Healing Sarah

by Lorin Grace

  Sarah whispered in her ear. “The children are sleeping in my room. You can go up and watch them if you wish. I may have a book you haven’t read on my shelf.”

  Louisa brightened and hurried from the room. Samuel gave her a smile. It wasn’t until Sarah spoke to Mrs. Larkin that she remembered the notes stuffed between the pages of Pride and Prejudice. Hopefully the complete set of Sense and Sensibility Mark had given her as an engagement present would be more enticing. Of all her nieces, Louisa didn’t need more proof that the world could be a cruel place.

  Widow Webb and her boarders arrived together. There were a couple Sarah didn’t recognize. She nodded to each of them and didn’t bother remembering the names of the new women who were going to work in the bindery in town.

  “Oh, you poor thing. It seems like you just got out of mourning. But then, you were not really related, so you don’t need to stay in black forever.”

  Sarah bit her tongue. Parmelia would never understand how close she had been to Emma from her childhood—not quite mother, not quite grandmother, nearly mother-in-law. In Sarah’s mind, coming out of mourning in anything less than six months was disgraceful.

  “Thank you for your condolences. I will miss Mrs. Wilson very much.” Sarah turned to the next person, who handed her a heavy crockery. Thank goodness—a reason to escape to the kitchen.

  “Benjamin Wilson, get your finger out of the pudding right now!”

  “But, Aunt Sarah, I’m hungry.”

  “We all are, but it would be rude to eat in front of our guests. You know your mother would have you mopping the floors first thing in the morning if she caught you.”

  Benjamin looked at his twin. Purple discolored her upper lip. “I see both of you tested the pudding. Perhaps instead of the kitchen you should go sit in the parlor, where you won’t be so tempted.”

  Bessie looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please, Aunt, we are very hungry.”

  “There is this jar of beets. If you want, you may take them on the back porch.”

  Both children made a face. “We are not that hungry.”

  “Then scoot.”

  A wail came from the parlor, followed by a crash. Sarah and everyone else in the house rushed to see what had happened.

  Amity lay on the floor, shaking and thrashing about. Her father stood guarding her.

  “Benjamin! James! Go find Dr. Dawes!” Sarah did her best to clear the area. “Give her a bit of room.”

  When Amity finally lay still, Mr. Barns looked at Sarah.

  “Bring her in here.” Sarah led the way to Emma’s room. When they gained entrance, Sarah shut the door against any prying eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Marden. When Amity heard Mrs. Wilson passed, she kept asking to come. I didn’t think she would get so upset.” Mr. Barns wrung his hands.

  “Don’t worry. How long does it usually take her to come around after one of these episodes?”

  Mr. Barns shrugged. “Ten minutes. You mean she hasn’t had one here yet?”

  “No, but Dr. Morton told me what to expect. Did she hurt herself when she fell?” Sarah put a light quilt over Amity. Someone tapped on the door. Sarah opened it to find Dr. Dawes. “Doctor, do come in.” Sarah left as he entered. As much as she wanted to know how Amity would fare, being in the room with the doctor and Mr. Barns could lead to another note.

  Several heads turned when she returned to the parlor, but no one asked any questions.

  Twenty-five

  The funeral had concluded hours ago, the neighbors had returned to their normal Monday routines, and the younger children had all been either sent home or out to walk around the green.

  Thomas Jr. stood next to the window. “In all the commotion, we forgot to mention that Dorcas is supposed to be here tomorrow. We were planning on having her stay here with Ma and Sarah. I am not sure what we should do now.”

  “Sarah can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be proper.” John crossed his arms. “She should move home.”

  Carrie opened her mouth, then closed it.

  Samuel rubbed the back of his neck. “With the new babies, there really isn’t room. Besides, it is too far for Sarah to go to the school each day.”

  Sarah waved her hand. “I am in the room. Has anyone considered asking me what I want?”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “I’ll be twenty-four this fall. I still have Amity to help, and as Samuel has pointed out, his house is on the crowded side, which, to be honest, is hardly conducive to grading papers.” She held up her hand. “John, don’t think it, and don’t say it. I am not inclined to marry anyone. I would say I could take a room at Widow Webb’s, but she had new boarders today, and it didn’t work out too well for me years ago. If the intention is to sell this house, it may take a few weeks. I assume from what Thomas Jr. said that his sister-in-law Dorcas has few other options now. Is there a problem with the two of us living here for the next month or so?”

  Thomas Jr. looked around the room. “Sorry, Sarah, I think we forget you are so grown up. I don’t have an objection. Samuel, what about you? This is your house, isn’t it?”

  Sarah looked at Samuel. His house? He just shook his head at her. “Yes, it is, and selling it doesn’t help me much as Louisa and Lettie will be attending Bradford this fall and I rather not pay to put her in a second-rate boardinghouse. Carrie, wasn’t one of your daughters planning on living here too?”

  “I’d hoped to send both Prissy and Cornelia.”

  Thomas straightened. “Our Beth won’t start for another term. But having her live here is better than trying to get one of the boarding spots above the school. Any objections?”

  John opened his mouth, but Samuel glared at him, and John sat back with his arms folded.

  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She could not endure another half-hearted proposal. “It sounds like I am running a boardinghouse. I hope Dorcas can cook.”

  “I can’t guarantee she will stay very long once the rest of the siblings find out our need for her is no longer dire. Someone is likely to claim her to come help at their house.” Thomas Jr. frowned. “I feel a bit sorry for her—always passed from house to house. Well, I had better gather my family. I’d like to get home before sunset.” He hugged each of his siblings, as well as Sarah.

  Samuel left last. “You can come with me if you’d rather not be alone tonight.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve slept more than two hours since I woke up Saturday morning. At least here I will get some sleep.”

  “Anna and Emma don’t cry loud enough to keep anyone awake.”

  “Maybe so, but Lettie kicks in her sleep. Why do you think Louisa volunteered to share a bed with Bessie?”

  “Ah, that makes sense now. Bye, pumpkin.”

  Once everyone was gone, Sarah looked around the empty house. How should she rearrange it with so many nieces coming this fall? She didn’t want to give Dorcas Emma’s room, but it felt wrong to take it for herself just yet. The bed would need new ticking. If she emptied the mattress, that would be a good enough reason to put Dorcas in the room Maryanna and the other girls had used during their stays at the house.

  Sarah had the old straw out before she realized she didn’t have any new. She would need to get word to Samuel or John that she needed some.

  Hunger finally drove her to stop her preparation of the rooms. The bottle of beets sat on the table in the same spot as yesterday. Sarah wondered how many times the bottle had been gifted at a funeral or birth. She lifted it to move it to a side shelf, and a paper fluttered to the floor.

  Your secret didn’t die with Mrs. Wilson.

  Sarah sunk to the floor and cried.

  Twenty-six

  “I can’t believe it snowed here two weeks ago,” Dorcas Smith said as she fanned h
erself. “Today it is hot enough for the devil himself to come dance on the street.”

  “I think you have it just about right. I don’t think I have ever lived in such an upside-down year.” Sarah pulled at the fabric of her dress and bent back over the silk she was painting. After seeing the memorial Sarah had painted for herself depicting the story of Ruth and Naomi, Samuel had requested one for himself. She couldn’t resist portraying Hannah leaving Samuel at the temple.

  Amity continued sewing her nine-patch squares. Already she had enough squares for a child-sized quilt. Her seizures had come frequently over the past two weeks, but Sarah didn’t send Noah after Dr. Dawes unless Amity hit her head. Mr. Barns asked if she could stay with Sarah until the baby came. Amity was a welcome addition, and putting her in Emma’s room seemed natural.

  Unlike the heat.

  Amity found a scrap of paper to fan herself with. The writing looked familiar.

  “Sweetheart, can I trade you my fan for that paper?”

  “Fan-n.” The smile on Amity’s face told Sarah the fan would never be hers again.

  I gave you two weeks to mourn.

  But I grow tired.

  Who shall I tell first?

  Two weeks ago, Tim had worried about his littlest patients dying because they were too cold. Today he worried about his oldest patients dying due to the excessive heat. Fortunately, most of them had family to dampen their clothing and keep them in cooler parts of the houses or out in the shade. He worried about the farmers out in their fields, desperately trying to make up for the crops lost in the snowstorm.

  His rounds were taking him past the Samuel Wilson farm. Sure of his welcome and of water for his horse, Tim rode into the yard.

  Lucy and several of the children were working in the garden. Everyone shouted, “Dr. Dawes!” at once. Benjamin came for Tim’s horse and led the beast in the direction of the barn.

  “Come, sit.” Lucy told him. “James has already gone to get a fresh bucket of water. I think we are all tempted to jump in the well today. I told the children if they helped me for a half hour they could go play in what is left of the creek. You rode up at the twenty-five-minute mark. Thank you. I couldn’t stand out here another minute.” Lucy fanned herself. Summer had come with a vengeance, and despite the late snow, the crops still didn’t have enough rain to see them through.

  “I’m surprised you are out here at all. I thought you would still be resting.” Tim took a cup of water from Bessie.

  Lucy laughed. “I did with Maryanna, but by the time Stella came along I got up and made supper that night. Well, I cut the bread I made the day before and set out some apple preserves. But still, I wasn’t in bed.”

  “All the same, I do wish you would take it easy, especially in this heat.”

  “I can live with that order. No more hard work today.”

  “Really, Mama?” came a chorus of voices.

  “Yes, off to the creek with you. James, watch Seth and Bessie, and keep Stella where you can see her. And everyone mind Louisa!” Shouting the last part was necessary as the children were already halfway across the nearest field.

  “Where is Mr. Wilson?”

  “Samuel and Lettie are down at John’s. I don’t know if it is possible to save the crop, but after last year’s drought, John is desperate. He is talking about slaughtering all but his best two milk cows if he doesn’t get a crop growing. Can’t run a dairy without fodder for the cows.”

  “I had no idea things were that bad.” Tim finished the last of his water. “How about I take a look at those two little angels of yours and I’ll be on my way.”

  The girls slept in a basket near the door in only their diapers. They reminded him of a drawing he had seen of a sea creature with eight arms. “I hate to wake them. They both look like they have grown, I think.”

  “They always sleep like knotted yarn. But I believe they are both more than five pounds now when I weigh them against my flour.”

  “I am not sure if babies experience as many problems with the heat as the elderly, but do watch them.”

  Lucy smiled the smile of a mother who knew more than the doctor, which, in this case, Tim willingly admitted she did. “Don’t worry, Doc, I got them this far. I am not going to let a hot day defeat us.”

  Tim took his leave. Unfortunately, the visit only made him think of Sarah, the only girl on the north side of the river who seemed to be avoiding him.

  Half the women in Miss Webb’s boardinghouse had come to the office in the past two weeks complaining of some fictitious ailment, then again to bring food to thank him. Miss Page hadn’t overstated her cooking abilities.

  Sarah, on the other hand, managed to be “out” all but twice during his daily visits to Amity. He was tempted to see just how long he could keep her hiding in the privy today. But in this heat, that would be cruel.

  The sweltering heat in her bedroom nearly drove Sarah downstairs, but she lay on her bed and waited for Tim to leave. She had been coming downstairs after adding the latest note to her collection when he rode up. At least her bedroom smelled better than the privy.

  Amity’s laughter drifted up the stairway. Sarah wiped the perspiration from her brow. Why was she hiding, anyway? Dr. Dawes was visiting in a professional capacity. Anyone who saw her in her last-summer’s dress could see that.

  She wiped her damp handkerchief over her face again before heading down the stairs and to the porch.

  “S-sarah. Doc-c.” Amity beamed. Next to her father, who came nightly to visit, they had become her favorite people. Mrs. Morton continued to be tolerated, though somewhat less since Emma’s passing, having been replaced by Dorcas.

  Tim stood from the chair he occupied, studying Sarah long enough to have her questioning her choice to come down.

  “Miss Marden, do you not own a dress of a material more suited to the weather?”

  “Of course she doesn’t. At least she isn’t wearing the dress made of bombazine.” Dorcas fanned herself as if she were wearing the wool-and-silk hanging in Sarah’s room. “At least the crepe is somewhat lighter.”

  “Could you not dye a lighter fabric, like the dress Amity is wearing, black?”

  Sarah shook her head. “At best, it comes out a deep gray, or the die rubs off on everything and the wearer ends up with hands as dirty as a chimney sweep’s.”

  “And I suppose wearing half mourning would not be appropriate. However, your sister was not in black when I saw her earlier today, so there must be some room for common sense.”

  “I suspect Lucy was not expecting company. One of the advantages of living so far out is that one can dress practically unless coming into town. To dress the children in black all the time would be expensive as well. When Emma’s husband died, she declared anyone under sixteen need only wear mourning to church or school. She couldn’t stand having them sit around stiffly for months, afraid to ruin their clothing. Living here, I cannot step out of my house without observation, so I will wear my black dress.”

  “That is the stupidest reason to overheat one’s self I’ve ever heard!” Tim picked up the half-full bucket of water sitting on the porch and dumped it over Sarah’s head.

  Sarah sputtered as Amity and Dorcas burst into laughter. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because you’ve dampened your face three times since you’ve been out here, compared to Miss Smith’s one. Your face is a color of red that comes from being too hot, not embarrassment, and being drenched will force you to go put on one of those hideous gray dresses you wear all the time.”

  Sarah balled her fists and stood up straight. How she wished she had Lucy’s height, so her glare would have more power. But her hair fell in her face, and words failed her. She stormed into the house.

  Tim caught up with her as she reached the stairs. He caught her elbow. “Sarah,
I’m sorry.”

  She climbed onto the first step and turned to face him. Rather than put distance between them as she supposed, it brought her closer to eye level. “How dare you pour water on my head where everyone can see? What must people think now?”

  “I don’t care what they think as long as you don’t make yourself heat sick because you are wearing that black dress.”

  She had never before noticed the little flecks of gold flashing in his eyes or how they danced. “And why do you care about that?” The words came out funny.

  Tim suddenly leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. Fire danced through her. She blinked, and he stepped closer, his fingers smoothing her wet hair off her cheek. The second kiss started just as soft, but the fire it kindled forced her to respond. Too soon, he broke the kiss, then rested his forehead against her wet one. “Now, go change. And if you come down in anything made of wool or silk, I will take you to the river and drop you in. So help me, Sarah Marden, I will.”

  Sarah ran up the stairs before he could kiss her a third time. For a man who worried about her overheating, he had a funny way of showing it.

  Sarah kept on her damp petticoat and corset as they were wonderfully cool, and pulled on a deep-gray muslin—the experiment gone bad from her mourning for Mark.

  Mark.

  Sarah pressed her hand to her mouth. She had just kissed another man and enjoyed it. A man Mark would thrash if he knew.

  Holding the dress to her chest, she sat down on the bed and cried.

  Miss Smith claimed Sarah had fallen asleep. The odd look she gave Tim caused him to wonder at the truthfulness of the statement. He began the walk back to his office, pondering his actions. He’d looked forward to kissing Sarah for twenty years. The moment had eclipsed his expectations. She’d returned it, but still, he’d managed to scare her away.