Stay With Me (36 page)

I wish.
“No. He has a brain tumor.
It’s hard to explain but his brain has something growing on it.
Sometimes, the doctor can operate and remove the growth, the
tumor.”

“But not always.”

“No, not with this certain type of
tumor.”

“Is he in pain?” John asked, his voice
soft.

“Not so much now. But he will be. It will
soon be difficult for him to walk, to talk, or even feed himself.
This is a horrible type of illness. He needs his mother,” she said,
swallowing hard.

“Of course,” he said.

And if she hadn’t loved him before, it would
have been that simple comment, that simple understanding, that
pushed her over the edge. “I have information that his mother
needs.” Thank God for that customer service representative who’d
had the brains and compassion to actually pull the file, rather
than simply read the computerized records. Rosa had applied for the
home health rider and had been approved. The insurance company had
failed to increase her premium, and when everyone had simply looked
at the computerized record, they assumed Rosa Lopez, who didn’t
speak much English and wrote even less, didn’t have a clue what she
was talking about.

John reached up and tucked a piece of hair
behind her ear. “Maybe I’m a selfish bastard,” he said, his voice
husky with emotion, “but I have to ask. I have to know. Is there no
one else who can help? Does it have to be you?”

She placed the palm of her hand against his
cheek. His skin was warm and rough with a day’s worth of whiskers.
“There’s no one else. That family needs me.”

He drew in a deep breath and stroked her
hair. “You said earlier that you could never do enough. You’re
wrong, Sarah. You will be
their
enough.”

The tears she’d tried to hold back would not
be denied. “I’d stay forever if I could.”

He leaned forward and brushed her lips with a
kiss. “And I would ask you to stay with me. For forever. But I
learned something today.”

“What?” she asked, sniffling.

He took the edge of the sheet and dabbed at
her eyes and at her runny nose. Then he smiled at her. “A man, a
much wiser man than me, told me that you never know how much time
you get. You might get an hour, a day, or a lifetime.” John stood
up. “I’m not going to get a lifetime with you, am I Sarah?”

She shook her head.

“But we could have an hour, a day, maybe even
a couple. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

John started to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her heart
afraid to hope.

“We’ve wasted enough time.”

When the stage pulled in, John motioned for
Sarah to wait. He stuck his head in, looked around, and then
stepped back. “You can get in,” he said.

“What were you looking for?” Sarah asked.

“We’re going to be in that stage for three
days. I don’t especially want to make the trip with somebody who
thinks bathing is an annual event.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What’s the
verdict?”

“Lemon and Wintergreen, I believe. Two old
ladies. We’ll make George sit between them.”

“You’re terrible,” Sarah teased.

“I’m not the one who asked him to come
along.”

She’d made the decision to tell George. He’d
been reluctant to go with her and John on the stage until she’d
blurted out the truth. He’d gone pale and hadn’t said a word for
two minutes. Then he’d laughed. For a very long time. Until he’d
been short of breath and red in the face. She’d worried that she’d
pushed him over the edge. The man had had enough heartache in the
past six months. He deserved to have a breakdown.

“Why are you laughing?” she had asked.

“Hannah was right again,” he’d said. And for
the first time since she’d met George, he’d almost looked at
peace.

“About what?” she’d asked.

“Just a couple nights ago, Hannah came to me.
I woke up and she was sitting next to me, drinking a cup of tea. I
could smell the tea. It was strong, just like she loved it. She
said that I was going to meet someone, someone very different, and
that this person would need my help.”

“Different?”

“I thought she meant different from her. Now,
I’m sure she must have meant you. Someone from another time. That’s
different. You’re different.”

Sarah hadn’t known whether to be insulted or
not. She didn’t worry about it once George agreed to come with
them.

“You know why I did it,” she said, grabbing
John’s arm.

“I know,” he said, gently removing her
fingers. “You don’t want me to be alone when you get on that
train.” He pulled her away from the stage and wrapped his arms
around her. “I hate it. I hate it more every day.”

“I’d stay if I could.”

“I believe you. It doesn’t make it
easier.”

She’d never, ever, find another man like John
Beckett. “John, maybe we should part here. Maybe it would just be
better.”

“Remember what the wise man said. You never
know how much time. We’ve got now. We’ve got right now and no one
can take it away from us.” He kissed her. With the same passion and
intensity that he’d kissed her with for the last two days.

They’d practically barricaded themselves in
the hotel room. Even when she’d thought her body could take no
more, that she had no more to give, John had pushed her higher,
pushed her to new limits. They’d surfaced last night. George had
organized a pig roast in honor of Fred and Suzanne’s marriage
announcement. Mary Beth and her father had come. The celebration
had gone late into the night but still, when they’d returned to the
room, John had made love to her.

“So, my Sarah,” John said, shaking her out of
her reverie, “let’s go. I’ve already loaded your bag in the back.”
He held out his hand and helped her into the stage. She sat on the
empty bench and John slid in beside her.

Sarah looked at her traveling companions and
delicately sniffed. “Good morning, ladies,” she said.

“Morning, dear,” Lemon said.

“Oh, good. Young people,” added Wintergreen.
“Where are you headed?”

“Cheyenne,” Sarah said.

Lemon clapped her hands. “Us, too. Looks like
we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted.”

“Is this your wedding trip? You two act like
newlyweds,” Wintergreen said.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Newlyweds,” John interrupted Sarah. He gave
her a look that had her squirming in her seat. “We’ve been married
almost six months.”

“Oh, remember what it was like to be young.”
Wintergreen grinned and poked Lemon in the arm.

“Barely,” she said, her faded blue eyes
blinking furiously.

“I haven’t had my Henry for four years and I
can still remember his touch,” Wintergreen said. She closed her
eyes and a sad smile crossed her face.

John leaned close to Sarah’s ear. “An hour. A
day. You never know.”

The stage door opened and George poked his
head in.

“Isn’t that right, George?” John asked.

“What?”

“Sit right here, young man.” Lemon slid over
and patted the seat between her and Wintergreen. “That way we can
fight over you.”

For a lawman, George looked downright
scared.

“What’s in that box?” Wintergreen asked.

“My camera.” George squeezed between the two
women. “I thought I might snap a picture or two along the way.”

Sarah understood the significance of the
statement. Last night, George had shared with John that he’d loved
taking pictures of his wife but that he hadn’t been able to use his
camera since her death.

“Why you wanted a picture of that pig on a
stick is beyond me,” Sarah said, smiling at George.

“I took one of you, too.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I most certainly did. You had your back to
me, staring into the fire. John saw me. I got him in it, too.”

Sarah’s heart leapt and she put her hand over
her mouth. The picture. The one she’d bought at the antique store.
It had been of her and John.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, sitting up
straighter.

She smiled at him. “Nothing. Everything makes
perfect sense.” She closed her eyes.

Three hours later, when Sarah woke up, both
of the old ladies looked a lot fresher than she felt. John had one
arm around her and her head rested against his chest.

When she sat up, he gingerly removed his arm
and wriggled his fingers. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “My hand hasn’t had any
feeling for the past half-hour.”

She punched his shoulder. “You fool. You
should have woken me up.”

“I liked the feel of you in my arms.”

“My, my,” Wintergreen said. “You must have
been tired.”

Sarah looked across the stage and couldn’t
keep the grin off her face. George held a ball of yarn in his lap
and with each click of her knitting needles, Wintergreen pulled a
string.

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Sarah said,
looking at George.

George narrowed his eyes at her. “You sleep
with your mouth open.”

Sarah tossed her head. “Sticks and
stones.”

Lemon picked up the pretty ribbon that hung
around her neck and looked at the timepiece that swung at the end.
“We’ll be stopping for lunch soon.”

As if on cue, Sarah’s stomach growled.

“Don’t get too excited,” John said. “The
driver would have picked up sandwiches and cold drinks in
Morgansville. We won’t have a hot meal until we get to the changing
station tonight. We’ll spend the night there and get fresh horses
for tomorrow’s trip.”

When the stage did stop fifteen minutes
later, George got out first. Then he turned to help Lemon and
Wintergreen. The trio moved away from the door. John got out and
turned to help Sarah. He placed his hands around her waist and
gentle lifted her out of the stage. When he set her down, he slid
her down his hard body. They were front to front, heat to heat,
need to need.

“Why did you tell Wintergreen and Lemon that
we were married?” she asked.

“I thought they might be the type to want to
protect a young woman’s honor. I could probably handle interference
from one. I didn’t know how I’d fare with the pair of ‘em.”

She kissed him. “I would protect you,” she
teased.

“Like this?" he asked, putting his hands on
her bottom and pulling her close. She could feel every hard inch of
his body. She squirmed and he groaned and bent his head to kiss
her.

“Hey, you two. You know we’re only stopping
for ten minutes.” The stage driver, a disapproving look on his
face, stood less than six feet away.

John released her and stepped away. She
pursed her lips at him and he rolled his eyes.

Ten minutes
. At the rate she was
heating up, it would have been over long before that.

“There are some trees over there,” the driver
continued. That’s where the women take care of their needs.”

Sarah shrugged. If Lemon and Wintergreen
could squat and pee, so could she.

Late that night, John, Sarah and George were
the only ones awake inside the changing station. It was a simple
place, no bigger than John’s cabin. There were cots along one wall,
a big round table for eating and playing cards, and a stove for
cooking and heat. Wintergreen and Lemon had been asleep for an
hour, lightly snoring in the corner. The stage driver paced
outside, his boots a solid thud against the wooden porch.

“What’s his problem?” Sarah asked. “After
lunch he started acting strange.”

“It’s going to storm,” George said. “These
roads can be pretty dangerous if they get a good drenching.”

Sarah was more thankful than ever to have
shelter. She’d thought they might have to sleep outside. The
changing station had been a nice surprise. The only problem was
that it didn’t provide any privacy for her and John.

He sat facing the stove. He’d thrown wood in
earlier and now a nice fire warmed the room. The fire, along with
two lanterns, provided all the light in the room.

George lay on the floor. “Tell me about your
time, Sarah.”

“Much about life is the same in my time. But
we do,” she said, rubbing her tailbone, “have better roads and
cars.”

“Cars?” George asked.

“Yes. Horse riding is purely for pleasure.
Cars are sort of a box of plastic and metal that you sit in, that
has four tires. It runs on fuel, not coal or oil, but
gasoline.”

“You have one of these cars?”

“I do. Almost everyone does. It’s crazy.
There are cars everywhere. Mine is parked at the beach. It needs a
key and I lost mine somewhere on my travels.”

“What will you do?” John asked, sounding
concerned.

“I have an extra key at my house. I live
about two miles from the beach, in a little white two-story, right
across the street from the park.”

Sarah felt tears stinging behind her eyes and
she tried to blink them away. “So I need to get back to the beach
and find the footprints again, the ones that will take me
back.”

John stood up abruptly, setting his tin
coffee cup down with a clank. “Let’s take a walk,” he said.

She leaned into him, loving the feel of his
hard body. “I thought you said it was going to storm.”

“We’ll be fine.” He grabbed two blankets off
the cot and shoved one under an arm. He wrapped the other one
around her.

When they opened the door, the air had an odd
stillness about it. Knowing the storm was coming, Sarah had
expected wind and rain. But the cool night air barely stirred.

The stagecoach driver sat on the porch, his
boots propped up on the railing. “It’s going to be a fierce one,”
he said. “I wouldn’t go far.”

“We won’t,” John said. He led her around the
corner of the changing station and then up a hill, to a grove of
pine trees. He spread the blankets out, one on top of the other,
making a bed on the soft, fragrant, pine needles. He sat down and
pulled her down into his lap.