Bessie rubbed her arms. “Where was I? Oh, yes. Jer sent off some letters without telling the colonel about them. He requested that they appoint a replacement for Major Whelp. They—I forget who ‘they’ is, but they did not answer yet. In protest, Jeremiah decided he will not cut his hair until he is out of the militia. Says he is not made to be a militiaman and does not know what God is trying to do with him. Sarah?”
“Go on. I am listening.” Sammy squirmed as if he were tired of hearing Bessie go on and on like a crow with a piece of corn stuck in its beak. Sarah let him down, knowing he would toddle off to his blocks. She considered joining him.
Bessie smirked. “Have you seen him lately?”
“Colonel Williamson? I do not even know him.”
“Jeremiah, you ninny. Who do you think I have been talking about? You have not been paying attention, have you?”
“Partially,” Sarah admitted. “He should hear soon, I would think,” she said, responding to a part of the chatter that she recalled.
“He hopes it will be soon. He says this has been the longest year of his life.”
“From what I have seen, I think he has done an admirable job,” Sarah said.
“Shall I tell him you said that?”
“Why would it matter to him?”
“Jeremiah would be thrilled to hear it, but I will not let him know if you do not want me to.”
“Let him know what?” Sarah glanced at Sammy. He played with his blocks near her feet. The way he leaned against her legs made Sarah feel as if she could conquer the world. Then she remembered that night a few years ago when she had failed Levi, and she went back to thinking the world often conquered her.
Bessie sidled to the washtub and swished some clothing around in the soapy water. “That you care about him.”
In her haste to stand up, Sarah practically bounced Sammy off her leg. She checked on him before she replied.
“Owls and loons, Bessie. Jeremiah and I have nothing in common. We want none of the same things from life, and neither of us wants an involvement with someone else. We simply are not interested in each other.”
Bessie tsk-tsked. “Jeremiah does not share those sorts of details with just anyone.”
Sarah shook her head. “Other than the fact that he is not interested in marriage, he did not share anything with me. I simply guessed that is how he feels.”
“Well, it was a mighty fine guess, because you are right on the mark. And you know what that means….” Bessie turned away and hummed a tune Sarah hadn’t heard before.
Sarah reached for a small piece of composure. “What does it mean, Bessie?”
“It means what I have thought all along. You two are meant to be together.”
Sarah threw her hands up in the air. “I give up.”
“I do not.” Bessie swung around with her hands clasped around her midsection. “But I think we will put any further discussion aside, because it appears this young’un is anxious to make his appearance.”
“Shade dropped this off, Lieutenant. Do you have time to read it before you go see your new niece?” Rufe handed the missive to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah wanted to see the tiny angel God had blessed Bessie and Captain with, but he knew when duty came before family. He unfolded the parchment and spread it out in front of him.
Eyes see the big man across the lake. He supports missionaries’ plan to bring the Gospel to Indians, but he still thinks they are guilty of treason. Captive Indians now stay south of Delaware village, south of the big lake where they build homes to stay through the winter. Many want to leave but are forbidden to. Rumor says some will attempt a return to Muskingum Valley in the spring—they want to collect the harvest left behind when they were captured in August. Prepare for attack from those who return.
Jeremiah rubbed his forehead. “The big man across the lake” must refer to none other than the British commander at Fort Detroit.
“What did it say, boss?” Rufe moved toward Jeremiah.
“Please do not call me that,” Jeremiah snarled. “That title belongs to Williamson.”
“Sorry.” Rufe backed off. “Must be some powerful stuff in there to upset you so.”
“There is, but no signature to tell me who it came from. Go find Colonel Williamson. Let him worry about it. I am off to see my niece.”
And Sarah? his heart asked hopefully. Of course not. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.
His heart gave a huge sob.
Chapter 10
Jeremiah pressed a package wrapped in brown paper into Sarah’s hands before disappearing down the hall. Sarah thought it a gift for the baby and laid it on the table.
She checked on Sammy and then gave a hurried peek into Captain and Bessie’s room. There she caught sight of Jeremiah holding the new baby. The miniature bundle lay snuggled in his arms while he spoke with Captain.
Sarah slipped back down the hall. As she began ironing, she recalled Levi’s excitement the night Sammy arrived.
“We got us a boy, Sarah. May he grow to be strong and true. May God help us raise him correctly.”
Sarah paused to think about Levi’s words. No matter what disaster befell them, Levi always trusted God to bring them through. If God was so loving, why didn’t He save Levi from being killed? Now Levi would not see Sammy grow up. It was up to her to make the decisions that would influence Sammy’s upbringing.
Anxiety whirled through Sarah. She wasn’t the first woman to be left to raise a family, but she often felt like it. Other women had lost their mates to the Revolution or to marauding Indians. Most of them lived near family who helped them through difficult times. Without family near, Sarah bore her grief alone.
“I believe the first of December is a fine day for a birth. What do you think?”
Sarah gazed across the room to find Jeremiah settling into a chair.
“Yes, it is a fine day.” Sarah noticed that Jeremiah appeared tired. She offered him tea, but he declined.
“Bessie and the baby are sleeping,” Jeremiah said after a moment of observing Sarah while she pressed a shirt.
“New mothers need all the rest they can get.” She flipped the shirt over to begin working on a sleeve.
“I have heard that many times,” Jeremiah replied. “Do you agree it is grand that God brought Captain back in time to see the babe during her first few hours?”
“The timing does seem fortunate.” The crease in the sleeve refused to line up correctly. Sarah frowned at it.
“Those garments do not have to be perfect, you know,” Jeremiah stated. “A small crook in the sleeve will not hurt.”
Sarah straightened the sleeve and settled the unwieldy iron on it. “I appreciate your comments, but I prefer them to be as flawless as I can get them. Since you seem to be in no hurry to leave, I take it there is nothing pressing, as far as slaughtering Indians goes, demanding your attention?”
Jeremiah laced his fingers together and laid them on the table. “You know what, Sarah? This may sound strange, but I really do not go about hunting down Indians to kill. When I began working with the militia, it was with the explicit understanding that I wanted nothing to do with killing.”
Sarah arched her eyebrows. “Then why do you not just quit?”
“Because I promised David Williamson that I would stay until the end of December, and I will, even though there are times when I wish I did not have to.”
“Do you know what you will do when you leave the militia?”
“I was a blacksmith before, so I imagine I will return to that trade. By the way, Sarah, did you give any more thought to going to the Winter Supper?”
“I thought I made my choice clear earlier,” Sarah said.
“So you did, but a man can always hope. Perhaps you will not want to go with me anyway, after what I am about to tell you.”
Sarah’s throat tightened. “And that is?”
“I came today not only to see my new niece but to check on how my shirts are faring.”
Sarah gazed at the garment in front of her as if it were a snake. “Your shirts?”
“Yes. Bessie and I have discussed my decision not to tell you many times recently. She will be pleased that you finally know the truth.”
“But … why did you hide it from me to begin with?”
“Bessie told me what little she knows about your history, Sarah. She said you were trying to build a life for yourself and your son. I wanted—”
“Bessie had no right to …” Sarah began in a shaky voice.
Jeremiah appeared at Sarah’s side and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Bessie worries about you. She is concerned that if she does not get you involved with people, you will destroy yourself, and your son.”
Sarah took a step back. “I did not ask her to fret over me. For your information, Sammy and I are quite fine without anyone’s help.”
“People worry because they care,” Jeremiah said softly. “Why is that so hard for you to accept?”
Sarah turned from Jeremiah’s probing gaze. She wanted to share the reason with him. If she did, though, she sensed he would become another in a long line of those who didn’t understand why she had once lived among Indians.
Jeremiah strode back to his seat and stretched his legs beneath it. Sarah wished she could join him, let her heart reach out to him. To do so would invite danger. She shuffled some drying pots and pans.
“I did not hide the fact those were my shirts from you on purpose,” Jeremiah offered.
Sarah faced him. She hoped her confusion did not show too plainly. “Then why did you have me drop them off and pick them up at the trading post? The way you did it makes it seem like charity.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I guarantee it is not charity.”
Sarah relaxed. “Good. For that is the last thing I will take from anyone.”
If I stay here on the other side of the room, I’ll be fine, Sarah told herself. Of course, leaning against the butter churn isn’t comfortable, but I will not move.
Jeremiah propped his elbows on the table. “You needed a job. I provided one. If you do not want it, I will be glad to find someone else.”
“No! I need … er, I will keep it. I just cannot bear to be beholden to folks any more than necessary.” Sarah wished she didn’t sound so anxious.
“It is just a job, Sarah,” Jeremiah said. “I am not asking for a lifetime commitment. The Bible directs us to assist widows and young children. That is all I am doing.”
Perhaps that is the problem, Sarah reflected. Despite the fact that I want to be independent, something about Jeremiah makes me want to reconsider that issue.
Levi’s face drifted through her mind. Sarah missed him, not as drastically as she had in the fresh days of grief; the pain had softened since she met the Halls … and Jeremiah.
“I feel guilty about taking a job someone else might need more than I do,” she said.
“I did my own laundry before you came. You did not take anyone’s job.”
Sarah wrinkled her forehead. He did his own laundry? Well of course. Living alone in the middle of who knew where, all men in the militia probably did so.
“I feel better knowing that.” Sarah warned herself to keep her feelings about Jeremiah to herself, no matter how difficult that was when he was around.
“Me, too. I already told you I am not interested in women. But can we at least be friends?”
Sarah’s heart sputtered. Besides Bessie and Captain, it seemed like forever since anyone cared about her in a personal way. She and Levi lived far from civilization, and they’d had only themselves to depend on. A lot of good that had done them. Being alone was awfully lonely. She knew that much after being around Bessie and Captain the last few months.
“I am not sure about being friends with anyone,” Sarah confided. “Once you trade your life history and tell others things you consider important, they push you into corners where you do not want to be.”
“I would never push you,” Jeremiah said. “You are the only one who can put yourself in a corner, Sarah.”
Jeremiah reminded himself that he had come here today to visit his sister and see his niece, not to spend time with Sarah. Yet, the offer of friendship had come so naturally from his mouth that he wondered why it had taken him so long to make it.
“Friendship is all I can offer,” Jeremiah said, hoping Sarah didn’t think he was asking too much.
“I suppose it is hard for someone who has always had people close to him to understand,” Sarah said, “but I am not like normal people.”
“You are as normal as you let yourself be,” Jeremiah replied.
Sarah shifted her stance. “I was abandoned by my parents when I was very small then raised in a Philadelphia orphanage.” She spit the words out as if they might do irreparable damage.
“I knew others who grew up without parents,” Jeremiah replied. “They did not let that stop them from living and having friends.”
“I also lost that home when a flood swept it away.”
“Where did you go then?” Jeremiah recalled that he had once told Bessie his shoulders were broad enough to take whatever Sarah might wish to share. He sat up a little straighter.
“The orphanage owner knew a missionary, and his flock willingly accepted me. When they headed west, I went with them.” Her words trickled with sadness.
“A missionary?”
“Is there something wrong with men who instruct others in God’s Word?”
“No.” Jeremiah thought of the missive he had read before coming to see Bessie and the baby. It mentioned missionaries. How many missionaries were there in Ohio? Only the Moravians that he knew of. “Then why do you sound as if you disapprove?”
“I did not expect you to say something about them.”
“I knew it!” Sarah paled.
“Knew what?”
“You are just like all the rest.”
“The rest who?”
“Men!” Sarah crossed her arms in front of her and stared at him.
“How can you say that? You do not even know me.”
“I know you well enough to know that all you think you have to do is snap your fingers and people will die!”
“Sarah, I have already explained that is not something I am comfortable with,” Jeremiah insisted.
“Then why did you not tell me from the start it was your laundry I was doing? Were you afraid I would refuse it if I knew it came from you?”
“That is not it at all.” Jeremiah couldn’t figure out why Sarah changed the subject from the militia back to the laundry.
“Do not move from behind that table or I will scream so loud everyone within the county will come running.”
“You do not have to scream, Sarah. I will leave on my own.” Jeremiah moved toward the door, careful to keep as much distance between them as he could.
“Do me a favor,” Sarah directed as he reached the passage.
Jeremiah was relieved Sarah had not called him Mr. Stewart. And he was absolutely crazy to ask what the favor was. He should leave this woman alone, since that appeared to be what she really wanted.
“What, Sarah? Tell me.”
“Concentrate on your profession and quit worrying about the little people who make no difference in your life.”
“Do what?”
“You heard me. Forget about those of us who do not matter to you. We are really quite capable of surviving on our own.”
Jeremiah thought Sarah looked too pale, but what could he do? She obviously did not want any assistance from him. He hardened his heart, since it was the only way he could see to deal with Sarah’s demand. “I thought we just agreed to be friends.”
Sarah glared at him.
“All right, but no one survives alone very long, Sarah. However, if that is your wish, I will do my best to uphold it.”
Chapter 11
Jeremiah patted Sarah’s neck with his hand. “Come on. Wake up, Sarah.”
When Sarah mumbled, th
e feeling of helplessness that had overcome Jeremiah initially when Sarah collapsed began to fade.
“Please, Sarah.” Jeremiah brushed a lock of hair off her brow.
“Jeremiah?”
“Yes. It is me.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I guess the only way to say it is … you swooned.”
Sarah pushed her way up to a sitting position. “I will have you know that I never swoon. I thank you for assisting me, Mr. Stewart, but I am fine.”
Sarah sounded determined, but she was shaking. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am.” Sarah shrugged her shoulders and shook her hands in front of her. “See? I am fine.”
“What is going on out there?” Bessie’s piercing question traveled down the hall.
“Nothing to worry about, little sis,” Jeremiah called out.
“If you do not leave soon, Bessie will be coming out here to find out what happened,” Sarah said. “She should not be up, having given birth only yesterday.”
“I just want to assure myself that you are all right before I go,” Jeremiah insisted.
Sarah rubbed the sides of her head. “Will you quit arguing with me? You are giving me a head pain.”
Sarah did seem to be herself. When she had slumped to the floor, he hadn’t moved fast enough to catch her. He had worried that Sarah might have seriously injured herself.
Jeremiah thought himself strong and capable, but the sight of Sarah lying on the floor had twisted through him with vicious force. Without thinking, he brushed his hand across her forehead again.
Sarah shoved his hand away. “Bessie told me once that you are persistent. I guess she is right, but I honestly do not need someone to fuss over me. I am capable of taking care of myself.”
Sarah wished Jeremiah would leave, for his arm around her shoulder felt too comforting as he helped her to a chair.
“I only want to help you,” Jeremiah replied. “I am sorry if you think that what I am doing is wrong.”
“It is not,” Sarah said. “I am just tired of telling people that I am the only one I can depend on.”
The Memory of Love Page 23
