Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014

by Susan Page Davis, Paige Winship Dooly, Connie Stevens

  Harry chuckled. “Well, please express my warmest thanks to your father. How is he?”

  “He’s. . .the same.”

  Harry nodded. He’d tried not to ask too often. Sadie, Zeke, and Tallie all seemed on edge when he inquired about the master of the house.

  “Well,” he said, and she looked up at him. Her blue eyes were trusting now, and Harry felt a sweet longing. A longing for a permanent home, not the little hut he had erected in Kentucky. A longing for many evenings with Sadie, a lifetime of cozy, companionable evenings.

  “How is the roof coming?” she asked.

  “Good. I think we can finish it tomorrow if it dries out enough.”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t want you and Zeke up there if it’s still wet. We don’t need any accidents now.”

  He nodded. “If it rains, we can work inside, on the walls that need redoing. And if it’s dry, we’ll finish off the roof and get at those windows next.”

  “Harry. . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to stay, you know.” She flushed, and he could almost read her mind. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, and she didn’t truly want him to leave, but she didn’t want to hold him either, if he wished to go.

  “I want to stay a little longer, Sadie, and make sure you’re comfortable again before I leave you.”

  The corners of her lips curved in a delicious smile. “Thank you,” she whispered and headed down the stairs.

  “Sadie!” When she turned back, he couldn’t resist asking, “Are you ever going to wear that green velvet gown?”

  Her face went scarlet, and he wondered if he’d been too bold in mentioning the dress he’d seen hanging in her room. He’d thought of it several times, wishing she would wear it to dinner some evening, but she hadn’t. It was probably a ball gown, made for fancy parties she would attend this fall if her father’s health improved. She wouldn’t put the lovely creation on for a simple family dinner, but he still wanted to see her in it.

  “Perhaps I shall, if you wish it, Harry.”

  Their gazes met, and he felt a flutter in his heart. Sadie wasn’t a flirt by any means, but she was daring to respond to his suggestion.

  ❧

  After helping Tallie set the table, Sadie went back up to her bedroom. Maybe she was taking a risk, offering Harry some of her father’s clothing. Tallie had insisted he let her wash and mend his extra things that day since his clothes were filthy and his shirts were torn. She didn’t want to further embarrass him by giving him the clothes, but it was silly for him to go around threadbare because he had extended his stay, when there were plenty of clothes in the house.

  Be careful, Sadie, she warned herself. She liked Harry. She liked him a lot. But she mustn’t lose her wariness. Harry meant her no harm, she was sure; but if he learned her secret, he might feel it was his duty to take action.

  She sighed and studied her face once again in the mirror. Why did they have to deceive him? Why? But she couldn’t correct things now. It had been too long. They had to go on as they were. In a sense, it would be a relief when he was gone. She wouldn’t have to go on pretending anymore.

  No! her heart cried. Life will be unbearable when he’s gone.

  She turned and opened her armoire. The deep green velvet was softer than lamb’s wool. Why shouldn’t she wear the dress for Harry? She had planned it this way. She had sewn every stitch dreaming of the night he would see her in it. Hour after hour she had labored over the detail on the bodice, the layers of whisper-soft fabric, stitching and nurturing her dreams of Harry.

  She undid the buttons of her blue dress and pulled it off. A quiet dinner tonight with Harry. Joy shot through her, and she stood still for a second then tiptoed across to the mirror again. How could she feel such anticipation and eagerness again? Was it right to feel this way? Perhaps the green velvet should wait. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Papa, I don’t know how to behave anymore. I’m sorry. I want you to be proud of me.

  She sat down on the edge of her bed, inhaling long, deliberate breaths. Heavenly Father, she prayed, please help me to do what is right.

  A quiet tap came at the door, and she jumped up with a gasp. Here she was, lolling about in her underclothes.

  “Miss Sadie,” Tallie called.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Kauffman is in the parlor, inquirin’ after you and Mr. Oliver.”

  Sadie swallowed hard. “I’m dressing, Tallie.”

  “I’ll tell him you be right down. He don’t expect to stay long. He’s just on his way home from town and stopped in.”

  Sadie quickly put the blue dress on again. She would feel foolish going down to meet her stolid neighbor wearing the lavish gown. And besides, later on, after things had calmed down a bit, he might recall seeing her in a fancy evening dress this night. No, she decided, it’s not proper. Thank You, Lord, for sending Mr. Kauffman.

  As she entered the parlor a few minutes later, Zeke was placing a cup of tea in her neighbor’s hands. Mr. Kauffman’s clothes and hair were damp, and she realized he’d turned in at the lane as much for shelter from the rain as for a neighborly visit. Perhaps she ought to invite him to stay to dinner. Her heart sank at the thought of losing that intimate hour at the table with Harry.

  “No, suh,” Zeke said, “Mr. Oliver’s no better today, but he’s no worse.”

  The farmer caught sight of Sadie and rose. “My dear, I’m sorry we’ve neglected you so. I had no idea you received such severe damage in the storm last week. Zeke was just telling me about all you’ve been going through, and your father so ill.”

  “It’s all right,” she faltered. “We’ve been managing.”

  “But you could have used some help!”

  “That’s all right, suh,” Zeke said, “We’ve had a guest helping us.”

  “A guest?” Mr. Kauffman looked at Zeke then at Sadie.

  “Well, yes.” Sadie could feel the heat flooding her face at the mention of Harry, but she supposed Zeke was right; there was no point in concealing Harry’s visit. It would only look bad later if people found out he had been here for nearly a week, and she hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. “Mr. Cooper was here to see Papa on business when we had the storm damage, and he’s been helping Zeke with the carpentry work.”

  Zeke nodded, smiling at her. “That’s right. And Miss Sadie’s Father says—”

  “Zeke!” Sadie glared at him. She would not stand by and listen to him add to the lie they were living.

  “But, Miss Sadie,” he said in an injured tone, “you know you been speakin’ to your Father about all this business, and He been tellin’ you things will be all right. Isn’t that what you told me this mornin’?” His meaningful stare pierced her heart.

  Sadie swallowed hard. She had mentioned to Tallie and Zeke that her prayers had been a great comfort to her and that God had assured her of His care for her and her people.

  “Well, I—” She heard a light step behind her and turned. Harry was entering the parlor with an inquisitive air.

  Suddenly Sadie knew she couldn’t bear it any longer. She could not, would not, stand there and imply things that were not true. And yet she couldn’t blurt out the truth in front of Mr. Kauffman. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

  “Excuse me!” She pushed past Harry and dashed through the doorway, across the hall, and out the front door. She ran through the yard, aware that the rain had slackened to a light mist.

  She pushed open the barn door and ducked inside. It was dark and warm inside, with the homey sounds of horses chewing their evening rations and the smells of manure, leather, and sweet hay. How many times had she found solace in the company of horses?

  Harry’s gelding, Pepper, was in the stall nearest the door on the right, and she stepped toward him. His large head was a dark bulk in the dimness, and he nickered softly. Sadie reached up and stroked his long, soft nose. Little sobs began low in her chest and made their way up her throat, escaping in gasps. She leaned he
r arms on the half door of the stall and wept, not caring that Pepper was snuffling at her hair.

  Everything was wrong, and she couldn’t fix any of it.

  “Sadie.”

  She caught her breath and raised her head.

  “Sadie?”

  Harry was standing very close to her, and she sniffed. The one moment in the last four months when she didn’t want Harry within a mile of her, and he’d found her.

  Eight

  “Come here.” Harry’s warm fingers closed on Sadie’s wrist, and she did not resist his gentle pull but went into his strong arms and let him hold her while she sobbed. He stroked her hair and her shoulders, saying nothing. Sadie found her anguish subsiding as she absorbed the warm, solid security of Harry’s embrace.

  At last she straightened and pulled back a few inches, but he kept his firm hold on her. She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and chased her tears with it.

  “I’m sorry, Harry. I’ve soaked your clean shirt.”

  “It’s all right.” He pulled her back in against his chest, and she went willingly.

  “Is Mr. Kauffman all in a dither?”

  “No, but he’s heading home. The rain’s let up, and he expressed his condolences.”

  “What did you tell him? About me, I mean? I shouldn’t have left you to make my excuses.” Perhaps she should have asked what Zeke said to Mr. Kauffman, she thought bitterly. Wasn’t this all Zeke’s fault?

  “I just told him things have been difficult for you. I think he understood.”

  “Thank you.”

  “He offered to send his two sons over to help with the roofing—”

  “Oh, dear! They’re not coming, are they?”

  He smiled. “No, I assured him we were doing fine, and he admitted he needs his boys on the harvest right now.”

  Sadie sighed in relief. Wilfred Kauffman ogled her every time he had a chance, and it was very disconcerting. She realized suddenly that she was clinging to Harry, her arms encircling his waist, and she jerked away from him, appalled at her behavior. “Harry, I—”

  He bent toward her, and Sadie caught her breath. He was going to kiss her. It caught her off guard, but in a flash she knew she had longed for this second. For one instant, all thoughts of propriety fled. There was only Harry for that moment, that one long, delightful moment when anything seemed possible, even a carefree future.

  Her wickedness struck her suddenly, and she tore away from him with a gasp. It was terribly wrong for her to let him assume things could be good and sweet between them when she had been lying to him for more than a week now.

  ❧

  Harry let her leave his arms with a pang of regret. It was too soon—that much was clear.

  “I’m sorry, Sadie. Please forgive me.”

  She stood before him in silence. He could barely see her face in the dimness of the barn, but he could feel the confusion in her hesitation, and he could hear her breath coming in shallow gulps.

  “I’m. . .not angry with you,” she said.

  He reached out and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I should have spoken to your father first, but you know that’s been impossible. It just. . .it seemed like the right moment, but I know how distressed you’ve been. This isn’t the right time, after all, is it?”

  She sobbed once more and raised the handkerchief quickly to her lips, as though to smother the sound. “Please, Harry. I don’t think I can go on like this. Maybe it’s time for you to leave.”

  He stood still, trying to take it in. She didn’t mean for him to leave the barn. No, with a sinking heart he realized she was asking him to leave the farm.

  He took a deep, slow breath. “If I’ve offended you—”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “The neighbors then?” he hazarded. Was she mortified that Mr. Kauffman knew she was entertaining a guest while her father was bedridden? He could set that straight and squelch any rumors. “Sadie, we can explain to people how things were. You don’t need to worry about gossip. You’ve been the model of propriety.”

  “It’s—it’s not that.”

  “What then?”

  He waited, but she said nothing. His stomach began to churn with anxiety. Something was terribly wrong, at least from Sadie’s perspective. At last he felt he needed to break the silence.

  He stepped toward her. “If it’s my trying to kiss you that’s upset you, please know I didn’t mean anything dishonorable by it.”

  “No, no.” She stepped away, toward the barn door. “You’ve been a true gentleman, Harry. But I can’t go on saying one thing and living another. I shan’t be eating dinner tonight, so don’t wait for me.”

  His concern changed to alarm, and he followed her out into the barnyard. “What are you talking about? Sadie, tell me what’s bothering you so.”

  She was closing the door without comment.

  “Here, let me do that.”

  She stepped aside, and he drew the heavy door into place. When he turned around, she was walking quickly toward the house. He hurried to catch up with her.

  “Sadie, stop, please.”

  She paused and looked at him in the twilight, and he took that as a good sign. At least she would hear him out.

  “Look—I can’t leave until I know you’re secure again.” He shoved his hands into his pockets so that she wouldn’t wonder if he was going to reach for her again, although he longed to do just that. “If it’s fair tomorrow, Zeke and I can finish patching the roof, but we need to get the broken windows fixed, too. After that, Zeke can probably go it alone, or he can fetch his older son to help him, the one he told me sometimes helps around here.”

  “Ephraim.” She nodded.

  “Well, we ought to get that far within a week. Then I can go and feel peaceful about it.”

  Her troubled eyes regarded him, and he knew that peace was the last thing he would feel. She wanted him to go. He couldn’t help believing the moment in the barn had something to do with that, regardless of what she had said.

  ❧

  The days went too quickly. When Harry awoke each morning, the first thing he did was go outside the little cabin and glare at the rising sun. Rain would serve him far better.

  Sadie had kept a cool distance between them since their conversation in the barn, and he was beginning to doubt he had enough time to unravel her reasons. She was polite, and sometimes at dinner he even caught her watching him with what he could only feel was a mournful longing, but she gave him no encouragement. Any suggestion of playful banter was gone, and the spark he had felt jump between them on other occasions was conspicuously absent.

  They didn’t speak of his leaving again, but they both knew it was imminent. The roof was done, and when the outside walls were patched and the windows replaced, his sojourn at the Spinning Wheel Farm would end.

  “One of us had best go to town for the windowpanes,” Zeke said one morning, “or else we can’t finish the job.”

  “You go,” Harry said. “I’ll keep at the sashes while you’re gone. I ought to be able to finish the one for the parlor this morning. Then the two for the upstairs windows, and I guess you won’t need me anymore.”

  Zeke eyed him with open curiosity. “You welcome to stay as long as you like, Mr. Harry.”

  “Thank you. I should get back to my place.”

  Zeke nodded. “We’ll be sorry to see the back of you.”

  Harry sighed and leaned on the rail fence that edged the pasture beside Zeke’s house. “Zeke, I hate to go. I truly do, but I can’t stay much longer.”

  “Why not, Mr. Harry? You like it here.”

  “I do, but. . .Zeke, you know I’ve got obligations in Kentucky, and besides, Sadie wants me to go.”

  “No, suh.”

  “Yes.”

  Zeke pulled a dry grass stem and stuck it between his teeth. He glanced at Harry then looked thoughtfully out over the pasture. “Miss Sadie sets a lot of store by you, suh.”

  Harry shook his
head. “Maybe a few days ago, but not now. She’s asked me to leave, Zeke.”

  “I. . .just can’t believe it, Mr. Harry.”

  Harry turned around and leaned back against the rails with a sigh. “I was all primed to speak to her father, you know. I wanted to ask for her hand.” He gave Zeke a rueful smile. “Wasn’t sure if Mr. McEwan would go along with it, but I had hopes. We got along pretty well last spring. But now. . . well, Sadie pretty much let me know she wouldn’t consider it, even if her father would.”

  “No.” Zeke was very quiet, and his frown stretched from his wrinkled forehead to his drooping mouth.

  “She’s the kind of woman I was hoping for,” Harry said with a shrug. “She’s prettier than a sunset in Jamaica, and she works hard and doesn’t complain. Treats you and Tallie well, too. But besides all that about Sadie, as long as I’m here, I’m keeping your family apart. While Tallie stays up yonder with Sadie, you have to bach it down here with Pax. No, Zeke, it’s time for me to meander.”

  “Well, I know one thing,” Zeke said. “It’s time for breakfast now. Grab your hat, suh, and let’s get movin’.” He stuck his head inside the cabin and shouted, “Pax! Come on, boy! You know your momma won’t keep breakfast all day for you.”

  On their way up to the big house, Pax wrangled with Zeke over the question of the trip to Winchester for the glass.

  “I can handle it, Papa. I been to town a thousand times with you or Mr. Oliver. I know what to do. And I can make sure Mr. MacPheters packs the windowpanes so’s they won’t break on the way back.

  “I don’t know,” Zeke said.

  “The boy can do it,” Harry said, even though he knew that would leave Zeke here to help him, and the job would be done faster. By supporting Pax, he was shortening his stay.

  Sadie didn’t appear at breakfast while he was in the kitchen with Zeke and Pax, and Harry assumed she was with Oliver. Tallie went upstairs and came back a few minutes later with money for the glass.

  “You’d best go with the boy,” she told Zeke. “Miss Sadie say Mr. MacPheters might want cash, and Pax ain’t never carried this much before. Besides, if the boy break the windows, she be out her money.”