Chances (27 page)

“Daniel, I didn’t expect …” She let the words trail off, self-conscious. The banished thoughts of his kisses flooded back into her mind with all the confusion they could muster.

He smiled, hesitant, and she realized he was as unsure as she was. “I didn’t expect to see you here, either.”

“I was really on my way to the candy section.”

“Us, too. C’mon.” Molly led the way to the back of the store where the confectioner displayed his wares.

Sarah followed, keeping pace with the girls, their proximity her insulation against having to discuss last night with Daniel. What in the world could she say?

At the counter, they eyed the selections. There was the usual assortment of peppermint sticks and cinnamon drops, anise and horehound candy, even lemon drops. But it was the specialty confections that drew her attention. Nestled at the top of the case were the bonbons, delicate pastel creations of cream cheese sugar rolled in coconut next to rolled balls of chocolate sprinkled with chopped walnuts. Candied fruit squares were next, each a delectable combination of fruit, nuts, and coconut. There were pralines and sugarplums, caramels and divinity, taffy and maple sugar candy. Finally, her gaze rested on the fudge in all its varieties. This was what she had come for.

“Something catch your eye?” Daniel teased.

Sarah licked her lips. “I’ll thank you not to interfere with my chocolate party, if you don’t mind.” She kept her voice light and hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

“Forewarned is forearmed.” Daniel smiled, playing her game, and crossed to the other end of the counter where Kate and Molly were absorbed in their own selections.

She purchased a pound of fudge, assorted maple cream, white chocolate, and almond roca along with a half-dozen each of chocolate covered cherries and coconut delights. Popping a cherry into her mouth, she savored the sweet combination of flavors and the syrupy texture.

“The girls want to look at new hair ribbons for tonight. Do you feel like coming along?”

“I really need to—”

“C’mon. It’s a dry goods store. Let’s look at the ribbons and set things right. Then you can go.”

“All right,” she said, before she could start picking it his words apart and analyzing them. It was only fair that she offer some explanation. She forced another smile. “As long as you don’t mind me nibbling chocolate.”

They followed the girls up a flight of stairs. Bolts of cloth and rolls of ribbons were arrayed behind a long counter. On the opposite side of the aisle, dozens of ready-made dresses were displayed. Daniel was silent until the girls had skipped far enough ahead.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice for her ears only. “You ran out on me.”

Sarah nodded, not willing to share the jumble of emotions that were gnawing at her. “I’m sorry. I got rattled, I guess.”

“I got rattled, too.”

She’d realized it the moment she had looked into his eyes. “Those ghosts you kept insisting were banished?”

He shrugged. “I—”

“Papa, look, isn’t it grand?” Kate stood among the dresses, stroking a cream colored frock.

Daniel offered Sarah an apologetic tilt of his head and crossed to his daughter.

Sarah watched the two of them, sure they were having a discussion about the purchase of the dress, something she wasn’t part of.

She wandered among the fashionable dresses, drawn to the new designs, and stopped next to a striped street suit. The two-tone green camel’s hair was simply trimmed, without the grand flounces that had been the rage last year. It was draped, not bustled, like the dress she’d worn Monday night.

“You should try it on.”

Sarah started and took her hand away from the fabric she hadn’t even realized she’d been fingering.

“Try it on,” he urged again. “The girls went to the toy section so there’s plenty of time.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I’d have no need for anything that impractical.”

“Plain brown work skirts, only.”

Always, comments on her work skirts. “What’s wrong with work skirts?” She stood among the ready-wears, feeling trapped.

“Oh, they’re fine. It just seems like you’d want a few fancy things, dresses as pretty as you are.”

Sarah bristled. “For what? So men can concentrate on my dress and my hair and my shape instead of listening to what I have to say?”

Daniel stared at her and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Is that what this is all about?”

“I will not be defined by what I look like.”

“Like your mother was? Is she the one who told you that you shouldn’t let yourself be beautiful?”

The comment stung. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. She took a step forward and glared up at him, ignoring the concern in his expression. She didn’t need his misdirected pity.

“You won’t leave it be, will you?” Her hands gestured without direction. “All week long, you’ve kept digging for some buried comment my mother made. Let it alone. She never once insisted I behave any certain way, and this week doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not I wear fancy dresses.” She paused, fighting the feeling of exposure that stormed inside her. “My challenges were about controlling things, remember? Isn’t that what you said? Why do you keep at it?”

She stalked away, farther into the ladies-wear section, unwilling to let him see how worked up she’d become.

He followed, cautious and quiet. “Because I think this has more to do with who you are than you realize.”

Sarah sighed, controlled her breathing, and turned around. “All right, here it is.” She kept her voice measured, focusing on control. “I don’t wear fancy dresses because I will not be reduced to being any man’s ornament. I want to be seen for what I am. I watched my mother struggle every day to be heard for her intelligent comments and her capable understanding, but no one, no one, ever paid attention to her. All they ever saw was what she looked like. I will not allow that to happen to me.”

He reached for her. “Sarah, there’s not a chance in the world that would happen to you.”

She moved away from his touch. “It shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“And your father? Surely, he—”

She turned back to him. “Is there a point to all this?”

He opened his palms. “What was it you said last night? With your father, it’s not what you do but how you do it? What’s that mean? If you’re not being the perfect ornament, then you have to achieve perfection at something else?”

Her hands flew out in a flamboyant gesture of dismissal. “Oh, now that’s just about the most—”

“Is it?”

She turned away from him and started toward the stairs. This was going nowhere.

Daniel followed, his longer legs keeping easy stride with her short ones. “If you control things, you can shine, can’t you, Sarah?” he said, beside her. “You can know you’ve achieved something, you can win acceptance and glory. And if you never take a chance on anything you’re unsure of, including opening yourself up and this relationship, you never risk failure.”

His words clawed at her, opening the uncertainty that had lingered in her heart since last night. She’d let him in, and it had opened vulnerabilities she preferred not to bare.

“What relationship?” she asked him. “There is no relationship.”

* * * * *

Frank Bates sat in the telegraph office staring at the logbook. Voices of a few afternoon travelers reverberated from the waiting room, distracting him for a moment, then quieted.

It wasn’t enough that Jim had been called to some big meeting and he was pullin’ double duty, but he was smack in the middle of a double shift on top of it, just so Sarah Donovan could rehearse her little play at the school and get ready for tonight’s performance. Miss Clay had sent a note over, special, and he figured there’d be trouble if he didn’t let her go.

Still, fate was smiling on him. Donovan was a slick one, all right. He’d searched the logbook through and through and still couldn’t find the evidence Uncle Walter needed. She’d hid it that well. Her leaving for the school was the opening he needed to fix things up, help the evidence along. If she was so hell-bent on ruining his life, he figured it weren’t no sin to strike first. Not in his book.

Frank stood up, crossed the room, and peeked out at the ticket counter to make sure things were under control. Two old farts were waitin’ on the next train along with some old biddy in a lace bonnet. If none of ‘em died from old age, he reckoned they’d be all right a bit longer without his attention.

He rummaged around the small office, looking for the bag of peanuts he’d hidden day before yesterday.

The way he figured it, Sarah was fixing to ruin a whole lot of lives besides his. There was that undertaker. Sarah had been seen all over town with him. Not that such activities were bad in and of themselves, it was just that, well, they’d been seen
doing
things that were better done in private.

Frank found the peanuts behind the coal bucket, pulled out a handful and stuck one in his mouth. He paced the small room.

Now, from what he’d heard, Sarah and that undertaker were doin’ a whole lot more than just spooning. Folks, if you talked to the right folks, of course, were saying they’d been seen groping at each other right out there on the river on Sunday afternoon. And last night, they’d been drunk over at one of the beer halls, randy as all get out. And Lavinia herself had seen them half-naked in a butler’s pantry a couple months back.

Yessir, that little Sarah was nothin’ but a cockteaser, dragging a professional widower man down like that. ‘Course, most folks was too polite to talk about anything like that.

He spat the soggy peanut shell out onto the floor and stuck another one in his mouth.

Then, there were the telegrams he’d fished out of the waste barrel and Lavinia’s tip about old Jim Wilson, the stationmaster. Those wires just about proved Sarah was settin’ up illicit meetings. Offerin’ her wares to Wilson explained how she’d been hired on here in the first place and sure did account for Jim always speakin’ up on her behalf. All that was missing was the proof itself. Not that most folks would need any.

Just his Uncle Walter.

Frank fingered the logbook and thought about what Uncle Walter had said about the log entries reflecting only refusals on Sarah’s part. Hell, anybody with a lick of sense could have figured that out. She didn’t record anything that would give her away, and she’d told the boys on the other end to do the same. That’s why there weren’t no record of it.

He spat out a peanut shell and grinned.

Shit and hellfire. There weren’t no sense puttin’ it off, not when he had the perfect chance to protect himself. He was here covering her shift. Covering it without any official record he was doing so. There wasn’t an entry in the damn logbook under his name, not yet. It’d be her word against his. He’d go back, look up those nights she got the telegrams from her friends and ink a few things out, just to raise suspicions.

Just for good measure, he might send out a few more wires as Lark, like he did a few days ago. ‘Cept this time, he’d make the logbook entries under her name.

He guessed there’d be a record then, all right.

* * * * *

Sarah sat on her bed, a half-eaten box of fudge on her lap. Her cheeks were wet, her hands sticky, and her spirit sagging. Heavens, why couldn’t Daniel just let things be?

A quiet knock sounded on the door. “Sarah?” Elizabeth called. “Open up. I know you’re in there so there’s no sense pretending you’re not.”

Sarah sniffled. “I’m busy.”

“Busy, my foot,” Elizabeth said from the hallway. “I saw you storm out of Joslin’s. You open up this door and talk to me.” She paused, waiting, then continued. “I can always get a key from your landlady, but then she’d be in there, too.” Sarah sighed, knowing Elizabeth would make good on the threat. “Hold on.” She slid the candy onto the patchwork quilt and wiped her palms across her cheeks. She stood and crossed the room, turned the key, and opened the door just enough to talk. “What?”

“What? Isn’t that my question?” Elizabeth stared at her, frowning. “Gracious, girl, you don’t just march out of a store looking that way and not expect anyone to notice, do you? Get out of the way.” She pushed the door open and stepped forward.

Sarah took an inadvertent step back, then scowled.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Scowl all you want, dear. It doesn’t bother me.” She closed the door in one soft motion and shook her head. “Now, let’s sit down and eat some more of that chocolate you have smeared all over your face.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t. But you will.” Elizabeth crossed the room, tossed her wrap over the footboard, and plopped unto the bed.

Sarah followed behind. She tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and stood at the foot of the bed. “Look, I really don’t want to involve—”

“Sarah, I am your friend. I am involved.” She patted the bed. “Besides, Bill and I have been discussing you and Daniel all week. Did your little tiff today have anything to do with the kiss last night?”

Sarah shook her head. “No private life in Denver, I see.” She sat down beside her friend and reached for a chunk of fudge.

“Amazing how many people there are in public places. I figured Daniel would be the one fretting over this, not you.”

“Oh, twiddle. I couldn’t care less about being seen. I just …” she frowned, “I just don’t really care for the speculation.”

Elizabeth stopped chewing. “That’s unexpected from someone out to show the world who she is.”

“I don’t think anyone is talking about my accomplishments.” She pulled her legs onto the bed, tucking them under her skirt. Saying she was worried about what others thought wasn’t something she’d ever expected, either. Still, there it was. Folks were out there, talking about how foolish she was behaving.

Elizabeth considered the comment for a while, savoring a piece of candy. She glanced at Sarah and offered a benevolent smile. “So, you afraid the real Sarah is being exposed?”

Sarah’s skin prickled and she shifted on the bed. “I don’t really think we need to talk about—”

“How deeply
do
you hide yourself?”