Daring to Start Again: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book

by Grace Clemens

  He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sammy needs at least one parent and besides, I’ll be fine. Just go! Don’t give me a hassle about it!”

  Sarah looked reluctant but backed away and headed for the back of the house again.

  Bobby finally wrenched the dog free, examining the small scrape on Sandy’s side and concluding it was only a flesh wound and he’d be fine.

  He shot to his feet and watched Sandy take off for the house. Sarah was also running for the cellar, but she wasn’t going as fast as he’d like and she kept turning around to run backwards, watching for him.

  She smiled when she saw him come around the corner and was about to turn back to go to the cellar when Bobby felt something large and hard slam against his back, dropping him onto the wet ground. He landed with a thud, knocking all the air from his body.

  He pushed himself to his feet and spun around in time to see what had hit him. It was a large tree branch. The one branch was followed by several others and Bobby didn’t have time to prevent two more of them from slamming into his body, taking him off his feet and throwing him aside like a rag doll.

  He heard Sarah scream.

  Chapter 14

  Sarah covered her mouth with both hands, watching in horror as Bobby was knocked down. She pushed herself to head back toward him, though the wind was definitely working against her progress.

  She kept going, turning her head down and out of the wind so she could still breathe. She couldn’t see if she was safe, but she had to breathe somehow.

  She made it to where Bobby had been thrown and got on her knees in the wet ground. It looked like he was unconscious from the way he was laying there. She wouldn’t even think about the alternative reason why he might be so still.

  She leaned over him, cupping his face with her hands. Her hair hung in strings around her head, making a curtain on both sides. Water dripped onto his face. The rain pelting his skin already had him soaked, so she didn’t worry about that. She leaned further and pressed her lips against his.

  “Bobby!” she said, coming up, crying large tears that only added to the moisture around her. “Bobby, please wake up. I can’t carry you. Please wake up.”

  Out of desperation, Sarah grabbed one of Bobby’s hands and then the other. She circled her fingers around his wrists and gripped on as hard as she could, stepping back and trying to pull him along. She got him a few inches, stopped to catch her breath and then tried again.

  At the rate she was going, Sarah knew they wouldn’t reach the cellar in time. She thought about Bobby’s words, when he said Sammy needed at least one parent. She looked down at him, still unconscious.

  Frustration filled her. She couldn’t let him die. She simply couldn’t leave him there. There wasn’t time to get help.

  Crying out in anger and exasperation, she dropped Bobby’s wrists and went down to his body. She shoved one hand under him, plunging it into mud and rocks that scraped against her soft skin. She wrapped the other arm around his upper half and pulled as hard as she could, trying to get him to stand.

  “Wake up!” she cried out, losing her footing with his weight and the slippery mud under her. She came down hard and mud splashed up on her dress. It splashed so high, she felt clots land in her hair. Bobby landed on top of her, his head in her lap. She pushed him off quickly and got to her feet, slipping twice more before she got her footing.

  She looked out at the surprisingly bright sky, watching as the tornado whirled its way in their direction. She noticed it was zig-zagging, not making a direct line for them. She also noticed how her hair was whipping around, as if the rain and wind had no actual direction but was literally going in circles.

  Sarah leaned down and yelled in Bobby’s face. Her heart thumped hard with anxiety when she pulled in a deep breath, reached back and slapped him as hard as she could.

  His eyes flew open and he blinked at her. Then, his eyes went wide with fear and he shot to his feet. Relief flooded Sarah. She gave him a grateful look when, without a word, he grabbed her hand and they started running for the cellar doors. It wasn’t until they were inside and the doors were closed and locked tight behind them that Sarah noticed how injured Bobby really was.

  Steven had grabbed him and, with Adam’s help, was lowering Bobby to a cot cushioned with a big quilt.

  “Good Lord, buddy, what happened?” Steven’s voice was tight with concern.

  “Got… hit… tree…” Bobby stammered

  Sarah went to him and got on one knee, touching his shoulder.

  “Bobby,” she whispered, her voice clogged with tears. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  Bobby turned his head to look at her, his eyes averting to over her shoulder and then back to her face. Sarah glanced back to see he’d been looking at Sandy and Sammy, who were still reuniting, the girl pressing her small face into the big dog’s side.

  “She’s gonna be all right now,” Bobby said in a breathless way. Sarah could see by the look on his face how much pain he was in.

  With a bit of shock, Sarah saw a circle of blood forming on Bobby’s shirt on his right side.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said, keeping her voice low so Sammy wouldn’t hear her. The howling wind outside was still beating against the house but it wasn’t nearly as deafening as it was when they were out in it. “Take your shirt off and let me look.”

  Bobby glanced down, lifting his head so he could see what she was talking about. He dropped his head back, returning his arm where it had been. “It’s just a small scratch. I’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Steven exclaimed while Sarah spoke at the same time.

  “I’m not going to accept that.” Sarah shook her head, speaking firmly. “You are my husband and I want to make sure you haven’t been killed by a tree branch.”

  Bobby peeked out at her from under his elbow and then sighed reluctantly. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you? You’re both a couple of worrywarts.”

  She lifted one eyebrow, picturing the way a stern teacher might look when dealing with an unruly student. She looked up at Steven, who looked unhappy. He shook his head. She glanced behind the big foreman to where Nate and Adam were standing in a corner, their heads hung low, their expressions worried.

  Bobby chuckled and then winced. “Don’t make me laugh. All right, help me with this.”

  He slowly sat up, Steven offering one hand. Sarah felt a pang of discomfort when she saw the pain on his face. Carefully, she helped him unbutton and slide his shirt from his shoulders. Her eyes immediately dropped to the deep gash in his right side. She tried not to gasp but was unsuccessful.

  “Lay back down,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see if Sammy was watching. The little girl had laid down in the huge dog bed Bobby had made and was asleep with her head propped on Sandy, who also appeared to be asleep.

  She turned back, grateful the little girl was unaware of her father’s pain. Steven was folding the shirt Bobby had just taken off.

  “I’m gonna have to sew this up,” she murmured, looking around the darkened room for sewing supplies. She doubted there were any in the cellar. She didn’t know why there would be. “I have to go upstairs to get my sewing stuff.”

  Bobby frowned deep. “You have to be careful. The tornado could be on us at any moment. You need to be down here when that happens.”

  Sarah looked down at his wound and then back up into his eyes. She shook her head. “This can’t wait. Look at the way you’re bleeding. Here. Use this. Hold that tight against his side.”

  She instinctively reached for Steven’s hand and pushed it against the shirt, holding it over the wound to slow the bleeding. “Hold it firm. I’m going for my sewing kit.”

  “Let me get it,” Steven said anxiously. “You shouldn’t be up there during this.”

  Sarah shook her head, looking at her husband. “That tree branch must have got you. It looks like a puncture and a gash. It’s really deep. You need stitches. Y
ou need it sewed up.”

  If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was sew. But as skilled as she was, she’d never sewn someone’s skin together before. She could only imagine how that would feel.

  “What can I get you for the pain?”

  Bobby gave her an irritated look, which she had no doubt Steven had on his face, as well. She hadn’t even answered the foreman’s statement. She didn’t like ignoring him, but she didn’t have time for anyone trying to change her mind. “Well, if you insist on doing this, get me the whiskey from the parlor bar. But hurry up! The tornado might rip the house out from on top of us. Watch the windows. Listen to the sounds. If you hear it howling like a train is about to come through the house, get back down here or get somewhere safe immediately. Do you hear me?”

  Sarah nodded at him. “I will.” She got to her feet, finally looking at Steven with apologetic eyes. “I know exactly where my kit is, Steven, and I’ll be quick. Thank you for trying to protect me.” With that, she ran to the stairs, thinking that if the tornado did come through the house, she wouldn’t know where she was safe except down there in the cellar with Bobby.

  She went up the stairs and through the door into the kitchen. She knew precisely where her sewing kit was. Well, one of them anyway. She had several. She kept them in various parts of the house and even had small ones in the two bags she like to carry.

  She was grateful her sewing kit was in the parlor, where the whiskey was. There was probably more in the pantry, but she passed it by since she had to go to the parlor anyway.

  Sarah left the kitchen behind, her eyes immediately out the front windows as she passed through the foyer to get to the parlor. The rain wasn’t slapping the glass as hard as it had been ten minutes ago. She could hear the wind, but it wasn’t quite as loud as it was before. Or she could have just been mistaking it for quieter because she’d been out in the thick of it.

  She’d never heard anything so loud in her life. Even the train whistle. Nothing was as loud as the wind when it was whirling around, ripping trees out of the ground and tossing animals in the air.

  Sarah crossed through the foyer and ran into the parlor, going immediately to the lounge she liked the most. There was a small wicker basket next to the furniture. Instead of going through it for the best piece of string and the best needle, she picked up the whole basket and ran to the bar.

  She jerked open the cabinet door, leaning to do so, and pulled out a large, square bottle of whiskey.

  Moments later, she was through the parlor door, across the foyer, and back in the kitchen. She carefully passed through the door to the cellar and closed it behind her quietly. She didn’t want to wake Sammy or the dogs.

  Cookie was contentedly knitting in the corner by the door.

  Sarah hurried down the stairs and crossed the room to where Bobby was still laying on the cot. Steven was sitting where Sarah had been, holding the shirt against Bobby’s side. When she came over to him, he scooted back but kept his hand where it was.

  Sarah knelt next to him and carefully pulled the shirt away, peeling Steven’s fingers off slowly. Bobby groaned when some of the fabric pulled at his skin and blood began to seep from it.

  “Stay as still as you can,” she said quietly.

  “Where’s the whiskey?” Bobby demanded. Sarah grabbed up the bottle and uncapped it for him. She got up on her knees and put one hand behind his head, helping him drink from it without having to sit up much. He gasped but drank more before dropping his head back. “Oh, God, this hurts.”

  Sarah forced her tears away. She wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing if she had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, my husband,” she whispered. “Let me close it for you. I know it’s going to hurt more and I’m so sorry. But we can’t have it get infected, can we?”

  Bobby shook his head. “No. No.”

  “I’m over here if you need my help,” she heard Steven whisper in her ear. Her eyes flicked to the side but immediately settled on Bobby again.

  “Sarah…”

  His voice sounded weak. Sarah let him rest a moment, holding the shirt against his wound again, taking his hand and positioning it so the shirt would stay where it was.

  She rummaged through her basket, choosing the best thread she could and the sharpest needle. When she looked up at Bobby again, his eyes were closed and the hand holding the shirt against his wound had gone slack. His breathing was once again steady as his brain wasn’t processing the pain he was in.

  She peeled the shirt away and slowly began to sew his skin together. She had to use cleaner parts of the shirt to wipe away the blood so she could see what she was doing. It was extremely difficult not to let the tears flow.

  She told herself over and over that she would be allowed to cry once the wound was closed. Until then, she had to be strong.

  When she finished off the stitches, tied it and cut the end off the thread with a tiny pair of scissors, she sat back on her haunches and surveyed the job she’d done. Skin wasn’t hard to sew together, but she was positive he would be in a tremendous amount of pain.

  “Oh, Bobby,” she whispered. She lowered her head and covered her face with her hands, letting her tears come. Her shoulders jerked with the force of her sobs.

  She almost choked when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder. She looked up, directly into Bobby’s eyes. His gaze was so full of passion, her tears stopped.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “You take good care of me. You must love me.”

  Sarah’s smile was weak and faltering. She nodded. “I do love you, Bobby. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t believe this has happened. I just can’t believe it.”

  “You fixed me,” he said, softly. “I’m sure you did a wonderful job. I can’t feel anything right now.” He laughed gently and briefly, grimacing at the pain. “Oh, can’t laugh. Can’t do that. Come up here, Sarah. Sit next to me. Let’s talk.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t just be resting?”

  He gave her the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. “I’d rather be talking to my girl.”

  Chapter 15

  Bobby couldn’t stand to see Sarah in tears. His head buzzed with the alcohol, but he still felt much of the pain. Still, it did feel better now that it wasn’t an open wound. The bandage she attached overtop the gash kept air from hitting it, which was comforting.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was. It wasn’t just a beauty on the outside, it was as if her outer beauty only reflected and enhanced her inner beauty. His fuzzy mind recalled the last few weeks, watching her try so hard to fit in and get used to her new lifestyle.

  There was something off about her past situation that he couldn’t figure out. But, at least for that moment, he was willing to pass it off as something traumatic she’d experienced at the orphanage that she didn’t want to talk about. It wasn’t like she was being dishonest. She was merely keeping her past behind her until she was ready to bring it up. And if she never did, he would have to be okay with that.

  He knew he was falling in love with her when he started feeling like he couldn’t stand to go through a day without seeing her face and talking to her. All he wanted to do was make her happy. He wanted to see her smile, listen to her laugh and even, when the time was right, argue with her about the right way to do things, or the color to paint the nursery when that time came.

  He grinned, reaching out to stroke her dark hair. The movement hurt a little, but he didn’t care.

  “You are sweet, the way you care about me,” he said softly. He could see Steven at the far end of the cellar with Adam and Nate. The three men had turned over crates and were sitting on them. Their heads were bowed as if in prayer, but Bobby was sure they were just talking in low voices.