Sarah's Legacy (16 page)

Once here, a family in Chatham agreed to provide me with room and board. They are a sensible couple and not prone to prying, for which I am thankful.

I shall put aside every possible penny of my earnings
—
first to repay my account at the hotel and my travel expenses to Mrs. Taylor. After that I shall continue to save toward a home of my own. Perhaps when my inheritance comes to me I shall have enough to manage it. After my dreadful ordeal on the streets of Montreal, my only wish is for security.

I have no fear of what lies ahead. I shall hereafter be satisfied and content with my present lot and waste no time on regrets for all I have lost.

One thing is sure. Never again will I place my trust in a man, nor risk my heart. The suffering of this past while has been sufficient for my liking and I shall not chance it again.

I felt this huge sadness to think of Sarah living her life alone out of fear that someone else would hurt her. Whether or not she had ever felt differently, she had chosen to remain on her own for the rest of her life.

How horrible to be so hurt and scared that you give up. Mom always says people deserve a second chance, but Sarah hadn't given herself one.

I lay there thinking about so many things that my head started to hurt. The events of the day and the
past few weeks all swam together until it was all a jumbled mess.

But the final thoughts that came to me before I fell asleep were about second chances. And just as I drifted away, I knew what I had to do.

By the time school was over the next day, my stomach was all tied up in knots over what I'd decided to do. It sure wasn't going to be easy, but my mind was made up.

The more I'd thought about telling Mom about what had happened at the pool, the more I'd realized that wasn't the solution. She'd be upset to find out I'd been rude after Stan had done so much to help us. Of course, she might also feel a bit better, knowing he hadn't just lost interest in her, but she wouldn't
do
anything. That's not her style.

So, telling Mom wouldn't
fix
anything, and
that
was what I wanted to do — if it wasn't too late. The only question was when I'd get a chance to carry out my new plan. I have to admit part of me was hoping something would come up to delay it.

Have you ever noticed that when there's something you aren't exactly looking forward to doing, it's really easy to find reasons to put it off? I'd have taken just about any excuse to buy myself time, but I couldn't find one.

My mind was already made up that I wouldn't do it when Mom was around, even if she was in another part of the house. I didn't want her to know anything about it, at least, not just yet.

Well, when I walked into the kitchen, the first thing I saw was a note on the table. The message was brief — and had obviously been written in excitement, since Mom's usually neat writing was scrawled sloppily.

“Sarah, I've gone to finalize things and pick up OUR CAR! Be ready to go for a drive when I get back! Love, Mom.”

She could come home any minute, I rationalized. Maybe I should wait until some other time when I knew how long she was going to be gone.

Coward!
my conscience screeched. Do it and get it over with.

It's not always easy to argue with your conscience, mainly because it's usually pointing out the truth. I took a deep breath, got the phone book out, and turned to the names starting with
R
.

I found Stan's number right away, walked quickly to the phone, and dialled it before I could change my mind.

It had rung three times, and I was just starting to hope no one was home, when he answered.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this Stan?”

“Sure is.” I could picture him nodding as he answered.

“This is Sarah.” My mouth had gone suddenly dry. “Sarah Gilmore.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and the thought flashed through my mind that he might just hang up. Then he spoke.

“Sarah. Well, how are you?”

“I'm fine.” That wasn't exactly true, since my knees were starting to shake and I was nervous as could be. Still, it didn't seem the kind of thing I'd want to tell him.

“Well, good. That's great. I'm glad to hear it.”

There was another pause, only this time I was the one having a hard time finding something to say. I swallowed and forced myself to speak before it got too awkward.

“I wanted to explain, you know, about that day at the pool.”

“I see.”

“Actually, I wanted to apologize for what I said.” This wasn't going the way I'd pictured it. It was a lot harder. “See, the kids were saying rude stuff about my mom, and it got me upset. I know that's no excuse, but I wanted you to know that I didn't mean what I said about you. I was just trying to shut them up. About my mom.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Stan said.

“So, I was hoping that you could forgive me, and that you'd still be friends with my mom.”

“How
is
your mom?”

“She's fine. Well, I mean, she's all right, but I think she misses you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can tell. You were the first friend she made here, and I know she liked having you around. I did too.”

“Have you told your mother about what happened?”

“Not yet, but I'm going to when she gets home. She's not here right now. I know I should have told her before, because she's been wondering why you stopped coming around. It was bothering me so much, and I didn't know what to do. Then I realized that I had to tell you I was sorry, even if you never want to come here again.”

“I'm glad you called, Sarah. I guess it wasn't easy for you. And I like your mom very much but I didn't want to get between the two of you. Your comment at the pool made me think there was a problem developing. Seemed best for me to step out of the picture.”

“Because you thought I didn't want you around?”

“Well, yes. I had to consider your feelings.”

“So, maybe, now that you know I didn't mean what I said, you'll come over again sometime?” I said.

“Well, I think it would be best to leave that up to your mother,” he said.

When we'd finished talking and I hung up the phone, I felt this huge relief. It had been hard to call, but I felt so much better that it seemed foolish I hadn't done it sooner. Now that it was over with, I could hardly wait for Mom to get home. Even though telling her wouldn't be any easier, I was actually looking forward to it.

I didn't have long to wait. Mom drove in about fifteen minutes after I'd talked to Stan. She was pretty excited about her car, which was natural since it was the first one she'd ever owned. Grampie used to let her use his once in a while for something important, but that wasn't the same.

“Are you ready to go for a drive?” she asked after we'd admired it together for a few minutes. “I thought maybe we'd celebrate by eating out tonight.”

I was tempted to wait until later to tell her about Stan and almost persuaded myself that it would be a shame to ruin her happy mood. Then my conscience started bugging me again.

“There's something I need to talk to you about first,” I said.

I guess my voice and the expression on my face told her it was serious because she walked straight into the house, set the car keys down on the kitchen table, plunked herself into a chair, and waited.

Believe it or not it was easier to tell her, partly because I wasn't as nervous and partly because after
talking to Stan the whole thing didn't seem so horrible and hopeless.

She sat there quietly while I told her what had happened. I'd expected her to get angry but mainly she just looked solemn, and when I finished she nodded.

“So
that's
why Stan doesn't come here anymore,” she said. There was relief in her voice and I realized that she was almost happy about it. Not about what I'd done, but that she knew Stan hadn't just decided she wasn't his type or whatever.

“It was all my fault. I'm
really
sorry,” I said.

“Well, it's over and done with now,” she said. Her voice had gotten quiet again and I suddenly realized I hadn't told her everything.

“I called him,” I said.

“You
did?
” Her eyes widened a little. “When?”

“A little while ago, just before you got home.”

“And what did you say to him?”

“I explained what happened and told him I didn't mean what I said at the pool. And I told him I was sorry.”

She didn't say anything but there was a question on her face. I knew right away what she was wondering.

“Oh, and I asked him if he might want to come over again sometime. He said he thought he should leave that up to you.”

“Up to me?”

“Yeah. So you should call him and invite him over.”

“I don't know.” Mom looked as uncertain as her voice sounded. “It would be pretty awkward after all this time has passed. Perhaps it's best just to let things be.”

I thought it would be easy to persuade Mom to call Stan, but it wasn't. I got wondering if maybe I'd been mistaken about how bad she'd felt about the whole thing. When she didn't call him that day or the next I decided that I'd done what I could, but this was something that just couldn't be repaired.

But then, on Thursday, just as I was putting away the dishes after dinner, I heard a car pull into our driveway. I looked out the window and saw Stan getting out of it and I got a strange, happy lurch inside me.

“Stan's here,” I said to Mom, just as casual as could be.

She got flustered, I could see it, but she stood there with her hands holding onto each other and her chin up, facing the door as I swung it open.

“Hello, ladies.” He smiled uncertainly. “I thought I'd check on how things are going with your renovations. Make sure it's all being done as you wanted and whatnot.”

“Yes, it's all fine. Wonderful, in fact.” Mom smiled back, her nervousness matching his. Her face was getting a bit pink.

“I'd like to have a quick look at it if you don't mind,” Stan said. “Make sure my crew is on schedule and all.” He hadn't nodded once, and for some strange reason I found myself wishing he would.

“Of course,” Mom said. She turned and walked ahead of him as they went out to the Hope Chest.

They were out there for a while and I was itching to know what was happening. When they came back into the kitchen, though, my first reaction was disappointment. They were just talking about the work that was being done, and the awkwardness was still there between them.

“Well,” Stan said, “it looks as though everything is under control, all right. They should be finished this week and then you'll be ready to roll. Just give me a call if anything doesn't suit.”

Mom told him thank you very much and yes she would but she was sure everything would be fine.

Stan nodded then — first time — and said he wished Mom the best with her business and all. Then he said good night.

So Mom said good night, too. But then, just as he was pulling the door open, she said, “Maybe you'd like a cup of coffee before you go.”

And Stan said coffee would be real nice.

I finished reading the last of Sarah's diaries the next week. By then, of course, I'd come to understand what she meant when she'd left the message that “everything that matters is in the chest.”

The rest of the second diary pretty much talked about getting used to living in a new place and what it was like to teach at the school. There was a sad, wistful tone to almost every sentence, somehow, and I knew she was missing her home and family.

One surprise was an entry she made a few months after she'd settled in.

November 02

The winter will soon be upon us and I am told that it can be harsh and unforgiving in this part of the country. Of course, I am accustomed enough to snow and cold, and Mother was kind enough to send my belongings by train, so I have plenty of warm clothing for the season.

How grand my things looked to me when I first opened the crates and saw them again. And yet, I suddenly found that I
was sobbing uncontrollably and could not stop. Thankfully, there was no one about to hear me.

It seemed the saddest thing in the world to me that these things are all that is left to me of my former life. My family, my friends, are forever lost, as are those familiar houses and sounds. I shall never again hear my mother singing low as she works her needle or my father clearing his throat as he is about to offer thanks for our food.

How I wish I had spent more time with Richard and Stephen, talked to them more, learned what they dream and hope and believe. It seems that our time together was wasted entirely, and that my own brothers are strangers to me in many ways.

It is too late. Too late to walk the paths and sit by the streams, or breathe in the sweet scent of the fields after a rain, or feel the sun on my face while my feet stand on the land where I was born.

Too late to see the value that I missed in so much around me. What I would give to know again the dear company of Mr. Colby, to sit and listen to his honest dreams. I think, perhaps, had I the chance, that his affection may seem more worthy to me now.

Ah, but Mother's latest letter tells me that he will marry Felicity Corcoran in the spring. I hope they will be happy.

Her third diary was written in random entries over the next nine years, with a surprise at the very end (which
I shall save for the moment). By then she was mainly writing if there was something significant to report, like receiving her inheritance or buying her first home or even getting her first cat. The brief notes about other things told me that she enjoyed teaching and very much liked the children, but there is no mention as to whether she ever wished she'd had a child of her own.