hand on the doorknob. "Out behind the
barn fashioning himself some kind of doodad with a piece of
wood, a hammer, and some nails."

Sarah gasped and covered her mouth. "But-he could get
hurt. Isn't he too small for... ?"

"How will he learn if no one teaches him, Sarah?" Rocky
cut in, his face sobering with the private memory of her earlier
words. Set back, she stifled a smile, and Rocky shook his head
at her. "Don't worry. It's a small hammer he's working with,
one I bought for-my son."

His son. "Oh."

Opening the door in haste, he stepped into the chilly air,
then paused and turned. "By the way, you set a date yet for that
party you're planning with Liza Broughton?"

She'd been waiting for the right opportunity to broach the
subject. "March first, Sunday after next." He seemed to ponder
that. "We ladies will do most of the work," she hastened to add.
"All that's needed from you are some bales of hay for sitting
on, and perhaps some boards for tables. Of course, you'll want
to clear a place in the middle for the dancing."

His mouth twisted into a full frown. "Dancing? You mean
with music?"

She could barely control her burst of laughter. "It's a might
hard to square dance without it."

Failing to see her humor, he said, "I thought this was supposed to be an event for the children."

"It is, silly. There'll be plenty of games-cakewalks, egg
tosses, relays, and a three-legged sack race. And for the adults,
square dancing." When he still looked doubtful, Sarah added,
"And plenty of good food, of course."

He nodded. "I don't dance." The statement came with a
wooden expression.

She suppressed another spurt of giggles. "I wouldn't expect
you to-unless the urge so overpowered you that you couldn't
hold back." When he remained glum-faced, she hastily added,
"Liza tells me that Eldred Johansson is a square dance caller
from way back. Ben told her they used to have barn raisings
followed by square dances. Apparently, Elmer Barrington is
good with a fiddle."

"I'd forgotten all about that," Rocky said, fumbling with
the doorknob. Cold air snapped at Sarah's ankles. "The first
time I ever set eyes on my Hester was at a barn raising." One
side of his square-cut jaw flicked slightly.

Just what could she say to that? Her spirits suddenly sagged.
Would he never stop mourning his first wife? Moreover, would
having the hoedown in their barn stir up old memories, perhaps even demolish their already fragile relationship?

Oh, Lord, please help me show my husband that it's all right to
enjoy life again.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Images of the day's
events replayed in Rocky's head... Seth trying to construct
something with that piece ofwood and Rocky coming alongside to offer suggestions... a simple birdfeeder? a toy boat? a handy
doorstop? Every time he turned around, the kid was asking for
his time-and he was giving it.

Then there was the matter of Rachel. How her face had lit
at the prospect of her very own room, as if he'd just offered her
a handful of gold. The kids had had so little in their short lifetime. Regrets assailed him. He should have stepped forward to
help when his sister was still living, and he would have, had he
not been so wrapped up in his own selfish needs.

Chilled, he yanked a blanket over his shoulder and rolled
over on the lumpy couch, wincing with pain when he landed
on the one protruding spring, and letting go a mild curse. He
missed the comfort of his own bed. Quickly, he relinquished
the thought, for to get his own bed back would mean sharing
it with Sarah, and he doubted she would go for that. After all,
they'd agreed on a marriage in name only.

Still, there was that part of him that had started imagining more.

Yes, his wife attracted him, but sorting out his feelings was
another story. Hester had been pretty, but in an unsophisticated, earthy way. Sarah, on the other hand, was beautiful,
her ramrod-straight backbone, fussy hairstyles, finely chiseled
face, and fancy mannerisms putting her in an altogether different class. Lately, he'd found himself entering the house at
all hours of the day, just looking for an excuse to lay eyes on
her.

She was too refined for the likes of him-forget that she
seemed anxious to learn everything there was to know about
the farm.

I'll be tending the barn chores when planting season gets here. He lay there scoffing at the notion of her mucking stalls in her
velvet skirt or maybe that green satin getup, the one with
the shimmery buttons that traced a straight path down her
bosom.

Pfff! Best not to let his mind wander where the woman was
concerned. She would be gone by April, he told himself, just as
soon as she realized the work was too much for her. Moreover,
he would send her off with his blessing.

But then he'd be back to square one with the kids!

He growled into the covers.

"I can't do this," he finally muttered, punching a large
dent in his feather pillow and turning over his bulky body
for at least the dozenth time. The beginnings of a headache
knocked at his temples. "I can't allow myself to love her-or
anyone for that matter. Too much risk."

"Abide in me, and I in you." He squeezed his eyes shut in
the hope of blocking out the words. He used to be familiar with
the Bible and had recited whole passages of it from memory as
he plowed the fields. But that was before... Why did they fight
their way back to the surface now? "I am the vine, ye are the
branches.. .for without me ye can do nothing."

This was Jon Atkins' fault, he decided. Every Sunday his
friend's well-delivered sermons seemed directed straight at
him. Last Sunday, his topic was "Hope," the Sunday before
that, "Faith," and three Sundays ago, "Trust." Oh, he rued the
day his wife had insisted he set the example by driving the
family to church.

He stared at the fire's embers, watched as the flames
flickered and hissed, and asked himself how he could be
expected to trust a God who thought nothing of stealing away Hester and Joseph. What would keep Him from taking
Sarah or Seth or Rachel next? These were hard times. Disease sometimes swept entire communities, blotting out one
life after another. He doubted he had the strength to endure
such loss again.

"Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart,
all ye that hope in the Lord."

The Word of God kept coming back to him in bits and
pieces, piercing him like sharp little arrows, sending messages
of hope-lulling him into a fitful sleep.

Sometime after midnight, a whimpering, whining sound
forced Rocky awake. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled a hand
through his hair and sat up, taking a moment to get his bearings. Snagging the Levis he'd left draped over the end of the
sofa, he hurriedly stepped into them, then tuned his ear in
the direction of the sound, which appeared to be coming from
Sarah's room.