Chances (28 page)

Sarah glanced away. “I don’t hide.”

“Don’t you?” Elizabeth gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

Sarah turned and drew a deep breath. Daniel had said the same thing, and she’d shut him out, as if denying the truth would make it go away. Lord, how she hated feeling insecure. Yet, there it was. Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. “Daniel said the same thing.”

“So you ran, sweetie?”

“I ran and I shoved a pound of chocolate fudge into my mouth and nothing got any better.”

“I figured as much.” She stroked Sarah’s arm and offered a quick hug. “Daniel hit a few nerves?”

“Hit them and then some.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

Sarah shook her head. “No, not really.”

Elizabeth pulled away and reached for more chocolate. She nibbled at it, then pinned her gaze on Sarah. “What was it Kate and Molly said the other night? Daniel must do things that aren’t stuffy and that stretch his code of conduct? Why?”

“Daniel hides behind his rules.” Sarah picked up a coconut bonbon and bit into it. “I think because he never made his own.”

“Makes sense, from what I know about him.” She wiped the corners of her mouth with delicate fingers, then turned to Sarah. “And what about you?”

Sarah swallowed. “Me?”

Her friend nodded. “Your challenge is to do things that are not related to causes, things that are simply fun?”

She shook her head and flopped back onto the bed. “Daniel says I use my causes so I can keep control.”

“Is he right?”

Sarah stared at the ceiling, avoiding comment.

“Do you feel like you’re in control when you’re working toward some bigger cause?”

“Well, yes. Of course. I know what needs to be done, and I do it.”

“And nobody demands anything deeper of you, do they?”

She sat up. “Why would they?”

Elizabeth ignored the question. “You know what to do and how to act and even how to feel about causes, almost like your role is scripted. No one ever sees you might be afraid underneath?”

“I’m not afraid.” Sarah slid forward, slipping off the bed, and crossed to the dresser. From the pitcher in the washbasin, she poured a half glass of water.

From the bed, Elizabeth spoke softly. “You’re not afraid as long as you stick with the script, stay in control.”

Sarah’s hand stopped. When was the last time she’d allowed anyone to see how frightened she was underneath her composure? So long ago that she didn’t even see her fear herself anymore, it was so deeply hidden. She set the glass down. Daniel was right.

Elizabeth continued speaking. “And when you’re in an uncomfortable position? Ice skating, perhaps?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m horrid at it. I can’t do it.” She spoke into the mirror.

“And someone might see you be less than successful?”

She nodded.

Elizabeth rose from the bed and crossed to the dresser. She stood behind Sarah and hugged her shoulders. “And why is that such a bad thing, sweetie? What happens if someone sees the real Sarah? Is it necessarily a catastrophe?” She smiled and caught Sarah’s gaze in the mirror. “Honey, what happens if they don’t get the chance to see what’s inside?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded small, distant.

Elizabeth smiled, hugged her again, and kissed her chocolate-covered cheek. “Well, I think I’ve poked and prodded more than my fair share here. I’m going to leave you to your chocolate and let you sort some things out.” She reached for her cloak, then crossed the room. At the door, she paused and turned to Sarah. “Being vulnerable takes a great deal of courage, sweetie, but it can be extremely satisfying. Just imagine what you’re missing.”

* * * * *

That evening, inside the Odd Fellows Hall, Sarah lit the last of the kerosene lamps she’d borrowed for footlights, fastened on a polished tin circle to reflect the light, and set the lamp on the edge of the stage with the others. The mingled voices of the children, sounding from backstage, created a comforting din, a vast improvement over the eerie quiet of her room at the boarding house where she’d spent the last several hours in miserable self-reflection.

Her head ached and her stomach was woozy from nervousness and too much chocolate.

She glanced around the makeshift auditorium. The chairs were arranged in tidy rows, and Miss Clay’s splendid dessert table beckoned from the back of the room. She groaned and clutched her abdomen, hoping she wouldn’t throw up.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and nodded to the little boy sitting next to the door. “We’re ready, Jimmy. Tell the stage manager we’re opening the house, then unlock the door.”

She slipped backstage for a last check, even though she knew it was unnecessary. Still, doing so gave her an excuse to avoid the crowd for a bit longer. And a little more time to wallow in her self-pity, perhaps?

Heaven help her, she was a complete idiot. She’d walked out on Daniel not once but twice. And what had he done, after all, except to think about his wife and point out a few truths? If he was as confused as she was at that beer hall, who could blame him for not being sure about that kiss. And as for this afternoon, well, Elizabeth’s gentle guidance and four hours of eating chocolate and mulling over his words had left only one truth at the bottom of it all. She
was
afraid of failing, of being completely herself. Failing hurt.

She was more than a bit chagrined that she’d spent so much time and energy avoiding that truth. Perhaps, there’d just been no point to confronting her fears before, no reason to think about it, and no reason to be anything other than the person she pretended to be. But avoiding everything uncertain in life, things like having fun and caring about others, didn’t make much sense either, and the thought of not having Daniel in her life was as painful as the possibility of failure.

She’d talk to Daniel, tell him she was sorry, and maybe they could talk about everything. Like he’d wanted her to this afternoon.

She passed a backstage mirror and grimaced. She looked wretched. It startled her that she cared one way or another. Or was it just that she’d never admitted it before?

“Miss Donovan?”

“Over here, Jimmy.”

“The place is crowding up fast and there’s a fancy lady out there wanting to talk with you.”

“Tell her I’ll be right out.”

Jimmy disappeared around the stage and Sarah gave a last look around. There was Molly, still running lines with one of the actors. Other prompters were doing the same, while a few of the children with major roles had isolated themselves into solitary corners, concentration filling their young faces. At the far end of the room, Kate paced, her lower lip between her teeth. There was nothing more Sarah needed to do, nothing she could do. It was their show, now.

She stepped around the stage and stopped. The hall was full. For a moment, she thought the whole town of Denver had turned out for the show. Her stomach knotted again.

“Miss Donovan?”

She turned. “Yes?”

An elegant young woman with striking black hair coifed high above her finely chiseled face, smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Amelie Parsons. I serve on the speakers committee for the Denver Suffrage Association.”

Sarah nodded. “Yes, I think I recall Elizabeth Byers mentioning your name.”

“I’m terribly sorry to disrupt you at such a time.”

“Actually, distraction is good right now.”

“The Association would like you to speak at the rally next week, about your experiences as a female telegrapher.”

“Me?” Sarah knit her eyebrows together. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a bit surprised. I’m not on particularly good terms with your president.”

Amelie Parsons crossed her arms and extended a knowing smile. “Still, the committee feels you’d be a tremendous asset to the orators.”

Sarah’s thoughts flew to Lavinia’s bitter threat. “Miss Morgan had no problem with this?”

“She said she had confidence in our selections. Please, Miss Donovan. There aren’t many women willing to take such risks, or even that many who pursue a career. Whatever the differences between you and Miss Morgan, it doesn’t diminish your example, and the committee felt it important to include you. It would be one small speech, next Saturday.”

“There were issues about gossip, some fears that the movement itself might be hurt by my involvement.”

“Sarah, look. We’re not asking you to take leadership, just to speak. Besides, more than half the women in the movement have been the target of gossip at some point or another, some of us more than others. What do you say?”

One speech, at the invitation of the association, hardly seemed enough to threaten Lavinia. It would be such a chance to share her accomplishments. Sarah closed her eyes and reminded herself to avoid haste, then smiled at Amelie. “I’d like to, but … could you give me until after the performance to commit?”

Amelie nodded and slid into one of the few remaining chairs.

Sarah scanned the room, seeking Daniel’s trim figure, and finally found him with the Byerses. His brown serge suit was all business, but her memories of his solid biceps, hidden under the fabric, brought a smile to her heart. She stepped forward, negotiating the crowd.

The sharp clang of a handbell rang through the room. Miss Clay stepped onto the stage and beamed at the audience.

Sarah groaned, realizing it was time, and turned toward the stage to join Miss Clay, as they’d rehearsed.

Daniel watched Sarah make her way to the front of the room. She looked tired, though he realized few other people would notice it. Puffy circles surrounded her eyes, and her forehead was knitted with worry lines. Her skin was paler than usual.

He wondered if her pallor was due to nerves or if she’d had a wretched afternoon, too.

He’d returned home and spent the day working on a coffin, sanding out his anger and remorse on a piece of cedar. The woman was so stubborn that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her. She had no problem hounding him, but she resisted like a wild animal when forced to look into herself.

Oh, it didn’t really matter whether she realized she was burying her beauty because she was afraid she wouldn’t be noticed for anything else. And it didn’t really matter if she wanted to take on every cause in the world. What really bothered him was that she was pushing him away.

Dammit, did she think it was easy for him to challenge his conventions, to let his heart out of the box he’d kept it in for so many years?

He sighed. Applause echoed through the audience and he realized he’d missed the introduction.

The curtain opened to reveal Kate and her classmates clustered around a makeshift fireplace, discussing Christmas and their lives as the March sisters. Within moments, he was stricken by his daughter’s self-confident defiance. In Kate’s performance, he saw the Kate she’d never revealed, but somehow she had always been.

The play unfolded with Jo’s constant questioning of life. Although Sarah had warned him, he hadn’t expected deeper meanings to emerge. Jo’s rebelliousness faded into the spirit of self-reliance that Sarah had told him about, the same confidence that Kate herself was beginning to display in her own behaviors.

He’d been wrong about so many things.

It wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought. He shifted in his chair and watched his Kate, the independent Jo, express her love to the young boy playing Professor Bhaer.

The play ended in rousing applause, which evolved into a standing ovation. Daniel leapt up with the others, pride surging through him like a wave. His eyes found Kate and caught her gaze. He blew her a kiss and her smile filled her face.

Then the cast called for Sarah, and she appeared on the stage, tears in her beautiful eyes. Daniel smiled.

The woman projected self-confidence like no other he had ever met yet she hid a fragility he was only just beginning to understand. Her radical ideas were, time and time again, proving to make sense.

Bill poked him in the ribs with his elbow, drawing his attention. “That little girl of yours is quite an actress,” he said as the applause wound down.

“She was wonderful,” Libby added.

“Thank you.” Daniel glanced at the stage and grinned. “She was, wasn’t she?”

“And this from the man who didn’t want his daughter in some radical play?”

“I was wrong, Libby.”

She tossed him an “I told you so” look and moved to join the crowd waiting to congratulate the cast members.

Daniel waited with Bill, giving Kate time to enjoy her admiring fans. Molly popped out from behind the curtain and waved, a huge grin on her round face. Daniel waved back, then sought Sarah.

She stood at the far edge of the stage, beckoning to an attractive young woman in a fashionable gown.

“I see Sarah’s circle of friends is pretty wide,” Bill commented.

Daniel glanced at his friend, the dry comment poking at him. “Who is she?”

“Amelie Parsons. She’s new in town, works in Mattie Silks’s fancy new brothel over on Holladay Street.

Discomfort crept though Daniel and he swallowed against it. “She’s from the Row?”

Bill tipped his head and winked. “Not a common whore, Daniel. Mattie Silks serves high class costumers only.”

At the front of the room, Sarah and the stranger spoke with animation. Sarah nodded and Amelie clapped her hands together then extended her hand. Sarah clasped it, chatting all the while, then stepped back.

Daniel watched the interaction, apprehension knotting his gut. He shooed it away. “You know Sarah,” he said. “Warm to everyone.”

Bill shrugged. “Crowd’s thinning. Let’s go offer our congratulations.”

They worked their way through the small groups of lingering audience members and approached the stage. In front of it, Kate and her fellow cast members were still surrounded by fans,

Daniel hurried forward, recognizing faces among the group, adult business associates, classmates, a few strangers, and Amelie Parsons. He frowned.

Molly spotted him, waved, and said something to Kate. Kate grinned and the girls moved toward him.

Daniel grinned back and opened his arms to enfold them.