by Peggy Webb
“Tell me,” she said when they finally came up for air.
“Better yet. Why don’t I show you?” he said.
And he did.
It was dark when they finally made it back to the ballroom.
“Dance for me, Sarah,” he said.
And in bare feet and the white shirt Jim had worn, with the moon and stars sending showers of silver crystals over the shining floor, Sarah spread her arms and danced for the man she loved.
Epilogue
Little Miss Elizabeth Standing Bear was an irrepressible three-year-old with her aunt Julie’s flaming red hair and her daddy’s dancing black eyes. As they crossed the flower-decked pathway that led to the entrance of Angelwood Manor, she tugged at her father’s hand.
“Hur’we, Daddy. I want to see Poppa.”
Laughing at his daughter’s impatience, Jim scooped her up and carried her through the doorway on his shoulders, bending down so she wouldn’t bang her head on the door frame.
Sarah smiled indulgently. She did a lot of that these days. That was because she had a lot to smile about. An adored and adoring husband, a beautiful daughter, and the precious son who lay in her arms blowing spit bubbles.
She caught up with them inside the door.
“Hello again, beautiful.” Jim wrapped his free arm around her and kept it there when they entered her father’s room.
His face lit up when he saw Elizabeth.
“Come here, little fairy princess,” he said, holding out his arms.
Elizabeth never walked anywhere. She bounced and twirled and leaped. Savannah, who was sitting in a chair by the window, laughed and shook her head.
“Lordy, that child.” She nodded toward Dr. Sloan. “If he don’t set store by her, I don’t know who does.”
“Will ’ou dance wif me, Poppa?” Elizabeth climbed into her grandfather’s lap and planted a big kiss on his cheek.
“Of course I will. Just let me get my top hat.” He grinned at his visitors. “This little fairy princess comes to see me all the time. Calls me Poppa. I’m teaching her the soft shoe. Gene Kelly’s jealous.”
He paused to gaze at the baby in Sarah’s arms. “And who’s this?”
“This is Sloan Standing Bear,” she told him as she did every week.
Her father leaned close and the baby latched on to his finger.
“I think he likes me.”
“I’m certain he does,” Sarah said softly, then they all went into the recreation room and her father went to the player piano to select a song.
Sarah held her breath, waiting to see what he would choose, and when the familiar melody filled the air, she smiled. She liked to believe that somewhere in his mind was a piece of memory that could never be lost. She liked to believe that week after week he chose the same song because he remembered, and, remembering, loved.
Her father took Elizabeth’s tiny hands in his and began a stately waltz. Smiling, Jim walked toward Sarah and she passed the baby to Savannah.
Then she moved into her husband’s arms and began to dance to the haunting strains of “Always.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4376-7
STANDING BEAR’S SURRENDER
Copyright © 2001 by Peggy Webb
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit Silhouette at www.eHarlequin.com