Sarah's Passion

by Ginger Simpson

  SARAH’S PASSION

  By

  Ginger Simpson

  ISBN: 978-1-927476-71-0

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Books We Love Ltd.

  (Electronic Book Publishers)

  Chestermere, AB

  http://bookswelove.net

  Copyright 2012 by Ginger Simpson

  Cover Art Copyright 2012 by Michelle Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.

  Chapter One

  “Nathaniel Elder.” Sarah Collins leaned her elbows atop the manuscript spread across her desk and rested her chin between her raised palms. Her editing chore forgotten, she stared into space, picturing “Wolf’s” handsome face and puzzling over the amazement that led him to her doorstep directly from a dream so real she awoke with tears still wet on her cheeks.

  “Something wrong, Miss Collins?” A brusque voice sliced through her thoughts.

  Sarah jerked upright and stared into the pockmarked face of her supervisor, Mr. Crane. He stood in her doorway, his unibrow crooked upward with piqued curiosity.

  “No sir, nothing’s wrong. I-I was just thinking.” Shaking fingers straightened the manuscript pages she’d scattered to find where she’d left off. The mere presence of the man raised the hair on her arms, much the same the horrid banker from her dream had. Silas McCann. She shuddered at the memory of his horse-like yellowed teeth.

  “Think on your own time, Miss Collins. You get paid to edit not daydream.” Mr. Crane disappeared down the hallway, his heels clicking against the aged brown tile. Maybe she’d read too many western historical tales, but the term, ‘burr beneath his saddle,’ came to mind. He never smiled and always acted like he was pissed at life. If only he knew how miserable he made his employees, but surely no one had the nerve to confront him--needing job security and all.

  Tucking thoughts of her night vision and miserable supervisor aside, Sarah pulled her chair closer to the desk and started reading. The words didn’t register, and she re-read the same sentence five times before giving up. She tossed her head back and sighed. “It’s no use, I can’t concentrate.” Pushing away from the desk, she closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose.

  How could she feel so attached to a man she’d only dreamed about? They’d never met, at least not in this lifetime. Past lives? Dreams? The entire situation was far too confusing for her feeble brain. Her new neighbor had moved here from God knows where, with his sister, Molly, who by the way, just happened to share the name of someone else in the dream. What were the chances that Nathaniel also had the same ‘nickname’ as the Indian-named ‘hero’ in her dream?

  This day couldn’t pass fast enough. She checked the clock on the wall, anxious to get home. Four more hours? No one could effectively edit in her condition. She’d just have to fake being busy, just in case the ogre happened by again. Her thoughts focused on dinner and what to fix. Her new neighbors were coming to dine. She’d asked them as a way of welcoming them to the neighborhood. Yeah right! His drop-dead gorgeousness had nothing to do with the invitation, nor did the fact that in her dream they’d just shared the most passionate kiss ever. One could only hope she wasn’t losing her mind. Considering the memories rolling through her brain, even a psychiatrist probably couldn’t sort them out.

  She made another attempt at the editing task--another historical manuscript, but each mention of the Indian hero summoned forth visions of Nathaniel and the way they’d met, journeyed together, and fought the growing attraction between them. Sarah rolled her eyes. How crazy to expect tonight to resolve her confusion. She pictured herself trying to explain why she felt she knew them both. “Hi, Molly, nice to see you again, and alive this time. I’m really sorry I couldn’t heal your wounds after the war-party attacked, but…” Yeah, that wasn’t a one-way ticket to the loony bin. Now her insides quaked, but for an entirely different reason. How did one act normal around people you felt certain you already knew--people you loved and lost?

  * * *

  The steam from the boiling potatoes spiraled up, heating Sarah’s face and dampening her hair. She brushed aside her drooping bangs and opened the oven door to check the baking chicken. Armed with an oven mitt on her left hand, she pulled out the rack and eyed the sizzling and browning meat. After closing the door, she straightened, removed the glove and turned the heat setting to “warm.”

  Her stomach churned with nervous anticipation as she checked the clock on the stove and noticed she had only an hour and a half before her guests arrived. Potatoes to whip, a salad to make, a vegetable to choose and heat…and she still had to freshen her make-up and fix her hair. She yanked open the door to the fridge, filled her arms with veggies from the crisper and dumped them on the counter. Time to kick things into fast gear.

  In short order, she finished the salad, had corn simmering in butter sauce, and the mixer ready to attack the potatoes. She removed her apron and eyed the set table. Napkins on the left? Was that the correct side? Her silverware lacked enough pieces to provide two forks, so Nathaniel and Molly would have to be content to eat their meal with one. Being a hostess had never been Sarah’s strong suit, and she didn’t usually eat in five-star restaurants. At least, she’d dug out her best linens and shined up her rarely-used crystal goblets. The bottle of white wine she’d been assured went with chicken chilled in an ice bucket on the counter. Her grandmother’s candelabra sat loaded and ready mid-table. A flick of the stereo would provide slow jazz for ambiance, so everything was ready…except her. She retired to her bedroom to work her magic.

  In less than an hour, she breezed back into the kitchen with fifteen minutes to spare. According to the mirror, her long blond hair fluffed up nicely after a few swirls around the curling iron, and the “smoky” eye look she’d recently learned about from the TV program, Jerseylicious, made her blue iris’ stand out even more than usual. Her lips bore her favorite light russet color, and thanks to her apron, she hadn’t suffered nary a spot on her mauve v-neck tee or her white Capri pants. Confident she wasn’t displaying too much cleavage and that her pants fit perfectly, she closed the door to her cluttered bedroom and switched on the stereo. She’d considered different outfits, and most of them now covered her bed, while she wore exactly what she’d put on after work. Comfort and sexy rolled into one. Visions of Nathaniel danced through her head. She recalled his lips pressed firmly against hers, and she shivered at the memory. How could something that seemed so real not be? Clouds of doubt gathered and obscured her pleasant recollections.

  Checking the clock for the umpteenth time, Sarah used the butane lighter and lit the candles on the table. She opened the wine to let it breathe, poured herself a half glass, and was just about to sit and take a second to unwind when she heard a knock.

  Straightening from having her butt halfway to the sofa cushion, Sarah took in a large inhalation and released it through pursed lips. How quaint, people who believed in early arrival. All day, she’d played and replayed in her mind how this evening would go, and now it was apparently show time. She took another deep breath and crossed the room, draining her glass for added courage. Allowing a minute for her heartbeat to slow, she pasted a smile on her face and opened the door. A lump the size of one of the potatoes she’d peeled earlier, lodged in her throat, and she froze with her hand on the knob.

  The silence lingered far too long. Her guests stood in the hallway, clearly awaiting an invitation inside, yet Sarah couldn’t recover fro
m the shock of seeing Wolf once again. This time, truly realizing he was the man of her dreams…literally. Behind him, Molly. Sarah needed no introduction to the woman with copper hair who she’d nursed for days, attempting to keep her alive. They were one and the same. The identical smattering of freckles across her nose, her petite frame…there was no mistaking her for the friend Sarah had made on the wagon train. Her stomach churned and her palms turned clammy. Was this just a continuation of her dream? Pinching herself might be hard to explain, but she refrained from the temptation, thinking perhaps a slap might be better.

  “Do we look that bad?” Nathaniel’s husky voice pierced the quiet. He laughed, shivering broad shoulders encased in sky-blue button-down shirt.

  “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me.” Sarah found her voice and manners, her gaze quickly assessing her apartment for assurance. “I think I had a moment of brain fade there. Won’t you please come in and make yourself at home?” She opened the door wider and stood to the side, admiring Wolf‘s denim-clad behind as he passed. She much preferred the breechclout he’d been wearing the first time she laid eyes on him, and his buckskins hadn’t been all that bad either. Cringing at her unseemly thoughts, she broadened her smile. “Won’t you have a seat? Can I get you a glass of wine while I put the finishing touches on dinner?”

  Chapter Two

  As the word ‘wine’ passed her lips, her gaze rested on the two bottles Wolf clasped. He thrust them toward her. “We weren’t sure of the entrée, so we brought both red and white.”

  She accepted his offerings, noting the labels: cabernet and white zinfandel. After carrying them to the counter, she put them down and returned to where her guests stood. “That’s very nice of you…and I hope you like chicken because that’s what I’ve prepared. Lemon chicken to be exact.”

  Molly stepped forward, her familiar green eyes sparkling. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Molly Landers, Nathaniel’s sister.” She offered her hand.

  Sarah locked palms with her. “Your brother mentioned you were sharing the apartment. How very nice to meet you, and I’m so glad you accepted my invitation, Molly.”

  The name echoed in Sarah’s brain. How many times had she called out to Molly…made sure she still breathed after removing the arrow from the injured woman’s shoulder? Happiness warmed Sarah’s heart at seeing the woman she’d called, ‘friend’, alive and well instead of pale and gasping for breath. She willed the bad memory away, released Molly’s hand, and motioned to the sofa. “Please, sit down and be comfortable. I have only to whip the potatoes. Wine anyone?”

  “I’ll wait until dinner, thanks.” Molly took a seat next to her brother.

  “How about you, Wolf?” Sarah gave her sweetest smile.

  “Sure.”

  Sarah poured and handed him a goblet then went back to the kitchen counter. The weight of their stares made her uncomfortable as she whipped the potatoes, and the whirring mixer made it impossible to hold a conversation. She quickly finished and dished everything up. “I think we’re ready.” She gestured to the fully-laden table, then filled the two remaining wine glasses, and waited until her guests were seated before topping off the glass Wolf had.

  While he and Molly filled their plates, Sarah pondered how to initiate a conversation without bringing up the dream. She took a sip of wine, trying to find comfort where there was none. Her breath came out in a sigh she hadn’t meant to share. “So, are you completely new to the area?”

  While Wolf chewed his first bite of chicken, Molly sat forward in her chair. “We’re definitely out-of-towners, still shell-shocked by the vast difference between here and Independence.”

  No surprise there. Hearing Independence as their departure point only made things harder to explain. Of course, she didn’t have all the answers. She held a forkful of potatoes mid-air. “What brings you east? I hear Missouri is a very nice state--certainly rich in history.”

  “I’m why we’re here.” Wolf chimed in. “I’m registered for the next semester at Pace University as a transfer student. I’m looking to finish up my bachelor’s in Business Administration.”

  “How interesting.” She raised a brow, never figuring him for college material, especially after what he’d been through in her dream. “What do you plan to do when you finish?”

  “He’ll move home and start that ranch he plans.” Molly stole the spotlight. “He already completed his first two years along with courses in Animal Science. He’s determined to raise cattle even though I have no idea why.” She cast him an icy stare.

  Sarah struggled to keep her attention focused on Molly, much preferring to look into those familiar hazel eyes she recalled. Still, she remained polite, until the answer gave her reason to look at Wolf. “Cattle, huh? How does business administration tie in with cows?”

  He put his fork down, picked up his wine glass and leaned back in his chair. “I figure I’ve learned about the animals themselves, and it never hurts to have a little knowledge about the business side. I want to know what I’m in for when it comes to buying, selling, and making a success of my investment.”

  As much as she craved pouring out her heart and making some sense of her dream, she simply nodded. “Sounds smart to me.”

  Sarah picked up the bowl of corn. “More?”

  Molly held up her hand and shook her head. “I’m getting full already. Everything is so delicious.”

  Wolf passed too, busy consuming his second chicken breast. Although he ate with a fork now, she vividly recalled the spit-roasted rabbit they’d shared on the trail. No silverware involved…just fingers. Giving an inward shudder, she berated herself for comparing everything to a silly night vision--even if everything from the freckles on Molly’s face fit.

  “Honestly, Sarah, this chicken is to die for.” Molly’s voice yanked Sarah back to the moment. “You’ll have to teach me how you made it. I think Nate is even eating the bones.”

  Thank Goodness she hadn’t burned anything, as was her norm. She had to admit dinner had turned out nicely, and Wolf did appear to be enjoying the meat. Keeping her lack of cooking skill to herself, she smiled. “Well, thank you. I‘ll be happy to jot down the recipe for you.”

  She turned her attention back to Wolf. “So, tell me how you got your nickname.”

  “I much prefer to call him Nate, myself.” Molly butted in again.

  Sarah kept her stare fixated on him.

  He wiped his face and fingers with his napkin. “I played football in high school, and the guys on the team gave it to me.”

  “Why?” Sarah asked, but recalling the stealth of his movement, she considered she already knew the answer. His hair, although not as long now, coupled with his olive skin belied his heritage, and she recalled his explanation of the Wolf being his ‘totem’--the animal he believed guided him and influenced his life.

  “I’m part Native American, and I’m sure having longer hair back then and looking more the part of an Indian, caused them to hang that handle on me.”

  “Well, it fits…seems quite natural to call you Wolf. You just don’t look like a Nathaniel to me.”

  Now curious about Molly’s relationship with a man she’d never met in the notorious dream, Sarah directed her attention at the redhead. “I’d never guess you and Wolf are related. You have such fair skin, and--”

  “We didn’t find out about each other until about ten years ago. Our father is our only common parent. Nate’s mother was Sioux and mine wasn’t. I look more like my mom….hair and all.”

  “Oh, really?” Sarah paused long enough to take a few bites of the food growing cold on her plate. Molly’s answer provided an interesting turn of events, but one that definitely made sense. She and Wolf looked nothing alike. Still, it seemed strange how the lives of Molly and Wolf hadn’t intertwined at all in what Sarah recalled. Curiosity killed her interest in food, and she dropped her napkin into her plate. Pushing back from the table with her wine glass, she crossed her legs.

  “Wolf tells me your husband, Gil,
is in Afghanistan. How long has he been deployed?”

  Molly’s eyes widened. “How did you know his name?”

  Wolf cast a curious stare beneath a raised brow. “Yeah? Did I mention it earlier?”

  Her shoulders turning rigid, Sarah cleared her throat. She hadn’t meant to slip up, but Wolf gave her the alibi she needed. “Y-you must have told me. How else would I have known?” A nervous giggle bubbled up.

  Seeming satisfied with the explanation, Molly took a sip of wine, and then fixed her gaze on Sarah. “So, tell us a little about you. What do you do for a living?”

  At last, something she could discuss with certain knowledge. She swallowed, sensing the tension drain. “I edit for a local pre-publishing company--mainly historical romance novels. I and my friend, Marie, make sure the submissions are as error free as possible before passing them on for assignment of a release date with our parent company.”

  Sarah stood, pulling the wine bottle from the silver bucket, sending ice cubes tinkling to the bottom, and refilled her guests’ glasses. “Since everyone is finished eating, let’s move to the living room area where we can be more comfortable. I really want to hear more about both of you.”

  * * *

  Two empty wine bottles sat on the coffee table along with the drained glasses. The candles, still burning in the dining room, flickered near the end of their wicks, drawing Sarah’s attention. Conversation had flowed easily, and Sarah discovered the same personality traits she’d dreamed of. Now, she fathomed a way to learn how much time they planned on being her neighbors. She rose with the intention of putting out the dying candles, looking back over her shoulder. “So, Molly, how long will Gil be deployed?”

  Molly’s chin dipped. “For a year. I don’t think I could get through our separation if not for my brother.” She patted Wolf’s arm, sadness masking the sparkle in her eyes.