Restless Heart (11 page)

Alice nodded. “I was just lonely.”

Regardless of whether or not the girl pushed her away, An-geline pulled her into a quick hug. Alice was like a limp rag in her arms.

“Me too.”

“You too? Even with Lettie and that Sam fawning all over you?”

Angeline shook her head. “I’ve been lonely most of my life. I have Lettie, but she keeps to herself with me as much as she does with all of you. I don’t have anyone besides myself. My sister lives far away; in fact, I don’t know where she lives.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought you were so happy and had so many folks fawning on you.” Alice cleared her throat. “I was jealous.”

Angeline sighed. “You’ve nothing to be jealous about. I found Sam because I wasn’t looking for him. If you spend more time taking care of yourself, being with your family
here at the Blue Plate, maybe you’ll find what makes you happy.”

Alice cocked her head to the right. “You know, that sounds like a fine idea.”

“Good, now let’s go to bed before Pieter and Marta find out what we did.” Angeline leaned down and quickly hugged Alice again. This time she received a hug in return. “Good night.”

“Good night, Angeline, and thank you. For everything.” Alice’s voice was thick with emotion. For the first time since they’d met, Angeline was seeing the true person that lurked beneath the persona Alice showed the world.

“You’re welcome.” Angeline went back into her room, completely exhausted, and climbed into bed. This time she fell right to sleep, content with the help she’d given Alice. It wasn’t often that Angeline was able to be the one doing the rescuing. Truthfully, it felt nice—no, it felt wonderful. She’d done something good.

S
am stood in the kitchen, rubbing his gritty eyes and waiting for the coffee to boil. He yawned so hard, his jaw cracked loudly in the quiet kitchen. It had been a long night, full of dreams and dark figures. He couldn’t quite remember exactly what he dreamed of, but he knew it was different from his normal dreams.

Most days his subconscious returned to the war, to the painful memories he tried so hard to forget. The repetitive nature of his dreams meant he could not escape them.

However, since he’d met Angeline, his dreams had slowly started to change. Instead of dreams of blood and pain, they were full of unknown threats and fear.

He didn’t know what to make of them and that bothered him more than not sleeping. Sam was off center and out of control with his obsession over Angeline. What he needed to do was marry her; then she’d be the first thing he saw every day and the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have bad dreams.

The coffee was finally ready and he could hardly wait to pour a cup. It wasn’t dawn yet, so the dark, hot brew was much needed. He closed his eyes and sipped it slowly. The
heat slid down his throat like nectar. He might be a terrible cook but, damn, he made good coffee.

A knock at the door made the coffee splash on his hand.

“Shit.” He set the cup down on the counter and shook his hand against the pain.

With a frown, he went to the front door. He didn’t know who would be at the newspaper office at five in the morning, but the knock didn’t bode well. Sam walked as fast as his stiff leg could carry him and by the time he made it to the door, whoever was on the other side was pounding like a hammer on it.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Sam had the awful notion something had happened to Angeline. His heart froze at the thought.

He yanked open the door to find Jessup on the front stoop. The old man’s nose was red as a beet and crusty with mucus. He stared hard at Sam, his expression as serious as the blackness of the night behind him.

“Jessup, what are you doing here?”

“I seen your pa.” Jessup wiped his nose on an equally dirty sleeve. “He was out yonder by the lake in just his union suit. I tried to run him down but that man is fast as a greased pig.”

Sam’s fear about Angeline turned to ice-cold terror at the thought his father was out in the cold morning alone. “Where is he now?”

“Dunno. It’s dark and I lost sight of him. I ran right over here to get you.” Jessup looked genuinely concerned.

“Let me get my trousers on.” Ignoring the pain in his leg, Sam sprinted up the stairs to his room and yanked on his clothes. Guilt washed over him, filling him with remorse for not making sure his father was safe. Sam knew his pa was suffering, that his brain was losing bits and pieces of itself.

Now he was out in nearly freezing temperatures with no
clothes and maybe even no shoes. Sam tried to tamp down his panic, but it bubbled through him as if he’d eaten poison.

Sam’s leg was screaming by the time he made it back downstairs. The front door was wide open and Jessup was gone. Sam cursed and yanked on his boots so hard, he lost his balance and fell backward into the wall.

Stars exploded behind his eyes as he gasped at the pain. Tears stung his eyes as he finished pulling on his boots a bit more slowly.

“Sam?”

Angeline’s voice cut through his fog of self-pity and fear. He glanced up to find her in the doorway, her eyes wide with concern. She wore her blue dress with the buttons done up wrong, a shawl around her shoulders, and her blond hair in a cloud as if she’d just risen from bed.

Sam thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Jessup came and got me. He said you were in trouble.” She stepped into the house and held out her hand to him. “Let’s go find your father.”

Without asking any questions, she simply accepted that he needed help and came to his side. If he needed proof their connection was strong, it was right there in front of him.

He got to his feet and took her hand. “My father is down by the lake. We’ll need light.”

“Jessup has a lantern. He’s waiting for us.”

He couldn’t begin to express enough gratitude to his friends for their help. God only knew what he’d done right to deserve it, but he was not about to question it.

As they walked out the door together, the wind immediately cut into his face. He held his hat down with one hand and walked toward the light at the end of the street. It had to be Jessup, the crazy old man who had suddenly become his guardian angel. It was frigid, cold enough to make his hands numb by the time they’d walked the half mile to the edge of the lake.

Jessup was nearly dancing in place. “‘Bout time you got here. I’m freezing my balls off.”

Angeline made a choking sound.

“Jessup, just tell me where you saw him.” Sam peered through the darkness, trying to see a shadow that moved, a glint of anything.

There was no moon, nothing shining down to guide them, other than the lantern clutched in Jessup’s hand. Sam took it from him and started walking around the edge of the lake. The leaves and fallen sticks, long since dead from the previous fall, crunched beneath their feet. In the darkness the buds of spring were not visible.

The lake lapped gently to the right, guiding them along the shore. They walked single file with ten feet between them, Sam at the head of the column.

“Pa!”

“Mr. Carver!”

“Crazy old man!”

Sam cursed at Jessup. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Exactly. I know loco when I see it. ’Sides you won’t care if’n we find him.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that logic. They pushed on, slowing down to check behind each boulder, each tree. Sam’s feet grew numb, and he knew his father must be completely frozen. The fact that Angeline was plodding along behind him made him love her all the more.

“Pa! Where are you?”

A noise from the left made Sam stop so suddenly, Angeline ran into him. Her soft breasts pushed into his back and a small “Oof” popped from her mouth.

“Did you hear that?”

The three of them stopped, the only sound their harsh breathing. Then Sam heard it again. A soft cry, like a child.
His leg was dragging behind him as Sam headed toward the sound. Angeline passed him, her skirt hiked up so she could run. Jessup was right behind her, waddling like a dirty duck. Sam felt helpless and useless as they left him limping in the leaves. He cursed his own body and picked up as much speed as he could.

“I found him. He’s here, Sam!” Angeline’s voice guided him through the darkness until he found them near a group of boulders.

She’d taken off her shawl, a threadbare wool one with barely enough warmth to keep a mouse warm, and put it around his father’s shoulders. The older man was shaking so hard, his teeth clacked together.

Sam dropped to his knees and took his father into his arms and somehow managed not to cry. He had been selfishly focusing on Angeline, on his love for her, while his father wandered off in the night on his own. He could have died and Sam would have been completely to blame.

“Pa, are you all right?”

“Sam? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

A half-sob, half-laugh jumped up his throat. Sam took off his own coat and handed Angeline’s shawl back to her with a grateful smile. Later on, when he didn’t feel so overwhelmed, he’d thank her properly for her help.

“I’m cold.”

“I know, Pa. Let’s get you back to the house.”

Between the three of them, they managed to get his father on his feet, but he was nearly dead weight. Likely his legs were too cold to function. It broke Sam’s heart to see his father helpless and dependent on strangers to help him back home, dressed only in his union suit and tears.

When they got into the house, every one of them was huffing like a locomotive. He led them to the front parlor, where
there was a settee. With less grace and more desperation, they maneuvered themselves like a horse with eight legs until the older Carver was safely lying on the settee.

Jessup coughed and looked between Sam and Angeline. “If’n you folks got this situation in hand, I’m gonna go back to the Blue Plate and get some fresh biscuits.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you, Jessup. I’ll see to it you have fresh biscuits every day. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t seen him.” He gazed down at his father and his heart pinched hard enough to stop his breath.

“Ain’t nothing, but I will hold you to the biscuits promise.” Jessup nodded to Angeline, then disappeared out the door, leaving behind a rank odor and an amazing record of good deeds.

She took Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I should have been watching him. I should have known something might happen.” He could spend all night talking about what he should have done, but it didn’t change a damn thing.

His father seemed to fall asleep immediately, his face looking almost childlike. Angeline took an afghan from the back of the settee and covered his father. Sam checked him for injuries. But other than scratches on his feet, he seemed to be fine.

“I smell coffee. Why don’t we go warm up?” She tugged at Sam’s arm.

Sam didn’t want to leave his father yet, but he had to. He needed time to get hold of his emotions, and he also needed to tell Angeline the truth about what was happening.

They walked to the kitchen, her small hand incredibly comforting tucked into his own. He hadn’t realized the depth of his love until that moment. Without thinking about it, he kissed her hard and quick.

“I love you, Angel.”

Her face flushed pink and she looked down at their joined hands. “Let’s go get some coffee.”

He wasn’t disappointed at her lack of response because he saw the love in her eyes before she averted her gaze. She just obviously wasn’t ready to tell him yet. Sam was patient enough to wait.

The coffee was waiting on the stove, hot and strong. At least that small comfort would help him build up his courage enough to talk. Pouring the coffee was an everyday chore, bringing some normalcy to an otherwise abnormal morning.

The sun had started to rise and the predawn light filtered in through the window as they sat at the rickety table. He looked down at the old, splintered top and realized there were many things he’d been ignoring. Their house was full of pitiful furniture and even more pitiful men.

“I have kept something from you. I think because I didn’t want anyone to think less of him. My father has been sick for some time. Not sick in his body, but in his mind.” Sam sipped at the coffee. “I started seeing it about two years ago. Little things like forgetting where he left something, or someone’s name. Before, he never forgot anything.”

“It sounds as if it was hard to recognize as anything other than forgetfulness.” Angeline watched him with her steady blue gaze.

Sam ran his hand across the tabletop. “I see this table and I realize I’ve ignored more than my father’s memory loss. I’ve spent so much time thinking about me and my needs that I turned into a selfish bastard.”

“You’re not a selfish bastard.” She put her hand over his. “You’re human.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I am. After I realized something was wrong with my father, I kept it from everyone. Like it was a dirty secret to hide away.”

She pulled her hand away and looked down at her mug. “Sometimes you have to keep secrets.”

At another time he’d ask her what she meant by that.

“After I kept one secret, there was another and another. He forgot who I was, who he was. Hell, he was calling my mother’s name and she died ten years ago.” Sam had never felt so helpless as he did in the woods looking for his father. He’d survived a war, but he’d almost allowed his father to die.

“He needs to have someone take care of him during the day and obviously keep an eye on him at night. I don’t know how I can do this.” Sam had never imagined he’d be the one taking care of his father instead of the other way around.

“I can help when I’m not working. I could cook, clean up around here. Perhaps if you hired someone to take care of the newspaper, that would give you time to take care of him.” Angeline touched his hand again. “You have friends who will help you.”

Sam sighed heavily. He couldn’t expect anyone to help out indefinitely. No, he had to look to the future and for that he had to have money.

“Angel, you are amazing. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept it.” He smiled at her sadly. “The only way you’re cooking in this house is if you marry me.”