Why Sarah Ran Away with the Veterinarian
Page 20
I have Sammy—and Jack who would probably fight to the death for this child he claims as his own. I can’t leave him again. It will kill what I love most about him—his confident, innocent way of figuring solutions to whatever problems life gives him.
Then there’s Daddy to consider. I don’t think he can take another loss. Donna needs me too. She’s about ready to make a break herself. And if Andrew hasn’t sensed it yet, I may have to draw him a diagram, complete with a lecture on restless Crawford women.
“I’ll think about you and the cabin and Tennessee,” I say, “but Sammy and I’d better stick around here.”
He shifts his hat forward. I can barely see his eyes. “I understand,” he says. If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He may even be relieved a little. “I’ll keep an eye out for a pony just right for Sammy,” he says. “Next time I’m down this way, I’ll bring it by.”
He gets into his old pickup and heads down Aunt Kate’s driveway. I wave but he doesn’t look back. I watch him until the last tip of the horse trailer disappears. I glance toward the sun. Almost straight up.
“Must be about noon,” I say to Sammy. I retrieve a diaper from Aunt Kate’s car and walk toward the house.
Aunt Kate sits on the screen porch gliding back and forth, back and forth like a sign in the wind. She watches us. I slip through the screen door. She stops the glider while Sammy and I settle beside her. Then she presses with her toe and sets the glider swaying again. The motion is soothing, like a swing or a rocking chair or a mother’s arms. We glide in silence several minutes.
Aunt Kate speaks first. “Is he gone?” she asks, not breaking our rhythm.
“Yes,” I answer on the forward swing, “he’s gone.” Backward swing, “Michael is gone.” I feel like I’m chanting a nursery rhyme or a fairy tale. Sammy nuzzles my neck.
“For good?” Aunt Kate asks, not looking at me.
“I suppose,” I say, “if there are any good departures.”
“There are some,” she says. A complete swing. Another one. She looks into my eyes and stops the glider. “Ready to go home?”
“Yes,” I say, looking back into her eyes and feeling more certain than I have about anything in two whole years, maybe a lifetime. Sammy wiggles. “But,” I add, “I’d better change his diaper first.”
I head for Aunt Kate’s bedroom. Her bed is filled with suitcases and piles of clothes. I wedge Sammy between two piles. Aunt Kate didn’t mention a trip, I think as I change Sammy. Beside one suitcase lies the portrait of Mama and Aunt Kate as girls, the little one she always kept in the desk drawer. Suddenly my heart begins pounding all the way to my head. My throat feels tight as a scar. I lift Sammy and walk slowly back to the porch. Aunt Kate is gliding back and forth again.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, my voice thin enough to crack.
She nods.
“Where?”
“Washington,” she says, gliding forward.
“To see Charlie?”
Back and forth, back and forth. “With Charlie,” she answers. “With” echoes inside my head.
“A week or two?” I can’t hold back the sound of desperation.
She plants both feet and stops the glider. “Maybe for good.”
“But, Aunt Kate, what about the farm?”
“Joe can take care of it.”
“Daddy can’t take care of himself,” I say. “He depends on Donna for everything.”
“It’ll be good for him. Get him out of Donna’s hair.” She leans forward, arches her back. “Besides, he always wanted to live out here. Got mad when Papa left the farm to me.” She stands up. “I’ll be back from time to time to check on things.”
“You’ll be back?” I ask, hanging onto her words.
“For a visit,” she says.
I want to scream, “You can’t leave! You can’t!” But I fight for control, breathe deep, so deep that Sammy struggles in my tight arms. “What if things with Charlie don’t work out?” I say, more rational than I feel.
“It’s time I took a chance,” Aunt Kate says. She slips her arm around me. “You, of all people, should understand that.”
I nod. “But what will I do without you?” I’m crying now.
Aunt Kate takes Sammy. Looks into his round, smooth face. “Life keeps changing, Sarah. You can’t slow it down and you can’t back it up.”
I look into her eyes and I see happiness, like the girl in the portrait with Mama. I wipe my own eyes, kiss Aunt Kate’s cheek, and slip Sammy from her arms. “How about giving us a lift home?” I say, “Jack will be waiting.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1994 by Liz Newall
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3363-3
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