Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (17 page)

Rocky laughed, but it wasn't the carefree laughter of before;
no, this held a note of disparagement, even disdain. A snide
reminder of their differences. "Comfortable and cozy?" His
eyes swept the place once more. "Are you serious?"

She ignored his pointed question. "And once you add
another room to the house for Rachel, it will be even more
spacious.

He dipped his head slightly and gave her a probing look.
"I don't understand you." That said, he turned on his heel and
headed for the door.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" she asked,
frustrated by his change in mood.

He threw on his coat and hat. "I have to tend to the animals. I expect you'll all be in bed by the time I come back."

And that was half true. The children were sound asleep
two hours later when he finally returned. Sarah, however, had
chosen to await her husband's return by sitting in front of the
fire, feet curled under her, Bible resting on her lap.

She had dimmed all the lights except for the lone kerosene lamp atop the sofa stand, and so the only thing Rocky saw when he first entered was the myriad of shadows skipping
across the plaster ceiling.

"Can we talk?" she said, her voice quiet but strong, her
oval face turned in his direction. The light from the lamp cast
a glow upon her porcelain countenance, and he thought her
quite beautiful. Yes, he imagined she did have words for him.

He'd been harsh with her before he'd left, but when she'd
opened the box filled with china and silver from that Alden
character, something in his stomach had knotted. Whether it
had come from resentment or just plain jealousy, he couldn't
say. He only knew he didn't want to eat off any of those blasted
blue plates or put one of those dopey silver spoons to his mouth.
He didn't mix with fine things. Sweet heaven, he didn't even
mix with his own wife. The two of them were like oil to water,
dirt to diamonds.

Sarah wasn't suited for the hills of Kentucky. Although
she'd done a fine job of keeping house and lessening his load
with the children, he couldn't imagine what motivated her to
do it. As far as he could tell, she'd had everything she'd ever
needed in the charming little town of Winchester, except for
the fact that both her parents had passed on. But surely she
had friends to whom she could turn.

At least, she had plenty of money. He hadn't missed the
mention of an inheritance, even though she'd nearly choked
on the word when she'd read it aloud from Alden's letter. Well,
he'd make sure that she knew he never wanted one red cent
of her wealth. In fact, he'd make it plain that he was ready to
grant her an annulment. After all, there was nothing to keep
them together-unless one counted the sacred vows they'd
both spoken some ten or so days ago.

Rocky kicked off his boots, hung up his coat and hat, and
walked to the fire to warm himself, aware that his wife watched
him from the most comfortable piece of furniture he owneda big, overstuffed chair of soft fabric, something his parents
had given Hester and him as a wedding gift. Much as he hated
to admit it, she did make a fetching sight, feet tucked beneath
her, long hair falling in gentle waves about her face.

He found a place on the sofa situated perpendicular to her
chair and plopped into it. "Say your piece," he murmured.

"My piece?" she asked, taken aback.

"You said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes. Is it still raining?" she asked.

He doubted she wanted to talk about the weather, but he
supposed it was as good a starting point as any. "It's more like
a mist now, but it's still freezing. There's a thick layer of ice on
the path leading out to the barn. Did you manage to make it
to the outhouse with the kids?"

"I allowed them to use the chamber pot," she said, dipping
her face at the mere mention of the word. He gave an inward
smile at her sense of propriety.

"You may do the same if you like. I'll take care of it later."

Now she really went red as she squirmed in her chair.
"Thank you," she whispered.

Settling into the sofa, he readied himself for a lecture.
After all, she'd had two hours to prepare one. "What else did
you have a mind to say to me? I know I left the house in a
huff."

"Yes, you did. I decided you were upset because Stephen
sent me a gift. Am I right?"

He felt like a weasel, but admitting it was something else altogether. "I don't like the guy."

"You should know he didn't mean to offend you with the
gifts. In fact, he intended them for both of us."

"Well, I don't make a habit of eating off china. The flatware and plain dishes that Hester and I had should suffice just
fine when it comes to our mealtimes."

"And what if I choose to use the others?"

Uncalled-for stubbornness swam to the surface. "It makes
no nevermind to me what you and the kids choose to do, but
as for me, I'll use the old stuff."

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "Let me know if you
ever change your mind."

"Fine," he answered. "Anything else?"

A hint of a smile played around her full mouth, and he
had to confess to being the one squirming now. Somehow, his
rough-hewn nature just didn't mesh with her polished sophistication, and over the past week, he'd decided they had little in
common. What was there to talk about with such a woman?

"Whether you choose to believe it or not, Rocky, I do like
it here. The peace and quiet of the hillside, the glorious sunrises, the sight of a distant deer roaming just past that rise
over there. I glimpsed one the other morning as I was washing
the breakfast dishes. Oh, it was a sight to behold." Her large
eyes went damp with emotion, and his heart stirred, not so
much from her account as from the fact that she'd used his
first name. "And the children are wonderful. I think they're
slowly coming out of their shells."

He had to confess he'd seen a change in them, more so in
Seth than in Rachel, of course, but even small steps seemed an
accomplishment. He knew it was all due to Sarah's efforts.

"You've done a great job with them, Sarah." Unfortunately,
he'd been stingy with compliments.

She inclined her head in a gesture of gratitude. "It wouldn't
hurt for you to include them more, you know. Seth was thrilled
the day you took him along to mend the fences. What if you
offered again, and maybe invited Rachel to come, too?"

Sliding forward on the sofa, he clasped his hands together
and let them fall between his parted legs. He'd enjoyed that
day with Seth more than she knew. But looking at the kid was
too much like looking into the eyes of his own boy. And now
she wanted him to cozy up to Rachel as well? It was too much
to ask right now. The pain of losing Joseph still burned a hole
through his heart.

"I know they care for you," she urged in nothing more
than a whisper.

"They came at a bad time in my life," he muttered, hating
his own coldness.

Tilting her head, she gave it a negative shake. "When is a
good time for children to lose their mother?"

It wasn't a fair question. He knew Elizabeth's passing had
created unfathomable grief for Rachel and Seth. Shoot, even
he felt the sting of her absence, although as siblings they'd
never been especially close.

"I know they're hurting, all right? But I'm a busy man. It's
hard for me to make time for them."

"But they're your family. They need you."

He leaned back in the sofa to rest his head and study the
ceiling. A pounding ache had formed at his temples. "You've
taken on quite a project with us, haven't you, Sarah?"

"Project?"

He pulled his head up temporarily to look at her. "Isn't
that why you agreed to marry me? Some notion about obeying
God's call?"

Her eyes sought his, so he lay back once more to avoid
looking into their emerald depths, clasping his hands behind
his head and staring at the ceiling.

"It wasn't a notion. It was something I sensed clear to my
toes. Haven't you ever felt something so intensely that it was
impossible to ignore? What began as a tiny seed of hope in my
heart expanded into fervent passion. I simply knew that God
had great and wondrous things in store for me, things that
required much faith."

Rocky stretched his legs out in silence, prepared to hear
her out.

"Before my mother took ill, I signed on as a mailorder bride.
I loved the idea of Kentucky when I read Benjamin Broughton's response to my ad. It sounded like such an adventure.
Of course, his being a Christian made it all seem so right."

"But you wound up with me," he said in jest, imagining a
hint of a smile on her pretty lips. "Why didn't you just marry
someone from your hometown?"

He felt her eyes on him and heard a round of feminine
laughter. "I am almost twenty-eight years old, Rocky. Every
Christian man I knew was either engaged or already married and raising his third or fourth child. I'm afraid most
men assumed I intended to marry Stephen Alden, and so they
thought me ineligible. I know our parents certainly wanted it.
But God had other plans for me."

"So you enlisted in this marriage agency to find yourself a
man," he said, lifting his head to catch another look at her.

"A Christian man," she put in.

"Then why marry me?"

She raised her chin. "Because of something you said. It
stayed with me for days afterward."

"What was that?"

"You said you once called yourself a Christian... but that
circumstances had changed you. I know that God is not finished with you, Rocky Callahan."

He felt his brow wrinkle in confusion. "You actually think
God wanted you to marry me?" The very suggestion seemed
ludicrous to Rocky. God wasn't about to give him any special
treatment these days. He'd certainly been anything but obedient to Him.

"Every time I prayed about my future, God always seemed
to remind me of that ad I'd seen posted in the city newspaper
by the Marriage Made in Heaven Agency."

Rocky chuckled. "Marriage Made in Heaven? With a name
like that, I'd have run the other way, Sarah. It sounds risky, if
you ask me, a fly-by-night operation."

She threw up her hand to cover her mouth and smother
her giggles. "They did go out of business not long after I signed
up with them. That's why Benjamin Broughton never could
reach me to tell me he'd had a change of plans."

Rocky's own laughter floated up from his throat, and so
they shared in the lighthearted moment.

He figured he should be thankful for the mix-up, the
agency folding before they could notify her. After all, it'd
afforded him the opportunity to propose marriage to her
instead. And he had needed a wife-desperately. Still, he
wondered if it wasn't Sarah who was getting the short end of the stick. He was no match for her, never would be.

"Sorry about Ben breaking your heart."

She shook her head. "He didn't break my heart at all."
She gave him a long, hard look. "Sometimes we think we have
God all figured out when, in actuality, He just gives us little
glimpses and nudges of the direction He wants us to go in,
leading us there one step at a time. He got me to Kentucky,
and that was the main thing."

Rocky nodded, and for the next several minutes they sat
in companionable silence, watching the fire lose steam and
listening to the sizzling, crackling embers that formed from a
dying log.

At last, Rocky spoke, his voice hoarse. "Life on the farm is
not easy, Sarah. Come spring, it will get even harder, particularly when planting season arrives. Maybe you should think
about..."

Sarah sat straighter. "I can handle it."

He'd wanted to offer her an easy out, but she'd quickly
cut him off at the pass. "If you say so," he said. But even as he
muttered the words, he found it hard to believe that someone
so delicate might soon have to muck stalls, feed the chickens,
and milk the cows because he'd be fighting against the clock
to meet planting deadlines. Hester had thought nothing of it.
She'd been made of tough stuff, though. Her own family were
farmers from way back.

Sarah played with the hem of her robe, her feet still tucked
beneath her lean frame. "What did you mean earlier when you
said you didn't understand me?" Her voice seemed clogged.

He swallowed and shrugged. "Nothing in particular.
You're just different."

All of a sudden, she modified her position, drawing her
knees up and hugging them close to her. "What do you mean,
different?"

He yawned and stretched before dragging his two-hundred-pound frame to a standing position. "Could we talk
another time, Sarah?" The woman made him nervous with
her questions, made him worry that he might divulge his true
feelings-that he didn't think she was cut out for living the
hard life, that when the going got tough she would run as fast
as she could back to her comfortable lifestyle.

How could he tell her without hurting her that he regretted this marriage? That he wished he'd never dragged her
into such an arrangement?