By Way of the Rose Page 25

  “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

  “There's a train leaving at noon today. I want Sarah on it. You'll escort her home, but you will come back on the very next train back here.”

  “Yes, sir... I'll see to it.”

  Sarah's face went pale as she looked at Doug. “W— what are you saying to me?” Tears flooded down her cheeks.

  “John is missin'. We think he's been killed.” He looked at her helplessly. It was more then he could bear to have to lie to her. He felt his heart tearing as the pain in her deep brown eyes intensified.

  “No! This can't be happening!” She fell into Doug's arms.

  “Shush... I'm here.” Doug spoke softly. Sarah closed her eyes. She pictured John's face smiling down at her. She remembered the feel of his arms holding her close. He can't leave me... he just can't. This can't be real. God, please, let me wake up from this nightmare!

  Doug rushed to get Sarah ready for her trip. She packed her things and he loaded them on the carriage. By noon they were sitting on the train as it pulled away from the station. Sarah remembered when she and John had first arrived here. How wonderful it was. She looked over at Doug and he smiled at her. She turned away. It was too much to bear. She wanted to yell and scream at him. Why not you instead of my John! Why are you here and he's gone! Why couldn't it have been you! She looked down at the locket John had given her. She opened it and looked at the picture of him smiling back at her. This was all she had of him anymore. No she couldn't believe it! He must be out there somewhere! He must be alive! She wasn't going to believe that he was dead. Never! “How will I ever be able to tell the folks about John?”

  “Ya don't have to. I sent them a telegram before we left.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Yer're welcome.”

  “I'm sorry I'm distant. You've been a wonderful friend to John and me. Faithful and kind.”

  “I wasn't faithful.” Doug looked away.

  “What?”

  “I can't help it Sarah. I love ya! It's time to clear my conscience. When John left he told me he loved ya, and I know deep down that you love him too. I begrudged John that he had yer heart and I knew I could never win it. Now that he's gone, all I can think of is ya! Not seein’ ya every day. Not lookin’ into yer eyes, not havin’ ya with me! I love ya and I can't help it!”

  Sarah was shocked. If she didn't control herself, she could have slapped him. Slapped him hard. “Why didn't you tell me that John said he loved me before now?” Her tone was cold and angry.

  “I promised John.”

  “And now you think with John out of the way, I would just forget him and begin a courtship with you?”

  “All I can think of now is that I am free to pursue ya. I feel horrible! I'm sorry, please forgive me!”

  Before she could think she felt her hand whip across his face. She felt her stomach tighten up as she realized what she'd done. She gasped as she looked at her hand in disbelief. “I— I need some air.” Sarah stood and walked to the end of the train. She watched as the tracks sped by. Even though it was a warm November day, Sarah felt chilled. She couldn't wait to be off this train. The only thing that gave her comfort was the thought that Greta and Shane would be waiting for her at the end of the tracks.

  Sarah stepped from the train. When she saw her friends she suddenly realized how very much she had missed them and flew towards them. She threw her arms around both of them at the same time. “Oh, how I've missed you two!” She cried.

  “This town hasn't been the same without you!” Shane's voice quivered.

  “He's gone Greta, John is gone!” Sarah cried as she lay her head on her best friend's shoulder.

  Greta hugged her tightly. “I heard, Sarah. I'm so sorry.”

  When Sarah turned to introduce her friends to Doug, he was gone. Her heart sank. She hadn't had time to get her emotions straight before he'd left. Everything seemed to an unreal blur right now. She felt sorry for taking her anger out on her dear friend; one that she had come to care for deeply. John should have let me know how he felt. It wasn't Doug's place. He was a true friend to the both of us

  Sarah stayed with Greta the entire week after she'd returned. They'd talk till the wee hours of the morning then wake at dawn to start their day. Greta's children were a handful, and there were many chores, but Sarah was thankful for the busy days. They kept her mind off her troubles. Yet late in the evenings, when her memories had time to surface, the weight of grief came down on her. This was when she was most thankful for Greta's company. She knew she couldn't stay with Greta forever though, so she finally went home.

  When Sarah awoke in her old bed, in her old room, her heart felt as if a ten ton boulder were crushing it. Her chest was tight and her breathing shallow. She tried in vain to completely fill her lungs with air. She slowly stood from the bed and walked to her wash basin. She splashed her face with cool water then walked to the window and opened it. The November air washed over her, only then could she take in a full breath. ]From the window she saw the dry parched land as it loomed bleak before her. The cotton stalks, dead and brown. Some still holding the white fluffy wads of what was a crop failure. The first the DuVals had ever suffered. Looking over the gloom, Sarah missed the view from her bedroom window in Rochester. The vibrant reds, yellows, pinks and whites. A lush, fertile rose garden alive with color, their delicious fragrance hanging in the air and filling her nostrils like some rich and exotic perfume. How could she bear life here again? Through her blurry tear dimmed eyes she saw someone walking in the distance. It was Shane. Her pain eased, I've still got Shane and Greta. My dearest friends. She smiled as she watched him come nearer. His boyish stride had changed little from when they were children. The early morning sun glistened on his dark blonde hair. She noticed she was still in her night dress and hurried to get dressed before he got there. She swiped the brush through her thick black hair a few times then rushed downstairs just as he was tapping on the door.

  His blue eyes sparkled as they met Sarah's. “Mornin,'” he cut her a crooked grin.

  She smiled back. “What brings you around at this hour?”

  “Do I need a reason?” He chuckled.

  “Oh, no. No, you don't ever need a reason. I was just wondering if there was one.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in and have a seat and enjoy a cup of coffee with me.”

  “Who are you talking to, Sarah?” Marion called from the kitchen.

  “It's Shane.”

  “Tell him breakfast is about ready. He's just in time.”

  Sarah led Shane to the parlor where they took their seats. “You're looking better, Sarah. I don't mind telling you, I was worried as anything about you when I saw you get off that train.” Shane fumbled with his hat as he looked to the floor. “I missed you so much while you were gone.”

  Sarah noticed him clutching the hat tighter. She reached out and touched his hand. “I missed you too. You and Greta both.” She let out a deep sigh. “But you and Greta are the only things I missed about this place.”

  “I suppose Rochester does have a lot more to do and see.”

  “Beautiful things! It's so different. And the roses! They were so wonderful. Every morning I woke to their beauty. Now I wake to a dried field of putrid cotton!”

  “Well, cotton is kind of pretty in its own way.”

  “I'd like to know what way that is,” Sarah huffed. “I know cotton. I've picked it, I've planted it, I've hoed it and believe me, there's nothing pretty about those finger gouging demons!”

  “Sometimes you just have to look for the beauty in a thing. Roses have finger gouging thorns too.” Shane cut her a devious smile as he shook his head.

  “Oh, hush up!” She playfully swatted at him.

  After breakfast, they walked out to enjoy the sunny, cool day together. The leaves on the old oak tree were tattered and falling down as if they were tired of hanging on. She knew that before long the limbs would be naked and jutting out from the old tree like gnarled
fingers against the sky. Sarah caught a leaf as it was floating to the ground. “Look at that.” She twisted it toward Shane. “Every color of fall is in this one leaf.”

  “Winter is brown and summer green, but fall is the prettiest season I've seen!” Shane recited Sarah's childhood poem.

  “Oh, you remembered! I had forgotten it. That was so long ago! Back when we were just little children. How could you remember that silly little poem?”

  “I don't forget anything you say.” His eyes sparkled down at her.

  “I know. Sometimes I say things I wish you would forget,” she said.

  Later on Shane paid Sarah another visit. When she came to the door she saw him standing with his hat in one hand and the other tucked behind his back. An impish grin was sprawled across his face. “What's with you?” Sarah looked puzzled.

  “I just came by to bring you this.” He said as he brought forth a bouquet of cotton stalks that he'd gleaned from the dry fields. A large pink ribbon adorned them.

  “What in the world?” Sarah chuckled as she reached for the cotton.

  “I don't have roses to bring you except these which are roses of the South.”

  Sarah looked at him and then to the cotton. Suddenly she saw the white fluffy boles in a way she'd never seen them before. They did look like fluffy white roses. When she looked back at Shane a warm feeling filled her heart. Only he could have ever made her see the beauty in something as simple as cotton! “They're beautiful, Shane! They're truly beautiful. I love them. Thank you so much for bringing them.”

  “I know they aren't as pretty as your northern roses, but... ”

  “No, Shane! These are prettier. Really, I'm seeing them for the first time as something other than back-breaking, toiling work. Now I see them as a thoughtful gift from a loving and dear friend who wanted to show me their beauty. There's nothing more beautiful in all the world than that, not even in Rochester.”

  “Care to go for a walk?”

  “I'd love to and let's take that walk through our southern rose garden.” They both laughed.

  The seasons changed as winter came roaring in. Daniel and Marion had to use every bit of money that had been saved for winter supplies because the crops hadn't done well. There had been very little rain and the summer had been scorching. The vegetables had dried in the sun so there was little to nothing to store up or sell. They had lost John and with him, the money they had come to rely on.

  Sarah took a job with Mrs. Hamilton, the local seamstress. She made a dollar a week which she seemed to stretch farther than humanly possible. She searched for bargains and ways to make every cent count. She'd take two eggs and make a skillet full of scrambled eggs by adding a little milk and flour to them. The extra eggs could be sold. The twins were outgrowing their shoes, yet she couldn't seem to save enough money. Sarah was thankful that her own feet had stopped growing. That's when it hit her that the twins shoes could be made to fit them. She cut the toes out. Now they could wear them in comfort with heavy knitted socks.

  Shane would stop by every morning to take her into town with him. He was working as an overseer at the Eastland Plantation. It was just outside of town so it was not out of his way to take Sarah to the dress shop. Even if it had been, she knew he wouldn't have minded. He'd arrive early and drive slowly. “So, Miss Trissy is having a dress made by you, huh?”

  “Oh yes. She came in just yesterday to see how it was going. Oh, I can't stand that stuck up devil!”

  “Devil? That's awful strong talk. What in the world did she do to you?”

  “Well, I suppose she's still mad at me cause you didn't pay her no mind when we were kids. I do think she still wants you to be her sweetheart.”

  “Well, what did she say that's got your feathers in a ruffle?”

  “Yesterday she came prancing in to have a look at her dress. I took her back into the sewing room to show it. Now I don't know if you know it or not, but a dress looks nothing like a dress while it's in the process of being sewn up. So when we got there and I held up the basted scraps of fabric, she went into a tirade. She told me how much she'd paid for the material and that I'd have to pay her back every cent for chopping it up like that. Mrs. Hamilton and I tried to explain to her that it was nowhere near done. She said she certainly hoped not and that she didn't want my ‘incompetent’ hands back on it. But what she didn't know was that it was Mrs. Hamilton who'd cut it out and done the basting. I only do the sewing. That Trissy Eastland is the rudest person on earth!”

  “I don't know about her being the rudest. All those uppity plantation folks are like that. And I mean everyone of them I've ever met.”

  “I think she's just a spoiled brat,” Sarah snapped.

  “She's bratty, selfish and mean for sure.”

  “I'll accept that.”

  Shane helped Sarah from the wagon then went on his way as she readied herself for another day of neck breaking work. By the end of the day Sarah's neck and shoulders would be so stiff she'd have to work out the kinks before she could even stand up.

  “Morning, Sarah!” Mrs. Hamilton's cheerful voice rang out. “Trissy Eastland is coming back this afternoon for a fitting. I want you to get as much done on that dress as you can before then. The sooner we get that one done the better. I just want that girl and her dress out of this shop!”

  “Yes, the sooner the better. I'll get started right now.” Sarah sewed right on through lunch and didn't even stop for a drink of water. By the time Trissy came in, the pieces of material had begun looking like a right nice dress.

  “This is a wonderful job,” Trissy cooed. “It turned out after all. I'm pleased about how you've salvaged her work. You are very gifted indeed, Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “Well, it was Sarah... ”

  “And I want you to do all my spring dresses, “Trissy interrupted, “and a gown for the Easter ball too. How does that sound?”

  “You'll have to find someone else. We are totally booked up right now. In fact, I don't know when we'll get a break.”

  “Oh no, Mrs. Hamilton! You can't deny lil’ ol’ me. And you know I'll pay you generously. How many of those others are going to tip you extra? And you do need to get started on my Easter dress first, if you please.” Trissy talked as if she'd never been told no in her life about anything. If so, it had never stuck because the word ‘no’ just didn't seem to register with her.

  “I'm sorry, Miss Trissy, we simply can't take anymore right now.”

  “Well, we'll talk about it after this one is done. Help me get it off now. This will be the prettiest day dress I've ever owned!”

  After Trissy flounced out of the shop, Sarah spoke to Mrs. Hamilton. “You know you need the money. I really don't care what she says to me. Believe me, I've heard worse. If she is willing to tip you extra, I say take the job and ignore her remarks. She seems to like you well enough. It's me that she's peeved at anyway. Just let her think you did it all. I could care less. I just need the money and you do too, so give the spoiled brat what she wants.”

  “Do you think we should dangle her a bit though, and raise the price?”

  “That's your business. I'll follow your lead though and I won't leave you to do it all alone.”

  “Then that's what we'll do. They have plenty of money and she can afford to pay us for putting up with her and for making her blasted dresses.”

  They both laughed.

  Mrs. Hamilton made Trissy pay in advance and gave Sarah half of the money. The first thing she did was order Jennie and Bettie each a brand new pair of shoes.

  When spring came around. It was time to get back to the hard labor of plowing, planting, weeding, moving the new chickens, spring cleaning and all other such chores as well as working with Mrs. Hamilton. Jennie and Bettie were courting and hard to lasso into their chores. Sarah hardly had time to fret about anything and too tired at night to even think. She fell into bed and was out before her head hit the pillow.

  Trissy's Easter ball gown and her summer dresses were exquis
ite. She gloated over them madly and declared that they were well worth every cent she'd paid for them. Sarah was glad that she was pleased and glad that the responsibility was off her back because she had long ago spent the money. Now she could breathe easier.

  Summer was flying by in a frenzy of work. This year the crops were beautiful. Each tomato vine was full. Squash had to be picked everyday along with the beans, okra, pickles and peas. Sarah hardly got to see Greta, but Shane came by every evening to help out wherever he could. Chopping wood, gathering the produce and so forth.

  Sarah and Marion canned jar after jar of fresh vegetables. This winter there would be plenty of everything. Sarah felt proud and the money jar was filling up nicely. They had a hog for butchering in the fall and the new chicks had already begun to lay.

  The chickens surrounded Sarah as she cast the chicken feed out over the ground. They squawked and pecked and fluttered to grab every morsel they could get. The new little ones were getting pecked and shoved away. “Hey you stingy old biddies, you let them have some too!” she fussed.

  “You trying to teach chickens good manners?” Shane teased her from the roof of the chicken house where he was mending the leaks.

  “They're so mean to the new ones!”

  “That's how it is and that's how it's been forever.”

  “Maybe so, but my chickens are going to behave themselves, even if I have to force them.”

  “I believe you actually could change that brood.”

  Shane's face was sunburned and sweaty. She knew they had been allowing him to do too much around here. It wasn't fair to him and they had pretty well caught up. She knew he worked hard at his job, his place and now theirs. “You should be resting now, or doing what needs to be done around your place. You're doing too much. Get down from there and come into the house. I'll fix you a glass of cold lemonade and we'll rest for a bit. I need a break too.”

  Shane smiled and climbed down the ladder. “Yes ma'am! I've just put the last shingle on anyway.”