"That's foolishness," she said, swallowing a dry lump, suddenly wishing for a sip of his black coffee, never mind that its taste rivaled stump water.
"Is it? You've done nothing but avoid me these past several days."
She could say the same for him. "Would you put these in the kettle, please?" she asked, handing him three large, peeled potatoes.
He took the vegetables from her hand, brushing his fingers against her palm in the process. Whether or not the act was intentional, it was enough to create an involuntary jolt. Rocky raised a knowing brow.
"What?" she asked, annoyed with herself for revealing a piece of her emotions.
"I do make you nervous," he said, dropping the potatoes into the kettle with a low chuckle.
"Oh, stop being so high-hatted, Mr. Callahan. You do not make me nervous," she fibbed, stepping around him to put a lid on the steaming pot.
He followed her with his eyes. She could almost hear his irrepressible grin, feel it when he returned to the sink to wash another potato. And when he took up whistling the tune to "Oh My Darling, Clementine," she almost gave in to a giggle, and she might have, had it not been for Rachel's sudden appearance in the doorway.
"You guys are noisy," she grumbled. Blonde hair tousled and matted, the girl fixed them with a droopy-eyed glare, her bare feet sticking out from beneath her long, flannel nightgown. "It's still dark out. Is it time to get up already?"
Sarah shot Rocky a look of admonition, chagrined to find a boyish smile plastered across his face as he busied himself at the sink. Turning to Rachel, she said, "No, honey, go back to bed."
"But you're too noisy," she fussed.
It would be nice when Rocky finished Rachel's room, which he'd recently roughed in. At least that room would stand farther from the kitchen noises.
Hastening to wipe her hands on her apron front, Sarah walked across the room. "Come on, I'll tuck you back in."
She laid a hand to the girl's shoulder to guide her back to bed, but Rachel stopped in her tracks. "But Uncle Rocky was whistlin' some song. I never heard him whistle before."
"And you won't again-at least not until daylight. Besides, your uncle is going out to the barn," she said, flinging her head around to send him a pointed look before ushering Rachel back to bed, "-any minute now."
Rocky tossed back his head and laughed. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not erase her own smile.
The house bustled with the sounds of bantering women scuttling from one table and countertop to another, and buzzing about like bees in a hive. Pies of every flavor covered the kitchen table, while trays of cakes and cookies crammed the stone hearth, saturating the house with every mouthwatering aroma imaginable. In the massive warming oven beside the fireplace were cheesy casseroles, scalloped potatoes, meat loaves, creamed and fried chicken, and a huge tray of succulent roast beef. Clearly, no one would go hungry on this day if the hearty display of food was any indication.
While the womenfolk scurried about the kitchen making final preparations to carry the food to the barn, the men and children gathered outside-the men took up a game of horseshoes, and the children raced about the yard in their usual disorganized fashion. Enthusiastic bursts of laughter pealed out from the men, accompanied by animated squeals from the younger generation.
"Goodness gracious, it sounds like everyone is havin' themselves a grand time," Mary Callahan chimed. Sarah smiled across the room at the plump woman she'd come to think of as simply "Mother C." How good it was to have her under her roof again. If only she could keep her here. Of course, she was certain Pa Callahan would have something to say about that.
"Yes, doesn't it?" said Bess Barrington, a woman Sarah had met just two weeks earlier in Sunday service. "What a wonderful idea you and Liza had, Sarah. This was just the outlet these children needed. Not to mention their poor parents."
Several of the women released a hearty laugh. "Ain't that the truth? My twins, Sam and Freddie, been drivin' me nigh to distraction," said a woman Sarah knew only as Mrs. Hogsworth. "Never thought I'd see the day they admitted to missin' school. Matter of fact, I hear most of the youngins 'round Hickman are growing restless as young Injuns."
"My Thomas has been ailin' some, so today ought to cheer him considerably," said frail-looking Iris Bergen. She brushed a stray tendril of graying hair behind an ear and hovered over an apple pie as if inspecting it for doneness.
Mary looked up from her place at the sink. "Oh? So sorry to hear that, Iris. What's been his problem?"
"Nothing more than a plain cold so far as I can see. He's been coughin' some and complainin' of a sore throat."
Mary nodded. "It does sound like a simple cold, don't it?" Several of the women gave knowing nods.
"His pa wanted him to stay home, but Thom wouldn't hear of it," Iris added, brushing another strand of hair away from her eyes, which Sarah took as a nervous gesture.
"Erlene complained of the same this morning, now that you mention it," Bess Barrington said, her brow knit in a show of mild concern. "She sneezed and coughed a few times."
"Wouldn't worry too much," said Eleanor Humphrey. She was the mother of Gus, the lad Sarah had met at the mercantile. "These things come and go in a matter of days."
Glancing about the room, Sarah made a mental note of all the women whose names she'd learned. Besides Bess Barrington, Mrs. Hogsworth, Liza Broughton, and her own dear mother-in-law, there was Fancy Jenkins, a name Sarah thought unbefitting considering the woman looked about as unkempt as an abandoned pup.
Fluttering about and removing one dish from the oven while inserting another were Esther Thompson and Francis Baxter. From what Sarah had heard, Francis was the mother of Rufus, the young man who'd come to Liza's rescue in the burning schoolhouse. Then there was Millie ,Jacobs, a new mother who even now doted over her baby on the other side of the room. The infant lay tucked securely beneath a mountain of downy quilts in a makeshift bed Sarah had fashioned for her from a large cupboard drawer.
Sarah turned her eyes away from the other women to fix her attention on Liza, who'd gone to the window to peer outside. How quiet her new friend had been since her arrival. Surprising, considering how everyone else could barely wait her turn to speak.
Just as Sarah was about to inquire about her silence, Liza spun about and declared above the female racket, "Oh, I can't hold it in a minute longer!"
A blanket of calm fell across the room like the sort of eerie silence that follows a riotous storm, as several pairs of eyes made Liza the focus of their attention.
Liza's cheeks grew pink and her eyes bulged.
"You look ready to split your insides, child. What is it?" asked Bess Barrington.
Liza laughed. "Oh, I am, I am!" she crowed. "Ready to split my insides, that is. I'm about to grow as big as a pumpkin. Oh, I-I'm going to have a baby!"
In one fell swoop, women descended on Liza from every direction, hovering, hugging, patting, and poking. Congratulations rang out on all sides. Since Sarah couldn't manage to squeeze in, she watched from the sidelines, quietly awed by the splendid news and delighted that Liza had made the happy announcement right in her very own house.
"I declare, this is reason to celebrate!" cried Mary amidst the flurry of wild excitement. "When is this little one due to greet the world?"
Liza pulled back from the crowd of enthusiasts, her face a picture of perplexity. "Well, my stars, I don't know. I've never been taught the proper way of figuring. I'm hoping Doc Randolph will be able to tell."
"Well, I suspect it won't be till fall seem's you was just married in December," came the meek voice of Caroline Warner.
Liza laid a protective hand across her belly. Was that an instinctive gesture for every woman carrying? Sarah wondered. "Yes, fall. November perhaps," Liza said with a contented grin.
What must it feel like, Sarah wondered, to know you carried a miracle within your womb? Would she ever know, or would she spend her life speculating about the marvelous mystery?
A
s if her mother-in-law somehow sensed her secret meanderings, she came alongside her to offer a consoling hug. "It's always good news when a lady finds she's carryin'."
"Yes, it surely is," said Sarah, leaning into the older woman's warmth, doing her best to blot out her private set of doubts.
Then, squeezing tighter, Mary put her mouth close to Sarah's ear. "Your day will come," she whispered. "You'll see. It will be just like this-women flittin' and flutterin' about. Land sakes! You'd think they was preparin' for the president himself 'stead of a baby."
Sarah blushed at the thought of ever carrying Rocky's baby. Why, they were married in name only. They'd struck a bargain, after all. And so long as he held up his end of things, all thoughts of carrying a little one were simply out of the question.
So why did that notion suddenly leave her feeling somehow unfulfilled?
As Rocky had predicted, the weather held. As a matter of fact, around noon, the sun popped out, to the delight of everyone present, dropping a blanket of warmth on the merrymakers.
Foot races, relays, ball tosses, and tug-of-war matches made up some of the day's activities. It seemed his wife and Liza Broughton had thought of everything-including prizes for the children. Squeals of delight rang out even now as Rocky glimpsed Sarah handing each of the children, winners and otherwise, colorful candy sticks. Not that any of them needed a drop of anything more-every single kid, including Rachel and Seth, seemed to be toting around a bagful of goodies.
Spoiling them, that's what she was doing, but blamed if there was anything he could do about it!
"Now don't run with these in your mouth," he heard her instructing, her tone soft but firm. Each one nodded perfunctorily, then snatched the stick from her hand, some offering their thanks, others running off as if they'd just struck gold and couldn't wait to tell someone about it. One young kid, he thought it might be Thomas Bergen, rewarded Sarah with a sloppy sneeze.
Rocky couldn't help but laugh at the awful grimace she made when the youngster took off at a run. For a moment, she just stood there, her hands spread, her eyes bulging in disbelief: Then, just as quickly, she shrugged her shoulders, lifted the corner of her apron, and wiped away the nasty spew.
Rocky rounded the curve at the barn and leaned up against a hitching post situated behind a small cluster of apple trees where he could get a better view of her, perhaps get his fill, although he doubted the latter. Lately, he could never quite get enough of Sarah Callahan and had taken to questioning his very sanity.
Moreover, he blamed his misery on his lack of self-control. That, and his inability to sleep while he inwardly planned the next time he could take her in his arms. He was going mad with wondering what would happen if he reneged on their mutual agreement to keep things platonic. He'd already pushed her to her limit this morning when he'd harassed her for a bad case of nerves.
Oh, how it pleased him to know that he rattled her. Of course, she had an equal effect on him, but he wasn't about to tell her so. For now, he had the upper hand, and he rather liked it that way.
"So this is where you've been hiding," came a friendly voice from behind him.
Rocky smiled even before turning to acknowledge his old friend. "Hey, Ben, good to see you."
Ben Broughton whacked him on the shoulder, then moved up next to him. "Enjoying some breathing space?" Ben asked.
"You could say that," Rocky answered.
Without thinking, he again sought out his wife, discovering she'd bent to help a child tie his shoe. As quickly as she finished, the little boy ran off, delighted to be free again. Sarah watched him go, completely oblivious that her husband was watching. Warmth trickled through his veins.
"Ali," said Ben, his own eyes trailing to where Sarah stood. "Enjoying the scenery as well, I see."
Embarrassed to be caught spying on his own wife, Rocky tried to deny his actions. "Just enjoying the fresh, clean air, that's all." He hastened to turn his attention away from his wife, hard as it was. Thankfully, she'd moved on to a small gathering of women.
"She's quite something," Ben mused aloud. "It can't have been easy-all she's been through."
Rocky knew his friend was right. Sarah's plans had been crushed and her life had been completely turned upside down, yet somehow she'd triumphed. More than once, he'd had to acknowledge it must be her faith that held her together.
A moment passed before Rocky asked, "Was she very disappointed that day? When she realized you planned to marry Liza?"
"Disappointed?" Ben laughed, then leaned against the side of the barn, tipping the front of his Western hat downward to deflect the sun's glare. Considering it was only the first of March, the air was surprisingly mild, but then, spring was right around the corner. "I don't think disappointed would be my word of choice."
"No?" Rocky's interest doubled. "Seems to me your letting her down like that would trigger some disappointment."
Ben grinned. "I think irate might better describe her reaction." Now a far-off look accompanied the grin. "She seemed downright irked with me when I told her I loved another.
"'Course, I apologized until I was blue in the face, even offered her fare back to Boston, plus extra pay for her trouble, but she wouldn't hear of it. Said she didn't need my money."
Rocky nodded, trying to place the unfolding event into his own head. The notion that Sarah had preferred Ben to him never had set right. Had she entertained thoughts of how different things might have been married to his good-looking friend instead?
"What made her come to terms with it?" Rocky asked, looking down at the hole he was digging with the toe of his boot.
Ben thought a moment, calling up the memory. "She insisted that God had called her to Little Hickman-if not to marry me, then for a greater cause. Said she planned to stay and find out what it was." Ben squinted into the sun before throwing Rocky a slanted grin. "Guess you were that greater cause, pal."
Rocky guffawed. "Fine cause I was. A sorehead with two kids-kids I didn't really want, at least in the beginning."
"And now?" Ben probed.
Rocky had to ponder that. Yeah, he wanted the kids. They were still a pain most of the time, Rachel keeping her distance, and Seth lately snagging onto Rocky as if he were his real pa. It was purely suffocating at times-suffocating and gratifying. In short, his head and heart didn't always agree.
"I'd say we're doin' all right. Had some rough patches, but we're workin' our way through them."
Ben nodded, thoughtful. "You two ever settle that matter of the fancy china and silver? I meant to apologize for opening my big mouth that night, but-"
With outstretched hand, Rocky halted him. "Don't bother, and, yes, I guess we did, although she hasn't brought the dishes out since, even though I've told her a time or two to use them if she wanted. Guess she's still a mite touchy about the whole episode, not that I blame her any. I was out of line that night."
Mild laughter came from Ben. "You were the picture of jealousy, my friend," he pointed out. "You didn't like the idea that the dishes came from an old beau. Who is the guy anyway?"
"An old family friend, according to Sarah. He traveled clear from Boston for the purpose of proposing marriage," he told him, scoffing even now at the remembrance.
Rocky lounged casually against the hitching post and scanned the horizon, grinning when across the yard he caught sight of Seth running at breakneck speed around the back of the house, some little girl on his tail.
He sniffed. "Guy wasn't too pleased to discover I had the same intention. Don't mind saying I hope we never cross paths again. 'Course, it just might be unavoidable, his being a lawyer and all."
Confusion traced a path across Ben's face. "What do you mean by that?"
Rocky gave a dismissive shrug, chortling under his breath. "I can't see her surviving this way of life much longer, Ben. You and I both know farming is no picnic. A woman like her deserves fine things, none of which I have the means to offer. The time will come when she'll discover it's too much for her. That's w
hen she'll call on the old family friend-to aid her in the annulment, and you can bet he'll come running just as soon as he gets the call."
"Anul-Don't be crazy, Rock. Give the lady some credit, for Pete's sake. According to Liza, she's made a good adjustment to life in Hickman. Besides, she seems to love those little kids of yours. Have some faith."
Ben stepped closer and gave Rocky a light pat on the shoulder. "God told us in His Word that the trying of our faith worketh patience, and that the Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, that seek His ways. He wants to bless your family, but you gotta learn to trust."
"I've done nothing for God lately that would incite His favors."
"We can't earn his favor, Rock. God's a merciful God. Sometimes He just plain blesses us for no good reason-even when we don't deserve it."
Rocky turned his attention to the rolling fields, still brown and dormant. It was hard to believe that in a matter of weeks, moist seeds would begin their speedy growth, breaking through the soil almost overnight, reaching upward like ravenous children.
"You're beginning to sound like Jonathan, you know that? Did you miss your calling?"
With a toss of his head, Ben laughed. "Hardly. I'd put everyone to sleep if I got behind a pulpit. Jon is the one with the preaching gift. By the way, it's been great seeing you in church again."
A grunting sound slipped past his throat. "My wife gives me little choice."
"Smart woman. And speaking of," Ben popped him in the arm, "did you know I'm to be a father again?"
Unsure how to react, he gave Ben awide smile and returned a playful punch.
"Congratulations!" He was pretty sure that women squealed loud enough to hear in the next county with news of that nature. Men, on the other hand, played things much cooler. "That didn't take long," he said with a wink, even then toying with the impossible notion of fathering another child himself. Kind of a hard thing to accomplish, he mused, when all he'd managed so far with his feisty wife was a stolen kiss.
Maybe he ought to make a greater effort.
Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) Page 18