Stay With Me (30 page)

Pastor Dan stood up. “That’s it. You’re
probably just hungry. Let’s eat.”

“Rosie,” his mother said, ignoring Pastor
Dan, “I’ll feel much better if I can eat in my own house. Would you
to be so kind as to pack up a couple chicken dinners?”

Rosie nodded and walked toward the kitchen.
“John,” his mother said, “you will come along, won’t you. I know
I’ll feel better if you’re there with me.”

John thought of Sarah, sweet Sarah with all
her buttons, and indecision tore at his soul.

“Please, John. This has been terribly
frightening. I really need to lie down and I just can’t stand the
thought of being alone. You know, in case my heart acts up
again.”

“Of course,” he said. He licked his lips. Oh,
no. He could still taste Sarah. He shifted, hoping his Sunday
trousers hid his need. “Let’s get going, then.” He offered his
mother his hand and when she grabbed it, her grip was surprising
strong. An ugly suspicion bloomed, poking awkward stems into his
heart. Good color. Warm skin. Strong grip.

“So you fell right off your chair?” he
asked.

“I don’t remember,” she said, shaking her
head. “Terribly frightening. You just can’t imagine.”

“I suppose not. I think we better get you
home.” They left the café and began the half-mile walk back to his
mother’s house. He set the pace slow and steady and he noticed his
mother didn’t falter once. In fact, by the time they’d reached her
door, her steps seemed almost spry.

“I’ll probably feel a little better after we
have our chicken,” she said. “Maybe we could play a few hands of
cards after that. You know, to relax me.”

Cards? Hell, he didn’t want to play cards. He
wanted to bury himself inside of Sarah. “I can’t. I’ve got to
go.”

“You’re going back to
her
, aren’t
you?” His mother turned toward him, her eyes wild. “That woman is
wicked.”

“You’re wrong,” John said, opening up his
mother’s front door. “You couldn’t be more wrong. And please don’t
refer to her as
that woman
. Her name is Sarah.”

“You couldn’t be more blind,” she yelled.
“What’s gotten into you?”

He gave his mother a gentle push and closed
the door behind her. No need for all of Cedarbrook to hear them.
“Sit down, Mother. You don’t want to have another spell.”

“I don’t need to sit down,” she said, waving
her arms.

He felt the slow burn of disappointment in
the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “You missed
your calling, Mother. You should have been an actress. You put on
quite a performance.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t have a fainting spell. You
slipped out of that chair so that you could drag me away from
Sarah.”

His mother’s face turned so pink that it
looked liked she’d spent the day in the fields. “That’s crazy
talk,” she said.

“Is it, Mother?” He set the sack of food down
on her table. “Have your dinner, Mother. I’ll talk to you
later.”

She moved, faster than he would have thought
possible, and blocked the front door. “You’re not leaving. I won’t
let you go back to that whore.”

“Whore?” The slow burn of disappointment
turned into a raging fire of anger. “Did you just call Sarah a
whore?”

“John,” his mother said, running her hands
through her hair. “You’re always such a sensible boy. I don’t
understand what’s happening here.”

Sensible. That, more than anything, summed up
his life. He got up, worked all day, and then went to bed. Only to
do it all the same the next day. He didn’t even go to town
unexpectedly. He’d turned into an old man. A sensible,
do-what’s-expected, old man.

And why not? He’d taken on a man’s role at
the age of ten. The years had slipped by and now, at thirty-two
years of age, he could barely remember what it felt like to be
young.

Except that Sarah made him feel young and
very alive. He’d managed to find a way to have her stay for a week,
and like a fool, he’d wasted days. Come hell, high water, or his
mother’s ugly accusations, he wanted his week with Sarah.

“I’m going now,” he said, “and on Wednesday,
I’m leaving on the stage.”

“You’re leaving?” All the pink drained from
her face, leaving it a deadly white. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see Sarah safely back to
California.” Once the words were out of his mouth, he knew, with
absolute certainty, that it was the right thing to do. “I’ll ask
Freedom to take care of my stock. I’ll be back the week after
next.”

“No.” The word exploded from his mother’s
mouth. “She can’t ask you to do that.”

“She didn’t ask. I’m going to ask her.”

His mother leaned against the door. “She’s
never going to let you come back. She’s going to dig her evil claws
into you and you’ll never come back. You’re going to leave me.”

John tried to ignore the tears that ran down
his mother’s face. He was thirty-two years old and he couldn’t
remember ever having caused his mother to cry.

“I’ll be back,” he said. “I promise.”

She sniffed and pointed a shaky finger at
him. “I will not lose another son to that woman.”

“She’s different,” John said, trying to make
his mother see what he’d finally seen. “She’s changed. I don’t know
what happened but she’s not the same woman who married Peter.”

“She is. People don’t change,” his mother
said. “She’s fooling you. She’s trying to trap you.”

“I don’t think so,” John said.

“You know what she did with Fred Goodie. Your
best friend. Doesn’t that make a difference to you?”

He really wanted to shake her. “You shouldn’t
listen to idle gossip. It’s not true and I won’t have you repeating
it.”

“You won’t come back,” his mother said,
slumping down in the chair next to the door.

John rubbed his head. “I said I’d be back in
two weeks and I will. I promise.”

“Your brother promised me that he’d be back,
too. He didn’t keep his promise. He couldn’t. I don’t even have his
body to pray over.”

His brother rested in the cold earth, in the
bowels of the silver mine, covered by hundreds of feet of dirt and
water. The mine had collapsed, killing Peter and three others.
They’d plummeted to their death and the ground had literally
swallowed them up. “I’m sorry about that,” John said. “I’m sorry
he’s dead.”

“She made him do it.” His mother screamed the
words. “She caused his death.”

“No,” John said. “I wanted to blame her, too.
It was better than blaming Peter. But you know how Peter was. He
didn’t always make the best decisions. I’m probably to blame for
that. After Father died, I tried to protect him. I protected him
too much.”

“No.”

“Yes. Remember the time he got in trouble
with the sheriff’s wife in Carson City? I had to take off in the
middle of the night to save him. He just expected it.”

“You loved him.”

“I loved him,” John replied. “I miss him,
too. Every day.”

“It’s her fault.”

“I don’t think so,” John said. “It was his
choice.”

“She’s bewitched you. With her sweet face and
her charms. Just like your brother. She’s made you forget
everything else that’s important.”

Everything, including her. She didn’t need to
say the words. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Mother. But I’m
doing it. I wanted you to hear it from me. I’ll ask Mr. Hooper and
Pastor Dan to check in on you regularly.”

He stood up. She grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t
go,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”

He gently removed her fingers. “I have to,
Mother. I don’t have a choice. I need to do this for me. I need to
do this for Sarah.”

***

When Fred walked into the saloon that night,
all the other man looked up, their glances ripe with speculation,
obviously wanted to assess the accuracy of Morton Turnip’s gossip.
Fred, his head high, his big chest broad as the doorway, stared
back, until each one had returned their gaze, if not their dirty
thoughts, back to their card games. When he took his seat at the
bar, Sarah smiled at him, her hands never missing a beat on the
ivory keys.

Thomas Jefferson slid a glass of whiskey
toward him. “She’s packing them in,” he said. “Twice as many
customers tonight. She’s something special.”

Fred nodded, all too aware of how special she
was. On his way to town, he’d stopped by John’s ranch. His best
friend hadn’t been forthcoming with exact details but Fred could
see that there was something different. John had said that he
intended to ride into town tomorrow to see Sarah.

When Sarah took her first break, Fred
followed her outside. He handed her a glass of water. “Here,” he
said. “Thomas gave it to me for you.”

She took a deep drink.

“I saw John. What’s going on between the two
of you?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Just two days ago, when my sister and I got
to his ranch, the two of you weren’t even looking at each other.
Then I see him in church today. I don’t mind telling you that
scared the hell out of me. He’s not a man for public praying. Then
this afternoon, when I stopped by on my way here, he said he
intended to see you tomorrow. He looked like a man eager for the
hours to pass.”

Her stomach jumped. She only had until
tomorrow to prepare all the reasons why it was crazy for him to
kiss the breath out of her. “It’s complicated,” she said.

“Still planning on leaving on Wednesday’s
stage?”

“I have to.”

He nodded. “I assume you’ve got good
reasons.”

She thought a dying eight-year-old seemed
like a pretty good reason. “Have you seen Suzanne?”

“No. But I will yet tonight.”

He didn’t seem happy about it. Not like a man
about to have really good sex. “Is something wrong, Fred?”

“I started thinking about Suzanne in church
this morning and I haven’t stopped since. She’s a wonderful
woman.”

“She is,” Sarah agreed. “Is that what’s
making you miserable?”

“In a way. You see, I’ve been enjoying her
body and that makes me no better than the other men who’ve come
before me or will come after me.”

“Fred,” Sarah said, putting her hand on the
big man’s arm. “Suzanne doesn’t consider you to be the same. She
knows you’re different.”

“I’m not. I’m not any different than the man
who pays his two dollars and then goes home to share a bed with his
wife. Just like that man pretends not to know her on the street
when his wife walks beside him, I pretend not to know her when my
children are at my side. It’s a good thing that she’s leaving o
Wednesday’s stage. She deserves something better.”

Why did everything have to be so difficult?
Why couldn’t things just work out for somebody? “She could stay
here and have something better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. Quit playing dumb, Fred. You
love Suzanne and she loves you. But neither of you will say the
words. You both pretend it’s just about sex.”

Fred sucked into a loud breath. “You
shouldn’t be saying such things, Sarah. It’s not ladylike.”

She turned toward him and stabbed him in the
chest with her finger. “Screw ladylike. You’re being a fool and
Suzanne’s no better. I can’t seem to talk any sense into her but I
hoped I’d have better luck with you.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. That’s what makes me crazy.
There’s nothing keeping you and Suzanne apart. Nothing but your
stupid, foolish pride. You two don’t even seem to understand how
special what you have is. Do you know how rare that is? To find
someone you love? To find someone you want to spend the rest of
your life with? Do you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Fred denied.

“I do,” Sarah insisted, wrapping her arms
around her stomach. Loving John literally made her ache.

“Oh my,” Fred said, sudden knowledge dawning
in his eyes. “It’s John, isn’t it. You love him. Does he know?”

“No.” The word exploded from her mouth. “And
please don’t tell him. It will only make it worse. It’s not the
same for us. There’s a reason we can’t be together. Something
bigger than both of us.”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

“It won’t change anything.” She moved the
empty water glass from hand to hand. “Look, I’ve got to get back
inside. Thomas will have a cow.”

He brushed his big thumb across her cheek,
wiping away a tear that had leaked. “We’re a couple of losers when
it comes to love, aren’t we?”

“You’re not going to change your mind about
Suzanne, are you? You’re not going to ask her to stay?”

Fred shook his head. “No. It’ll be good for
her to move on. She’ll find somebody.”

Sarah reached up and wiped Fred’s own tear
off his cheek. “I’ll miss you, Fred. You’ve been a good friend. You
made being here easier.”

“I can’t figure out why you came back,” Fred
said. “I’m glad you did, mind you, but I can’t figure out why you
did it if you didn’t plan to stay.”

“If staying was an option,” Sarah said,
standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, “then I
wouldn’t be going. Good night, Fred.”

He nodded, tipped his hat, and got on his
horse. Sarah watched him ride out of town.

“Isn’t that interesting?”

Sarah whirled around. John’s mother stood
twenty yards away, her arms crossed over her chest. “Evening, Mrs.
Beckett,” Sarah said. How much had the other woman heard?

“Were you giving poor Fred the brush off so
that you could focus on my son? My only living son?”

“I have to go inside,” Sarah said. She didn’t
want to fight with this woman.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Beckett said. “Come
here.”

Sarah looked up and down the dark street. She
didn’t really want to walk into an alley with John’s mother.

“I won’t harm you,” Mrs. Beckett said. “I
have a proposition for you.”

Great. Sarah walked toward the woman.