by Pamela Nowak
A twinkle lit his eyes. “Oh, they did, did they?”
“Were they wrong in thinking their father wanted to help and support their efforts?”
“Their efforts? Isn’t this your play?”
Sarah shrugged. “Surprisingly, it isn’t. I’m not quite sure how it came about, but I truly want this to go well so the kids can feel good about it.”
“This mean you’re abandoning the sewage fight?” Pausing, he pulled a wrinkled white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it across the glistening skin of his forehead.
Sarah’s shoulders rose in a silent sigh. “I don’t abandon anything. Sewage reform is a good cause, but I don’t really think I’m the best person to head it up. Archer and Denison need to take the reins or it won’t work. I still plan to help Denison and his committee.”
“Good, since you managed to get me into it.” He grinned for a brief moment, offering a light challenge.
“You invited me, much as I know you hate to admit it.” She smiled at him, fighting an inexplicable urge to stick out her tongue. “So will you help with the set?”
“I’ll help. Kate and Molly said the play is about a family of sisters. It is something suited to a school play?”
“Of course. I’m pulling bits and pieces from a wholesome, well-written novel. The children will like it as well as their parents, and it’s literary enough for Miss Clay to deem fit for the classroom. Just a simple story of four sisters growing up and learning about life and themselves.”
“Good.” He resumed sanding the coffin, gritty scratching taking over their conversation until he paused, blew away the sawdust with a soft breath, and caressed the wood.
Sarah’s own breath caught at the lightness of his touch.
He turned and caught her staring. “Sarah?”
“Hmm?” she said, words escaping her.
“You do realize I would’ve said no if you’d pushed your way in and demanded I help?”
Softly uttered, his honesty took her by surprise, another side of what was turning out to be a much more complicated personality than she’d expected. Arrogance and propriety she knew what to do with. “I know,” she ventured, tentative in her frankness. “I’ve decided I’d rather have you on my side than try to push you around.”
He smiled. “Me, too.”
Sarah offered a small smile in return and rose from the chair, uncertain in this new facet of their relationship. “I need to be getting home. I have some scenes to draft.” She laid his jacket and vest on the chair and moved across the room.
Daniel followed, hands in his pockets. “It’s cold out there, bundle up.” He paused, then pulled his hands free and adjusted her shawl, his cedar-scented hands resting on her arms.
She caught his gaze. “Thank you, Daniel.”
“Sarah … next time, you don’t need a reason to stop by.” He swallowed and leaned his head forward. His hands caught her face, lifted it back and his mouth met hers, cautious and gentle.
Sarah’s chest tightened, and her mouth opened. The insistent thump of her heartbeat filled her head until she couldn’t even think. She drank in the kiss, drowning, until he pulled back.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice husky in the expectant void that surrounded them.
She heard herself respond in kind before she opened the door and stepped into the night, her mind searching for answers that were not there. She moved toward the dark street, out of the shop’s meager light. Behind her, the door closed, and she realized her heart was still pounding.
Daniel had taken her by surprise again. Somewhere between his hard muscles and quiet teasing, images of his hands caressing her body had consumed her. When he’d blown away the sawdust, all the resolutions she’d held about pursuing this relationship at her pace had scattered into the air along with it.
It wasn’t at all what she’d expected, and she almost wished she hadn’t stopped at all.
* * * * *
Daniel sat in the rear of the classroom with several other parents, unable to take his eyes off Sarah. Dimly aware of the hum of voices, his mind scrambled. He should have stayed at home, away from the temptations that plagued him every time Sarah walked into a room. He willed his heart to be still and forced his attention to the reason he had come. Surely, in a room full of glowing gaslight and crowded with other parents, he could be objective about her, forget about her parted lips and wide violet eyes. He took a breath, seeking assurance that wasn’t quite there, and glanced up.
Sarah stood in front of the room, fidgeting with her brown work skirt while she waited for the children to settle into their seats. Darkness graced the large windows just behind her. Before her, the seats were filled for the first “Wednesday evening rehearsal,” as Sarah had chosen to call it. Frankly, Daniel was surprised at the turnout. Miss Clay had never held an evening rehearsal in all the years she’d been doing class presentations.
Sarah’s glance darted around the room then settled on Daniel and she smiled for a moment before inhaling deeply and making eye contact with each of the students in turn. “How many of you have ever had your parents go away on a trip?” she asked.
Several students raised their hands and Sarah’s shoulders relaxed. Confidence lit both her violet eyes and the wide smile of encouragement she offered to the group. “Good. Let’s start with a discussion about how you felt.”
Daniel settled back into the desk, more comfortable now that she’d quit fussing, and stretched his legs out from under the cramped desk.
He had to hand it to her; she sure knew how to work with a crowd. She’d been nervous, but he doubted anyone else had even picked up on it. But once she found her confidence, it surrounded her.
“I almost cried when Mama went to see Aunt Bess,” one of the girls said, drawing his attention back to the discussion.
A freckle-faced boy shook his head with bravado. “Not me. Pa left me in charge and I had to watch over Ma and my sisters.”
“Why do you suppose two people had different feelings about the same sort of situation?” Sarah prompted, her question personalized with soft sincerity.
Daniel felt himself drawn into her query, wanting to answer himself. How could she think she didn’t know how to talk to children? She’d managed to convey genuine interest in every movement, every word.
Several children shrugged in unison. Expressions of tentative understanding crossed some of their faces. A few hands inched up, mostly those of adolescents ready to be heard.
Sarah nodded at one of the oldest girls, a redhead with errant curls and her own aura of self-confidence.
“I think it depends on what kind of person it is and what is being expected of them. Older kids, especially boys, are supposed to watch over others. But younger children, or those given less responsibility, depend more on their parents.”
“That’s right. Any other reasons?”
“Maybe it’s how close you are to the person who’s gone.” The observation came from one of the few boys in the room and was delivered in a voice that couldn’t quite make up its mind whether it wanted to be twelve or fourteen.
Grins crossed parents’ faces and a few of the younger children chuckled at the sound. The boy’s face reddened. Sarah nodded encouragement to the boy, a smile of acceptance lighting her face, as if she hadn’t even heard the shift in pitch, and the boy’s blush faded.
Appreciation for this new side of Sarah Donovan spread through Daniel, warming his heart, confirming what he already knew. He’d kissed Sarah because of who she was, not merely because he’d drowned in her eyes.
“All these observations are very good,” Sarah stated, smoothing over any discomfort. “In a few minutes, I’m going to have you take turns at reading one of the scenes from our play. It’s from the very beginning of the story, when Mr. March is away at war at Christmas. I want all of you to keep in mind how each person in the story might be feeling and how those feelings would show. You’ve read this part of the story in class, so everyone should be f
amiliar with Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy, and Marmee, and understand that they all felt and acted differently, even though they were all missing Mr. March. I will decide who will be each of these characters based upon how well you portray their feelings and how you fit together based on sizes and ages and coloring. Then we’ll read some other scenes for the other characters.”
She assembled the children into small groups, handing out scripts to each group. She’d sweet-talked Bill Byers into printing them up, just like she’d maneuvered the Odd Fellows into lending their hall for the event. She’d set up a construction day for Saturday and Daniel suspected most of the fathers would be there, building the stage, all of them feeling good about it, himself included.
Her blond head bobbed amid the children, her laughter ringing out as she sorted them and prepared them for the audition. The kids laughed with her, their enthusiasm sparking smiles among the parents.
He’d never in the world expected it, but Daniel was glad Sarah was here. Somewhere along the line, her forwardness had turned into a breath of fresh air.
He just hoped it didn’t turn into a hurricane.
* * * * *
Sarah rushed into the depot, shedding her cloak as she crossed the waiting room. A cozy fire filled the room with warmth, drawing the waiting passengers close about it. An elderly man lounged, asleep on the leather-padded bench closest to it. A family of five sat on the other side with a picnic basket and sandwiches. Except for a couple in the far corner, the remainder of the large room was empty and Sarah’s boots echoed on the wooden floor. The three tow-headed children looked up in surprise, then returned to their makeshift dinner.
“You’re late,” Frank Bates muttered from the doorway of the telegraph office.
“I know. I’m sorry, Frank. Rehearsal at the school ran longer than I expected.”
He waited until she passed, then moved to the telegraph counter. “Yeah? Well, maybe you ought to just move on over there full time, solve all our problems.”
She turned away, biting back a retort, and hung her cloak on a bare wooden peg. Frank had been making snide comments all week, ever since finding out she’d filed to take the primary op test. She sure didn’t need to ruffle his feathers any further. She pasted a smile on her face and crossed the room. “I’ll come in early tomorrow. Anything unusual I need to know about?”
Frank lifted the corner of his lip in a barely perceptible sneer, then shook his head. “Wire’s been quiet this morning.” He paused, staring for a moment, then raised his eyebrows. “Ernie had a busy night, though. Ol’ Big John’s been missing his little Lark.”
Sarah groaned. Not again. Things had been quiet since her blunt message a few weeks before. She didn’t need this kind of attention, not just before the op test.
Frank picked at his front tooth with a fingernail for a moment, as if waiting for a comment. He stared at Sarah in the stretching silence.
She shrugged and picked up the logbook. Frank Bates could just stew for all she cared.
A gust of cold air swept through the building, telling her Jim had entered the waiting room, followed by his official announcement. “Train’s boarding, folks.”
Sarah glanced out the ticket window. In the lobby, passengers rose from their seats and stretched. The woman at the rear offered a chaste kiss on the cheek to her companion and straightened his tie. Fabric rustled as coats were donned and packages bumped together with soft thuds. Sarah smiled at the hustle and bustle of it all.
A bothersome tap on her shoulder pulled her attention away from the scene. Annoyed, she turned back to Frank. Lord, how she detested that man.
“There were a few more little notes, too,” he said, his voice low enough to keep from carrying into the lobby. “Ernie tossed ‘em all but I managed to find ‘em in the trash can.”
Sarah’s heart thumped and she steadied her response. “You’d have done better leaving them where you found them.”
“Maybe. But they might come in handy. You never know.”
Pompous little fleabag. “They’re my property, Frank.” She damned the edge of anger that had crept into her voice and tried to ignore the knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
Frank grinned at her discomfort. “Yeah? Guess Ernie shouldn’t have tossed ‘em, huh?”
“Where are they?”
“All tucked safe away.” He patted the pocket of his suit jacket. “You ain’t got no business running personal messages out of this office and you know it. Figure that makes the messages the property of Kansas Pacific.”
“And how does that happen to put them in your possession?”
“I’ll just get ‘em to the right folks. I got connections, you know.”
It didn’t take much figuring to reason out that Frank would have the news to his uncle before the day was done. A second report of misconduct, especially misconduct of this nature, would not sit well. It might even be serious enough to disqualify her from the primary op testing.
Damn that man.
“And what about Jim?” She ventured, glancing toward the lobby where her bespectacled friend was still ushering passengers out the door. Surely Jim’s word would have some pull. He’d straightened things out before, hadn’t he? Hadn’t Frank been given his own warning to follow proper channels?
“I imagine things might just be bigger than Jim can handle. Who’s to say he ain’t got his own hand in the cookie jar?”
Anger surged through Sarah, hot and intense. She fought the urge to slap Frank’s face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “That’s a bald-faced lie, and I resent the insinuation.”
“Don’t matter none how much you deny it. Them messages say otherwise. You had things hushed up there for a while, but Big John must have been talkin’ you up good with all them ‘inquiries’ what came in last night.”
The knot in her stomach tightened, churning and nauseous. “What are you talking about?”
“Ain’t no way Kansas Pacific is going to let some randy little strumpet conduct her business from inside their station.” He paused and let the threat settle. “Might be the best thing for both you and Jim if we was to make a little deal. What d’ya say, Lark?”
Chapter Twelve
Sarah glanced across the spacious meeting room of the Odd Fellows Hall. Surrounded by bare white walls, the hall was empty of its usual tables and chairs. Children milled about, most chattering away like members of an aimless committee in need of leadership. Sarah shook her head and reminded herself they were children. She wasn’t on a mission and this wasn’t a crusade. As soon as her assistants arrived, they would get busy. For now, let the children have their fun.
With the cast members who had shown up to run lines and those hammering away on set construction, there were more than twenty children in the room. Added to the mix were five fathers who tutored their sons on the finer points of square corners and how to brace the stage support legs. A steady drone of male voices, punctuated by the pounding of hammers, kept pace with the lighter voices of the cast members. Except for the lingering scent of sawdust in the air, the bustle was little different from the depot.
Surrounded by the comfortable noise, Sarah surveyed the group at the back of the room and spotted Daniel. He stood, bracing a two-by-four with one foot, a saw in hand. A brief smile graced his mouth before he bent to cut the lumber. The fabric of his white shirt shifted with each movement of his biceps. She watched, anticipating how the cotton would cling to his chest after a few hours of labor.
She filed the image away in her mind. Perhaps later, she’d write a few lines to Miriam or Lise. Gracious, if either were here, she’d tease Sarah to no end for mooning away over a man.
“Miss Sarah?” a small voice beckoned with a tug to her skirt.
Sarah turned her attention to Molly. “What is it?”
“Everybody’s here now. Are you ready for us to start?”
“I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Did you get everyone in their groups?”
Molly’s chest puffed with
pride. “I sure did. And every group has a leader. We told ‘em we aren’t going to give them full lines today. I don’t think they liked it much.”
Sarah’s mouth lifted into a smile. She leaned forward and whispered in a quiet aside, “I’m not surprised.”
Molly offered a sage nod of agreement, basking in her role of junior assistant.
Sarah hesitated a moment, then patted her on the back. She suspected she’d made the right decision, choosing Molly as a helper, despite her initial doubts. Though young in age, Molly’s take-charge attitude made her a natural leader. She rivaled the other assistants in self-confidence and did her job as well as the older students.
The children were, as Molly had reported, assembled into small groups, each with an able prompter. Sarah’s gaze drifted to each assistant in turn with a silent nod of confidence.
“All right, everyone,” she began, “as promised, today we run lines. Each group will practice until they have their assigned scenes memorized a bit more. That way, we can spend our next rehearsal working on acting instead of figuring out what to say next. I’ll also work individually with some of you on your characters. I’ll start with you, Kate.”
Kate looked up, her hazel eyes shocking in their resemblance to Daniel’s.
Sarah drew a sharp breath. In many ways, Kate was so much her father’s daughter. She’d mastered her lines quickly, already reciting them by rote. Yet she kept her emotions controlled, hidden under the surface. Sarah beckoned to her with an enthusiastic gesture.
She was conscious of Daniel’s observant gaze as Kate approached, and she fought to keep her attention on the task at hand. She needed to pull Kate’s passion out. Sarah had cast her as Jo, an unusual choice for a girl more suited to be Beth, but one in which she had faith. Underneath that cool exterior lay great intensity, she was sure of it.
“Hello, Kate. Are you ready to start exploring Jo?”
Kate bobbed her brown curls in a serious nod. “I have all my lines memorized,” she announced.