Saratoga Sunrise

by Christine Wenger

  What am I doing? He broke the kiss and pulled away, remembering that she was the daughter of his enemy–the man who destroyed his family. He was going to use her, that was certainly true, but not use her like this. Not like this.

  "I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I apologize."

  Her face flushed pink, and Jack wondered if she did so because of passion or embarrassment for enjoying his kiss. Even though he had just chastised himself, he couldn't help but hope that it was both.

  "That's correct, Mr. Summers, you shouldn't have done that. I am an engaged woman," she said without much conviction in her voice. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders.

  “Ah. . . yes. Engaged to the charming Mr. Fordice.” He snickered. "I guess you must have also forgotten that small matter when you kissed me back, Miss Peterson."

  "Humpf."

  He laughed, and she joined in after a while. Confident that the light mood between them was restored, he picked up the basket and held his arm out. "Let me show you that spring. It'll make your leg feel better."

  "Mr. Summers, you can't actually believe I will bare my leg while you are present. Why that's positively indecent!"

  He heard a faint thread of hysteria in her voice. "I'll turn my head, of course."

  "Oh, of course," she said quietly.

  # # #

  Bea almost dropped her parasol in shock. "Clara, I thought you were with Sara at the track!"

  The young girl looked at her in astonishment, her feather duster halting in mid-air. "What?"

  "Have you seen Sara today?"

  "No, I haven't, although I've been dusting the lobby most of the day."

  Bea wrung her hands. "Oh dear."

  Clara let the feather duster drop to her side. Her eyes were round with concern. "Is something wrong, Miss Bishop? Is Sara all right?"

  "I'm sure she's fine. Her father wanted someone to accompany her to the track, that's all. I'm sure Johnson is with her."

  Clara shook her head. "I saw Johnson drive into the carriage house a while back, as I was cleaning the windows."

  "Then Sara is alone." Beatrix shook her head. "Why that little scamp!"

  "What has Sara done?"

  "I'm afraid she's embarked on an adventure that could ruin her reputation or incur her father's wrath if she's found out. Possibly both." In spite of the circumstances, she smiled.

  Clara was clearly puzzled. "You don't seem upset, Miss Bishop."

  "For some reason, I trust the man she's with more than

  I trust that idiotic windbag she's suppose to marry."

  "Then you think that she's with Jack Summers, the groom?"

  Bea nodded.

  "She told me about him last night. I think Sara's likes him very much."

  "I do, too." An idea flashed in Bea's mind. "Clara, how about if I tell Mr. Tompkins that I need you for a while to help us unpack? Instead, you hurry to the carriage house and have Johnson ready to take us to the stables. I'll be right behind you. We have to get Sara before her father finds out."

  "Yes, Miss Bishop."

  Bea smiled warmly. "You used to call me Aunt Trixie."

  Clara fussed with the handle of the duster and looked down. "I didn't know if you still wanted me to do that. I'm just a maid still and–"

  Bea held a hand up to silence her. "You know I don't believe in all that silliness. A friend is a friend. A good person is a good person no matter what their income is or their social standing. That's why I like coming to the Springs. All that meddlesome class system is somewhat forgotten."

  Bea took Clara's hand. "You've been a dear friend to Sara for many, many years. Your letters helped her through a very difficult period of time when her mother died and she was recovering." She took the feather duster from the young woman's hand. "Don't you ever say you're just a maid."

  Bea reached out and dusted the frame of the painting of the Battle of Waterloo on the lobby wall as Clara doubled over with laughter. "Aunt Trixie, stop! What if someone should see you!"

  "Then let them! Now go. Get Johnson ready. I'll take care of Tompkins."

  Clara scurried off as Bea turned around to see three faces staring at her in astonishment. They were none other than the formidable Maude Dredmar and her haughty daughters Suzette and Leanne, two silly, spoiled girls.

  "Oh, hello, Maude...girls...are you waiting to try dusting?" she said in a mocking tone. "It's really becoming fashionable to dust at the Springs. Here have a try." She thrust the handle of the duster at Maude.

  If she lived to be a hundred, she'd never forget the expression on Maude's face as she stared at the foreign object and then looked at the painting, trying to decide what she should do.

  Looking over her shoulder as she walked away, Bea half-expected Maude to begin dusting for Maude Dredmar would never tolerate being out of vogue at the Springs. Never.

  Maude must have sensed she was being watched for she looked over at Bea. Bea couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped her throat nor the laugh that rumbled up from her toes as she watched Maude throw the duster to the marble floor and storm away with her daughters.

  # # #

  Sara opened the picnic basket and handed Jack a white linen cloth with the monogram of the United States Hotel in gold. He shook out the folds and let it drift to the thick, rich grass. He helped her to sit down, and he sat down next to her.

  From the basket, Sara took out two jars that appeared to be iced tea. Then she found a variety of cheeses, fruit and meats all packed on a block of ice wrapped in brown paper and more linen. She handed Jack two sets of flowered dishes and two sets of silver wrapped in a pink napkin and tied with a yellow ribbon.

  She smiled. "Chef Morris packed enough food for ten people."

  "Maybe not. He knew it was for you and knows how much you like to eat, although he seemed to know that you'd be sharing your picnic." He chuckled as he helped her to sit down.Laughing, she smoothed out her skirt then handed him a jar of tea. "I think I can spare a small slice of bread and a tiny piece of cheese for you, since I'm watching my weight!"

  They joked and ate and passed the time in light conversation about Seawind and other horses in the stable, about the weather and Sara's home near New York City, and whether or not the springs in the area really had curative powers as everyone believed.

  "There are about one hundred and seventy-five springs in the area," Jack told her. "Some are saline, some alkaline, some have a high iron content, some are sulfur and many are a combination of these."

  Sara wondered how he knew so much about the springs, but remembered that he said he lived here for a short time. "How old were you when you lived here, Jack?"

  He shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the cloth and did not look at her when he answered. "I was just a kid. I didn't live here long."

  "Where did you go after you left?"

  "Here and there. Then college."

  "Were you young when you left?"

  "I suppose." A uncomfortable look settled on his features. "Sara, my life isn't very interesting. Tell me about yourself."

  She liked that Jack was as interested in her and she was in him. He was so easy to talk to and she didn't hesitate to respond.

  "I live in a big old house that used to be my grandfather's. It's not far from New York City. We've always had lots of horses–my father's hobby you know. My mother loved them, too. We've come to the Springs most every season since I can remember and, after the accident, my Aunt Trixie came to live with us."

  "I remember you told me you left early one season. What did you say happened?"

  She remembered the horrible event with abhorrence. "Last year, a man by the name of George Wheeler hurt one of our horses, Tempest Wind. Cut him badly with a bottle. My father caught the man and turned him over to the authorities. Tempest Wind had to be destroyed. My father was quite distraught, and we left."

  "Did your father actually see Wheeler cut the horse?"

  Sara's eyes grew wide. "I don't know."

 
"Did your father give him a chance to explain?" He hurled the words at her and tossed his plate on the linen spread.

  "I-I don't know. There was a jury trial and–"

  "And Wheeler was convicted and sent to prison."

  She hesitated, feeling alarmed. "W-Why y-yes he w-was." She put her half-finished lunch down next to his, her gaze never wavering from his face. "Why are you interrogating me about this?"

  Jack sighed that looked away as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. "I read about it in the paper. I just thought the evidence was circumstantial, that's all."

  "Apparently a jury did not think so."

  "A jury can be swayed, and so can a judge."

  She wrung her hands nervously in her lap, not understanding why he seemed so steadfast in his demeanor. "Mr. Summers, can we please change this topic of conversation?"

  "I apologize sincerely if I gave you indigestion." He grinned, and the easy-going Jack was back once again. "How about if I show you that spring now?"

  She breathed a sigh of relief. "I would like that very much. Is it far?"

  "It's by the bend in the trees. See? Right there." He pointed. "You can see the steam if you look right between those two big maples.

  "I see it! How grand!"

  He helped her up, they packed away what was left of the picnic, and walked toward the spring arm-in-arm.

  Water swirled in the bend of the small creek and gave off a pungent smell–sulfur perhaps. A light fog hovered like a ghostly figure from the water then vanished in the air. Rust-colored rocks lining the banks and the edges of the creek had streaks of blue and yellow, and rocks higher up from the water were covered with a yellow-green moss. In between the crevices of the rocks, bunches of purple and pink wild flowers cascaded at random.

  Sara looked closer at the water and saw masses of tiny bubbles percolating to the surface. A tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning, made a natural bridge from one side of the bank to the other, just over the spring.

  It was a magnificent setting, more tranquil and more beautiful than Sara could have imagined. She gave a contented sigh.

  "I used to come here all the time. It's a great place to just sit and think," Jack said.

  She couldn't contain her enthusiasm and swung her arms open wide. "I love it here, Jack. I absolutely love it."

  He smiled warmly. "Do you want to give the spring a try?"

  She swallowed the despair in her throat. "I don't see how I could get down there without your help, and without–"

  "Taking your dress off?"

  "Yes."

  "And I would have to take my trousers off or they would be wet for the walk home."

  "Yes," she whispered, as she thought of Jack without his trousers. She had never seen a man in such a state. While she couldn't contain her anticipation of seeing Jack's form, she knew she was being terribly bold in her reply. What must he think of her?

  "As long as you don't mind, that's fine with me," he said with a rakish grin.

  Panic flooded her very soul mixed with a tingle of excitement. "Heavens! I cannot. You cannot. We shouldn't!"

  "No. We cannot." He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll help you across that fallen tree and you can dunk your feet," Jack said. "How's that?"

  "But you would see my bare legs! Mr. Summers you are becoming much too presumptuous."

  His smile was as intimate as a kiss. "I'll try not to look."

  She looked longingly at the water below and decided she might not have another opportunity like this again. "All right. Turn your back while I take my shoes and...ahem...while I bare my feet."

  # # #

  Jack chuckled, crossed his arms, and turned around as instructed. If she only knew how many times he had soaked in this spring naked, as he longed to do now.

  He saw how she looked at him, with a spark of passion in her eyes that she didn't understand, but he understood. She was attracted to him.

  He thought about their kiss. What had possessed him to kiss her so boldly?

  "I'm ready, Jack. You can turn around."

  He reached out his hand, and she took it. Her hand was cold despite the hot day. "Don't be nervous. I won't let you fall. We'll just walk out very slowly, a step at a time, onto the tree. Gather up your skirts higher."

  He could hear her sharp intake of breath as he lifted her onto the fallen tree and leaped up behind her. She gathered up her dress only slightly despite his instructions.

  "Whenever you're ready, take a small step. Go slow so you won't slip. It's covered with moss and it's wet from the steam." He waited patiently. "Sara, you must lift your skirt higher. You don't want to trip."

  She took a tentative step, then another, then another until she was over the bubbling pool. "I'm not very good at sitting down."

  "I'll sit down first, then I'll help you."

  He sat down on the fallen log first, never releasing her hand. "Come on. Sit down very slowly."

  She looked at the swirling water below and began to sway.

  "Sara! Don't look down! Look at me!"

  She still stared at the water below, as if in a trance.

  "Sara look at me!"

  # # #

  Sara felt a sudden jerk on her arm and felt like she was falling... falling...

  "I've got you!"

  Jack pulled her onto his lap and wrapped her in his arms.

  "My goodness! I was dizzy."

  Her petticoat was askew, and she could feel a good portion of her legs exposed to the warm summer sun. She wished she wore her long drawers, but she didn't because she knew she would be riding. She tried to find the hem of her petticoat to cover her legs, but she only succeeded in drawing Jack's attention to her disfigurement, her mangled leg.

  "Don't look at it!" she snapped, pushing against the hard muscles of his chest. "Don't look at it!"

  But Jack did just that. He tentatively touched the puckered skin and the jagged scar with a pink hue that slashed the length of her shin. She could tell the exact second when he noticed that she was missing her small toe, for a scowl appeared on his face. With horror, she watched as he traced her scars with a finger until she couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face any longer.

  "Oh Sara," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. "How awful!"

  Her heart broke at his reaction, his revulsion. Somehow she had hoped and dreamed that her deformities wouldn't have bothered him, but it was not to be. "Have you satisfied your morbid curiosity, Mr. Summers? Now you don't have to attend the circus when it comes to town. Now release me."

  He grimaced, struck silent by her words.

  "I told you not to look so you wouldn't be disgusted."

  "That's not it at all. I just–"

  "Unhand me immediately! Let me go!"

  She pushed against his hard chest in an effort to get away from him.

  "Stop! You'll fall!" he warned, holding her tighter. "That's not what I was thinking. Believe me."

  But his plea fell on deaf ears. She flailed against him, pounding him unmercifully with her fists, kicking out at him.

  Until they both fell into the bubbling spring below.

  CHAPTER 5

  "Sara Rose Peterson! Sara, what on earth is going on here?"

  Sara brushed back the wet hair from her eyes and tried to identify the shrill voice and where it was coming from. Gaseous bubbles surrounded her in neck-deep water, and she felt remarkably buoyant and warm.

  She noticed white fabric, transparent because of its wetness, encasing the strong arms and chest of Jack Summers. He held her tight around her waist, close to him.

  She looked up and saw a vein throbbing in Jack's neck. He was breathing heavily.

  He looked down at Sara. "Are you all right? You're not hurt are you?"

  "I’m fine," she said quietly.

  The voice was closer this time. "Sara Rose!"

  Sara gasped. "Aunt Trixie."

  "Just my luck," Jack mumbled.

  Sara peered through the trees.
It was Aunt Trixie along with Clara and Johnson, the coachman. Three pair of eyes stared at them in shock.

  "What on earth are you doing with my niece, Mr. Summers?"

  "It wasn't his fault, Aunt Trixie. I fell in by accident and Jack jumped in to save me."

  "Jack Summers?" Clara asked, puzzled.

  "Yes, Clara, this is Jack Summers the man I told you about," Sara said.

  "Jack Summers?" Clara looked at Jack with a critical squint.Sara felt him tense and heard him draw in a deep breath.

  "Pleased to meet you," Jack mumbled at Clara, then began walking Sara to the bank of rocks. "But I think we should continue this conversation on dry land."

  Johnson hurried to assist.

  Jack looked at Sara when he reached the bank, and said in a voice that only she could hear, "Do you mind if I carry you and save us both a lot of trouble? With your wet, heavy clothes and everyone watching us, I think it would be for the best."

  Sara hesitated, nodded, and locked her hands around his neck. Effortlessly, he swept her into his arms. With each move he made to gain his footing climbing up the rocks, she could feel the brush of his skin against hers through her wet clothes. A delicious shiver rippled through her.

  "Your aunt is furious," he whispered.

  "I know. I'll explain everything to her–most everything." Sara's heart sank. She simply had to make Aunt Trixie understand that Jack was a gentleman. In spite of his reaction to her leg, which hurt her deeply, it was understandable reaction.

  She still wanted to be the one to give Seawind his workouts. Therefore, in order to get away, she had to make Aunt Trixie trust her again–a tall order, judging by the stern expression on her aunt's face.

  With the help of Johnson, Jack soon was on level ground. He put Sara down, and immediately Aunt Trixie put a shawl around her.

  "I will hear your explanation as to why you are not chaperoned, Sara Rose, and–" Aunt Trixie stopped and looked at Jack. "And as for you, young man–"

  "I apologize, Miss Bishop. I should have known better," he said, sincerely.

  "We can go to my house. Sara can put on one of my dresses and dry her hair. No one will be the wiser, Aunt Trixie," Clara said, eyeing Jack curiously.