Sage and Sweetgrass

by LoRee Peery

  “Not that we could be friends or anything, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her,” she told Geneva when they bid one another goodnight. “I want to check up on her.”

  She also didn’t want to confess to her sister that she was drawn to Sage through the letters. Somehow she empathized with Kate’s loneliness through her own yearning for Sage.

  Lanae was so churned up inside that she imagined herself unraveling, one stitch at a time, like the loops of a life-long crocheted scarf.

  ****

  Sage thumped the heel of his right hand into the palm of his left, tried to focus on the words booming from his fifty-inch flat-screen downstairs. Then he yanked the remote control off the cedar chest he used for a coffee table. “Me, me, me. This world is not all about the likes of you!”

  The talking head kept on smiling and yakking after he muted the talk show guest. “Can’t these people find something worthwhile to talk about besides their shallow lives and their stupid secrets?”

  Disgusted with himself for even sitting there in the middle of the day, he hit the power button on the remote. All day he’d been out of sorts, especially inside the house. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

  He stormed upstairs and circled the kitchen, grabbed his outer wear, and almost ran through the garage.

  On his way to the barn, the chilly humidity hit him with a harsh reminder that winter was closing in. He had to check on those Florida condo-on-the-beach reservations. A lot of ocean sun should warm the achy Nebraska chill from his bones.

  It’d be a nice night for cuddlin’.

  That thought stopped him in his tracks.

  Only one woman came to mind with the idea of cuddling. Lanae Petersen. She could be opinionated. She sure was stubborn, going after the mystery behind the letters, but he had to admire her as well. She was a survivor, and went after what she wanted from life.

  Could she want him?

  Sage recalled their first real kiss. Lanae had tasted just as he had supposed. He remembered the way her sweetness lingered, as though he were a horse drawn to the delicacy of sweet spring grasses.

  Somewhere along the line, he’d left his intention behind. He’d wanted Lanae to focus on him instead of her search for Ted. She’d hooked him instead. Ever since he kissed her, he’d replaced talking to Becca with a preoccupation of holding lively Lanae.

  He studied his surroundings. The air had the damp, crisp feel of snow, and the sky was white with clouds. He remembered how Lanae, in her skinny jeans, had fit right in on his land.

  Sage strode on.

  He didn’t want Lanae to want him, yet he couldn’t stomach the idea of her wanting any other man.

  Even if he wanted her in return, no way could he waste his time on another woman with an illness. He lacked that kind of tough hide.

  When he slid open the barn door, soft horse nickers greeted him.

  “How-do, everybody. I got a little lonely all by myself and figured you could use some company, too, so I came out to say hello.”

  He swept the jacket hood off his cap, readjusted the bill. Lonely. He’d actually said it out loud.

  Suddenly, a sharp reminder of the Christmas story came to mind. Mary and Joseph must have been greeted by the same kind of animal warmth long ago on that historic Bethlehem night.

  Why did God have to bring Jesus into the picture of his turmoil? He liked being alone.

  Didn’t he?

  “I gave my heart once, God. And you took my Becca. I don’t want Lanae or any other woman getting in there again. Especially a woman with a history of being sick.”

  I’ll be fine with Lezlie and Jaxson, thanks anyway.

  Sage stroked Freckles between the eyes, slapped his hand gently down the length of the soft neck, and tickled with his fingers under the large, warm belly.

  And he remembered watching Lanae do the same thing.

  At the time, he’d had a gut reaction as though he were the recipient of those talented fingers. Wherever Lanae’s hands had brushed the horse, Sage had felt his own skin quiver with the imagined impression of her touch on his skin.

  Right now Sage felt like a horse trotted along the trail of his insides, kicking up gravel and slinging all kinds of debris.

  He’d been perfectly fine with his life the way it was. Before that woman punched his phone number and changed his life.

  Now that he’d met her, how could he survive leaving Nebraska knowing he’d be leaving Lanae behind?

  ****

  Lanae’s sedan tires spun some as she rooted for traction after putting the car in Drive. By the time she parked next to Kate’s little house, she knew she’d better have her ice scraper handy before driving back to the loft. The air was heavy with cold crystals of moisture. The moon wouldn’t show its face anytime soon.

  She had yet to consider the loft as “home.” Platteville was home. Geneva’s two-story frame house with the front porch, swing and all, she had considered home. But for some reason when she thought of the loft, it still belonged to Moselle. Eric’s skilled carpentry had lovingly prepared the loft as an extension of Frivolities, an expression of his love for Moselle.

  Sage hadn’t been on his acreage long—five years, if she remembered right. Did he consider it home? Probably. Yet Becca was there with him.

  Shake it off.

  Kate Rawlins lived at the opposite end of Platteville from Geneva. Her one-story bungalow appeared on the shabby side, even after sundown. Lanae eased herself out of the sedan and reached back in for the plate of cheesecake she had covered and topped off with a Christmas bow.

  The woman looked eighty when she answered Lanae’s knock. Kate’s eyes appeared sunken, lacking the light of life.

  “Hi, Kate.” Lanae smiled in greeting. “I brought you some peppermint cheesecake and wanted to make sure you were doing all right after your shock yesterday.”

  “Oh, how thoughtful.” Kate stood there after her remark as though she didn’t know what to do next.

  “May I take it to your kitchen?”

  “How thoughtless of me. Of course. Please. Come in.” Kate stepped aside and slowly shut the door once Lanae walked through.

  Lanae waited but received no more direction from Kate. When she was a vibrant Katherine, Lanae imagined the spark of youth, of love, had shone from Kate’s eyes.

  Now Kate wore a lackluster look, like the spark of life had abandoned her. Her usual red lipstick was missing. Her skin looked gray in the dim front-room light.

  “I’ll just take this on back, then.” Lanae strode through the small room, careful not to trip on a corner of the ragged rug rolled up on the kitchen side of the threshold.

  A fluorescent light over the sink revealed spotless counters. No cooking smells spiced the stale, dead-scented air.

  “Kate, have you eaten yet tonight?”

  Lanae glanced back to see Kate Rawlins, unmoving, next to the front door. Her heavy gray sweater listed off one sagging shoulder.

  “Uh, no. I’ve been resting most of the day.”

  “I’ve done that myself. Not healthy for anyone. I’ll guess you haven’t eaten since morning. Do you have a can of soup? Or would you rather I fix you a sandwich?”

  “Please, don’t bother—”

  “No bother whatsoever. I miss having someone to fuss over.”

  Lanae set to work. First, she opened the refrigerator and set the cheesecake inside, noting bare essentials like milk, butter, bread, cheese, and bruised fruit in a crisper drawer. She grabbed what she needed, including a wrinkled apple. Next, she opened cupboard doors and transferred necessities for grilled cheese and tomato soup.

  Once she got busy with the light meal preparation, she observed Kate.

  Kate shuffled a step closer to the kitchen, and Lanae caught glimmers of the single life of an elderly woman. No shine to it. But without Frivolities, or crocheting for the babies in hospitals and shelters, that single life may not have been that far ahead in Lanae’s future.

  By the time Kate s
ank onto a kitchen chair, tailbone rigid, Lanae resolved to never end up this way. No music. Muted television. Rumpled cover over sunken couch cushions. Few comforts were evident, other than two more throws and three family photographs on the wall. Only a Bible and water-stained coaster sat isolated on the junky antique coffee table.

  Lanae served Kate the simple meal. Then she put water on to heat for tea before taking a seat at the small table covered in the only colorful spot in the kitchen. The faded red poinsettias on the tablecloth were the lone sign of Christmas Lanae noted in Kate’s home.

  “Would it help to talk more about Ted and your letters to him, Kate?”

  “My manners are normally better.” Kate’s chest rose with a quivery sigh. “Thank you, Lanae, for your kindness. Are you sure you want nothing to eat?”

  “I’m fine.” Lanae smiled, watching Kate test the heat of the soup, then daintily slurp two spoonfuls.

  The kettle whistled. Lanae went about the makings of tea for them both; and by the time she sat back down, Kate wore rosy cheeks. She scootched to the back of the chair and chewed her last bite of sandwich.

  “I’ve done enough thinking about Teddy to last three old-maid lifetimes. I talked enough about him yesterday to make you depressed. Your coming here has revived me more than I can say.”

  Lanae stroked the older woman’s forearm where it rested on the table. “How about some cheesecake to go with that tea?”

  “Oh, I’ll enjoy that later. I’m used to eating small meals. Thank you so much for your kindness.” They sipped tea in silence before Kate surprised Lanae.

  “Now, I want you to tell me about your Sage. Isn’t that his name? The fellow who carried me like Rhett carried Scarlett?”

  Lanae wondered if her cheeks reached the color scarlet. “Yes, his name is Sage. I haven’t known him very long but I consider him almost as dear to me in the short time I have known him as your Ted was to you.”

  “Tell me why you say that. I’m all ears, and I have the rest of my life to listen to someone else in love.”

  Lanae’s hand shook. The tea scalded her lips so she set it back in the saucer. “In love?”

  “I can feel these things.” Kate gave a soft chuckle. “Tell me all about him.”

  Lanae did. How they met because of the vanity ad. Lezlie and Jaxson. His acreage. His horses. She even mentioned the pictures of Becca, and was surprised when she peeked at her watch to see that more than an hour had passed.

  The women cleared and washed the dishes together, setting them in a drain Kate pulled from underneath the sink.

  Lanae shrugged into her coat and after pulling on her gloves, was taken aback when Kate hugged her.

  “You’ll never know how much your visit means to me.”

  Lanae hugged her back. “I believe when the Lord brings another person to mind, and that person doesn’t leave your thoughts, we’re supposed to do something more than pray.”

  “Here, let me turn the light on for you,” Kate said before opening the door. “And one more thing. You and Sage have a uniquely personal connection. You’ve each survived a spouse’s death. You’ve both grieved. You’ve both been lonely. God will use that.”

  She and Sage were both used to sleeping single in a double bed, as the old country song went.

  14

  Life is full of second chances.

  Lanae had a grand time greeting new and familiar customers and watching merchandise fly out the door in specialty bags. The Christmas rush was in full swing, and she thrived on the constant activity. To the delight of the Frivolities co-owners, men were venturing in to purchase gifts for their women. All thanks to word of mouth, rather than an actual “men’s corner.” Yet.

  She’d had to push thoughts of Sage and her feelings for him to the back of her mind. They appeared just before sleep took her, but her mind succumbed to her body’s need for rest.

  She was convinced the extra activity might be too much for Geneva. Combined with the onset of colder, wetter weather, her sister’s arthritis was acting up. Moselle had made it a point to be around for the coffee brewing and mixing moments, much to Geneva’s disgust when her hands didn’t do what her mind wanted them to.

  “Physical limitations are part of life,” Lanae reminded Geneva.

  Rainn appeared to fall more in love with Geneva every time Lanae saw them together. She sighed with the beauty, the blessing, of her sister’s relationship.

  Saturday morning found Lanae thankful Beth Phillips was the extra help Frivolities needed. During a lull, Lanae called Lezlie.

  “Hey, Lezlie. I’m taking a break, and I thought of your family. Holidays can be tough times when it comes to family memories, and I know it isn’t really my business—“

  “If you’re talking about the letters and what Dad told us the other night,” Lezlie interrupted, “Lanae, Jaxson and I owe you. Dad could have taken the Tippin family secret to his grave.”

  “I suggest, since the secret is now out, I want you and Jaxson to forgive your father. He must have had his reasons for holding back about the way your grandfather died.”

  “I know, and that’s a done deal. I have forgiven him. As soon as I had the chance, I Googled the Earl Tippin and Ted Tippin names, but even when I specified Platteville and Lincoln, I only came up with white pages from telephone directories.”

  “Same thing happened to me. So many people have cell phones these days. But back to your dad. Think about how the tragedy must have haunted umpteen July Fourth holidays for your father.”

  “That’s not it, Lanae.” Lezlie’s voice trembled.

  Lanae reached out with a mental hug.

  “My mother died on Christmas Eve.”

  Later, Lanae had no idea how she had ended the call. She dealt with people throughout the day, and even did some accounting, but she’d been preoccupied with Sage and what his family had dealt with over the years. Reading between the lines, Kate’s letters inferred Ted had been physically hurt somehow.

  Stirred by the passion of what was left unsaid, that night Lanae made another call. “Hi. I never did see your new saddle. Would you mind if I drive down and have a look?”

  “When are you thinking?” Sage sounded preoccupied.

  “Tomorrow after church, OK?”

  “Sounds good. I made a pot of chili this afternoon, and it’s always better the second day. I’ll wait for you.”

  ****

  On Sunday, the precipitation started with flurries that looked like floating feathers in various sizes. Then it got heavier and clung to the wet, still-green-in-spots grass of a nearby golf course. The north wind picked up and by the time Lanae pulled into Sage’s driveway, the moisture had started to freeze. Some of those ice balls collected like foam beads, circling in the corners around Sage’s front door.

  “Bad weather report just came on,” Sage greeted her. “The storm hit Kansas fast and furious a couple hours ago. Ice, then snow. Looks like we’re going to get blasted. Snow is blowing down from Canada, so we’ll get hit from two directions.”

  “How serious is it?”

  “Serious enough that you won’t be going anywhere soon, and a smart woman would have stayed home. White-out conditions. Patrol says to stay off the roads.”

  “Good thing you made a pot of chili then. I baked bread. And for your information, I thrive on a grand winter storm as much as I love the rain. I don’t think that makes me dumb.”

  “Seems like all I do is apologize to you, Lanae. Don’t most men bark when people they care about put themselves in danger?”

  He cares!

  But, I haven’t been alone with a man since Keith. Storm or no.

  ****

  I haven’t been alone with a woman since Becca.

  Sage took a seat at the table next to Lanae, inhaling the spicy scent of chili peppers. As she bowed her head, the door burst open.

  “Oh, Dad, it’s bad out there!”

  “What in the world? Doesn’t anybody listen to weather reports?”

&nb
sp; Lezlie whipped off her coat and hung it on the coat tree. “You’ve told me before, Dad, that storms have to begin and end somewhere.”

  For emphasis, ice pinged against the windows. Lanae got up from her seat to take a closer look.

  “Way cool.” Jaxson slung his coat toward the rack, but it slid to the floor. “We only had flurries at our house, Grandpa.”

  “It didn’t turn to sleet until I hit Highway 2. By then I was much closer to your house than mine,” Lezlie finished.

  “OK, come in where it’s warm. I see Lanae’s already set a couple more places. Jax, wanna get some weather on the TV—after you hang up your coat—so we know what’s going on here.”

  “Sure, Grandpa.”

  The women finished setting the table, and they had taken their seats by the time Jaxson bounded back up the stairs.

  “The worst of it angles through Kansas, tips Missouri, and heads into Iowa,” Jaxson announced in a deep reporter’s exaggerated voice. He swung a leg over the chair back instead of pulling out the chair and slid onto the seat.

  “We’re on the edge then,” Sage said, relieved.

  “It’s bad enough the highway patrol says don’t go anywhere. That’s so cool. School’s closed for tomorrow already.”

  “Thanks for checking. Let’s eat.”

  Lanae put a hand on Sage’s arm when he scooped up a spoon of chili. “Do you mind if I pray?”

  He was so out of the habit.

  Lezlie met his gaze before bowing her head.

  Sage rested his spoon against the rim of his soup bowl and closed his eyes.

  Lanae’s breathy alto filled the room. and the hollows of his heart hurt when instead of what he expected, she sang, “The Lord’s Prayer.”

  Silence met her amen.

  Jaxson broke it with, “I’m hungry. That was pretty sweet.”

  “Lanae, that was beautiful. Thank you. I read Matthew six not too long ago. You know, it’s called The Lord’s prayer, but it really is an example Jesus gave His Disciples as to how we ought to pray.” Lezlie turned to her father. “Dad, isn’t it time you got out your Bible?”