Chances (21 page)

Her eyes softened and she smiled. “Until you kissed me. Look how guilty you felt. Daniel, no one should feel guilty about enjoying life.”

Her words poked at him. He’d spent almost his whole life worried about feeling guilty, avoiding his father’s wrath and admonitions until doing what he thought he was supposed to do had become second nature. He’d quit even evaluating things on his own, or maybe he’d never done so. His breathing slowed as the silence stretched.

Next to him, Sarah swung her legs. Her skirt billowed, the fabric’s rise and fall the only sound in the room.

Daniel glanced at her, weighing his thoughts. Truth be told, he figured Sarah had her own demons. Demons he should leave well enough alone. But the moment beckoned, and Sarah’s own words pushed at him, urging him on.

He reached for her hand, surrounding her cold fingers with his warmth, and drew it into his lap. “And what about you?” he asked. “Do you always hide? I’ve never once heard you talk about having fun with folks instead of trying to get something done. When’s the last time you let go of your vision of what the world should be and enjoyed just spending time with people, pure and simple?”

“I enjoy people.” The smile that flitted across her face wavered.

Daniel stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and measured his words. “Sarah, this play is the first thing you’ve done with children in your entire life and we both know it. Maybe you need to spend a day playing make-believe, just doing something for the fun of it. You’re just as much stuck on one way of doing things as I am.”

“I like my life.”

“And I like mine,” he reminded.

“But you don’t even know what you’re missing.”

“Neither do you.”

Her hand shifted beneath his, slowly opening, responding to his touch. She leaned against his shoulder and sighed. “So, if I agree to try something different, will you do the same? I doubt you spend many days playing make-believe, either, much less doing anything even the slightest bit outrageous.”

“And just what would you have me do? March around with signs protesting some thing or another?” He laughed softly, feeling Sarah’s silent chuckle shake her body. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side.

“Close down your shop and spend the afternoon at a circus. Go to the theater and watch a scandalous dancer while downing a beer. March into a bar, stare at the nude painting above the bar, and play a game of poker. I don’t know, Daniel, anything but sit and home and lecture others about impropriety.”

He tried to place himself into the images and curiosity jabbed at him. Scandalous dancers and nude paintings? He reckoned his father would turn in his grave.

Uncomfortable with his attraction to the suggestion, he tipped Sarah’s chin up and peered down at her face. “And what do you get to do? How about taking a week off your campaigning for this or that and going to the circus yourself, or maybe reading fairy tales? Have you ever been to a tea party with dolls?”

“Have you?”

The stab of curiosity became insistent, poking at him until he knew he could no longer ignore it. He took a breath and gave in to it. “You want to make this a challenge?”

Sarah smiled. “One challenge, Daniel?” She raised her feathery eyebrows. “Too easy. How about you do one non-Daniel thing everyday for a week?”

“A week? One activity per day?”

“Minimum.”

He debated, looking for the trap. “Nothing illegal or immoral?”

“Whose morals do we get to use?” Her smile softened. “Nothing illegal. We can negotiate on morality.”

“And what about you? Could you handle a week of doing things with other people, with them at the center, no special causes allowed?”

She straightened and pulled away, once again beaming with self-confidence. “That doesn’t sound so difficult. I can do that, hands behind my back.”

“And how do we keep track of one another so you don’t cheat?”

“Me?” She looked up at him, her lips parted, then shook her head. “As if I would need to cheat. If you’re so worried about it, we can just stick together. You watch me, and I’ll watch you. That way, neither of us can cheat.”

 A sudden chill crept threw Daniel’s mind and crawled down his back. “A week? Together? Sarah, really—”

Her face lit up in animated challenge. “You can’t even do one, can you?”

What had he started? This was supposed to have been about Kate. Spontaneity? Hell, no wonder his father had insisted he think everything out.

He shook his head and tried to capture Sarah’s attention. “Look, this wasn’t ever about you and me—”

“Oh, but it is, now.” She laughed, soft ripples of humor filling the room. “If Kate can get up on that stage and portray a girl who breaks rules, then surely, you can try one week of new experiences.” She sobered and pinned him with a solid stare. “Or are you afraid of what you might discover?”

Chapter Thirteen

Sarah stood in the Petterman kitchen, noting the evidence of Mrs. Winifred’s expert housekeeping in its sparkle. Her survey swept from the immaculate counter past Daniel’s lean frame, straight into the expectant gazes of Kate and Molly. Bright afternoon sunshine lit the tidy room, bouncing off the girls’ faces. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and smiled at them. She was going to do whatever it took to have fun at this challenge, even if it killed her.

“Papa said you wanted to do something special with us,” Kate said, a rare hint of playfulness lighting her eyes. “He suggested you might like to bake cookies.”

“Oh, he did?” Sarah lifted an eyebrow in satisfaction. While baking cookies wasn’t her favorite activity, it was something she knew how to do. Given an adequate recipe, she could make a darned good cookie, maybe even one that would melt in Daniel’s mouth. If the other challenges were this easy, the week might not be so bad after all. “Shall we get started?”

Kate’s mouth stretched into an uncharacteristic grin. “Papa said he didn’t think you’d like spending your Sunday afternoon in the kitchen.”

A tiny prickle of foreboding jabbed at Sarah. Things couldn’t be this uncomplicated. “Your father’s right. Baking cookies is a perfect challenge for me. I’m not exactly a kitchen kind of person.”

“I thought as much,” Daniel said from the doorway, “so I told Mrs. Winifred to show you to the kitchen. After all, this isn’t really about what you’d
like
to do.” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I think a day in the kitchen will work fine for both of us.”

Sarah felt her mouth go dry. Drat it all, it
was
too easy. She’d forgotten about this being Daniel’s challenge, too.

 Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “We did have to do these things together, didn’t we?”

She stared at him. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man looked smug. Smug. Displeasure picked at her. Play her for a fool, would he? She marched across the kitchen and glared up at him. “Are you trying to cheat already?”

His mouth fell open with a huff of air. “I’m not trying to cheat. You’re the one who said we had to do things together.”

Sarah shook her head and paced across the room, ignoring the girls’ questioning expressions. “Baking cookies is hardly the sort of challenge I had in mind for you. It’s too conventional and you know it.”

He shrugged. “So, we do separate activities.”

 “I think not.”

“Then we bake cookies. It will be a new experience for me. The girls will tell you that.” He uncrossed his arms in a gesture of frustration. “Besides, it’s Sunday. This is about as unconventional as we can get on a Sunday.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of other things to do.”

“Such as?” He stared at her, waiting.

“How am I supposed to know? Something besides staying in your own house doing something as wholesome as baking.”

“Papa?” Molly interrupted. She stepped forward, her brown curls swinging in defiance, and gazed up at him. “Does this mean we’re not gonna make cookies?”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Miss Sarah thinks baking cookies is too ordinary.”

Molly turned abruptly and peered at Sarah. “But he never bakes cookies with us, so how can it be ordinary?”

“There.” Daniel grinned. “See?”

Sarah looked from one girl to another. Kate stood with her head tipped, eyebrows arched and expectant, her grin faded into a thin, stoic line. Molly, with her hands on her hips, tapped one foot against the wooden floor, its steady beat filling the void of silence. Sarah glanced at Daniel’s unsuccessful attempt to hide his smile, and bit back the retort that crowded her tongue. Instead, she bent her knees until she was eye-level with the children. “Did your papa explain any of this to you?”

“Sarah,” Daniel warned.

“Daniel.”

“I’m not sure the girls—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Quit being so stuffy.” She sent him a silent reprimand with her eyes and turned back to Kate and Molly. “Do you girls know what a dare is?”

They nodded.

“Jimmy O’Brien dared Henry Graham to put a tack on Miss Clay’s chair, once,” Molly explained.

“Well, I’ve dared your father to spend a whole week doing things that he doesn’t usually do, things that aren’t stuffy and proper. Cookie baking won’t work because it has to be something that he wouldn’t do because he’d be too worried about whether or not he
should
do it.”

Molly rolled her head on her shoulders. “Just take him to a suffrage meeting.”

Sarah laughed and stood. “That would work for me.”

“Oh, but Miss Sarah has a dare, too.” Daniel leaned back against the wall, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “She has to do things that have nothing to do with any of her causes. It can’t be a meeting and she can’t talk about suffrage, water systems, telegraphing, or even about the play. It should be something without any big purpose where she doesn’t get to be in charge of anything.”

Molly’s brown eyes lit up. “Oh. How about if Kate and I get to pick?”

He leaned forward, hands emerging in empty protest. “Well, I’m not sure—”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. That way, we’re both giving up control.” Sarah smiled in triumph at the wonderful solution. The girls would pick something harmless, and they’d both be off the hook. “What do you say, Daniel? Seem fair?”

“Oh, Papa, can we?” Molly jumped up and down. Even Kate looked interested.

Daniel glanced sideways at Sarah, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

“How about Kate and Molly choose a couple and we work the rest out together?” Sarah suggested.

He nodded with a sigh. “Sounds good enough to me. You girls understand the rules?”

Kate stepped closer, taking charge. “I think so, Papa. Molly, let’s talk.”

The girls huddled together, whispering for a few moments, then turned to Daniel and Sarah with frivolous smiles. Kate moved forward and glanced at her father. “We’ve picked something we aren’t allowed to do on Sundays because it isn’t quiet or reflective like Sundays are supposed to be.” She turned to Sarah. “It’s not exactly improper, but Papa won’t like it much. And it’s something fun, something we don’t think Miss Sarah ever has time to do. It should be—”

Molly jumped in front of her. “We’re going ice skating,” she announced.

Sarah’s stomach tightened. Fun? Memories stabbed at her as she recalled sitting on her rear, cold seeping through her bones, other children laughing at her inability to conquer the simple act of skating on ice, shunning her for her inadequacy.

How long would it take the good citizens of Denver to realize she was incompetent?

* * * * *

Sarah tightened the buckle on the leather strap that fastened the skating blade to the bottom of her brown work shoe and wobbled to her feet, wondering where Daniel was hiding.

He hadn’t said a word since Kate’s announcement, confirming the girls’ assessment that he wouldn’t much like their proposal. Well, that made things just about even, she supposed, because she was a far cry from satisfied herself.

Ice skating, of all things.

“Come on, Miss Sarah,” Molly beckoned from the ice.

Sarah glanced around the small Sunday crowd that had gathered along Cherry Creek and breathed a sigh of relief. No one was watching her. Mostly young people, they huddled around a small fire, their carefree laughter filling the crisp winter sunlight, their attention drawn to their own activities. A few tentative couples joined mittened hands, gazing shyly at one another. She crunched carefully across the snow, step by step, until she reached the ice.

“Hurry up, Miss Sarah.”

She offered a weak smile to Molly, took a deep breath, and glanced upstream. A group of children practiced fancy swirls while an isolated trio glided into the distance. Her heart jumping, Sarah placed her right foot onto the ice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard after all. Everyone was intent on their own business. No one need ever know she was a miserable fool on the ice. She gritted her teeth and took a step.

“You’re supposed to glide, not walk.”

“Yes, Molly, I know. I’m just moving out a bit to where the snow cover is thinner.”

“Oh. I always start skating right away. The skates just slide right through the snow, anyhow.” Molly slid past her, her blades kicking up tiny shards of ice, her cheeks pink with cold. Poised and perfect, she kept her hands snugly inside her fur-lined muff.

Sarah forced her foot forward and stretched her arms out for balance. Ankles shaking, she pushed first one, then the other foot across the ice. Already, her legs were numb with the cold, and she wished she’d worn an extra petticoat under her gray plaid skirt. She wavered and fell with a thud onto the cold, hard ice.

Molly giggled.

“It isn’t funny.”

“Need help?” Molly pivoted with grace and grinned.

“I’m just fine. I’m having a little trouble finding my balance is all.”

“Well, at least you’re not still sitting on a log, festering.”

Sarah followed Molly’s gaze to the edge of the creek, some thirty feet downstream.

Daniel sat on a log, half hidden by a trio of evergreens. He had one blade strapped on. The other lay in Kate’s hand. She thrust it toward him and he shook his head.