A Lady's Choice
Authors: Sandra Robbins
Lady's
Choice
Lady's
Choice
S
ANDRA
R
OBBINS
New York
A Lady's Choice
ISBN-10: 1-60936-748-0
ISBN-13: 978-1-60936-748-0
Published by Summerside Press, an imprint of Guideposts
16 East 34th Street
New York, New York 10016
Summerside Press⢠is an inspirational publisher offering fresh,
irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind
.
Copyright © 2013 by Sandra Robbins. All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written
permission of the publisher.
Distributed by Ideals Publications, a Guideposts company
2630 Elm Hill Pike, Suite 100
Nashville, TN 37214
Guideposts
,
Ideals
, and
Summerside Press
are registered trademarks of Guideposts.
Though this story is based on real events, it is a work of fiction.
All Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible,
King James Version.
Cover design by Garborg Design,
GarborgDesign.com
Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group,
Müllerhaus.net
Printed and bound in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedication
To my mother, who taught me to be a strong woman.
June 1916
None of the Saturday afternoon customers seemed to notice when she slipped out the front door of Weston's General Store. That suited Sarah Whittaker fine. If one more person asked her how she liked living in Richland Creek, she might very well forgo her resolve to endure her present situation and tell them what she really thought.
Thankful to be free of the buzz of activity inside, she leaned on the railing around the front porch of the white clapboard building and closed her eyes. The afternoon heat enveloped her and threatened to suck the breath from her body. What she wouldn't give to be sitting in the shade of the big trees in their backyard in Memphis. There was probably a cool breeze rustling the leaves right now as it rolled up the bluff from the Mississippi River.
But she wasn't in Memphis. She was in a place called Richland Creek, Tennessee.
With a sigh, Sarah glanced up and down the dirt street that ran the length of the small settlement. Her mother called it a town, but to Sarah's way of thinking there wasn't much here to qualify it as such. She let her gaze travel over what the locals considered the rural community's center of activity.
Across the road from the store, smoke curled upward from a fire at the blacksmith shop, and next to it three men sat on a bench whittling wood in front of Thompson's Grain and Farm Supplies. Three whitewashed houses and the Richland Creek Bible Church completed the settlement. This was a far cry from the hustle of Memphis where she'd grown up.
Two weeks ago, her life had taken a drastic change when she and her mother arrived in this remote farming community that would be her home for some time to come. Her mother said she'd adjust, and she'd promised she would try. But how could anybody enjoy living in a place where the main topics of conversation centered on the summer heat and the lack of rain on the crops?
The store's door opened, and her mother stepped onto the porch. Her blue eyes lit with a smile when she spied Sarah. “Here you are. I wondered where you'd gone.”
“I needed some air. It was getting stuffy in there.”
Her mother frowned and pressed her hand to Sarah's forehead. “I know you didn't sleep well last night. Maybe you're coming down with something.”
Sarah chuckled and reached up to grasp her mother's hand. “I'm not getting sick, Mama. I only wanted some fresh air.” A mosquito bite on her arm itched and she scratched it. “As for not sleeping last night, it was the mosquitoes. They buzzed through my window all night. I must have a hundred bites today.”
Her mother's frown deepened. “Are you sure it's not something else?”
Sarah squeezed her mother's hand before she released it. “I'm fine, Mama. I don't want you to worry about me.”
Her mother's face paled, and she swallowed hard. “I can't help it. I know this is difficult for you, but I'm so glad you're here with me. I couldn't stand to be alone right now.”
Sarah's heart pricked at how selfish her thoughts of a moment ago had been. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she needed to concentrate on making life easier for her mother. “I'm not going anywhere, Mama. I'll take care of you as long as you need me.”
Sadness flickered in her mother's eyes. “You're a strong young woman, Sarah, but you're barely twenty years old, too young to face life without either of your parents. I worry about the future for you.”
Sarah covered her mother's hand with hers and pressed her lips into her mother's palm. “We don't have to worry about the future today. We're in the place you grew up; you have Uncle Charlie and Aunt Clara here; and I want to concentrate on getting you well.”
A flicker of reproach flashed across her mother's face. “Even if we try to tell ourselves differently, we know that's not going to happen.”
Sarah's heartbeat quickened. “Mama, please don't talk like that.”
Her mother turned and grasped the porch railing with both hands, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “Oh Sarah, I'm so sorry. My illness has ruined everything for you. I know how you were looking forward to teaching at Mrs. Simpson's school this fall.” She paused, glanced over her shoulder as if making sure they were alone, and lowered her voice. “And our suffrage group had looked forward to having you join us. Now neither one of us will be there to push our cause.”
“It's all right, Mama. The doctor says your condition may remain stable for years. Maybe, in time, we can go back to Memphis together.”
“Doctors aren't always right, darling.” Her mother glanced over her shoulder again before she continued. “Let me remind you to be careful while you're here. Don't talk about suffrage to anyone. The people here are good, but most of them don't concern themselves with issues in the outside world. And most of the men are very opposed to women being allowed to vote.”
“I know.”
Her mother's chin quivered, and she bit down on her lip. “I thought women would get the vote before I died, but that's not going to happen. Now I must pass my dream on to you.”
“It's my dream too, Mama.” She smiled and squeezed her mother's hand.
Before her mother could respond, the front door of the store opened, and a man stepped onto the porch. Dark brown juice trickled from the corner of his mouth. He nodded, walked to the edge of the porch, and spit a wad of tobacco to the ground below.
Sarah's stomach rumbled and her chest heaved from a suppressed gag. Would she ever get used to the way of life around here? She'd tried to convince her mother she didn't mind moving here, even if it had meant an interruption to her plans. In truth, though, she had looked forward to the excitement of attending suffrage meetings with her mother and being a part of their movement. On the other hand, knowing what must happen before she could do that sent shivers through her. She waited for the man to reenter the store before she spoke.
“We'll discuss this later. Right now I think you should go back inside and talk with your friends. The ball game is going to start before long.”
“I don't think I'm going to the game.” Her mother pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and mopped at her forehead. “Clara said I could lie down in their spare bedroom upstairs. But it's a beautiful day, and you look lovely in your new dress. Put a smile on your face and go to the ball game. You may make some new friends.”
Sarah let her gaze drift over the straight skirt of the white cotton summer dress with its eyelet overskirt. “Of all the new dresses Miss Adele made for me before we left Memphis, I like this one best. Except for one thing.”
Her mother's mouth curled into a smile, and she glanced down at the long skirt. “The hem?”
“Maybe we should have had her make it shorter.” She darted a playful grin at her mother. “You know it is the twentieth century, and hems have gone up two or three inches.”
Her mother sighed, and her eyebrows arched. “We'll make the next one shorter. In fact maybe we can have a new dress made for you soon. It's about time for another check to arrive from your father's estate, isn't it?”
Sarah's stomach clenched at her mother's question, and she swallowed hard. “I think so.”
Her mother turned to reenter the store but stopped at the door. “Did you give Charlie the list of supplies we need?”
“I did.”
“Have you paid him yet?”
Sarah's hand trembled, and she shrugged. “I asked him to charge it today. I'll pay him when the next check arrives.”
“Be sure that you do. You know I don't like to charge anything.”
She walked over and kissed her mother on the cheek before she could detect Sarah's concern. “I love you, Mama.”
“Don't worry. Everything's going to work out the way God wants.”
Her mother's words, meant to console, ignited a fire that had smoldered inside her for months. She bit down on her lip and waited until her mother disappeared into the store before she stumbled to the porch railing and wrapped her fingers around it. She wanted to throw her head back and scream out her frustration, but she didn't dare. Not here.
It was all so unfair. First her father whom she adored had died, and now her mother was slowly succumbing to her weakened heart. If that weren't enough, the money from her father's estate had suddenly quit arriving. She pounded the railing with her fists. She was too young to have her whole world collapse around her. What kind of God did that to a person?
Laughter drifted from the direction of the baseball diamond in the pasture next to the store, and she jerked upright. With trembling fingers, she wiped her eyes. Someone might come out of the store any minute on their way to the game and see her crying. She needed to find a quiet spot to calm her emotions.
She hurried down the porch steps and around the corner of the building but slowed her steps as she spied the small creek past the tall oaks at the back of the property. Her parents had met one summer at a picnic on the banks of that creek and fallen in love at first sight. As a child she dreamed of the same thing happening to her when she was grown, just like in the fairy tales her father told. But she'd learned one thing in the last few yearsâfairy tales didn't always have happy endings.
She trudged to the pump behind the store, grasped the handle, and cranked it up and down. The water flowed into her cupped hand, and she lifted it to her lips. As she stepped back, her foot splashed a small puddle of water that had dripped from the spout to the ground. She glanced down to see if she'd gotten mud on her shoe, but something else caught her eye, the hem of her dress. Her shoes forgotten, she stared down at the bottom of her dress and shook her head.
“It needs to be shorter.”
She grabbed hold of the dress and lifted the hem several inches up her leg. That looked better. Grasping the material tighter, she raised the skirt even higher, turned, and twisted her upper body in an effort to glimpse the calf below her knee. “Not bad-looking legs, I'd say.”
“I agree.” A voice from behind her startled Sarah and she whirled around.
A young man near her age and wearing a white shirt with
Richland Creek
embroidered in red letters on the pocket smiled at her. It took her a moment to realize he must be one of the baseball team members. His dark eyes sparkled with laughter.
“Hello, I hope I'm not interrupting you.”
Sarah's skin warmed under his cool, appraising gaze that drifted over her body and came to a stop at her ankles. A smile pulled at his lips, and he looked up. The intense scrutiny in his dark eyes sent a tremor racing through her body.
A sudden thought struck her, and she glanced down at her dress. She still had the skirt raised. With a gasp she released the dress and jerked her hands away.
She balled her fists and glared at the man. “Hâhow long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to admire your⦔ His smile deepened, and he glanced down at her hemline again. “Your, uhâ¦dress.”
Her faced burned with embarrassment, and she took a hesitant step toward him. “Hâhow dare you spy on me. You, sir, are no gentleman or you would have announced your presence.”
His smile grew bigger as he walked forward. “I assure you, I am a gentleman. But you are right. I should have introduced myself instead of being overcome by the scenery.”
Her mouth gaped open. “The scenery? I'll have you know, sir, I am not some floozy who enjoys being spied on.”
His grin grew larger. “I know that. You're Sarah Whittaker. You've moved to Richland Creek with your mother, and you're living on your grandparents' old farm two miles from here.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “My, my, news travels fast around here, doesn't it?”
He raked his hand through his dark hair and shook his head. “Look, I'm sorry if I've upset you. I saw you walk to the back of the store, and I wanted to meet you. I'm really not a bad person. I didn't mean to cause you any embarrassment.”
“Well, you did. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get to the ball game.”
He took another step toward her. “It's not going to start for a few more minutes. We have time to get acquainted.”
She ducked her head and hurried past him. “I don't want to know someone who sneaks up on people.”
“Aw, come on. I've apologized, so there's no need for you to run off mad.”
“I don't accept your apology.” She clenched her fists at her side and stormed past him.
He stepped back to let her pass, but she didn't look up at him. She'd only gone a few feet farther when he called out. “I hope we meet again.”
She stared straight ahead without giving any acknowledgment that she'd heard him. When she rounded the corner of the store, she looked over her shoulder, but he hadn't followed. She headed to the field where the game would be played but stopped at the edge of what was somebody's pasture. She studied the people who gathered in the field.
Aunt Clara had already arrived and sat in a chair under a shade tree, where she chatted with a group of women. To their left, two long benches stretched a few feet back from the baseline that ran from third to home plate. Uncle Charlie and a group of men stood huddled behind them. Several of the men sitting on the benches wore shirts like the one she'd seen on the young man at the pump.
Her heart pounded when she thought how the man's gaze had swept over her. She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. What must he think about her after witnessing her shameful behavior? In a community as small as Richland Creek, she was bound to run into him. What would he say? Worst of all, what would he tell his friends?
She clenched her fists at her side and lifted her chin. He was the one at fault, not her. He shouldn't have sneaked up on her. She would put the whole incident out of her mind and go to the ball game.
She'd only taken one step when a sudden thought popped into her head. The man at the pump would be at the game too. Maybe she should go back to the store and stay with her mother. She dismissed that thought right away. Her mother would insist she come back with her, and she didn't need to be in the hot sun all afternoon. There was no way around it. She had to stay.