Sarah's Passion

by Ginger Simpson

  With the table cleared and the dishes stacked in the sink, Molly insisted they all move to the living room. Sarah settled on the sofa next to Wolf, with Molly in the easy chair. Peg had evidently grown bored with Sarah monopolizing the conversation and made an excuse to leave right after she finished eating. Sarah wasn’t disappointed, in fact, elated was a more suitable word.

  “Molly sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Are you sure you aren’t playing a joke on us? How could Molly in the story be married to someone named Gil, and how many heroes are named Wolf?”

  “I’m not making this up.” Sarah lied, but in a way she hadn’t made up anything. She just tweaked the manuscript to fit the details of her dream.

  “Then, tell us more, I’m fascinated.” Molly leaned back and curled her legs up in the chair. “So…I died in the story? How about Gil?

  Knowing he lived now and served the nation in a dangerous situation, Sarah paused before revealing his fate. She had to tell the truth, because hadn’t she already mentioned the tragic outcome in her intro? Sarah took a breath.

  “Gil didn’t survive the attack. Remember, I said only Molly and the heroine did, but you…I mean she, finally succumbed to her injuries. The good news: you and Gil are alive, married, and happy.”

  “Well, I’d be a lot happier if Gil was home safe and sound.” Sadness radiated in her eyes, but her faith shone through and she stilled her trembling lip. “And what exactly were her injuries? Or should I say mine?” She chortled, but half-heartedly.

  “Molly suffered an arrow wound just below her shoulder, and it became infected. The heroine had no medicine to treat the fever, and the whiskey she found in one of the wagons didn’t help.

  Molly lowered her feet and jerked forward. “Okay, this is just ridiculous.” She placed her palm just above her bosom, and then yanked her hand away as if burned.

  “What’s wrong, sis?”

  “You know very well I have a scar in the exact spot Sarah described. Remember hearing Mom talk about how I snagged myself on a branch when I fell out a tree?”

  “So you have a scar where an arrow pierced the other Molly. I have a scar on my side from a hernia repair. Sure, it’s bizarre, but I want to hear more.”

  Molly curled back into her chair. “So do I.”

  “Where did I leave off? Oh, yeah, after Wolf nursed the heroine back to health, he traveled with her to Independence to see she got there safely.” Sarah saw a chance to strike another familiar cord. “He had one friend in the whole town who accepted him despite his mixed blood, and she ran the local boarding house.”

  “Okay,” Wolf interrupted. “This story is raising the hackles on my neck. Don’t tell me the woman’s name was Maggie Smith.”

  Sarah faked a startled look, grasping her throat. “Why yes, how did you know?”

  “This is more than bizarre. I met an older woman who runs a local motel. She’s become like a second mother to me, and that’s her name. Let me guess, she’s a little on the chubby side, has gray hair, and a pleasant personality?”

  “Exactly.” Sarah’s plan was working.

  Wolf stood, went to refrigerator and took out a beer. He leaned against the counter, screwed off the top, took a long draw, and then shook his head. “I’m not sure what to think about the manuscript you read. One thing you’ve managed to skip over, though. You keep using the word ‘heroine’ and never tell us her name. Surely she had one.”

  Uh oh, he’d boxed her into a corner. If she revealed that bit of information the whole story would be just too unbelievable. But maybe it was time to come clean.

  “Well?” Wolf pressed.

  Her head lowered, she raised her gaze to meet his. “Would you believe me if I told you her name was Sarah?”

  “Oh, now I know you’ve got to be kidding.” Molly held up a hand for emphasis.

  “All right. I admit I fudged a little on the story, but this isn‘t a joke.” Sarah massaged her brow, pondering how to explain herself. “I guess honesty is the best policy after all, as my friend Marie might say.”

  Wolf moved back to the living area and perched sideways on the sofa. “So, let’s hear it all. If you haven’t been messing with our heads, then set us straight.”

  “Okay. I did read a western manuscript. That’s the absolute truth. What isn’t exactly true is that I dreamed everything I’ve told you.” She paused at the shocked look on their faces.

  I, Sarah Collins,” she continued before letting them speak, “left my home, joined a wagon train, survived a massacre, met a half-breed, traveled to Independence, met Maggie Smith, got a teaching job, and actually witnessed firsthand the prejudice and hatred aimed at a man simply because he shared the blood of two races.” She focused on Wolf. “Can you imagine my shock when that person showed up on my doorstep the very morning I awoke from the dream?

  Silence cloaked the room. Sarah’s breath halted while she waited for a response. Finally, she exhaled. “Okay, so tell me I’m crazy. I’ve been feeling that way for weeks now.”

  Wolf adjusted his position, leaning and resting his head against the back of the sofa. He stared at the ceiling. “No, you aren’t crazy. Do you remember the other day when I started to tell you about a conversation Molly and I had? We’ve been talking about how we both feel we’ve known you before. Of course, we all know we haven’t really met…at least in this lifetime.”

  “That’s right, Sarah. I told Nate that meeting you was like reacquainting with an old girlfriend. I can’t explain it either.”

  A weight lifted from Sarah’s shoulders. All her anxiety vanished with a cleansing breath. She looked from one to the other through brimming tears. “You mean it? You don’t think I’m insane? Lord knows, I’ve been trying to make sense of everything since day one. I woke from my dream, shocked to see the scenery right outside my own window that I‘ve looked at day after day, and then you….” She shifted her gaze directly to Wolf. “You showed up, straight from the past. Add in the buckskins and Molly’s costume at the party…” She fluttered her lips. “I’m not so sure I fainted from being sick as much as being confused.” Turning, she looked at Molly. “Besides the scar, did any of this strike a familiar cord with you?”

  “Well other than Missouri playing a major role, Maggie Smith, who happens to be my friend, too, and having a husband named Gil, I might have had more to work with if I hadn’t died so early on.” She puckered her mouth to the side.

  Sarah refocused on Wolf. “And you? Have you ever known anyone else who shares my name?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I can recall, but then…and please forgive me for being bold, I was drawn to you the moment we met. I’m not sure I believe in past lives, but this certainly gives me cause to wonder.”

  “I’m still not sure I believe, even though I once went to a meeting with a friend who belonged to a group called Astro-Soul. They deal with spirits from previous lives, and until I saw my co-worker enter a trance-like state and allow a supposed person from the past to speak through her, I thought the whole idea was bogus. Honestly, her voice and demeanor changed as the spirit explained the association between itself and another guest.”

  “Spirits, trances? Sounds spooky to me.” Molly pulled in her shoulders and gave a shudder.

  “It really wasn’t scary at all. The room was fully lit, and they didn’t do anything creepy to make me or any of the other visitors uncomfortable. After I learned their reasoning and how the process worked, their goal made sense. You see, all the members of Astro-Soul have been fully trained in trance relaxation, and they aspire to set trapped spirits free to move onto the next level.

  “And what exactly do they consider the next level?” Wolf asked.

  “A lot depends on a person’s religious belief. Some believe souls can return to live another live, so when they send someone ‘into the light’, they’re allowing them to choice to return as another person or stay in the hereafter.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  Sarah
shrugged. “Once I had a ‘reading’ of my own, I discovered I do believe people may have lived a previous life. The facts were hard to doubt when words coming from my friend were about things she never could have known.”

  “Like what?” Wolf raised a questioning brow.

  “It seems a particular spirit clung to me because we had been fellow stone masons on a castle turret ages before. I, as a man in that life, fell, and broke my neck. The spirit felt responsible for my death.”

  “Anyone could have made up that story. How did it relate to you personally?” Wolf’s brow still hadn’t relaxed.

  “Sure, the beginning of the story could apply to anyone, but on the way to the meeting, my friend explained how we are all energy, even disembodied spirits.” Sarah scratched the side of her nose. “Let me see if I can explain it in a way that it makes sense.” She took a deep breath. “When a spirit clings to you for a reason, their energy can drain yours. Feelings from past associations surface and affect you in ways you’d never understand or even associate with someone you knew previously. In my case, I’d had terrible neck aches for years, could never explain what caused them, or why they came and went for no reason. Once the ‘spirit’ who claimed to know me from ages past was told to ‘follow the light’, the neck aches went away and have never returned. Strange but true.”

  Again silence hung in the room like a shroud…until Sarah sighed.

  “If you didn’t think me daft before, I’m pretty sure this story has convinced you differently.”

  “I’ve never heard of that organization,” Wolf said, “but I can’t say I doubt the basis of their beliefs. There has to be something beyond this life, and if not beyond, why not in the past?

  Sarah’s heart fluttered. At least he didn’t disbelieve the possibility that there might be something to her dream. But she still hadn’t heard him express any feelings for her other than attraction. Was that all there was? An attraction on his part?

  “I’ve heard there are professionals who psychoanalyze dreams and such. Have you considered seeing one?” Molly’s question sounded genuine although Sarah bit back a chuckle.

  “Uh…no thanks. I had a hard enough time confessing to you two. I don’t imagine I’d look good in a straight-jacket, and I’ve never wanted a room with padded walls.” She paused. “So, what do you two think?”

  “Well.” Wolf ran a worrying finger back and forth over his top lip. “If you’d just told us a story about a half-breed who rescued someone named Sarah, I might call it a coincidence, but you’ve given too many actual facts for there not to be some foundation to your dream. True, Maggie Smith is a common name, and any Indian could call himself Wolf, but Molly and Gil, and the locations. Too weird.”

  “Oh, and did I mention that although you gave your Indian name as Grey Wolf, you shared your birth name as Nathaniel Elder?” She looked from him to Molly and back again.

  “Okay, that cinches it for me. I don’t doubt there aren’t more Nathaniel Elders in the world, but I’ve never met one of half-blood who has the same nickname. What about you, sis? How do you feel?”

  “Everything we’ve heard is close to unbelievable, but for some strange reason, I don’t doubt Sarah at all. Why couldn’t a person live a dream? Who’s to say we all didn’t know one another in a different place and time?” Molly turned to Sarah. “Something tells me to trust you, so I do, but all other questions aside for now, I’m dying to know how the dream ended? Did the guy get the girl?” She winked at her brother.

  Sarah cast a longing gaze at Wolf, noting his flushed cheeks. Did she dare answer the question? Did he want to know?

  Her courage fled like a bird startled by a cat. “Well, I think that’s something I’ll let the hero figure out? She glanced from Wolf to the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m sure you are, too. If you have any revelations, drop by tomorrow. I’ll be doing laundry, but not in a stream this time…I much prefer a washing machine.”

  Chapter Eleven

  In the living room, Wolf straightened his blankets and folded up the sleeper sofa. Sharing a one-bedroom apartment with his sister had sounded like a good idea, but going through the same ritual every morning grew tiresome. Maybe when school started, he’d move to a dormitory.

  He flashed on last night’s get-together and Sarah’s tale. Maybe relocating wasn‘t in his future. According to her dream, he’d already left her once. Unable to remember how that Wolf felt, this one knew he had no desire to abandon her now, or ever. Losing her for any reason would definitely cause pain he didn’t need or want. He questioned how quickly he’d fallen for her. Or was their validity to her claim of a prior love?

  How many times had he wanted to kiss her in the last few days? He struggled for clarity of a lingering memory of their lips meshed as one. The familiarity teased him, but nothing beyond his desire came into focus. Did she want him as he did her, or were they just friends with a deeper connection in a so-called dream she may have conjured up? He’d never been good at reading women, except of course Peg. She was the ‘black widow’ he’d always heard about and feared. As for Sarah, how could he be sure of her real feelings?

  A knock sliced through the silence. A little early for visitors, he thought, running fingers through his disheveled hair. When he answered, Peg stood outside the door, looking like she‘d just come from a fashion show--nary a wrinkle or out of place curl.

  “Hey, good lookin’, sorry for stopping by without calling, but I thought we might get together tonight. I’m sorry I left early last evening, but I couldn’t take anymore of Sarah’s drivel.” Peg stepped closer and peered up at him through her thick lashes. Her subtle perfume wafted up to meet him. “So, whatta you say? You, me, dinner at my place. Just the two of us?”

  “W-well…” He grappled for a reason to refuse. One she’d find acceptable.

  Before he could come up with plausible excuse, she reached up and caressed his cheek. “C’mon lovey, I won’t take no for an answer. You don’t work, Sarah’s all better, Molly’s a big girl and doesn‘t need a sitter, so, how about it. I promise we’ll have a good time.”

  She’d backed him into a corner. He grasped her wrist and withdrew her hand from his face, still rationalizing her invitation. What would a simple dinner with her hurt? If he did it this once and made sure she understood there was nothing between them, he could solve one of his problems. Maybe this was a golden opportunity. “I-I suppose I’m free. What time?”

  A wide smile parted her glossy mouth. “Seven. Would you prefer wine or beer?”

  “Either is fine with me.”

  When she showed no indication of leaving, Wolf stepped back, shielding himself behind the closing door and peered around the edge. “I’ll see you later then.

  “You sure will.” She turned and strutted across the hall.

  Wolf secured the lock, crossed to the sofa, and put the last cushion in place. Sagging down on it, he hung his head in his hands. What had he gotten himself into? He sure hoped it wasn’t a giant spider web.

  * * *

  “Oh, by the way, I’m going over to Peg’s place this evening.” His arm resting along the back of the sofa, Wolf casually tossed out his plan while his sister wiped down the kitchen counter.

  Molly spun around, hands on hips with the dishcloth dangling, and a wide-eyed stare fixed on him. “You’re what?”

  “It’s just dinner, sis, calm down.”

  She shook her head, her bugged eyes closed for a moment. “Why would you agree to dine with that woman? I know we’ve included her in our weekly plans, but honestly Nate, she’s got more on her mind than what to fix tonight.”

  “I know, I know. But she sort of left me no choice. I plan to squash any designs she has on me. Once I tell her I’m interested in Sarah, our local fashionista will get the hint.”

  Molly’s eyes grew even wider. “You are? Interested in Sarah, I mean?”

  “Have been since day one. I’m just not sure she feels the same, especially after h
earing about the dream. She might just be fixated on us because of that association.”

  His sister grabbed his forearms and gave him a little shake. “Oh, Nate, Nate. You are so dim sometimes. Anyone can tell by the way she looks at you, she’s crazy about you.”

  “You think?”

  “Trust me, I’m a woman and I know.” She peered up at him, her smile wider than Peg’s had been. “When do you plan to tell her?”

  “Soon. First I have to squash a black widow.”

  “What?” Confusion clouded her eyes.

  “Never mind.” He chuckled. “I have to take care of the problem across the hall.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I thought I did.”

  * * *

  Wolf tried to relax on Peg’s sofa, grasping the cold bottle of beer she’d given him. After excusing herself, she’d disappeared into the bedroom, promising to be right back. He took in a whiff of air, and strangely detected no hint of anything cooking. Only the fragrance of her perfume lingered.

  Earlier, he’d known exactly what to say to her, but now the words were lost in a sea of confusion. Mentally, he grappled to put together sentences that made his message clear, but not hurtful. What had happened to the confident declarations he’d rehearsed all day? This parting of the way had to be handled just right.

  Deep in thought, he jerked his attention to the sound of her clearing her throat.

  Peg stood in the bedroom doorway, one arm against the jamb and the other on her hip. Wearing only a black bustier, a garter belt and black nylons with shiny stiletto heels, her sexy pose stole his breath away.

  He blinked back his shock and swallowed hard. “Wha--”

  “I thought we might skip dinner and go directly to dessert.” She fluttered her lashes at him and made a kissing sound through a puckered mouth.