Chances

by Pamela Nowak

“Too slow, Sarah. You’re never going to get anywhere at that rate.” He grasped her hand and pulled.

  Sarah felt her balance shift. She wobbled, her free arm waving in circles, while her body bobbed with uncertainty. “You’ll pay for that,” she chided.

  “Move. If you keep the forward movement, your natural momentum will help keep your equilibrium.” He pulled her along, his long stride forcing her to abandon the choppy steps she trusted. “Turn your back foot out, just a little, and push off.”

  Fighting the urge to tell him she didn’t need his help, she did as he instructed. The blade caught and she slid forward with little conscious effort.

  “I’m doing it.”

  “Now keep it up. Just push off every few glides.” He smiled in encouragement and tugged at her arm.

  “I can do it.” She shook from his grip and moved away. “See?” She glided past him and the smirk in his eyes. Challenged, she lifted her head and kicked at the ice with her left leg. Her right leg wobbled as the left shot out to the side and she plopped onto the ice.

  Daniel’s hearty laugh erupted into the crisp air. His body jerked as the laughter took control. Arms waving and his legs flying, he landed beside her.

  A riot of giggles exploded from her throat. “Serves you right.”

  Molly skated past with a precise turn. “It’s ice skating not ice sitting,” she shouted before speeding away to rejoin Kate. Once there, she pointed and they laughed together for a moment, then headed toward a group of other children.

  “My own children are laughing at me.”

  “As well they should.” Sarah shivered. “This ice is cold.”

  “Upsy-daisy, then.” He turned and braced one knee on the ice. The cloth of his gray trousers tightened with the pull of his thigh muscles.

  Warmth spread through Sarah and she smiled in appreciation.

  Daniel’s eyes twinkled. “You ready?”

  Images of his biceps rushed through her mind and she wished they weren’t out in the winter cold where his heavy cloth coat hid them. “I guess.”

  He reached forward and pulled her up, standing with her in one fluid movement. She stumbled and he reached around her, steadying her with both arms. Their gazes locked and Daniel’s mouth lifted in a gentle smile.

  Sarah shivered.

  Daniel’s smile widened.

  Beneath her own coat, Sarah’s heart quickened. Her breath caught.

  The bright twinkle in Daniel’s eyes shifted into a hot, intense light and he pulled her forward.

  Surprised, she stepped into the embrace, her feet tangling, and she slipped sideways.

  The sudden movement caught Daniel by surprise and he lunged forward, tumbling them both to the slick surface of the creek. Sarah landed on her rear, Daniel atop her.

  A chorus of laughter rang through the sunlit air and Sarah groaned. “I’ll never live this down.”

  Above her, Daniel’s gaze softened. “New rules, Sarah. We set new rules.” His voice was thick, intense.

  She stared up at him, her breath heavy and expectant. “New rules for both of us?”

  The question hung between them. Daniel inhaled, his gaze never leaving her face. “For both of us,” he whispered and lowered his mouth to hers.

  * * * * *

  Frank Bates sat at Mrs. King’s crowded Sunday dinner table absently stirring a pile of lumpy mashed potatoes. A hodge-podge of voices filled the landlady’s dining room and the stale scent of tobacco mingled with the overcooked liver and onions that still sat on most of the boarders’ plates. Across from Frank, Lavinia Morgan’s chair remained empty.

  “You gonna save that food, or is it up for grabs?” Alvin, the chubbiest of the boarders, and the only one with empty plate, asked.

  Frank bristled. “That there’s Miss Morgan’s and I reckon Miz Perkins oughta be saving it for her.”

  “I’d say that answers it,” Harry Bowers commented with a tip of his whitened head. “Have some pie.” He pushed a rather burned dried-apple pie at Alvin and blinked his baby-blue eyes.

  Frank lifted his lip in distaste. Bowers, with his high-powered position in the Chamber of Commerce, was as annoying as Alvin. Between the two of them, they hadn’t left any of the pie. It was a good thing Lavinia wasn’t much on sweets. He’d saved her back a generous portion of the liver and a pile of droopy onions, knowing it was her favorite.

  If he remembered right, the last time Lavinia ate apple pie, it was the night her father gave her that damned ultimatum. She’d refused to marry his handpicked dandy and lost her share of the family money all in one fell swoop. That was the night Frank knew she was sweet on him. He just had to prove himself; that was all. She was just waiting for him to make good.

  The sharp clap of the front door broke through the lingering dinner conversation followed by Lavinia’s heels as they clicked across the wooden floor of the hallway.

  “I do apologize,” she announced and paused as her fellow boarders shifted their attention to her. “I was rather delayed by the Morton sisters and all their tired gossip.” She smoothed her long hands down the sides of her narrow black skirt, emphasizing her thin form, marched grandly to the table, and waited with impatience as Bowers pulled out her chair.

  Frank fought back a grin. For all her fuss and bother about suffrage, Lavinia still wanted to be treated like a lady. She always had. She didn’t want no sissified dandy and she didn’t cotton to men who treated her as unimportant. Once his spell of bad luck turned, he’d show her a fine time for sure. He’d treat her like she was governor, if that’s what she wanted.

  “Is something amusing, Mr. Bates?”

  “N-no, ma’am,” he stuttered, hating it that she made him quiver. “I saved you some liver and onions.”

  “Why, how very kind of you, Mr. Bates. I do like my liver and onions.” She peered around the table, her gaze seeking the plate of meat. She smiled and waited for Alvin to pass it to her. The plate came quickly around the table and she transferred two slices of liver, then covered them with piles of sautéed onions.

  The other boarders drifted away from the table, one by one, as Frank watched Lavinia eat. She chewed the liver with quick but dainty precision, thirty-two times per bite. The onions, however, she tended to slurp, sucking each one fully into her mouth before chewing.

  Frank squirmed in his seat.

  Lavinia swallowed and leaned forward. “I heard a bit of news you might find interesting.”

  Frank nodded.

  Lavinia arched her eyebrows and inhaled another onion.

  He reckoned she’d make him wait all night. She did that kind of thing, his Lavinia. She dangled it out there in front of him, just to make him ask.

  “Of course, I don’t need to tell you.”

  “But I reckon you will.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Frank smiled at the game. She’d tell him, in the end. If he managed to convince her he didn’t care, she’d even tell him without being begged.

  “It’s about the little strumpet at the station,” Lavinia baited.

  His heart skipped a beat. “Sarah Donovan?” His worst piece of luck, yet. In fact, he was beginning to believe she’d targeted him on purpose.

  Lavinia put another piece of liver into her mouth and began to chew. She arched her thin black eyebrows again and waited.

  Frank swallowed, leaned toward her, and gave in. “What’d you hear?”

  Lavinia leaned back. “Didn’t you say she was preparing to take her primary something or another test?”

  “Primary op.” His mind flew to all the months of practice he’d put in himself. How she could be ready to test so soon baffled him. It had to be a conspiracy.

  Lavinia patted his arm. “That wouldn’t be very good for you, would it?”

  “No, ma’am.” The way she’d stacked things against him, the little busybody would pass the damned test and he’d be out another good job. Ain’t no way she was gonna do that to him. His jaw quivered and he reminded himself there was
a lady present. “What was it you heard?”

  Lavinia lowered her eyelashes. “You know, Frank, she tried to take over my suffrage association. Can you imagine that?” She smiled and patted his arm again. “Thank goodness you had shared that bit of information about those solicitation wires.”

  “Damned interfering little nobody sure does seem to be crowding her way into things.”

  “Did you take my advice, Frank, about those wires she tossed away?”

  He thought about the thick bundle he’d retrieved from the trash, all on gut instinct, and how Lavinia had gushed with praise when he’d told her. They were all tucked away in a lock box, up in his room, just in case, just like Lavinia had advised. “Sure did.”

  “Good.” Lavinia bobbed her head in satisfaction, her severe black bun acting as an exclamation point.

  Frank waited, on the edge of his seat, while she reached for another bite of liver. “Dagnabbit, Lavinia!” He pounded the table for emphasis. “You gonna tell me or not?”

  Lavinia straightened in her chair and glanced about the room. “Don’t make a scene, Frank. It won’t do.”

  He followed her gaze. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Still, he figured he might have overstepped a little. Lavinia didn’t much like it when a man spoke his mind. She liked her men strong, but not so strong that folks forgot about her. “I’m sorry, Lavinia,” he said.

  “I forgive you, Frank. I think I know how you feel, after all she tried to take from me. I’d like to see her gone, you know. Before she tries it again.”

  Frank nodded in solemn agreement. Lavinia had been upset ever since Donovan had come to town and started horning in on things at the suffrage movement. Getting rid of the bitch would win him Lavinia’s heart for sure. Ruining him from two fronts was just about more than he could handle, anyway.

  Lavinia moved toward him, glancing furtively at the diners who had drifted to the parlor. “Frank Bates, you’re not going to let that upstart take your job, are you?” she whispered.

  “Hell no.” He pounded the table in defiance.

  “I didn’t think so. That’s why I thought you’d like to know what I heard.” Lavinia lowered her voice further. “She was out today, with the undertaker, Petterman. They were out on the creek, down on the ice, in broad daylight, with him all over her and her driving him on. Very improper, very nasty, Frank.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course. I think that confirms her reputation, don’t you? I’d consider acting on that rumor we discussed a few weeks back, the one about her and the stationmaster.”

  “It’s all true then, what I was thinkin’?”

  “Oh, my dear Frank, I’m afraid it is.” Lavinia shoved another onion into her mouth and sucked it in with slow deliberation. “Wouldn’t things be so much easier for both of us if she were out of Denver entirely?”

  Frank nodded, afraid to trust his voice.

  Lavinia touched his cheek with her hand. “Then I can depend on you?”

  He nodded again. “I’ll do what ever it takes.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Daniel sat in the empty parlor, listening to the evening wind knock against the side of the house. In the kitchen, his daughters’ voices mingled with clinking dinner dishes.

  In the silence, his father’s voice echoed with unwanted chastisement. His stern face intruded, as it had throughout the day, to offer yet another reminder that polite society frowned on public displays of affection.

  No one cared. The earth did not swallow me up and heaven did not rage with fury. Go away.

  In fact, no one had said a thing. Well, no one except Bill, who had popped into the coffin shop to convey the suggestion that it was about time Daniel loosened up a little. In the cafe during lunch, a couple of old ladies had whispered together, offering half-hidden smiles whenever they looked at him, but no one had berated him for having loose morals or for making a spectacle of himself.

  Kissing a gal while tangled up on the ice-covered creek did not seem to be the sin he’d been led to believe it was.

  Daniel rose and crossed to the mantle. He picked up his father’s framed picture. The Reverend Ebenezer Petterman’s dour countenance peered out of the hinged, gold-encased tintype.

  Go away, old man. I kissed her and she laughed and we got up and had fun. Daniel snapped the tintype shut.

  He’d had enough fun that he’d agreed when the girls suggested inviting Sarah over this evening to play board games. Enough fun that he’d invited Bill and Libby to join them. Enough fun that he was considering telling old Ebenezer that he might very well play something else besides The Mansion of Happiness. He might even open the reverend’s picture for it.

  Except it was the only game in the house, a tired version of the sole game approved for Petterman use, a worn-out board whose faded squares featured virtues and vices. The vices, of course, brought punishment to the lonely pawns who worked their way around the spiral path seeking only the rewards of virtue.

  “The girls are just putting things away, Mr. Petterman. If you’ve nothing more for me, I’d best wrap up and head home.” Mrs. Winifred stood in the arched doorway, waiting.

  Daniel nodded to the housekeeper. “Bundle up. The wind’s nasty.

  “Always is, this time of year.” She lifted her wraps from the coat tree, then disappeared down the hall and into the kitchen. Moments later, the back door clicked shut.

  The clatter of dishes continued in the wake of Mrs. Winifred’s exit. On the front stoop, someone stomped his feet, and Daniel moved across the parlor and into the foyer in anticipation of the knock. He swung open the door to a gust of cold air and the wind-reddened faces of Sarah and the Byers.

  “Mighty cold out here, Daniel. You order up this wind?”

  “Been here since before me, and you know it, though I can’t quite figure how it stays so cold with all your hot air.”

  Bill chuckled as he waited for the women to enter, then stepped inside and shut the door. “Figured maybe it was the frost from those body coolers you use out in the shop. ‘Course, maybe you forgot to bring home the ice yesterday, being preoccupied as you were.”

  Sarah’s face colored, sending a brief warmth coursing through Daniel’s veins.

  Then Libby gave Bill a playful slap, breaking the moment, and the group pulled off their assorted wraps. Kate and Molly emerged from the kitchen, Molly’s eager chatter joining the mix. Kate slipped into the role of hostess, hanging up coats and shawls before finessing the group into the parlor.

  Sarah and Libby settled into the floral side chairs while the girls perched on tasseled ottomans.

  Bill stood, eying the game Daniel had placed on the polished oval table. “The Mansion of Happiness?”

  Discomfort crept over Daniel. “It’s … uh …”

  “It’s the only game we have,” Molly announced.

  “You couldn’t even update to the Game of Life?”

  “Bill—” Libby cautioned.

  “I don’t mean to insult you, but I haven’t seen anybody play this game since I was a kid. I s’pose you play it by the book?”

  Daniel felt a grin creep across his face. He pointed to a small, cloth-covered booklet of moral verses lying next to the game board.

  Bill grinned back and shook his head.

  “Why don’t we just have some cocoa and Bill and Libby can update us on the new water system progress,” Sarah said, from her side chair. Her big violet eyes lit her face with hope.

  “Sounds fine to us, doesn’t it Bill?”

  Daniel cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

  “What?” Sarah lifted her eyebrows with the question and Daniel fought to keep from laughing at her mock innocence.

  “You know what. This is purely social. No causes.”

  Libby’s face tilted in confusion, and Bill glanced from one of them to the other. Obviously, Sarah hadn’t told them anything about the challenge during their walk over.

  “
Papa, you and Sarah should go to the kitchen and bring out the cocoa. Molly and I already put it on the stove. I think we need to explain the dare to Mr. and Mrs. Byers.”

  Daniel glanced at Sarah and shrugged his shoulders.

  Sarah shrugged back. “You heard her.” She rose from the side chair and moved toward the kitchen. Her tiny figure slipped through the doorway, and Daniel followed.

  In the kitchen, Sarah’s efficient footsteps filled the room with quick clicks. Her dark green skirt swung on her hips as she moved away. The fabric was pulled back so that it draped at the rear but clung at the front and sides, moving with each step she took. Daniel smiled, pleased at the lack of large bustle.

  She turned and caught him staring. “What?”

  “I like the dress.”

  She blushed again, just a hint of pink filling her cheeks. “It’s new. They called it a tie-back.”

  “It’s flattering.” He watched her turn away, avoiding the compliment, and it dawned on him that she didn’t get too many of them. In fact, she seemed to go out of her way to hide her beauty. His heart stirred with an unexpected need to know more. “You don’t do that very often, do you?”

  “Do what?”

  “Buy yourself something new.”

  “No.” Her hands paused in their busy collection of spoons from the silverware drawer.

  “Why?”

  “Fancy clothes make me disappear.” The words came out so softly that he could barely hear her.

  “What?” Daniel cringed at the incredulity in his voice.

  Sarah busied her hands again, rummaging through the silver. “Nothing,” she said.

  Waves of disbelief rumbled through him. “How could looking like that make you disappear?”

  “Never mind.” She slammed the drawer shut.

  “You think people will miss you for the clothes? Who told you a fool thing like that?”

  Sarah dropped the spoons on the counter with a clatter and turned to him. “Why are we talking about this?”

  He stared at her, unable to stop himself, and struggled to contain his sharp response. He didn’t want to start an argument with her. He softened his voice, steering it between his anger and any trace of pity. “Because it matters.”