Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise

by Lisa Gregory

  "Well, what about my selfish lust? Have you ever given a thought to me in all these noble decisions you make?"

  "Of course. It's for you."

  She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Oh, no. Think again. It's for you. What you want. What you think."

  Anger surged through Luke. "Damn it! If I paid attention only to what I wanted, I'd pull you down to the floor and make love to you right here."

  "And I'd welcome it! I would have made love to you on the ground by the creek that day, if you'll remember! What do you think I do every night while you're lying in your sanctified single bed? I'm awake in our bed, thinking about you, missing you, remembering the times we made love. The ways."

  He swallowed with difficulty. "Stop it."

  "I can't sleep. I lie there and think about it until my skin's like fire and I'm throbbing inside."

  "Christ, Sarah." A fine sheen of sweat dotted Luke's upper lip. "You're killing me."

  "No. You're killing me. I'm a flesh and blood woman, not the plaster saint you're determined to make of me. I want you. I want to taste your kisses again. I want to feel you inside me."

  Luke groaned and turned away. "Don't."

  "Don't what? Don't admit that I have human desires? I know you don't like to hear it. You don't want to see me as I really am. You won't accept that I'm not perfect. That's why you won't make love to me. 'Sweet Sarah' must not feel pain or desire or any other low human emotion. I can't come close to death; I can't labor in childbirth; I can't get angry at the world because my baby died. I must not be allowed to suffer. I must not be allowed to feel pain. I must not be allowed to feel passion or joy. Because, after all, I'm a statue, not a woman. Perfection. Isn't that right?"

  "No!" Anger mingled with desire in Luke's gut. He hated what she was saying. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to rip off her clothes and thrust into her. He wanted—oh. God, he wanted. He clenched his fist, trembling with barely restrained fury and lust.

  "Oh yes, it is!" Sarah retorted. "I'm not a real person to you. I'm something you've concocted in your mind: the perfect woman. Sweet and good and pretty and never, ever bad, never, ever hurt. If anything bad happens, it has to be your fault, not mine. Because that's the only way I can remain this perfect woman. But I'm not! I'm not! That isn't me! I'm very imperfect. I feel the same heat, hunger, and lust you do. I'm fallible. I have ordinary weaknesses. I'm no better than you are! We're alike inside. Don't you realize that yet? It's part of why we love each other! I want to make love to you; I want to bear your children. And I'm willing to take the responsibility for those things. I'm willing to risk it."

  "Well, I'm not! I won't risk your life!"

  "It's my life! I don't want to be locked into this dry, empty, loveless life for the rest of my years! This is a mockery of a marriage. I'm your wife. I want to be your wife in every way. I want to be at the core of your life, not something you worship!"

  "Damn it!" Luke slammed his fist down on the counter, and dishes fell with a clatter. "You are the core of my life! That's why I can't bear to lose you. Why can't you understand that? Why do you have to keep fighting me?" He was rigid, the tendons standing out in his neck, muscles bulging under his shirt.

  "Because," Sarah's voice was cold and cutting, "I'm not a quitter like you. Because I love you enough for anything. But you don't even love me enough to let me make my own decisions." Sarah whirled and ran out of their kitchen. He heard her feet on the stairs, then the bedroom door slammed behind her.

  Her words had sliced through him like a knife. He wanted to grab her and force her to take them back. He wanted to toss her skirts up over her head and take her like a common whore. He wanted to make love to her so slowly and deliciously she whimpered and writhed and begged him to take her. His insides were like hot pitch. She infuriated him. She tormented him. She was the thing he treasured most in the world. How could he love her so much and yet itch to slap her? How could he go cold as death at the thought of losing her and yet ache to do what could cause her death? How could he want her so much and still manage to keep himself from bedding her? He thought he must explode from it all.

  Luke brought both fists crashing down upon the counter. He hit it again and again. He felt as wild and furious as he had when he was young, feverish, and uncontrollable. For the first time in years he wanted to find someone to beat up, wanted to feel the pleasure of his fists smacking into flesh and bone. Instead, he kicked open the door and walked out, crashing it to behind him. He strode across the yard to the tool shed and jerked out the ax. He took it to the chopping stump behind the house, set a log on the stump, and brought the ax crashing down on it. Like a maniac he wielded the ax over and over, chopping wood into smithereens in the pale moonlight, not stopping until he was drenched with sweat and dotted with wood chips, his muscles quivering with exhaustion. Only then was he able to go up to his bed and sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Neither Sarah nor Luke was pleasant to live with in the following days. Though they strove not to take their bad feelings out on anyone, the air was tense and strained between them, and their tempers were short. They spent as little time as possible near each other, and when they were in the same room, they spoke only when necessary. Sarah wondered how they could possibly live the rest of their lives like this. It was obvious that Luke was determined not to change his mind, and she didn't know how she could rid herself of her desire and resentment. She cried herself to sleep almost every night, vacillating between loving Luke and hating him.

  James and Julia returned from their honeymoon after two weeks, and Sarah took the children back to their home. Cal went with them, and Micah drove the wagon. Luke stayed at home, saying he had to get some chores done. The truth was he didn't think he could bear to sit next to Sarah on the wagon seat that long. He always felt as if he were about to explode around Sarah. It was easier if he just stayed away from her.

  Micah dropped Sarah and the children off at the Bankses' house, and he drove on to the lumberyard to pick up some supplies. Julia greeted the children and Sarah with hugs. She looked happy, content, and prettier than Sarah had ever seen her. Obviously marriage agreed with her.

  The children went outside for a few last minutes of play together, and James soon excused himself, leaving the women alone to talk.

  "You look happy," Sarah commented.

  "I am." A smile lit Julia's face, and her cheeks colored. "It's so wonderful. I never dreamed marriage could be so good, so much fun." She laughed softly. "Now I know what you and Luke have, why you're so happy together."

  Sarah smiled stiffly, fighting back the tears that always threatened to come these days. She couldn't spoil Julia's happiness by crying. "I'm glad. You deserve happiness, both of you."

  "That's what's marvelous. James is happy, too. I was afraid that after we were married, he would be disappointed in me, but he seems to love me every bit as much. I never would have believed it possible. I'm the luckiest woman alive."

  Sarah thought she probably was. She wished that some of Julia's present luck would rub off on her. It was difficult to sit in the presence of Julia's supreme happiness and pretend that things were right with her and Luke, too. As soon as she could gracefully do so, Sarah excused herself and took Emily and Cal to the lumberyard to meet Micah.

  Julia watched Sarah and the children walk away, a frown creasing her forehead.

  "Doesn't look like the visit was very good," James said softly, coming up behind her and resting his hand on her shoulder.

  Julia jumped, startled. "What?"

  "That frown. Something the matter?"

  She smiled a little. "You know me too well. I'm worried about Luke and Sarah. All the time we were talking, she seemed so stiff and false, as if she were trying to pretend."

  "Pretend what?"

  "That everything's all right with them. I know it's not; I can sense it. Sarah's unhappy. I wish I could do something for them."

  James bent and kissed the top of her head. She was always kind and g
enerous, wanting to do for others. But he would make sure that things were done for her now. "And what would you do for them, sweetheart?"

  "That's just the problem. I don't think there's anything anyone can do. They have to do it themselves." She sighed. "I feel almost guilty, being so happy with you while Luke and Sarah are hurting."

  James wrapped his arms around her from behind and squeezed her to him. "Don't you dare feel guilty. I intend to make sure you're happy the rest of your life, and I won't have you feeling guilty the whole time."

  "Yes, sir." Julia leaned her head back against his chest. She had never dreamed that she would ever feel this loved, this safe and secure.

  James's hands inched down her stomach, pressing her closely against him all the way down. Julia was surprised to feel the insistent hardness of his desire prodding her buttocks, and she let out a little giggle. "Oh!"

  "Yes, oh. I was thinking that a Saturday afternoon nap might be in order."

  "Really?" Julia twisted to look up into his face, her eyes alight with amusement. "Are you feeling tired, dear?"

  "Yes, very tired."

  "Then perhaps you should sleep."

  "Not I. We."

  "But I'm not tired." Her smile grew.

  "No? Well, you soon will be, my dear. I promise."

  James kissed her hard, then swung her up into his arms. He carried her out of the room and up the stairs.

  ❧

  Sarah walked with Emily and Cal over to the lumberyard, where they found Micah loading the wagon. Cal pitched in to help Micah, and Sarah swung Emily up into the back of the wagon to ride. She was just starting around the wagon to climb up on the seat when suddenly George Jackson came hurrying across the street and planted himself in front of her. Sarah stopped, startled, then drew herself up and fixed him with her haughtiest stare.

  "Excuse me, you're in my way," she said with icy politeness and started to go around him.

  Jackson reached out and put a hand on her arm to detain her. Sarah stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Micah and Cal go still, watching them. Sarah wished that Luke were there.

  "Look, Miss McGowan—"

  "It's Mrs. Turner."

  He ignored her words and smiled at her in a secretive way. Sarah wanted to shudder. He was a thoroughly disgusting man, smelly and dirty, with little pig eyes that saw evil everywhere. She hated to think of Cal's having been under his power all these years. It was a wonder the poor child hadn't had every bit of joy and life squeezed out of him.

  "I want to talk to you."

  "I have nothing to say to you. Good day."

  "I'm giving you an opportunity to get rid of that bastard of your husband's. I figure a lady like you, she don't want that boy in her house. I'm offering to take him off your hands."

  Cal edged up beside her, and Sarah felt his hand curl into the folds of her skirts, hanging on. She glanced down at him. His face was white, his eyes huge and scared. He wet his lips anxiously. "Please, don't let him take me."

  "Of course not." Sarah looped her arm around Cal's shoulders, pulling him close to her side. She turned her gaze coldly on Jackson. "Cal is Luke's son, and he is very dear to both of us. I wouldn't dream of entrusting any child to your care, let alone one I loved as I love Cal. I suggest you go home and stay away from us. Now, get out of my way."

  Jackson's face hardened, his eyes turning into narrow slits of hatred. "Folks say you're a lady, but I knowed it wasn't true, not with you living with that piece of trash. No one but a slut would let him cover her. You're as evil as he is."

  Micah came around the side of the wagon, his fists clenching. The man's words made Micah itch to knock him down, but common sense held him back. No black man could get away with hitting a white one, no matter what the reason.

  Jackson looked past Sarah to Micah, and his sneer grew. "Nigger lovers, both of ya. Turner's a devil, and you're his whore."

  "Don't you say that to her!" Cal screamed and launched himself at the man, fists and feet flying.

  "Cal!" Sarah grabbed at him, but she was too late. Jackson backhanded the boy, splitting his lip, and knocked him into Sarah, sending both of them sprawling on the ground.

  With a low growl Micah sprang forward. His huge fist lashed out, catching Jackson squarely on the chin, and Jackson went down in a heap.

  "Boy! Mrs. Turner! You all right?" Micah turned and bent over them anxiously.

  "Yes. I think so," Sarah gasped. "I—it just knocked the wind out of me a little."

  He helped them to their feel. Sarah bent and examined Cal's lip, wiping away the blood with her handkerchief. Micah glanced around, and his blood went cold. Several men stood on the porch of the store, gaping at them. He realized what he'd done. No matter how justifiable his blow was, he was in serious trouble. He turned to Sarah.

  "Uh, ma'am..."

  Sarah looked up at him, then around at the onlookers. "Let's get home, Micah."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Sarah grabbed Cal's hand, and they scrambled up into the wagon. Micah leapt up onto the seat and grabbed the reins, calling to the team. They left the town and headed for the farm as fast as he could urge the team to go.

  When they turned into the farm, the wagon rattling noisily at its abnormally fast pace, Luke looked up from the corral fence he was repairing. He frowned as he watched the wagon approach.

  "Micah? What's the problem?" He started toward them.

  Sarah and the children tumbled out of the back of the wagon and came running to him. "Luke! Oh, Luke!"

  His heart began to race at the anxiety on Sarah's face, and he automatically opened his arms and pulled her close to him. "What happened? What's the matter?"

  "George Jackson stopped us. He wanted to take Cal with him, and I told him no."

  "And Micah hit him!" Cal chimed in.

  "What?" Luke glanced over at the wagon. Micah had disappeared.

  "Jackson insulted me," Sarah explained. "Cal—" She smiled down at the boy. "Cal defended my honor. He jumped in and started hitting Jackson. So Jackson hit Cal."

  "And he knocked us both down," Cal put in excitedly. "Then Micah hit him." Cal's face gleamed with excitement. "Boy, he knocked him to kingdom come! You shoulda seen it."

  Luke's mouth set grimly. "I would have liked to." He released Sarah and bent down to hug Cal fiercely. "You did right to defend Sarah. I'm proud of you."

  Cal beamed up at him.

  Luke looked at Sarah. "I suppose others saw this."

  "Oh yes. There were several men that came out when they heard the ruckus. It won't go unnoticed."

  "He'll have to leave, then."

  "Who?" Cal asked, the blood suddenly draining from his face.

  "Not you, silly." Sarah laid her arm around his shoulders. "Micah."

  "Micah! But why? He was just helpin' Sarah and me."

  "It's safer for him."

  "Couldn't he stay?" Sarah asked. "If you and I stood up for him?"

  Luke sighed and shook his head. "It's better not to take the risk. There'll be people wanting his blood by nightfall, no matter what happened."

  "I'll fix him something to take with him to eat, then."

  Sarah turned and hurried off toward the house, pulling Emily with her.

  Luke looked after her. Thank God for Sarah. She was never one to waste time asking questions or dithering around. She always went unerringly to the practical thing to do.

  He turned to his son. He gazed down at the small face so similar to his own, and his hand went out to rest on the bright cap of hair. "We'll never let him take you. You know that, don't you? You're our son."

  Cal nodded. His eyes glistened with tears. "Does she love me, you think?"

  "Sarah?"

  "Yeah. I mean, the way she stood up for me and all."

  "Yeah. She loves you. You'll never find anyone to love you better than Sarah." Luke ruffled Cal's hair. "Now go fetch Jo-Jo from the pasture for me."

  "Jo-Jo? Why? Oh." His face dropped. "For Micah to leave?"
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  Luke nodded. "It's the only thing, son. Now, get."

  Cal took off at a run. Luke went to the hired hand's room in the barn. As he stepped inside the door, Micah was turning to come out, a hastily wrapped bundle slung over bis shoulder. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment.

  "You know where you're going?" Luke asked.

  Micah shrugged. "Anywhere west of here."

  "I wanted to thank you for helping my wife and son. If I thought we could—"

  Micah shook his head decisively. "No. I gotta go."

  "I sent Cal down to the pasture for Jo-Jo. You can get away on him."

  "Your horse?" Micah stared. "You mean, take Jo-Jo?"

  Luke nodded. He smiled. "What do you think, that I wouldn't give up a horse in return for your protecting Sarah and Cal?"

  "But I—"

  "It's a lot better chance than trying it on foot. You know that."

  Micah hesitated, then said, "Thank you."

  "Thank you." Luke held out his hand, and Micah shook it.

  Luke wrote out a bill of sale to Micah for Jo-Jo, so that he would have evidence that he owned the quality horse. Cal rode the horse in bareback a few minutes later, and Micah quickly saddled and bridled it. Sarah joined them in the yard, carrying a cloth bag, which she handed to Micah. It was filled with meat, bread, and fruit for his trip. Emily followed her, crying.

  "No go. No," Emily wailed to Micah, and his face softened. He bent and scooped the little girl up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on hard.

  "Sorry, sugar. I gotta go. You be good." He set the little girl down. He tipped his hat to Sarah. "Mrs. Turner. Thank you for the food."

  Tears sprang into Sarah's eyes. It was so unfair. "I'm the one who's grateful to you."

  Micah shook hands again with Luke. He turned and looked at Cal. Cal hesitated for a moment, then ran to him and hugged him as hard as Emily had. "You take care of your sister now, you hear?"

  Cal nodded, his throat too clogged with tears to speak. Micah took the reins to the horse and started to mount.

  They all turned at the sound of hoofbeats on the road. A horse trotted into the yard, carrying a woman riding bareback. Her hair was a wild mass of tangles, and her skirts were hiked up to her knees as she rode astride. She held the reins awkwardly, and it was obvious that she was unused to riding a horse.