Noah rose, holding his hat.
“Hello, Sarah. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hello, Noah.”
Neither of them smiled.
“Could I talk to you a minute?”
“Surely.”
“Outside,” he suggested.
She led the way, stopping perhaps ten feet from the door, which Noah closed. He stopped behind her and replaced his hat on his head. It was dark; no moon, only the light from the windows falling across the rocky surroundings of the house. The faint tang of dying wood fires lingered in the air from the nearby chimneys. Down below, the lights of the saloons along Main Street created a faint glow.
He didn’t know how to begin.
“I thought I’d hear from you,” he finally said.
She made no excuses, said nothing at all.
“Addie said you’ve been quiet, not talking to her either.”
“Addie’s been with Robert a lot.”
“That’s why you’re not talking to her? Because she’s been with Robert?”
“I’ve been... evaluating, let’s say.”
“Me?”
“No, not you. Life.”
“And what have you discovered?”
“That it is fickle.”
“Sarah...” He touched her shoulder but she flinched away. Hurt, he withdrew his hand and waited. When she refused to face him he walked around her and confronted her face to face.
“Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m healing.”
“Let me help you.” He reached for her, but she squirmed away and held up both hands.
“Don’t!”
“Don’t?” he repeated sharply, hurt by her continued rebuffs. “I’m supposed to be the man you love and you say don’t when I try to touch you?”
“I simply can’t stand it right now. All right?”
Noah considered, then said, “I’m not him, Sarah, so don’t blame me for what he did.”
“You don’t understand! What he did was monstrous. I cannot simply blink my eyes and get over it. I loved him unquestionably all those years, then in one moment my illusions about him were shattered. If I need time to get over that, you’ll simply have to understand.”
“Time? How much time? And while you’re getting over it, do you intend to keep pushing me away?”
“Please, Noah,” she whispered.
“Please what?” he snapped.
She hung her head.
“Please don’t touch you? Please don’t kiss you? Please don’t marry you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He studied her downcast face, his mouth small, his throat constricted, so confused and hurt he didn’t know what more to say to her.
“Matheson wants to talk to us about the wedding.”
She looked off into the distant dark. “You talk to him.”
He let out a chunk of sound resembling a laugh, only short and hurt. It shot into the night like a knife thrown into a tree. He turned away, stood facing the town, sensing only doom ahead.
“Do you want to call it off, Sarah?”
It took her some time to answer. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better decide, because it’s only two weeks away.”
She stepped near him and laid a hand on his shoulder blade.
“Poor Noah,” she said. “I know you don’t understand.”
“The hell I don’t,” he said deep in his throat and stalked away, leaving her standing alone in the night.
He told Robert, who told Addie, who talked to Sarah the next night.
“What are you doing, Sarah? You love Noah, you know you do!”
“Nothing’s been decided yet.”
“But he told Robert you wouldn’t go talk to Birtle Matheson about the wedding.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not marrying him.”
“Are you then?”
“Quit badgering me!”
“Badgering you!” Addie plunked down on the edge of Sarah’s bed and pushed down the book Sarah had been reading, forcing Sarah to meet her eyes. “You know what you’re going to do? You’re going to let our father ruin your life next. Nobody that wicked should have so much power over another human being, especially not from his grave.”
Without a further word she left the room.
Two days passed. On the third, Noah sent a note via Freeman Block.
Dear Sarah,
Could I take you out to supper tonight? I’ll come to the house to get you at seven o’clock.
Love, Noah.
“Tell him yes,” she said to Freeman.
Sarah had thought about what Addie said. Her father should not have the power to ruin her life, especially after he’d ruined a good portion of Addie’s.
She dressed in a fine lawn dress of solid white, with two lace-trimmed petticoats underneath and her engagement brooch pinned at her throat. It was a stunning May evening and she wanted to please Noah, and be unflinchingly in love again and feel exhilarated by the sight of him, and revel in the innocent kisses and caresses that she’d come to enjoy only days before this disaster had befallen.
He wore the new suit he had bought for their wedding, crisp and black and proper with a winged collar catching him high beneath his chin, and a silvery-gray tie as wide as an ascot, stuck through by a pearl pin. On his head, not the Stetson, but a flattering black topper with a bell-shaped crown.
When she saw him on the doorstep her heart fluttered. When he spoke, the words sounded tightly controlled, as if he were afraid to release them from his throat.
“Hello, Sarah.”
“Hello, Noah.”
“You look pretty.”
“So do you.”
They smiled stiffly.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.”
They walked down the hill, looking straight ahead, without bumping elbows, exchanging only the most stilted dialogue. They dined at the Custer on the finest fare the town had to offer—deviled clams, pheasant in claret sauce, parsnip fritters and that rarest of delicacies: fresh, cold glasses of real cow’s milk. Though each of them relished every drop of their milk, neither ate more than half the food on their plate.
After dinner he took her to the play at the Langrishe. It was a farce called Hanky-Panky, which elicited great laughs from all the crowd. They sat through it without even registering what was happening on the stage.
Afterward, he walked her home through the pleasant spring night. A slim crescent moon had cleared the mountains, and above the ravine a corridor of stars glittered. When they reached the house, the windows were dark, the door closed. They stopped before it and Noah turned toward Sarah.
“I realized tonight that we haven’t done much of this.”
“Of what?”
“Courting. The real thing—me inviting you and coming to pick you up and the two of us fussing up for each other. It felt like this is the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Yes, it did.”
“You felt comfortable with me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And if I kiss you? Will you still feel comfortable with me?”
She had known it was coming, had been preparing herself all night. How intimidating that she’d had to prepare herself for it. What had happened to the woman who’d lain on a newly turned mattress in the sunlight and enjoyed this man in a wholly physical way? Why, as he stepped nearer, did her heart clamor with unreasonable fear? He was gentle, understanding, patient, and she loved him. How confusing: she truly loved him... as long as he kept his distance.
In the shadows beside the front steps, he rested his hands on her shoulders, giving her fair warning. She knew full well that all his preparations for tonight—his written invitation, all their finery, the meal, the play—had been merely a prelude to this moment of truth.
“You’re not Addie and I’m not your father. Think about
it.”
He laid his mouth upon hers very lightly. She felt smothered but waited for the sensation to recede. Instead it advanced, taking on magnitude as the kiss became fully realized. She submerged her resistance and saw it through, put her hands on his breast and opened her lips when his tongue touched them, and tipped her head aside in response to his head tipping, and tried to recapture the innocence and trusting they’d built between them.
It didn’t work.
She felt a sob building deep within, pushing panic along before it. When it erupted she pushed him hard with the butts of both hands, and he stumbled back.
“I can’t!” She was breathing as if chased, gulping air and crying. “I can’t,” she whispered, spinning away, clamping a hand over her mouth, terrified and abashed because she was humiliating and hurting him. What should she do? How could she cure this ungrounded fear? How could she love him and be repulsed by him? She understood clearly, he was not her father, he would not hurt or abuse her, yet she could not control her revulsion at even this simplest intimacy.
“Damn you, Isaac Merritt!” she shouted. “Damn you to eternal hell!”
Her shout echoed once from the wall of Mt. Moriah above them and left an awful stillness afterward.
Noah stood behind her, out of his depth. She had annihilated all hope for them. Who was to blame?
“I’m so afraid,” she said. She was not crying but her voice quivered.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
She turned, her hands still at her chin. “You’re leaving me.”
“No, you left me. The minute you found out why Addie ran away from home, you left me.”
“I didn’t mean to... I couldn’t... it was... oh Noah, I don’t want to lose you.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been fighting your feelings for me since the first time I kissed you. Well, now I know, and maybe I’m a little relieved. It’s not any fun being the one who’s always asking for affection. When it really works, it’s supposed to flow both ways. So let’s just put an end to this misery, okay, Sarah? I don’t think...” He paused, sighed, raised his hands and let them drop. “What difference does it make? We could never make this work.”
She stood mute while her future withered.
“Do you want to cancel things with Matheson or should I?”
“Noah, maybe if I...” She had no further words, no idea how to help herself or him.
He said, “I’ll tell Matheson.” After another silence he added, “Well, I guess this is it then. I want to say good luck, but the words stick in my throat.”
“Noah...” She reached out one hand.
He turned and walked away. She watched the weak moonlight pick out the rim of his new top hat, his shoulders which dropped away from her with each downhill step he took. At the bottom of the path he stopped dead still for a full fifteen seconds. As if losing a battle with himself, he turned and called quietly, “Good luck, Sarah,” before resuming his walk out of her life.
CHAPTER
21
And so it was that Adelaide Merritt and Robert Baysinger were to be the first ones wed in the Congregational Church of Deadwood. Their wedding day dawned cloudy, but by nine o’clock the blue sky had broken through, reminding Sarah of Noah’s toast on that evening before her world had crumbled. May your wedding day be sunny and your lives be the same.
She would see him today. The two of them would be standing up for Addie and Robert while the entire town wondered why their own engagement had been canceled. She had carefully tucked away her betrothal brooch between layers of cotton in a tiny inlaid box of tulipwood which she kept on her desktop.
Addie’s wedding was scheduled for ten A.M. Shortly after nine Addie came into Sarah’s room carrying her curling tongs, dressed in her chemise and petticoats.
“I want to fix your hair.”
“I should be fixing yours. It’s your wedding day.”
“I’m better at it. And besides, mine’s all done.”
“It looks beautiful.”
“I know it does. Sit down.”
“But Addie—”
“Don’t but Addie me. I’m going to make you ravishing.”
“An Eleventh Commandment couldn’t make me ravishing.”
“Sit down, I said.”
Sarah sat. “I know why you’re doing this, but it won’t work. It’s over between Noah and me.”
“I once thought it was over between Robert and me, but look where I’m going today. Just sit still so I don’t burn you, and tip your head when I say tip.” She removed the lamp chimney, struck a match and began heating the tongs.
Twenty minutes later Sarah’s hair was drawn to the crown of her head, secured by a wide mother-of-pearl barrette, and cascaded past her collar in a froth of springy ringlets.
“Oh Addie, it’s so obvious!”
“It’s your sister’s wedding day. You’re expected to primp.”
“But what will Noah think?”
“He’ll think exactly what I want him to think. That he’d better think again!”
“Addie.” Sarah turned and caught Addie’s arm. “You don’t need to try to make amends. It was Noah’s and my decision to break off our engagement. You’re not responsible.”
Addie saddened. “I know. But Robert and I feel so awful about it.”
“Enough about that. It’s your wedding day. I won’t have you spoiling it by getting blue. Now let’s go to your room and I’ll help you into your dress.”
Addie’s dress had its flaws—stitching together gussets and tucks was more difficult than making flat curtains—but what the garment lacked in perfection it made up in flattery. High-necked, V-waisted (front and back), with corkscrew sleeves and a brief pleated train, it gave Addie a fairy waist. Its whipped-honey hue nearly matched her hair, into which she had pinned some wild plum blossoms which matched those she would carry along with six red tulips from Emma’s yard.
When the last wrist button was closed, Sarah offered a moment of silent adulation before kissing Addie’s cheek. “In spite of what you think, this is one of the happiest days of my life. Noah was very right when he said you and Robert belong together. You truly do.”
Noah came to collect the women in a rented rig. When he knocked on the door Sarah’s duty, as handmaiden to the bride, was to answer. She calmed herself, pressed a palm to her stomach and approached the door with careful control and a cardboard smile.
“Hello, Noah,” she said as if his appearance had not created a rent in her heart. He was dressed in the black suit he should have worn for their own wedding. His cheeks were shiny, his mustache neatly trimmed, a rich dark wing above his familiar mouth. The sight of him made her tongue dry.
“Hello, Sarah. How have you been?” So proper it was numbing. No smile, no second glances.
“Fine.” Proper, too. “I believe Addie is all ready. I’ll get her.”
They rode to the church in a carriage for four, with Addie insisting on sitting in the backseat alone. Proximity, however, had no effect on the estrangement of the two up front. They rode as if a great-aunt sat between them.
At the church Robert waited, dapper and smiling, reaching up to help his betrothed alight from the carriage, to accept a touch of the cheek from his future sister-in-law, a handshake from his friend.
To Noah, aside, he said, “Take notes today. You’re going to need them, mark my words.”
The wedding was short and simple. Birtle Matheson carried it off in a manner that gained him only further respect from his new congregation, who knew he’d had eyes for the bride himself. The attendees packed the church and included three of Rose’s girls, who watched the proceedings with bald yearning in their eyes; many single businessmen in town who chided themselves for never seeing the possibilities in the woman they’d known as Eve; Patrick Bradigan, who was sober for the occasion; the Dawkins family and more.
When Robert spoke his vows he clutched Addie’s knuckles so tightly white rings appeared below his thu
mbs.
“I, Robert Baysinger, take thee, Adelaide Merritt...”
Sarah stood behind them, painfully conscious of Noah, six feet away, his hands linked, standing straight and still as an obelisk, watching the proceedings.
It came Addie’s turn.
“I, Adelaide Merritt, take thee, Robert Baysinger... to be my wedded husband...”
Addie displayed a smile of singular radiance as she looked into Robert’s eyes. A tear formed in Sarah’s, and as she lifted a handkerchief to wipe it away, Noah turned his head to watch. His glance lasted no longer than it would have taken the tear to fall, but in that moment when their gazes met she saw that it was no more over for him than it was for her.
The ceremony ended. Addie walked down the aisle on Robert’s arm. Noah took Sarah’s. For the duration of the exit they touched, but it was the only contact they shared that day. At the church door he released her. Throughout a dinner in the churchyard and a dance beneath the June sky they remained carefully aloof. Through the thousands of touches and words exchanged with familiar people, they exchanged none with each other. Sometimes, across the crowded yard Sarah would see him, drinking beer or talking, dancing with Emma or Addie, but if their eyes chanced to meet they parted in the same breath. Once he danced with Geneva Dawkins, who wore a profuse blush, and once with one of Rose’s girls, whom he seemed to find highly amusing. He threw his head back and laughed at something she said. How excruciating to watch the play of sun on his hair and mustache, to relive moments when his laughter had been shared with her, to realize it would not be again. Who knows? He might even start frequenting Rose’s again. The possibility brought Sarah an actual physical pain.
For a while he watched a game of mumbletypeg whose knife-flippers were all lads Josh’s age. When he glanced up and saw Sarah watching him, she turned away.
The town had grown. Unfamiliar faces dotted the crowd. She put her time to use introducing herself to each one, taking down names for the “Welcome” column of the Chronicle, inviting the new women to join the Ladies’ Club, the new men to attend the town meetings. But her zest for the work seemed a thing of the past.
Near the end of the afternoon, Sarah searched out Emma.
“I have a big favor to ask you.”
Forgiving Page 42