Chances (18 page)

Sarah nodded, accepting Kate’s explanation for the sidestepping it was, and watched Frank Bates leave the telegraph room and saunter over to them. Leave it to Frank to add his two cents worth.

“Figured it had to be you out here yakking,” he stated with cocky sureness. He gestured at the girls. “Them kids was in the office yammerin’ at me afore I sent ‘em out here. They ought to be in school, seems to me. You about ready? I got a pile of messages to deliver and I want to get ‘em done before the snow starts fallin’ again.”

“I’m sure Kate and Molly offer their apologies for disturbing you, Frank.”

“Yeah, yeah. You ready? Jim sure lets you get away with straying onto other activities during work hours, don’t he?”

Sarah glanced at the girls. “Not now, Frank.”

He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “Get them kids out of here and make ‘em stay out. You don’t wanna mess with me.” He stumbled back into the office, still muttering under his breath.

Sarah shook her head and turned to Kate and Molly. “Never mind him,” she told them. “I have ten minutes before I’m officially on duty. Have you girls eaten? If not, come grab part of my sandwich before you go. Otherwise, your stomachs are liable to growl and Miss Clay will discover you didn’t go home for lunch after all.” She smiled at them, sealing their secret, and moved across the waiting room.

They followed her into her office while Frank glared at them and puttered around collecting telegrams and stuffing them into envelopes. Jim offered a smile, shoved his glasses higher onto his face, and whistled his way back to the freight room.

Sarah turned her attention to the girls, leaving her review of the logbook for later. “So, is that
Little Women
you were so involved in reading when I came in?” She handed each girl a half sandwich and gestured to the stools they’d sat on before.

“It is.” Kate took a bite of the sandwich and settled herself on one stool while Molly clambered onto the other.

“I thought Miss Clay was reading it to you in class.”

“She is. We just got impatient. We checked our own copy out at the public library so we can read ahead.”

“‘Cept Kate hogs it all the time.” Molly swung her legs back and forth against the legs of the stool, garnering another sharp glare from Frank and a look of reproach from her sister.

“That’s only because I’m the better reader. It takes you too long.”

Sarah grinned. “How do you find it, then?”

“Oh, it’s very good. I can’t decide who I like best. I like Meg but I like Beth, too.”

“I like Jo,” Molly announced between sandwich bites.

Frank bundled his stack of messages with a leather strap and reached for his worn overshoes. He buckled them on and Sarah tried to ignore his too obvious eavesdropping.

“I’ve always liked Jo, too,” she told the girls.

“You’re lots like Jo.”

“You are, Miss Sarah. You aren’t afraid of anything and you have lots of spunk.”

She smiled at Molly’s observation. Spunk? She supposed it was a fair assessment, but not quite the way she would have chosen to describe herself.

“Do you suppose Jo wants women to vote, too?” Molly continued.

“I wouldn’t be half surprised, but I’m not going to tell you. That would be spoiling it. But I will tell you that Miss Alcott, the author of the book, is very much a supporter of women’s suffrage.”

Kate stopped eating and grew wide-eyed. “Oh, my, is she a radical then?”

Sarah laughed. “Goodness, I’d never have thought of her that way, but perhaps she is. The Alcott family was very supportive of the abolition movement in New England.”

Frank shook his head with a grunt and began fussing with his wool plaid overcoat. He shuffled out of the office, turning at the door. “You mind what I said, Sarah Donovan. You’ve crossed the line, messin’ with me, and you’re gonna be mighty sorry you ever did.”

Sarah looked up at him. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Frank.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. I ain’t having no more bad luck and I ain’t gonna let you make me out no spineless coward. If you knew what was good for you, you’d have listened instead of flouting what I said. You just wasted the last chance I was offerin’.”

He stared at her for a moment, intense anger pouring from his eyes, then turned and left her in stunned silence. The banging of the depot’s outer door punctuated his lingering words and Sarah shivered.

Chapter Eleven

Sarah stood outside the front window of Daniel’s coffin shop. Despite the “closed” sign on the front door, soft light poured out into the early evening darkness. If she was lucky, she’d catch his attention, get his commitment to help build the set for the play, and be on her way back home in no time. She peered through the glass.

Within the glow of the lantern, Daniel hunkered beside a half-finished wooden casket. His dark brown hair shimmered in the lamplight. Jacket and vest were draped over a chair, and his white shirtsleeves were rolled high on his upper arms. Tools were scattered on the floor. Concentration filled his face, sharpening the angle of his jaw as he sighted along the top of one side. He bit his bottom lip, knitted his eyebrows, and frowned. His thigh muscles tensed as he crouched lower, then eased as he stood in a single fluid movement.

Appreciation flowed through Sarah, warm in the early winter chill, and she stayed her hand. She’d knock in a minute.

Daniel grasped a plane and shaved it across the edge of the coffin, biceps rock-solid with the effort. He slid the plane again and blew at the wood shavings. They drifted through the air, floating like golden leaves in an autumn wind.

Sarah backed away from the window. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Some other father could chair the construction committee. It didn’t have to be Daniel.

The door swung open and Daniel leaned out into the night. “Sarah?”

Heat flowed into her face, and she shifted briefly, then masked her discomfort with a smile and stepped forward. “Hello, Daniel. I wanted to speak with you about the school program. Do you have a moment?”

His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug and he nodded, then stepped back, gesturing her in. “I was working on a coffin.” He grinned at the obviousness of the comment, noticeably more at ease with her than he’d been a few weeks ago. “The room’s a mess.”

He closed and locked the door, and she entered the shop. The mellow scent of fresh cedar filled the air, lingering in the warmth of the small Franklin stove.

“Smells good in here. I thought coffins were made of plain old pine.”

“Most. I usually keep one cedar in stock and a few families request something special. I don’t make too many at all, anymore. With the big companies back east and the new metal coffins, it’s easier to order them in. I just can’t seem to stop making them altogether, though. There’s something about working the wood that satisfies.” Contentment crossed his face and drifted away. “Let me move those.”

Sarah glanced at the jacket and vest on the chair. Already, he was rolling down his shirtsleeves, following society’s rules. “No need,” she countered. She picked up the garments, sat down, and laid them across her lap.

Daniel’s unsettling hazel eyes widened almost imperceptibly and his lips parted, then closed. “All right.” He fumbled in his pockets, pulling out gold cufflinks.

Sarah felt another wave of warmth creep into her face at his discomfort, but she left his clothes on her lap anyway. “You can keep working,” she blurted out. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

He glanced at her and held her gaze. Then a grin burst onto his face and he shook his head. “You want the cufflinks over there, too?”

You could just take off the shirt.

Sarah snapped off the thought. “I don’t want to interrupt you. Just go on as you were and pay me no mind.”

“You do bring out the worst in me, Sarah. You know that?”

He inched the white sleeves back up his arms. The fine brown hairs on his forearms glistened in the golden lantern light. His gaze again centered on Sarah and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She let the comment pass, enjoying his rare abandon too much to risk saying the wrong thing. She sat up straighter, purposely prim, and crossed her ankles daintily. His deliberate disregard of propriety was seductive, and she wondered if he realized it. She swallowed hard, unsure of his intent. Maybe he was just making a conscious effort not to be stuffy.

“Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Quiet, working the telegraph. Did you?”

“Quiet, too. Mrs. Winifred cooked a turkey before she left on Wednesday. Among the three of us, we put together a decent meal.”

Daniel stared at her for a moment longer, then reached to the floor for his sanding block, rose and slid it back and forth along the cedar. His muscles rippled in a myriad of patterns with each different movement. Sarah watched him, her heart pounding, as the scratch of sand paper against wood filled the shop.

“So, are you going to tell me what you stopped by for, or is this it?”

“Not originally.” Sarah warmed at the unbidden comment, and she fought for control, her mind in conflict over what she really wanted. Lord, she needed to state her business and get out of here. But all she could think about was Daniel and the passion lurking behind those piercing eyes, within his hard muscles.

“And now?”

Now I could watch you all night, waiting for you to grow hot enough to take off your shirt, hot enough to …
“And now, I’ve had a chance to see a little more of what you do here.”

“You ought to stop by when I’m laying out a body.”

Only if it’s mine.
“I think I’ll pass on the dead bodies.”

“So, what did you want?”

“I came to ask you if you would be in charge of building a stage for the school play.”

“One more thing you’re getting me involved in?”

“You’re the logical choice. Your girls attend the school, will likely be in the play, and you know how to build things. Besides, your daughters insisted I add your name to the list.”

A twinkle lit his eyes. “Oh, they did, did they?”

“Were they wrong in thinking their father wanted to help and support their efforts?”

“Their efforts? Isn’t this your play?”

Sarah shrugged. “Surprisingly, it isn’t. I’m not quite sure how it came about, but I truly want this to go well so the kids can feel good about it.”

“This mean you’re abandoning the sewage fight?” Pausing, he pulled a wrinkled white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it across the glistening skin of his forehead.

Sarah’s shoulders rose in a silent sigh. “I don’t abandon anything. Sewage reform is a good cause, but I don’t really think I’m the best person to head it up. Archer and Denison need to take the reins or it won’t work. I still plan to help Denison and his committee.”

“Good, since you managed to get me into it.” He grinned for a brief moment, offering a light challenge.

“You invited me, much as I know you hate to admit it.” She smiled at him, fighting an inexplicable urge to stick out her tongue. “So will you help with the set?”

“I’ll help. Kate and Molly said the play is about a family of sisters. It
is
something suited to a school play?”

“Of course. I’m pulling bits and pieces from a wholesome, well-written novel. The children will like it as well as their parents, and it’s literary enough for Miss Clay to deem fit for the classroom. Just a simple story of four sisters growing up and learning about life and themselves.”

“Good.” He resumed sanding the coffin, gritty scratching taking over their conversation until he paused, blew away the sawdust with a soft breath, and caressed the wood.

Sarah’s own breath caught at the lightness of his touch.

He turned and caught her staring. “Sarah?”

“Hmm?” she said, words escaping her.

“You do realize I would’ve said no if you’d pushed your way in and demanded I help?”

Softly uttered, his honesty took her by surprise, another side of what was turning out to be a much more complicated personality than she’d expected. Arrogance and propriety she knew what to do with. “I know,” she ventured, tentative in her frankness. “I’ve decided I’d rather have you on my side than try to push you around.”

He smiled. “Me, too.”

Sarah offered a small smile in return and rose from the chair, uncertain in this new facet of their relationship. “I need to be getting home. I have some scenes to draft.” She laid his jacket and vest on the chair and moved across the room.

Daniel followed, hands in his pockets. “It’s cold out there, bundle up.” He paused, then pulled his hands free and adjusted her shawl, his cedar-scented hands resting on her arms.

She caught his gaze. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“Sarah … next time, you don’t need a reason to stop by.” He swallowed and leaned his head forward. His hands caught her face, lifted it back and his mouth met hers, cautious and gentle.

Sarah’s chest tightened, and her mouth opened. The insistent thump of her heartbeat filled her head until she couldn’t even think. She drank in the kiss, drowning, until he pulled back.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice husky in the expectant void that surrounded them.

She heard herself respond in kind before she opened the door and stepped into the night, her mind searching for answers that were not there. She moved toward the dark street, out of the shop’s meager light. Behind her, the door closed, and she realized her heart was still pounding.

Daniel had taken her by surprise again. Somewhere between his hard muscles and quiet teasing, images of his hands caressing her body had consumed her. When he’d blown away the sawdust, all the resolutions she’d held about pursuing this relationship at
her
pace had scattered into the air along with it.

It wasn’t at all what she’d expected, and she almost wished she hadn’t stopped at all.

* * * * *

Daniel sat in the rear of the classroom with several other parents, unable to take his eyes off Sarah. Dimly aware of the hum of voices, his mind scrambled. He should have stayed at home, away from the temptations that plagued him every time Sarah walked into a room. He willed his heart to be still and forced his attention to the reason he had come. Surely, in a room full of glowing gaslight and crowded with other parents, he could be objective about her, forget about her parted lips and wide violet eyes. He took a breath, seeking assurance that wasn’t quite there, and glanced up.