Song of My Heart (35 page)

Estel chuckled and crossed to a washstand in the corner while Faye removed a pan of golden corn bread from the oven. Within minutes, the pair joined Thad at the table. They clasped their hands beneath their chins and closed their eyes, and Thad followed suit. Estel offered a short but heartfelt prayer of gratitude for the meal and the opportunity to share with a stranger in need. “Amen,” the two chorused, and Faye ladled up hearty servings of beans, ham, and onions swimming in a rich broth. The simple meal filled Thad’s stomach, and the pleasant company fed his soul.

After supper, Faye showed him to a little lean-to tucked behind the kitchen. “Ain’t much,” she said, bouncing her gaze around the simple space, “but it’s better’n sleepin’ in the barn. You have a good rest now, young man.” She departed quickly, closing the door behind her with a click.

A square, uncovered window set high on the wall above the bed allowed in a faint shaft of moonlight. Thad shimmied down to his long johns and stretched out on the creaky rope bed. The straw-filled mattress caressed his tired body, and he sighed in contentment. Despite his reason for being in Clay Centre, despite his weariness and aching heart, the kindnesses exhibited by Estel and Faye Hines soothed like a healing balm.

Thank You, Lord, for the reminder that good people are walking around in this world, doing Your work.

For some reason, he didn’t add his familiar request that the Lord make easy the way to Thad becoming a preacher.

33 

S
adie lay in her bed, staring through the menacing shadows. Exhaustion plagued her, but her body refused sleep. Too many images cluttered her mind—ugly images that stole her ability to relax.

When Sid had dropped her off at the mercantile after their return from Macyville, she’d gone immediately to Thad’s office. But the office had been empty, and she turned away, distraught that her prayers to find him there, whole and hale, went unanswered.

As she’d left the office to hurry to the mercantile and change for the evening’s performance, the blacksmith, Mr. Kimbrough, had stepped onto the boardwalk and said, “Howdy, Miss Sadie. You seen the sheriff?”

Sadie’s conscience had panged to ignore the question, but Sid had cautioned her to silence. After her cousin had shot Thad and left him lying beside the road, she feared crossing him—he might be capable of anything. So she’d chosen a careful reply. “I was looking for him, too. He isn’t here.”

The man scratched his chin. “Neither’s my horse. I told him he could borrow Thunder anytime, but I forgot to tell him the horse’s got a loose shoe. I was wantin’ to git that fixed up.” He lifted his beefy shoulders in a shrug. “Guess it’ll have to wait. Just hope McKane ain’t running that animal all over the countryside. Could do some damage.” He ambled back toward his shop.

Sadie had considered calling after the man, instructing him to ride toward Macyville and look for Thunder. The animal was probably tied to a sapling, unable to make his way home again. And then maybe Mr. Kimbrough would find Thad. Because certainly he lay dead or he would’ve returned to Goldtree.

She crunched her eyes closed, willing the remembrances away. But glimpses of the day continued to play behind her eyelids—the shattered bluebird, Sid’s grim face, the spot in the bushes where Thad and Sid had disappeared but Sid had emerged alone—as well as one alarming picture purely from conjecture. She shuddered.
God, make it go away!
If only she could ignore the horrible image of Thad’s lifeless body lying in the brush. She feared it would haunt her forever.

Restless, she rose and tugged on her robe. She crept through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the mercantile. As always, the silence of the store at night sent shivers down her spine. How a place so bright and bustling during the day could feel ominous and eerie at night, she couldn’t understand. Tonight the looming gray shapes seemed even more threatening. But she knew only her vivid imagination gave the inanimate objects power. The real threat lay within her—a secret that could damage her soul if she didn’t allow it release.

Without conscious thought, she lit a lantern and unlatched the door leading to the cellar. Moving on tiptoes to avoid waking Miss Melva and Miss Shelva, she made her way to the singing room. As she walked up the center aisle, the lantern light bounced off the polished wood paneling and sent a soft glow over the velvet cushions on the chairs. Such a beautiful, beautiful room . . . A place where she had fulfilled some of her fondest, lifelong hopes and dreams.

She crossed to the stage and stepped between the pillars. Only a few hours ago she’d stood at this same spot and sung her favorite hymns. How had she managed to bring forth song with her chest weighted by grief and guilt? She looked across the rows of now-empty seats. Applause and cries of admiration rang in her mind. Tears stung, and she spun away from the seats. If those people knew what she’d done—who she was underneath the surface—they wouldn’t have cheered for her.

Mr. Baxter had caught her afterward and hissed a warning in her ear. “You didn’t give your best tonight, girlie. Might’ve fooled them others, but I can tell—you was holdin’ back. Don’t you think about holdin’ back come Tuesday. I don’t pay a full wage for half a performance, you hear me?”

Even now, hours later, the malice in his tone made her cringe. How she wished she could go upstairs, pack her bag, and return to Indiana, where she’d feel safe again. She turned a slow circle, taking in the ostentation of the room once more. Its beauty hadn’t changed, but Sadie had. She was now tainted—tainted by what she’d seen, by what she’d done, by what she knew.

Tonight, as she faced her audience and sang sweet hymns meant to show God’s power and majesty, she’d felt every bit the hypocrite. Oh, how she’d tried to lose herself in the music. But she’d failed. The music was lost to her. And she knew the only way she would ever get it back was to rid her conscience of the darkness it now carried.

But how?

“I have to talk to Sid.” Her raspy whisper echoed eerily in the empty room, bouncing from the ceiling and returning to her ears. It was late, it was dark, it might be foolhardy to go out on the streets at this hour, but she had to convince him to turn himself in. And she’d divulge her part—knowingly entertaining men who partook of illegal beverages—as well. How wonderful it would feel to unburden herself.

Grabbing the hem of her robe, she scampered toward the stairs. But as her foot landed on the first riser, she froze. If she told, would she be sent to jail? What would Mama and the children do if she were imprisoned?

With a groan, she turned and sank onto the stairs. The damp of the stairway seeped through her nightclothes, chilling her. She hugged herself, the dark hallway becoming a cell that closed in around her. Sid had told her to keep silent. It seemed sound advice, considering the consequences. But, no! She was finished being a party to illegal dealings. No more singing to the raucous crowd. Mr. Baxter would bluster and threaten, but she would stand firm. Somehow Mama and the children would have to make do with only her mercantile salary.

She jerked to her feet and began once more to climb the stairs. But then she changed direction and returned to the singing room. Pausing in the doorway, she sent one more slow, deliberate look across the beautifully decorated room. From left to right her gaze roved until she reached the row of seats mounted on the short platform along the south wall. Her eyes lingered on the seat Mr. Baxter had assigned to Thad.
I’m so sorry, Thad.

Tears spurted into her eyes, and the chair swam. Pressing her fist to her lips, she held back the cry that longed for release. Her chest ached so badly, drawing a breath became torture. So much had been stolen in the past days—the joy her music had once brought, her peace of mind, and Thad. Perhaps, with time and distance, she might one day experience peace again. Perhaps, someday, she might even rediscover the joy of music. But Thad was lost to her forever. And Sid would be, too, if anyone discovered Sid had killed Thad.

She couldn’t save Thad. But she could still save Sid. If they stayed in Goldtree, they’d never be free of guilt. They had to leave—both of them. Away from here, they could forget everything that had happened. Away from here, she would forget about Thad and how special he’d been to her.

Yes, they must go. Now. Before morning light flooded the town and illuminated their wrongdoings. To her sleep-deprived mind the plan made perfect sense. Holding tight to the lantern, Sadie raced up the stairs and to her room. She dressed quickly and started to pack. But how would she carry her trunks down the stairs? Her things weren’t nearly as important as her cousin. She could abandon her belongings for Sid.

On stealthy feet, she sneaked out the back door and across the darkened yard, running as quickly as the feeble light from the moon would allow. She reached Sid’s little house, breathless and panting. Slumping against the doorjamb, she banged her fist on the door. She waited, watching the window for a glow that would mean Sid had awakened and lit a lantern. But no glow came.

She knocked again, harder, cringing as the thumps echoed through the sleeping neighborhood. Several houses down, a dog began to bark, but no sound came from within Sid’s house. With a little huff of frustration, she rounded the house to its rear and stopped beneath the window where Sid’s bedroom resided. She tapped on the glass and tipped her head, listening. Wind rustled in the trees, the dog’s bark became more insistent, but the house remained silent.

Sadie shifted slightly, leaning against the wood siding and peering through the deep shadows. Where could Sid be? Had Asa Baxter sent him on a nighttime delivery? She couldn’t wait here all night—she should go back to the mercantile. Once more, the urge to escape washed over her, but she quelled the desire. As long as they were gone before Tuesday, when Mr. Baxter would expect her to sing again, it would be soon enough.

Hugging herself, she scuffed her way back toward the front of the house. The dog, thankfully, ceased its clamor, but an owl took up a nighttime hoot and a second one answered. The forlorn calls of
whoo-whoo
increased Sadie’s loneliness. How she wished Sid had been home.

Her head low, watching the progress of her feet as she slowly retraced her steps back to the mercantile, she didn’t see anyone approach. But the crunch of footsteps reached her ears. She came to a halt, her skin breaking out with gooseflesh. She spun around, and a cry of alarm rose in her throat as someone stepped out of shadows. Then she recognized the man’s face in the moon’s glow.

Sid hustled close and took hold of her arm, searching her face. “What’re you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“I came to talk to you.” She pulled loose, examining him from head to toe. Even in the muted light, she could see something was amiss. She brushed dirt and bits of grass from his sleeve. “You’re filthy. What have you been doing?”

He jerked backward, his face pinching in a fierce scowl. “You ask too many questions.”

Suddenly, she knew. She backed away, gorge filling her throat. “Were you—were you burying . . . something?”

He turned his face from her. “I told you . . . don’t ask.”

“Oh, Sid!”

“It had to be done!” He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Sadie, I told you earlier, you can’t tell anybody. You just have to trust me.”

His hands tightened painfully on her arms, but she welcomed the discomfort. It distracted her from the agonizing pain in her heart. “B-but . . .”

“Think back, Sadie.” Sid’s voice, so low it was nearly a growl, turned pleading. “All the years you’ve known me, have I given you reason to distrust me? I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I? Defendin’ you, protectin’ you.” He shook her again, and she released a whimpering agreement. “Then believe me when I say I’m still protectin’ you.”

He let go of her, and she almost fell. But his arm coiled out, catching her around the waist. He propelled her into the empty street. “C’mon. I’m takin’ you back. You get on up to bed. Go to church in the mornin’ an’ pray.”

Her feet moved automatically in step with his, her skirts rustling with the rapid pace. “Will you be there, too?”

“No. I can’t. But—” He stopped and grabbed her arms again. Leaning close, he peered directly into her face and whispered, “But you go, an’ you pray, Sadie. You pray for me. An’ for you. If we’re gonna come outta this mess unharmed, it’ll take angels workin’ on our side. So you pray
hard
. Will you?”

Sadie nodded, too afraid to do otherwise. She cringed as Sid leaned in, but he only planted a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, she glimpsed genuine fear shining in his dark eyes.

“Whatever happens, Sadie, know I’m sorry I got you involved in this. Know I didn’t mean it. An’ remember . . . I love you.”

He turned and strode away. Moments later, shadows swallowed his form and Sadie was all alone.

The smell of frying bacon awakened Thad, and he sat up, his mouth watering. He snatched his pants and shirt from the end of the bed and scrambled into them, wrinkling his nose at the musty odor emanating from the rumpled fabric.