by Bobbi Smith
“Yes, I did,” she replied, trying not to stare at his hard-muscled, hair-roughened chest.
He saw her discomfort and realizing his state of undress, reached for his shirt. “Good. I’ll be out of here as soon as I finish dressing. Then you can have the cabin to yourself.”
“That’s very considerate.” Watching him put on his shirt, she pulled the covers up higher under her chin.
“If you’d like, Christopher can come with me.”
Excited by the idea of spending more time with Steve, Christopher pleaded, “May I go with Steve? Please? I’ll be good. I promise. May I?”
Sarah looked from confident man to eager young boy and was torn. She wanted Christopher to be happy, but she wondered if she dared trust Steve with him. Finally she realized that as long as the boat didn’t make any stops during the time they were together, Christopher would be safe. “Go ahead. But Christopher?”
“Yes?”
“I think you’d better finish shaving first.”
“Thanks, Mother.” Christopher turned diligently back to the task and in a few minutes was done. Meanwhile, Steve put on a jacket and tie, and Sarah found her gaze lingering on him. She watched him move, admiring how well the jacket fit his broad shoulders. When he glanced up, she quickly looked away.
“Where would you like to meet for breakfast? They’ll be serving in less than an hour.”
“I’ll meet you on deck near the entrance to the dining room.”
“That’ll be fine. You ready, Christopher? Let me take a look at you.” He eyed the youth with an approving male air, noting his neatly combed hair, clean shirt, and pressed pants. “You look fine, and, by the way, for a first effort, you did a good job shaving. Let’s go.”
The boy glowed at his praise. “Bye, Mother. We’ll see you in a little while.”
“Bye, dear.” She watched them go, noticing the way Steve put a gentle, guiding hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked out the door.
With no reason to hurry, Sarah decided to take her time and look her best. Half-way through her morning ablutions, she found she was smiling at the thought of not having to wear the hated mourning dress today. She took extra time with her hair and then moved to her traveling chest to select a day gown. The turquoise caught her eye. It wasn’t a flashy dress. It was high-necked and long-sleeved, but the full-skirted style suited her. She donned it quickly. Sarah told herself she wasn’t doing this to please Steve, but because she no longer had to play the part of a widow. A quick glance in the mirror told her she looked like a different woman; and, satisfied with the results of her efforts, she went out to meet her men.
On deck, Christopher and Steve strolled in companionable silence. When they passed other travelers, they offered cordial greetings; otherwise, they remained quiet, enjoying the cool freshness of the new day and each other’s company.
“Steve?”
“Yes, Christopher?”
“Do you have any children of your own?” Wanting to know more about this man who fascinated him, Christopher could contain his curiosity no longer.
Wryly Steve replied, “Not that I know of. Why?”
“Oh, I was just wondering.” Christopher smiled happily at the news.
“Well, that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. I’ve never been married or fathered any children. You’re my first son.”
Christopher beamed at his answer. “I want to grow up to be just like you.”
“What about your real father? You mustn’t forget him.” Steve was touched by his words, but urged him to think about the man who’d given him life. He didn’t want the boy to transfer his love for his father to him out of loneliness or a sense of loss. He was surprised by the strange look Christopher gave him.
“I’ll never forget him,” was his answer.
His tone gave Steve pause. “Do you miss him a lot?”
He almost blurted out aloud “NO,” but remembering his Aunt Sarah’s admonitions to play his role, he answered cautiously, “Not as much as I thought I would.” Christopher swallowed tightly at the memory of his father. He hated the man passionately.
“Death is a difficult thing to deal with. Time does help, but the emptiness you feel never really goes away.”
The boy thought then of his mother and the ache that sometimes threatened to tear him apart. He kept expecting to see her, expecting to hear her voice. He wanted to feel her arms around him and to put his arms around her. “It doesn’t?” The prospect of feeling forever empty—with his sorrow still so raw and deep—frightened him.
“No, but that’s good in a way, Christopher,” Steve said gently. “If we miss them always, that means we loved them a lot; and no one can ask for more than that in this life.” He hoped he wasn’t talking over the boy’s head, but somehow he believed Christopher understood. To cheer him, Steve made an offer. “You asked last night if I’d teach you how to play cards. Do you want to try now? We have enough time to get in a hand or two.”
Christopher immediately brightened, glad to be drawn away from the memory of his mother lying dead at the bottom of the staircase. “I watched you play on the train, and I want to be as good as you are,” he told him with honest admiration.
“Do you think your mother would approve?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Well, I take my card playing seriously.”
“You do?” He was surprised. “You looked like you were having fun.”
“There are times when it’s fun,” he granted. “And there are times when it’s not.” Steve looked down at Christopher. “But you and I,” he went on, “will have a grand time!”
“Good. I won’t tell Mother, if you won’t.”
“You got a deal. Let’s play.”
“Thanks!” Christopher’s face lit up.
They sat down on two out-of-the-way deck chairs, and Steve pulled a deck of cards from his inner coat-pocket and shuffled them. His quick, sure efforts earned him an admiring look.
“You do that great! May I try?”
Steve handed him the deck and the boy made a valiant attempt. His movements were slow and clumsy though, and he chewed on his lip in frustration as he fought to handle the cards as well as Steve.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get better with practice,” Steve encouraged, and they shared a smile as Christopher handed the deck back. “Now, watch carefully. This is how you deal.”
With practiced ease, Steve dealt the cards as his pupil observed intently. The boy watched in awe, amazed at the card tricks and quick to pick up the rudiments of poker.
“How did you get so good at this?” Christopher asked.
“Practice.”
“Do you play a lot?” It was an innocent question.
“Every day. It’s how I make my living.”
“You’re not a gambler.” Christopher shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve seen pictures, and gamblers look slick. They wear big diamonds and are smooth talkers. You’re not like that.”
Steve grinned at the observations. “Oh, I’ve had my moments. There have been several times—especially lately—when I’ve had to do some fast talking.”
“Like with Mother?”
“Like with your mother.”
They turned back to their cards.
“What about bluffing?” Christopher asked a few minutes later as he studied the practice hand Steve had dealt him.
“It takes nerves of steel. You can’t let any hint of emotion show. Look your opponent straight in the eye, and don’t flinch,” he explained. “I don’t do it often. Only when the situation is desperate, and I have no choice but to win.”
Christopher nodded. “You have to look serious?”
“Very.”
They regarded each other, and Christopher experimented with his gravest expression.
“That’s pretty good.” Steve nodded in honest appreciation. Keep working on it and you’ll have it in no time.” They finished their hand, then Steve gave Christopher the deck. “Go ahead,�
� he said. “It’s your turn to deal.” Christopher held the cards almost reverently as he counted out their hands.
“I did it!” he cried exuberantly. “I did it. I’m a dealer.”
“You sure are, son,” Steve said proudly, and the game continued. They were having such a good time that they almost forgot about meeting Sarah. Steve was the one who finally remembered.
“We’d better hurry. I don’t want her to worry about me,” Christopher told him earnestly.
They made it to the pre-arranged meeting place moments before Sarah appeared. She found Steve and Christopher standing at the rail, completely at ease together as they laughed and talked.
“Did you two enjoy yourselves?” she asked.
They turned to greet her, and Steve’s expression clearly reflected both his surprise that she had worn something other than the mourning clothes and his full male appreciation for the change in her appearance. Wordlessly, he breathed in her loveliness. He’d thought her pretty in the drab clothes. In a colorful gown, he found her stunning. The blue-green set off her pale complexion to perfection, and the style—demure yet fashionable—fit her superbly, emphasizing the fullness of her breasts and the soft curve of her hips.
“We had a good time,” Christopher was saying. He looked far happier than he had in days, and Sarah noted the change.
“I’m glad,” Sarah said, approval in her voice.
To Steve she seemed aglow. He found himself wanting to make her smile. “You look beautiful this morning,” he told her. “Turquoise is a wonderful color on you.”
“Thank you.” His compliment pleased her as much as the warmth of his gaze upon her.
Thinking of how much Christopher wanted to play cards and keeping up the pretense that they were a family, Steve put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and said with a note of fatherly pride, “You know, Christopher’s got a lot of his father in him. He’s a regular chip off the old block.”
At his words, so innocently put, Michael came raging into her thoughts. Sarah’s smile faltered, then vanished completely. The idea, however remote, that Christopher might be like Michael made her ill. She understood Steve’s intention and for the sake of their deception she knew she had to paste a happy look back on her face; but it took her a minute to pull herself together.
Seeing the change in her expression, Steve realized that he’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to, but he could tell that the reminder of her husband’s death had cut deep. Obviously the memory was still a source of terrible pain for her, and he cursed himself for his insensitivity. He had enjoyed her light-heartedness and regretted that he could have been the cause of any heartache.
“Shall we go on in and eat?” She finally managed.
“Of course.”
The delicious breakfast helped Sarah push Michael from her thoughts, and she began to enjoy herself again. But when they had finished eating and were leaving the room, Sarah noticed the two men from the shipping office seated near the door. They watched her leave, and she shivered in spite of the warmth of the day. They had, she was certain, noticed her change from mourning clothes and were eyeing her with overt interest.
Steve saw them, too, and having his hand at her waist to guide her from the dining room, he felt her tremble. The moment they were alone with no one close enough to hear, he asked, “Why do those men frighten you, Sarah?”
“They don’t,” she lied.
“Every time you see them, you panic,” he pointed out.
“I thought we’d made a bargain not to ask each other questions.”
They had agreed, he granted, but it didn’t stop him from worrying about her. “Sarah, can I help?”
“Help? With what? Christopher and I are fine, but I think we’ll go back to the cabin now,” Sarah answered as they went on deck.
Steve stopped. “Wait a minute. I know I should mind my own business, but being your ‘husband’ for the duration of this trip is my business. If we’re ‘married,’ then we should act married.” They’d had such a good time at breakfast he didn’t want to be parted from her. “You can’t cower in the cabin. We should do what normal, married people do.”
Sarah conceded his point. If those men suspected her, she had to meet the challenge. Hiding would only draw more attention to her situation. Abruptly, she changed her mind. “What do you want to do?”
“The same thing all river travelers do—watch the scenery,” he replied promptly. They found three chairs in the shade on deck and sat down. Steve found her intelligent and witty as he engaged her in conversation. As time passed, she began to relax and seemed almost happy. He was glad.
Sarah, glad she had taken Steve’s advice, found it far more pleasant to sit and talk with him than to hide in the cramped stateroom. He was kind and attentive and good with Christopher, who was full of energy.
The Langfords joined them a short time later. The women sat together as the men moved to the railing for a “manly” talk.
“Sarah, you look radiant! Your gown is most becoming,” Edith complimented her.
“Thank you. It does feel good to dress normally again.”
“I’m sure your Steve is happy, too. Why, he can’t take his eyes off you,” Edith told her, atwitter over the way the handsome Steve Johnson was watching his wife. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess you two were newly married.”
“Oh, really?” Sarah asked. Startled by the observation, she cast a covert peek at Steve and Stanley and met Steve’s gaze. His hazel eyes glowed. The look touched her, and she thought of his offer of help as they’d left the dining room. If only she could trust him enough to say “yes”!
“Yes. The way you look at him gives you away, too. It’s obvious you love each other very much.”
“Is it?”
“It’s easy to see how you feel about him. It’s in your eyes.” When Sarah blushed and looked away from Steve, Edith patted her hand reassuringly. “Don’t be embarrassed, my dear,” Edith went on. “It’s a wonderful thing for a wife to love her husband. All too often, the love fades after a few years. But you two care very much for each other, and that’s something to be proud of.”
“Steve is a very special man,” Sarah responded, glancing quickly at her “husband” once more. She discovered to her embarrassment that he’d heard her remark, and he gave her a strange half-smile that sent heat surging through her. She turned her attention back to Edith. “I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s always there when I need him.”
“Hopefully, my dear, it’ll stay that way, and you’ll be together always.”
The two boys interrupted just then, and Sarah was glad. The other woman had meant to be kind, but the thought of her inevitable separation from Steve sent an unexpected shaft of pain through Sarah. Tomorrow, she would rediscover exactly what life would be like without Steve. When they docked in Kansas City the next morning, the game would end. They would part, and she would never see him again. Sarah lifted her gaze to Steve once more and found that he was still watching her. This time, though, his expression was unreadable.
Edith turned back to her once the boys were calmed, and the conversation drifted on to other things. Sarah was glad. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. She just wanted to enjoy this day while it lasted.
Supper that evening proved as sumptuous as the night before. They dined with the Langfords again and had a wonderful time. Sarah ate with particular relish for she knew good meals would be hard to come by very soon. She’d managed to learn a little about travel on wagon trains, and what she’d gleaned had convinced her that luxuries such as cleanliness, comfort, and good cuisine would soon become things of the past. The trip west would be hard, but they had no other choice.
After supper they returned to the cabin. Steve paused after unlocking the cabin door. “Sarah, I’d like to speak with you privately for a minute after you’ve put Christopher to bed.”
“All right,” she answered, confused by his request.
“I’ll wait out
here on deck for you.” She nodded and went inside with the boy.
“Aunt Sarah?” Christopher said her name once they were alone.
“Yes, dear?”
“What’s going to happen when we get to Kansas City?” She could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“We’re going to find ourselves a wagon train and head for California so we can meet your Aunt Angel.”
“But what about Steve?” He sounded earnest.
“What about him?”
“Is he going with us?”
“No, Christopher. He’s not.”
At his crestfallen expression, Sarah wished there was something she could say or do to cheer him, but she could think of nothing. It was just the two of them, and it would stay that way.
“I’m going to miss Steve. He’s nice to me. He taught me how to play poker this morning. Did you know that’s how he makes his living? Someday I’m going to be as good as he is!”
“He told you he was a gambler?”
“Yes. I sure wish he could stay with us longer so I could practice with him some more. I like him, Aunt Sarah. I like him a lot. Don’t you?”
“Yes, Christopher. He seems a very nice man.”
“Then why don’t you ask him to go to California with us? Nobody would bother us if Steve were with us.”
Sarah had to admit that she felt safe and protected with Steve by her side, but she was an adult and realistic. It couldn’t go on. They would part company in the morning.
“We’re on our own.”
“But why? If you like him, why don’t you ask him?”
“Liking him has nothing to do with it, Christopher. Now, give me a kiss and go to sleep.”
“All right, but I wish you’d figure out a way for Steve to stay with us,” he mumbled as he kissed her and snuggled into the sheets.
“Good night, Christopher.”
“G’night ...” He started to say Aunt Sarah but heard her already turning the door knob and finished, “... Mother.”
A sob choked him as he said the word. He was lonely, excruciatingly lonely, and soon he wouldn’t even have Steve to talk to. He loved his Aunt Sarah, but she wasn’t his mother. Tears burned his eyes, and he did not deny them. Tonight, he actually physically ached for his mother. He’d been thinking about her almost all day, and he longed with all his young heart to feel her arms around him again, to rest his head against her breasts, and to hear her tell him everything would be all right. His loneliness was agonizing, and it frightened him. He wanted his mother. Only she could make him feel better, only she would understand the terrors that haunted him.
