Chances (22 page)

Sarah’s blood stirred. If she had to strap on these stupid blades and let everyone see how inept she was, there was no way Daniel was going to simply sit on a log and avoid his end of the bargain. She placed her gloved hand on the frozen stream and rolled onto her knees. The snow-covered ice nipped at her through her woolen skirt. She bit her lip and steadied her feet, then rose upward, ruing the sight she must make, her rear end poking out. She stood, one foot slipping forward as if it belonged to someone else. She teetered, arms circling madly, then found her equilibrium.

For a moment, she stood still, feeling the strain on her ankles as her feet tipped inward, fighting for balance. The thin blades caught the ice and held. She looked down and saw the tips of her shoes, pigeon toed like some knock-kneed puppet. If anyone so much as giggled, she’d die.

Downstream, Kate had made little progress with Daniel. Sarah gritted her teeth and inched forward, sliding choppily toward them. Her jaw tightened, and she increased her stride. The sudden movement sent her left foot skittering and she plopped back onto the ice.

Daniel stood, his expression an odd mixture of concern and amusement.

“If you laugh, I swear you will live to regret it.”

“Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right. I’m sitting on my backside in the middle of a lousy creek. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m all right.”

“Of course you are. You’ve been sitting on a log. Put that stupid blade on your foot and get out here.”

“I think I’ll just sit here and watch for a little while.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“I don’t skate on Sundays, Sarah.”

“And I don’t skate at all. Now put the blade on and get out here on this ice.”

“It doesn’t seem right.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Daniel, relax a little. It’s just ice skating. How ridiculous can you get?”

“We should be at home, reflecting on God’s goodness.”

“So reflect on it here. Look around at nature and marvel at its frozen wonders.”

“But—”

“Enjoy time with your girls. That seems like it would qualify as reflecting on God’s goodness.”

He glanced at her, humor replacing the uncertainty in his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “It is ridiculous.” He grabbed the blade from Kate’s hand, strapped it on, and rose to his feet. “Are you going to skate or sit on the ice all day?”

“I think maybe sitting here would suit me just fine.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. If I’m going to skate, you’re going to skate.” Daniel glided unsteadily to her and stared down.

“Help me?”

Daniel grasped her hand and pulled. Pushing off the ice with the other hand, Sarah wavered to her feet. Kate and Molly beamed in triumph, then raced off across the ice, their bright green skirts bobbing with each graceful movement.

“You do have a knack for putting every rule I’ve lived my life by in a different light. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess I just believe in defining individual ways of doing things, interpretations of life’s rules, if you will. And, I prefer a very generous interpretation.” She poked him playfully in the ribs to emphasize her point.

Daniel acknowledged the action with a brief, gentle smile. “My whole upbringing was nothing but rules. Everything was either right or wrong, mostly wrong. It’s a part of who I am.”

“But you don’t like it.”

His eyebrows knitted. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I’ve seen you struggle against that control you work so hard to maintain.”

He glanced away from her, shrugging, then sighed before his gaze returned. “And what about the control you strive for?”

“Me?” She stared up at him, incredulous.

“You literally sparkle when you run things. When you don’t, like out here on the ice, you fidget and fuss like crazy.”

She shook her head, ignoring the disturbing comment. “I simply don’t enjoy doing things I’m not good at.”

“You avoid them.”

“I do not.” She turned and forced one wobbly foot in front of the other. How could he accuse her of running from things? She took charge. She accomplished things.

“So, why didn’t you learn to skate?” His voice was even, but every fiber of Sarah’s skin prickled at the implication. “You grew up in New England, didn’t you? Seems like skating would be something folks there do.”

“Pennsylvania, and, no, I didn’t learn to skate.”

“Why not?”

She stopped and jerked around. “Because I was lousy at it and I looked like a helpless fool.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Daniel’s gray eyes softened. “So what’s wrong with being helpless?”

“What’s wrong with it? Nothing, if all you want is to have people dismiss you as insubstantial.” She opened her arms in a gesture of nonchalance, hating the small tremor in her voice.

He reached forward, his gloved finger touching her face. “Ah, there it is. You’re afraid of what people think, just like you say I am. We’re pretty much alike.”

A small chuckle forced its way out of her mouth.

Amusement lifted Daniel’s lips and he dropped his hand in a gesture of invitation. “Come on, let’s quit standing still and skate. If you don’t need to be successful at it, then who cares how many times you fall down or how silly you look?”

“You do realize, don’t you, that I skated all the way over here?” She issued a grin of challenge. “You’re the one who sat there on that miserable log refusing to put his skates on.

Daniel shrugged and smiled back. “I haven’t been sitting on that log for quite a while.” He glided away from her, then turned back. “You going to skate, or not?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What was it you said earlier? Something about interpreting life’s rules and making things individual? Just change the rules. Instead of looking at it in terms of how well you can or can’t skate, look at it in terms of how much fun you can make of it.”

“Fun? Falling down and looking silly?”

“Sure. See how much silliness you can achieve.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head to one side in inquiry.

She sighed, knowing he’d turned the tables on her. Besides, he had a point. She cocked her head in response. “Are you willing to join me?”

He laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

“Well, come on, then. We’re off to see how silly we can be.” She issued the challenge before moving past him, her choppy steps kicking up ice and snow.

Daniel turned behind her, his skates scratching the ice with his movement. He glided past her, not exactly with grace, but with much more finesse than she possessed. Heaven help her, even Daniel skated better than she did.

“Too slow, Sarah. You’re never going to get anywhere at that rate.” He grasped her hand and pulled.

Sarah felt her balance shift. She wobbled, her free arm waving in circles, while her body bobbed with uncertainty. “You’ll pay for that,” she chided.

“Move. If you keep the forward movement, your natural momentum will help keep your equilibrium.” He pulled her along, his long stride forcing her to abandon the choppy steps she trusted. “Turn your back foot out, just a little, and push off.”

Fighting the urge to tell him she didn’t need his help, she did as he instructed. The blade caught and she slid forward with little conscious effort.

“I’m doing it.”

“Now keep it up. Just push off every few glides.” He smiled in encouragement and tugged at her arm.

“I can do it.” She shook from his grip and moved away. “See?” She glided past him and the smirk in his eyes. Challenged, she lifted her head and kicked at the ice with her left leg. Her right leg wobbled as the left shot out to the side and she plopped onto the ice.

Daniel’s hearty laugh erupted into the crisp air. His body jerked as the laughter took control. Arms waving and his legs flying, he landed beside her.

A riot of giggles exploded from her throat. “Serves you right.”

Molly skated past with a precise turn. “It’s ice skating not ice sitting,” she shouted before speeding away to rejoin Kate. Once there, she pointed and they laughed together for a moment, then headed toward a group of other children.

“My own children are laughing at me.”

“As well they should.” Sarah shivered. “This ice is cold.”

“Upsy-daisy, then.” He turned and braced one knee on the ice. The cloth of his gray trousers tightened with the pull of his thigh muscles.

Warmth spread through Sarah and she smiled in appreciation.

Daniel’s eyes twinkled. “You ready?”

Images of his biceps rushed through her mind and she wished they weren’t out in the winter cold where his heavy cloth coat hid them. “I guess.”

He reached forward and pulled her up, standing with her in one fluid movement. She stumbled and he reached around her, steadying her with both arms. Their gazes locked and Daniel’s mouth lifted in a gentle smile.

Sarah shivered.

Daniel’s smile widened.

Beneath her own coat, Sarah’s heart quickened. Her breath caught.

The bright twinkle in Daniel’s eyes shifted into a hot, intense light and he pulled her forward.

Surprised, she stepped into the embrace, her feet tangling, and she slipped sideways.

The sudden movement caught Daniel by surprise and he lunged forward, tumbling them both to the slick surface of the creek. Sarah landed on her rear, Daniel atop her.

A chorus of laughter rang through the sunlit air and Sarah groaned. “I’ll never live this down.”

Above her, Daniel’s gaze softened. “New rules, Sarah. We set new rules.” His voice was thick, intense.

She stared up at him, her breath heavy and expectant. “New rules for both of us?”

The question hung between them. Daniel inhaled, his gaze never leaving her face. “For both of us,” he whispered and lowered his mouth to hers.

* * * * *

Frank Bates sat at Mrs. King’s crowded Sunday dinner table absently stirring a pile of lumpy mashed potatoes. A hodge-podge of voices filled the landlady’s dining room and the stale scent of tobacco mingled with the overcooked liver and onions that still sat on most of the boarders’ plates. Across from Frank, Lavinia Morgan’s chair remained empty.

“You gonna save that food, or is it up for grabs?” Alvin, the chubbiest of the boarders, and the only one with empty plate, asked.

Frank bristled. “That there’s Miss Morgan’s and I reckon Miz Perkins oughta be saving it for her.”

“I’d say that answers it,” Harry Bowers commented with a tip of his whitened head. “Have some pie.” He pushed a rather burned dried-apple pie at Alvin and blinked his baby-blue eyes.

Frank lifted his lip in distaste. Bowers, with his high-powered position in the Chamber of Commerce, was as annoying as Alvin. Between the two of them, they hadn’t left any of the pie. It was a good thing Lavinia wasn’t much on sweets. He’d saved her back a generous portion of the liver and a pile of droopy onions, knowing it was her favorite.

If he remembered right, the last time Lavinia ate apple pie, it was the night her father gave her that damned ultimatum. She’d refused to marry his handpicked dandy and lost her share of the family money all in one fell swoop. That was the night Frank knew she was sweet on him. He just had to prove himself; that was all. She was just waiting for him to make good.

The sharp clap of the front door broke through the lingering dinner conversation followed by Lavinia’s heels as they clicked across the wooden floor of the hallway.

“I do apologize,” she announced and paused as her fellow boarders shifted their attention to her. “I was rather delayed by the Morton sisters and all their tired gossip.” She smoothed her long hands down the sides of her narrow black skirt, emphasizing her thin form, marched grandly to the table, and waited with impatience as Bowers pulled out her chair.

Frank fought back a grin. For all her fuss and bother about suffrage, Lavinia still wanted to be treated like a lady. She always had. She didn’t want no sissified dandy and she didn’t cotton to men who treated her as unimportant. Once his spell of bad luck turned, he’d show her a fine time for sure. He’d treat her like she was governor, if that’s what she wanted.

“Is something amusing, Mr. Bates?”

“N-no, ma’am,” he stuttered, hating it that she made him quiver. “I saved you some liver and onions.”

“Why, how very kind of you, Mr. Bates. I do like my liver and onions.” She peered around the table, her gaze seeking the plate of meat. She smiled and waited for Alvin to pass it to her. The plate came quickly around the table and she transferred two slices of liver, then covered them with piles of sautéed onions.

The other boarders drifted away from the table, one by one, as Frank watched Lavinia eat. She chewed the liver with quick but dainty precision, thirty-two times per bite. The onions, however, she tended to slurp, sucking each one fully into her mouth before chewing.

Frank squirmed in his seat.

Lavinia swallowed and leaned forward. “I heard a bit of news you might find interesting.”

Frank nodded.

Lavinia arched her eyebrows and inhaled another onion.

He reckoned she’d make him wait all night. She did that kind of thing, his Lavinia. She dangled it out there in front of him, just to make him ask.

“Of course, I don’t need to tell you.”

“But I reckon you will.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Frank smiled at the game. She’d tell him, in the end. If he managed to convince her he didn’t care, she’d even tell him without being begged.

“It’s about the little strumpet at the station,” Lavinia baited.

His heart skipped a beat. “Sarah Donovan?” His worst piece of luck, yet. In fact, he was beginning to believe she’d targeted him on purpose.

Lavinia put another piece of liver into her mouth and began to chew. She arched her thin black eyebrows again and waited.

Frank swallowed, leaned toward her, and gave in. “What’d you hear?”

Lavinia leaned back. “Didn’t you say she was preparing to take her primary something or another test?”

“Primary op.” His mind flew to all the months of practice he’d put in himself. How she could be ready to test so soon baffled him. It had to be a conspiracy.