Chances

by Pamela Nowak

  Sarah smiled. “One challenge, Daniel?” She raised her feathery eyebrows. “Too easy. How about you do one non-Daniel thing everyday for a week?”

  “A week? One activity per day?”

  “Minimum.”

  He debated, looking for the trap. “Nothing illegal or immoral?”

  “Whose morals do we get to use?” Her smile softened. “Nothing illegal. We can negotiate on morality.”

  “And what about you? Could you handle a week of doing things with other people, with them at the center, no special causes allowed?”

  She straightened and pulled away, once again beaming with self-confidence. “That doesn’t sound so difficult. I can do that, hands behind my back.”

  “And how do we keep track of one another so you don’t cheat?”

  “Me?” She looked up at him, her lips parted, then shook her head. “As if I would need to cheat. If you’re so worried about it, we can just stick together. You watch me, and I’ll watch you. That way, neither of us can cheat.”

  A sudden chill crept threw Daniel’s mind and crawled down his back. “A week? Together? Sarah, really—”

  Her face lit up in animated challenge. “You can’t even do one, can you?”

  What had he started? This was supposed to have been about Kate. Spontaneity? Hell, no wonder his father had insisted he think everything out.

  He shook his head and tried to capture Sarah’s attention. “Look, this wasn’t ever about you and me—”

  “Oh, but it is, now.” She laughed, soft ripples of humor filling the room. “If Kate can get up on that stage and portray a girl who breaks rules, then surely, you can try one week of new experiences.” She sobered and pinned him with a solid stare. “Or are you afraid of what you might discover?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sarah stood in the Petterman kitchen, noting the evidence of Mrs. Winifred’s expert housekeeping in its sparkle. Her survey swept from the immaculate counter past Daniel’s lean frame, straight into the expectant gazes of Kate and Molly. Bright afternoon sunshine lit the tidy room, bouncing off the girls’ faces. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and smiled at them. She was going to do whatever it took to have fun at this challenge, even if it killed her.

  “Papa said you wanted to do something special with us,” Kate said, a rare hint of playfulness lighting her eyes. “He suggested you might like to bake cookies.”

  “Oh, he did?” Sarah lifted an eyebrow in satisfaction. While baking cookies wasn’t her favorite activity, it was something she knew how to do. Given an adequate recipe, she could make a darned good cookie, maybe even one that would melt in Daniel’s mouth. If the other challenges were this easy, the week might not be so bad after all. “Shall we get started?”

  Kate’s mouth stretched into an uncharacteristic grin. “Papa said he didn’t think you’d like spending your Sunday afternoon in the kitchen.”

  A tiny prickle of foreboding jabbed at Sarah. Things couldn’t be this uncomplicated. “Your father’s right. Baking cookies is a perfect challenge for me. I’m not exactly a kitchen kind of person.”

  “I thought as much,” Daniel said from the doorway, “so I told Mrs. Winifred to show you to the kitchen. After all, this isn’t really about what you’d like to do.” He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “I think a day in the kitchen will work fine for both of us.”

  Sarah felt her mouth go dry. Drat it all, it was too easy. She’d forgotten about this being Daniel’s challenge, too.

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “We did have to do these things together, didn’t we?”

  She stared at him. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man looked smug. Smug. Displeasure picked at her. Play her for a fool, would he? She marched across the kitchen and glared up at him. “Are you trying to cheat already?”

  His mouth fell open with a huff of air. “I’m not trying to cheat. You’re the one who said we had to do things together.”

  Sarah shook her head and paced across the room, ignoring the girls’ questioning expressions. “Baking cookies is hardly the sort of challenge I had in mind for you. It’s too conventional and you know it.”

  He shrugged. “So, we do separate activities.”

  “I think not.”

  “Then we bake cookies. It will be a new experience for me. The girls will tell you that.” He uncrossed his arms in a gesture of frustration. “Besides, it’s Sunday. This is about as unconventional as we can get on a Sunday.”

  “I’m sure there are plenty of other things to do.”

  “Such as?” He stared at her, waiting.

  “How am I supposed to know? Something besides staying in your own house doing something as wholesome as baking.”

  “Papa?” Molly interrupted. She stepped forward, her brown curls swinging in defiance, and gazed up at him. “Does this mean we’re not gonna make cookies?”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Miss Sarah thinks baking cookies is too ordinary.”

  Molly turned abruptly and peered at Sarah. “But he never bakes cookies with us, so how can it be ordinary?”

  “There.” Daniel grinned. “See?”

  Sarah looked from one girl to another. Kate stood with her head tipped, eyebrows arched and expectant, her grin faded into a thin, stoic line. Molly, with her hands on her hips, tapped one foot against the wooden floor, its steady beat filling the void of silence. Sarah glanced at Daniel’s unsuccessful attempt to hide his smile, and bit back the retort that crowded her tongue. Instead, she bent her knees until she was eye-level with the children. “Did your papa explain any of this to you?”

  “Sarah,” Daniel warned.

  “Daniel.”

  “I’m not sure the girls—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Quit being so stuffy.” She sent him a silent reprimand with her eyes and turned back to Kate and Molly. “Do you girls know what a dare is?”

  They nodded.

  “Jimmy O’Brien dared Henry Graham to put a tack on Miss Clay’s chair, once,” Molly explained.

  “Well, I’ve dared your father to spend a whole week doing things that he doesn’t usually do, things that aren’t stuffy and proper. Cookie baking won’t work because it has to be something that he wouldn’t do because he’d be too worried about whether or not he should do it.”

  Molly rolled her head on her shoulders. “Just take him to a suffrage meeting.”

  Sarah laughed and stood. “That would work for me.”

  “Oh, but Miss Sarah has a dare, too.” Daniel leaned back against the wall, shoving his hands into his front pockets. “She has to do things that have nothing to do with any of her causes. It can’t be a meeting and she can’t talk about suffrage, water systems, telegraphing, or even about the play. It should be something without any big purpose where she doesn’t get to be in charge of anything.”

  Molly’s brown eyes lit up. “Oh. How about if Kate and I get to pick?”

  He leaned forward, hands emerging in empty protest. “Well, I’m not sure—”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea. That way, we’re both giving up control.” Sarah smiled in triumph at the wonderful solution. The girls would pick something harmless, and they’d both be off the hook. “What do you say, Daniel? Seem fair?”

  “Oh, Papa, can we?” Molly jumped up and down. Even Kate looked interested.

  Daniel glanced sideways at Sarah, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

  “How about Kate and Molly choose a couple and we work the rest out together?” Sarah suggested.

  He nodded with a sigh. “Sounds good enough to me. You girls understand the rules?”

  Kate stepped closer, taking charge. “I think so, Papa. Molly, let’s talk.”

  The girls huddled together, whispering for a few moments, then turned to Daniel and Sarah with frivolous smiles. Kate moved forward and glanced at her father. “We’ve picked something we aren’t allowed to do on Sundays because it isn’t quiet or reflective like Sundays are supposed to be.”
She turned to Sarah. “It’s not exactly improper, but Papa won’t like it much. And it’s something fun, something we don’t think Miss Sarah ever has time to do. It should be—”

  Molly jumped in front of her. “We’re going ice skating,” she announced.

  Sarah’s stomach tightened. Fun? Memories stabbed at her as she recalled sitting on her rear, cold seeping through her bones, other children laughing at her inability to conquer the simple act of skating on ice, shunning her for her inadequacy.

  How long would it take the good citizens of Denver to realize she was incompetent?

  * * * * *

  Sarah tightened the buckle on the leather strap that fastened the skating blade to the bottom of her brown work shoe and wobbled to her feet, wondering where Daniel was hiding.

  He hadn’t said a word since Kate’s announcement, confirming the girls’ assessment that he wouldn’t much like their proposal. Well, that made things just about even, she supposed, because she was a far cry from satisfied herself.

  Ice skating, of all things.

  “Come on, Miss Sarah,” Molly beckoned from the ice.

  Sarah glanced around the small Sunday crowd that had gathered along Cherry Creek and breathed a sigh of relief. No one was watching her. Mostly young people, they huddled around a small fire, their carefree laughter filling the crisp winter sunlight, their attention drawn to their own activities. A few tentative couples joined mittened hands, gazing shyly at one another. She crunched carefully across the snow, step by step, until she reached the ice.

  “Hurry up, Miss Sarah.”

  She offered a weak smile to Molly, took a deep breath, and glanced upstream. A group of children practiced fancy swirls while an isolated trio glided into the distance. Her heart jumping, Sarah placed her right foot onto the ice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard after all. Everyone was intent on their own business. No one need ever know she was a miserable fool on the ice. She gritted her teeth and took a step.

  “You’re supposed to glide, not walk.”

  “Yes, Molly, I know. I’m just moving out a bit to where the snow cover is thinner.”

  “Oh. I always start skating right away. The skates just slide right through the snow, anyhow.” Molly slid past her, her blades kicking up tiny shards of ice, her cheeks pink with cold. Poised and perfect, she kept her hands snugly inside her fur-lined muff.

  Sarah forced her foot forward and stretched her arms out for balance. Ankles shaking, she pushed first one, then the other foot across the ice. Already, her legs were numb with the cold, and she wished she’d worn an extra petticoat under her gray plaid skirt. She wavered and fell with a thud onto the cold, hard ice.

  Molly giggled.

  “It isn’t funny.”

  “Need help?” Molly pivoted with grace and grinned.

  “I’m just fine. I’m having a little trouble finding my balance is all.”

  “Well, at least you’re not still sitting on a log, festering.”

  Sarah followed Molly’s gaze to the edge of the creek, some thirty feet downstream.

  Daniel sat on a log, half hidden by a trio of evergreens. He had one blade strapped on. The other lay in Kate’s hand. She thrust it toward him and he shook his head.

  Sarah’s blood stirred. If she had to strap on these stupid blades and let everyone see how inept she was, there was no way Daniel was going to simply sit on a log and avoid his end of the bargain. She placed her gloved hand on the frozen stream and rolled onto her knees. The snow-covered ice nipped at her through her woolen skirt. She bit her lip and steadied her feet, then rose upward, ruing the sight she must make, her rear end poking out. She stood, one foot slipping forward as if it belonged to someone else. She teetered, arms circling madly, then found her equilibrium.

  For a moment, she stood still, feeling the strain on her ankles as her feet tipped inward, fighting for balance. The thin blades caught the ice and held. She looked down and saw the tips of her shoes, pigeon toed like some knock-kneed puppet. If anyone so much as giggled, she’d die.

  Downstream, Kate had made little progress with Daniel. Sarah gritted her teeth and inched forward, sliding choppily toward them. Her jaw tightened, and she increased her stride. The sudden movement sent her left foot skittering and she plopped back onto the ice.

  Daniel stood, his expression an odd mixture of concern and amusement.

  “If you laugh, I swear you will live to regret it.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. I’m sitting on my backside in the middle of a lousy creek. How about you?”

  “Oh, I’m all right.”

  “Of course you are. You’ve been sitting on a log. Put that stupid blade on your foot and get out here.”

  “I think I’ll just sit here and watch for a little while.”

  “That doesn’t count.”

  “I don’t skate on Sundays, Sarah.”

  “And I don’t skate at all. Now put the blade on and get out here on this ice.”

  “It doesn’t seem right.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Daniel, relax a little. It’s just ice skating. How ridiculous can you get?”

  “We should be at home, reflecting on God’s goodness.”

  “So reflect on it here. Look around at nature and marvel at its frozen wonders.”

  “But—”

  “Enjoy time with your girls. That seems like it would qualify as reflecting on God’s goodness.”

  He glanced at her, humor replacing the uncertainty in his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “It is ridiculous.” He grabbed the blade from Kate’s hand, strapped it on, and rose to his feet. “Are you going to skate or sit on the ice all day?”

  “I think maybe sitting here would suit me just fine.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. If I’m going to skate, you’re going to skate.” Daniel glided unsteadily to her and stared down.

  “Help me?”

  Daniel grasped her hand and pulled. Pushing off the ice with the other hand, Sarah wavered to her feet. Kate and Molly beamed in triumph, then raced off across the ice, their bright green skirts bobbing with each graceful movement.

  “You do have a knack for putting every rule I’ve lived my life by in a different light. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I guess I just believe in defining individual ways of doing things, interpretations of life’s rules, if you will. And, I prefer a very generous interpretation.” She poked him playfully in the ribs to emphasize her point.

  Daniel acknowledged the action with a brief, gentle smile. “My whole upbringing was nothing but rules. Everything was either right or wrong, mostly wrong. It’s a part of who I am.”

  “But you don’t like it.”

  His eyebrows knitted. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because I’ve seen you struggle against that control you work so hard to maintain.”

  He glanced away from her, shrugging, then sighed before his gaze returned. “And what about the control you strive for?”

  “Me?” She stared up at him, incredulous.

  “You literally sparkle when you run things. When you don’t, like out here on the ice, you fidget and fuss like crazy.”

  She shook her head, ignoring the disturbing comment. “I simply don’t enjoy doing things I’m not good at.”

  “You avoid them.”

  “I do not.” She turned and forced one wobbly foot in front of the other. How could he accuse her of running from things? She took charge. She accomplished things.

  “So, why didn’t you learn to skate?” His voice was even, but every fiber of Sarah’s skin prickled at the implication. “You grew up in New England, didn’t you? Seems like skating would be something folks there do.”

  “Pennsylvania, and, no, I didn’t learn to skate.”

  “Why not?”

  She stopped and jerked around. “Because I was lousy at it and I looked like a helpless fool.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

  Dan
iel’s gray eyes softened. “So what’s wrong with being helpless?”

  “What’s wrong with it? Nothing, if all you want is to have people dismiss you as insubstantial.” She opened her arms in a gesture of nonchalance, hating the small tremor in her voice.

  He reached forward, his gloved finger touching her face. “Ah, there it is. You’re afraid of what people think, just like you say I am. We’re pretty much alike.”

  A small chuckle forced its way out of her mouth.

  Amusement lifted Daniel’s lips and he dropped his hand in a gesture of invitation. “Come on, let’s quit standing still and skate. If you don’t need to be successful at it, then who cares how many times you fall down or how silly you look?”

  “You do realize, don’t you, that I skated all the way over here?” She issued a grin of challenge. “You’re the one who sat there on that miserable log refusing to put his skates on.

  Daniel shrugged and smiled back. “I haven’t been sitting on that log for quite a while.” He glided away from her, then turned back. “You going to skate, or not?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What was it you said earlier? Something about interpreting life’s rules and making things individual? Just change the rules. Instead of looking at it in terms of how well you can or can’t skate, look at it in terms of how much fun you can make of it.”

  “Fun? Falling down and looking silly?”

  “Sure. See how much silliness you can achieve.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head to one side in inquiry.

  She sighed, knowing he’d turned the tables on her. Besides, he had a point. She cocked her head in response. “Are you willing to join me?”

  He laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Well, come on, then. We’re off to see how silly we can be.” She issued the challenge before moving past him, her choppy steps kicking up ice and snow.

  Daniel turned behind her, his skates scratching the ice with his movement. He glided past her, not exactly with grace, but with much more finesse than she possessed. Heaven help her, even Daniel skated better than she did.