Dorothy Clark (19 page)

She nodded and walked with him to the empty table.

* * *

She strolled along the wooded path, smiled at the birds flitting from branch to branch. The curve ahead was dim in the dusky light of the fading day. Boots thudded on the hard-packed soil and she stopped, peering ahead.

A tall, broad-shouldered man came striding around the curve. Her heart swelled at the love in his eyes. She smiled and started toward him.

He pivoted and walked back the way he’d come, leaving her alone on the forest path.

* * *

“Cole!”
Sadie jerked to a sitting position, blinked her eyes and gazed around her bedroom. It was a dream. A very real one.

She shivered, sank back onto her pillow and tugged the covers over her shoulders, thankful it hadn’t been a return of the nightmare, though there were similarities. Both started the same way, with her walking on the wooded path, but in the dream it was dusk, not daylight. And a man appeared in both, but the similarities ended there. The man in the dream was Cole, and she’d been happy to see him.

I called him, but he gave no answer.
Her stomach flopped. She turned onto her side and stared at the dark outside the window. Why would Cole, who was so kind and thoughtful of others, turn and walk away at the sight of her, leaving her alone and unprotected on that path?

Your grandmother is a special lady. She invited me for supper when the other residents of Pinewood had nothing but scorn and suspicion about me.

The memory made her feel ill. She took a breath and slipped her legs over the side of the bed. Was the dream about Cole being angry with her for the way she had treated him? He’d interrupted her when she’d started to apologize.

...none of us were in the mood to be friendly to an Aylward...

Daniel’s words struck her with the force of a blow. How selfish she’d been, thinking only of herself. Cole, too, had suffered because of Payne’s actions. She had to apologize, to let him know she understood.

She rose and went to look out into the dark night. “Oh, Lord, forgive me please. I was wrong to judge Cole because of Payne. I’ve been wrong about so many things. And selfish in my hurt. Please help me to undo any hurt I may have caused Cole. And thank You, Lord, for taking away my fear and showing me the truth.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

N
anna was getting close to the gate. Sadie edged toward the steps and rested her hand on the railing. Her grandmother had been having a good day, but that could change in an instant. And if she went through the gate and got on the wooded path... A shiver slid down her spine. She would have to go after her. There was no one else.
Almighty God, please—

“Something...wrong, Sa...die?”

“No, Poppa.” She couldn’t tell him. It would only burden him with worry and guilt and frustration because he wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect Nanna. She glanced at him, then leaned over the railing and picked a rose so she didn’t have to turn from watching her grandmother. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been...quiet...tonight.”

She turned sideways so she could see him and still keep watch, and pulled up a smile. “Are you saying I’m a chatterbox?”

He peered up at her, but there was no answering smile.

Hers faded. “I’m sorry, Poppa. I didn’t mean to sound flippant.” She sighed and sniffed the rose. “I’ve been thinking...and remembering. I was away from home for so long, and though I knew better, of course, in my mind things and people remained the same. The changes are a little...off-putting at times.”

“Nanna...and...me?”

He was referring to their illnesses. Sadness clutched at her heart. He would know she was lying if she denied it. She nodded and searched for a way to explain her melancholy. “And me. I’ve changed, too.” She raised her hand and sniffed, glanced at her grandmother over top of the rose. “I was remembering how, when I was young, Nanna would tell me when it was time for you to come home—probably to keep me out of her way when she was busy cooking supper.” A wry smile touched her lips. His eyes smiled agreement at her. “And I would come out here on the porch and watch for you to come walking out of the woods. That was one of the best times of my day.”

Thank You, Lord, for the lovely memories.
She blinked her eyes and gave a little laugh. “Do you remember how I ran to meet you at the gate when I was small?”

He nodded, and his gaze shifted from her to the garden path and back again. “You wanted... piggyback...ride.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I liked the way I bounced when you ran.” Her heart lifted at his chuckle. She tossed the rose away and looked into the distance, seeing those long-ago days. “You smelled like sawdust. Sometimes I could see it on your hair.” Her throat clogged. He’d been so big and strong, her poppa. And she’d felt so safe when he held her... She cleared away the lump.

“And I liked standing on a chair and helping Nanna make pudding and cookies—especially the brown ones. And the way she tucked the covers around me and kissed me good-night after I said my prayers.” The tender ache in her heart was becoming too strong. She took a breath and veered away from those memories. “And, of course, later on, when I was older, going off on adventures with Willa and Callie and Ellen and Daniel. My, some of the things we did!”

“Worried...Nanna.” He cleared his throat. “She blamed...Daniel.”

“I know.” She shook her head and smiled, then took a lighter tone. “Don’t tell Nanna, but the truth is, we hounded poor Daniel. He tried to go off on adventures by himself, but we would run after him.” She laughed and leaned back against the post. “I was the fastest runner, and I could follow him if he didn’t have too much of a head start.”

Nanna was coming to the house. She stepped back away from the railing, grinned and put her finger to her puckered lips.

Her grandfather chuckled and nodded.

She moved over to the table. “And now we’re all adults and everything is different.” The scene in the restaurant between Ellen and Daniel flashed into her head. “Except Daniel still teases Ellen, and Ellen still gets in a huff about it.”

“Who gets in a huff about what?” Her grandmother climbed the steps, let go of the railing and gripped the basket of herbs she was carrying with both hands.

She watched her grandfather’s eyes. He always exchanged a look with Nanna when they’d been separated, as if they were somehow reconnecting. Her breath caught. It
was
the same look. Well, not quite the same. There was something less intense, more...
comfortable
in her grandfather’s eyes. Still—

“Sadie?”

“What? Oh. I’m sorry, Nanna.” She jerked her thoughts back to the conversation. “I was speaking of Ellen. She gets in a huff when Daniel teases her.”

“Well, it doesn’t surprise me. Daniel needs manners, and Ellen needs to be less pouty. Her mother spoils her. I warned Frieda about that when you children were young, but she didn’t listen.” Her grandmother gave a small huff of annoyance and headed for the kitchen door, the brim of the old straw hat bobbing in time with her swaying skirts.

“Daniel...good man. Rachel...knows it.” Her grandfather patted her hand. “It’s...getting late. Help me...go inside...Sa...die.”

“Of course, Poppa.” It
was
getting late. She looked up at the setting sun, then glanced toward the garden gate. Cole must have forgotten about putting a latch on it. She would have to watch until Nanna went to bed.

Her grandfather’s chair clicked. She propped open the dining room door, then grasped the wheels of his chair and rolled it over the raised sill.

* * *

“I’ll see you in the morning, Manning.” Cole closed the bedroom door and glanced toward the sitting room. Sadie would be there. Sadie—forbidden fruit. He set his jaw, turned his back and strode down the hall to the dining room, yanked the door open and stepped out into the night.

The lantern he’d left on the railing threw a circle of gold onto the porch floor. He grabbed its handle and trotted down the steps. It wouldn’t take him long to affix the latch on the gate, and then he could leave, putting distance between himself and the one he wanted to be with more than any other.

He squatted, set the lamp on the ground and upended a small leather pouch he’d left there. His hammer, nails and the pieces of the iron latch clanged against the slate of the path. A rustle of fabric came from behind him.

“I came to help—if I’m able.”

Sadie’s soft voice set his pulse racing. He glanced over his shoulder at her slender form in the darkness and shook his head. “That’s thoughtful of you, but there’s nothing you can do.” He pulled his lamp close and began lining up the various pieces of the latch in the small circle of light.

The hems of her long skirts whispered against the stone, and the fabric brushed against his arm as she stepped forward and lifted the lantern. The circle of light widened, spreading over the ground. “I can hold the lamp for you.”

He nodded, stuck the broad heads of the specially cut nails in his mouth, selected one of the pieces of iron and snatched up his hammer. He rose and fitted the piece against the frame of the gate, hammered it in place. A narrow piece of iron bar dangled from it, held in place by a nail with a flattened head.

“What is that?” Her arm brushed against his as she moved the lantern closer.

He sucked in a breath and snatched the nails from his mouth before he choked on them. “It’s a bar lock.”

He grabbed the other piece, swung the gate closed to line them up, then shoved the gate back open and nailed the second piece to the end post of the fence.

“How does it work?” She leaned close to see.

He jerked his head back, flipped the bar over to drop behind the bent-up pieces of iron on the lock and tugged on the gate. It didn’t budge.

“That works perfectly.” She straightened and looked up at him, the lamplight gilding her hair, spreading across her fine cheekbones and caressing the clean line of her small, square chin, shadowing the slender column of her neck. “Thank you, Cole. I’ll feel much better about Nanna working in her garden now.”

His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his hands. He dropped his gaze from the soft warmth in her eyes to the small half smile on her lips. All he had to do was lean forward and... He gritted his teeth and turned away, stooped to put his hammer and the few leftover nails back in the leather pouch. “Don’t count too much on the latch lock, Sadie. Your grandmother will soon learn how to open it.”

“I know.” The light wavered as she lowered the lantern to shine on the nails on the stone. “But at least she won’t simply wander through the open gate and go...onto that path.” The light flickered.

He reached to steady the shaking lantern, felt her hand trembling and closed his over it. His heart thundered. He rose and looked down into her eyes. “Sadie...”

“Yes?”

Her name was a gruff plea from his constricted throat—her answer a barely heard whisper. Time was lost in his need to comfort her, to protect her, to love her forever. He sucked in a breath, fighting his heart with every bit of strength he possessed and hating himself for winning the battle. “I’ll see you safe to the house.”

He took the lantern from her hand, holding it so she could see the path, acutely aware of her beside him, of the golden light warming the pale flesh of her arm and hand. He stopped at the foot of the steps and held the light for her to see. “The window lamp will light your way across the porch.”

She turned toward him, taking a breath he could hear.

“Before I go inside, I have something to say. I trust you will listen.” Her gaze sought and held his. “I didn’t come outside only to help you while you worked, Cole. I am troubled because the other night you would not let me apologize for treating you so shabbily when you were being nothing but kind and generous and thoughtful to Nanna and Poppa.”

Her soft, quiet words settled deep in his heart. “Sadie—”

“No. You’ll not stop me from speaking this time, Cole. Please.”

He bit back the words he’d been about to say and nodded. “All right, I’ll listen.”

“Thank you.” She took another breath. “I had a disquieting dream the other night. It started the same as the...nightmare I’ve suffered the past four years.” Her voice quavered. She wrapped her arms about herself.

He clenched his jaw, set the lantern on the steps and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“But in this dream, I am walking along the path to Poppa’s sawmill, and you come around the bend walking toward me. At the very place—”

“Sadie, don’t—”

She shook her head.

He clenched his teeth and held his silence.

“We stop and...look...at one another, then you turn and walk back the way you had come. I call to you, but you keep walking.”

She looked at him, and the hurt in her eyes took his breath.

“You are a kind, thoughtful and caring man, Cole. Yet you walk away and leave me alone and unprotected on that path. The only reason I can see for your behavior is anger.” Her head bowed. “I am so very sorry for judging you according to Payne’s deed, and not for yourself. I was wrong. And I ask you to forgive me. I—” her head lifted “—I don’t want you angry with me any longer.”

Lord, give me strength....
“I’ve never been angry with you, Sadie.”

“But—I know it’s only a dream, Cole. But why else would you walk away and leave me unprotected on that path?”

Lord, help me. I love her. And the only way I can protect her is to tell her the truth.
“I
am
protecting you, Sadie—by walking away.” He picked up the lantern and started down the path.

“Cole, wait!”

Her footsteps sounded behind him. He stopped and turned to face her.

“You’re not talking about the dream, are you?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked straight into her eyes. “My father was a drunk. He beat my mother to death.” He winced at her gasp but pressed on, sparing himself nothing. “You, better than anyone, know the depravity and violence that lives in Payne.” He took a breath and forced out the words. “Who knows if or when that same violence will rise in me?”

“Oh, Cole,
no
. That can’t be.”

“Denying it doesn’t make it so, Sadie.”

“Actions do.” Her chin lifted. “You’re kind, and—”

“So was Payne. At least, the Payne
I
knew was. I don’t know what happened to change him, and that’s what’s troubling. He’s my brother—and our father’s blood runs in both our veins. Who knows what I might be capable of doing someday? You’re right to be frightened of me, Sadie.”

He pivoted on his heel and strode down the path. Opening the gate, he picked up his leather pouch and walked into the woods.

“Cole!”

The despair in her cry, the sound of her running after him seared his heart. His nails dug into the leather pouch, and the force of his clench bent the lantern handle in the curl of his fingers.

He stared straight ahead and kept walking. It would be all right. She would stop at the gate. She would never come onto the path. Rage at what had happened to her, at Payne for attacking her, at the injustice of his being unable to have her, choked off his breath, darkened his vision. He stumbled, caught himself and kept on, every step driving the pain of losing her deeper into his heart.