by Pamela Nowak
He shrugged and tried to ignore the pain in his side. “I don’t either. Thank God I don’t know anyone here.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I looked.” His mouth widened into a grin. “Wanna dance?”
Sarah stopped laughing. “Oh, no. Thank you, but no.”
Daniel cocked his head to one side. “Scared?”
“No.”
“If I can do what I just did, surely you ought to be able to get out there and dance. Of course, if you want to just call it quits, say I won the challenges, we can forget all about it.”
She exhaled in disbelief. “I think not.”
“Then on your feet. It’s polka time.” He stood and offered her a hand.
Sarah placed her hand in his. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.” She reached for the second stein of beer, took a gulp, and allowed Daniel to haul her to the dance floor.
“You know how to do this?” he called over the din of the accordions.
“Barely.”
“Well, all I know is what I’ve watched during the last three beers. I guarantee you’ll look better than me.” He swept her into the circling crowd, their feet hitting the ground in maddening rush of one-two-three.
She stumbled, her foot landing on his. She bit her lip and for a brief moment, Daniel thought she might cry.
“Whoa, sweetheart, that’s my move,” he called, offering her an encouraging smile.
She smiled back, tentative at first, then broader as he pulled her back into the dance.
Moments later, Daniel mis-stepped himself and jarred them both to a halt. A German couple plowed into them, sending the whole group to the floor.
The older couple stared for a moment, then burst into good-natured smiles. The men rose, extending hands to the ladies as the two gray-haired strangers spoke back and forth in rapid German. Once standing, the rotund man brushed his dusty hands across his even dustier overalls, cleared his throat and turned to Sarah.
“Ach, you come wit me, Gunther Muller. Frau Muller, Helga, goes wit him. Enough we all look like Dummkopfs.”
Helga grinned at Daniel, revealing a partial set of yellowed teeth, and snatched him into her powerful arms. “I lead.” Seconds later, she was steering him around the room, counting “ein, zwei, drei” as they stepped. She pointed at Gunther and Sarah. “Ach, your liebekin, she is a good Schuler, look how she learns.”
At the edge of the dance floor, Gunther was nodding to the count of the music, pulling Sarah along with him as he spun circles. Sarah’s feet scrambled to keep up then settled into an even but rapid pace. Daniel grinned and focused on following Helga. He should have felt every shade a fool. But he didn’t.
Helga paused, her frizzled gray head bobbing up and down with the beat of the accordions. “Ja, you are learning. Now, you lead.”
Daniel nodded, then took the plump woman in his arms and led her awkwardly around the floor.
Helga continued to jabber, most of her accented words mingling with the music. He caught bits and pieces, enough to realize she’d misinterpreted his relationship with Sarah.
The polka ended with them near the table and Daniel downed the last of his beer. Then, Helga pulled him back onto the dance floor, jabbering about another go-around.
Sarah and Gunther had ended up in front of the band. Sarah looked as winded as Daniel felt, but her face beamed. Gunther crossed to the stage and exchanged words with the musicians. They nodded and announced the next number.
“Now, you learn to schottische, ja?” Helga’s yellow teeth grinned at him. Not waiting for his response, she pulled him toward another couple and they formed a quartet, a pair in front and back, all linked together with arms and hands. “Step, step, step, hop,” Helga instructed.
Daniel heard the beat and repeated the actions. The music shifted and the others switched steps and changed positions. Daniel soloed his own step, step, step, hop, then exploded into laughter as he realized he’d been left behind.
“Step-hop, step-hop,” Helga supplied, her own laughter swallowing half the words.
Daniel lifted his feet, a giddy sense of play settling over him. He felt like a child, like the child he’d never had the chance to be.
On the other side of the dance floor, Gunther had pulled Sarah aside and was demonstrating the pattern. His heavy pot belly bounced with each step-hop. He moved aside and waved for Sarah to repeat her moves. She grimaced slightly, shrugged, then took a step. Gunther dictated the count, his finger bobbing to the music. Sarah circled by herself, her skirt held up to prevent stumbling, silly in her shuffle steps and completely ridiculous in each step-hop. Then, laughter consumed her, and Gunther escorted her back to the table. Halfway there, Sarah paused and offered the German a quick hug.
The music stopped and Daniel bowed to Helga. “Frau Muller, it has been a pleasure.”
She bobbed her head. “Ja, it was gut. Now, we get some beer, ja?”
“Ja.”
He escorted her to his table, now absent its chairs, where Sarah and Gunther stood, waiting. He knew he looked a mess, sweat dripping from his temples. But, then, everyone else was dripping, too. He grinned at Sarah, then shook Gunther’s hand. “Thank you. You and Mrs. Muller are good people.”
“Ach, we just didn’t want to fall no more. It’s gut you had some fun, ja? Come on, Helga, let’s get some blutwurst.” He grabbed his wife’s hand and the two drifted off to the bar.
Sarah wiped her hand across her brow and blew at the wisps of hair that had fallen from her once tidy bun. Her eyes sparkled with an abandon Daniel hadn’t seen before, a complete lack of purpose, he realized.
She caught his gaze and giggled.
“What?”
“Herr Muller thinks we’re married.”
“Ja?” He grinned. “Well, Frau Muller thinks we’re lovers.”
Sarah’s mouth formed a silent “oh” and her eyes grew wide.
Daniel was dimly aware of a small scuffle, two drunks shoving at each other, behind Sarah. They left his consciousness as the deep amethyst pools in her eyes pulled him in. He imagined her in his arms, bare, soft, willing. Sarah, full of abandon as she’d been on the dance floor, directing all her passion to him.
The drunks passed, knocking her off balance, and she tumbled into his arms.
“Look at this. Sarah Donovan at a loss for words.” Daniel stared down at her, tightening his hold. His heartbeat quickened and his thumb caressed the bottom of her breast. He lowered his head, his mouth meeting hers in a slow kiss of invitation as he pulled her flush against him.
Sarah arched into his arms, against the hardness of his body, making him ache with desire. Her lips opened and she drew his mouth closer, her tongue teasing at him.
Daniel nipped at her tongue, then pulled it into his own mouth. He delved into her mouth, seeking, finding, demanding.
Distant cat calls and whistles sounded from behind him, reminding him they were standing in the middle of Orchestrion Hall.
Sarah pulled out of his arms, her breath in ragged spurts, like his own, her eyes registering an odd mixture of shock and regret. “Oh, Daniel,” she whispered.
Inside Daniel’s head, Mary frowned and Ebenezer pounded on his pulpit while Sarah turned and walked out on him.
Chapter Sixteen
Sarah approached the corner of 15th and Larimer, glad the afternoon was bright and sunny. Horses, buggies and people crowded the busy thoroughfare, more than a few making Joslin’s their destination.
It wasn’t really much of a day off, not with the final rehearsal of Little Women this morning and tonight’s performance still looming. With the remnants of a headache and last night’s loss of sleep, she should be taking a nap. But when Miss Clay had announced a shortened day of school, the children had all chattered non-stop about visiting Joslin’s Dry Goods Company.
The temptation of coconut dainties and chocolate fudge had swayed her to do the same. Today was a chocolate day, if ever there was one, and Sarah intended to drown in the sweet confections. Between Daniel and the pl
ay, she’d had all the strain she could handle and a relaxing afternoon sampling Thursday candy specials was just the ticket. She’d make her purchase, go home, and spend the afternoon getting fat.
She crossed Larimer and stepped into the busy store. Here and there, she recognized children she knew. She waved but didn’t dwell to speak with them. Instead, she made her way to the back of the store, thoughts of Daniel filling her head.
Lord, her emotions were tumbling over one another, and the jumble scared her. Last night, she’d slid from all nerves to exhilaration then somehow to raw desire. And somewhere along the line, her heart had gotten wrapped up in the mixture. And that kiss and the haunted look in Daniel’s eyes that shattered her so badly she’d left him standing there alone in Orchestrion Hall.
She wasn’t any good at this, any of it. She’d kept her deepest self bottled up for so long, she’d forgotten how to share. Besides, no good came of revealing vulnerability. She felt like a fool for losing control of the situation.
The store was crowded with bustling shoppers and she drifted among them, anonymous. A display of hats caught her eye and she imagined herself wearing one of the fancy things, birds and flowers perched on top. She smiled and dismissed the image. Silliness.
Rounding a corner, she almost ran into Kate and Molly, their brown ringlets bobbing as an enthusiastic clerk demonstrated a bright hand-painted marionette. They caught sight of her immediately.
“Oh, Miss Sarah, isn’t it something?” Molly asked.
Sarah eyed the marionette with skepticism. “It looks complicated, to me.”
“But you’re a telegrapher and your hands are used to doing complicated things.”
“I suppose they are, Molly, but it still looks pretty involved for a toy and liable to break if you use it much.”
“See, Molly? I told you it wasn’t a good purchase.” Kate crossed her arms sagely.
The clerk shrugged, set the puppet on the counter, and turned to his next customer.
Sarah glanced around, anxious to be on her way. “Well, girls, I need to get going. Where’s Mrs. Winifred?”
“Mrs. Winifred didn’t bring us,” Kate explained.
“I did.” Daniel’s familiar voice sounded behind Sarah and her heart jumped.
“Daniel, I didn’t expect …” She let the words trail off, self-conscious. The banished thoughts of his kisses flooded back into her mind with all the confusion they could muster.
He smiled, hesitant, and she realized he was as unsure as she was. “I didn’t expect to see you here, either.”
“I was really on my way to the candy section.”
“Us, too. C’mon.” Molly led the way to the back of the store where the confectioner displayed his wares.
Sarah followed, keeping pace with the girls, their proximity her insulation against having to discuss last night with Daniel. What in the world could she say?
At the counter, they eyed the selections. There was the usual assortment of peppermint sticks and cinnamon drops, anise and horehound candy, even lemon drops. But it was the specialty confections that drew her attention. Nestled at the top of the case were the bonbons, delicate pastel creations of cream cheese sugar rolled in coconut next to rolled balls of chocolate sprinkled with chopped walnuts. Candied fruit squares were next, each a delectable combination of fruit, nuts, and coconut. There were pralines and sugarplums, caramels and divinity, taffy and maple sugar candy. Finally, her gaze rested on the fudge in all its varieties. This was what she had come for.
“Something catch your eye?” Daniel teased.
Sarah licked her lips. “I’ll thank you not to interfere with my chocolate party, if you don’t mind.” She kept her voice light and hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it felt.
“Forewarned is forearmed.” Daniel smiled, playing her game, and crossed to the other end of the counter where Kate and Molly were absorbed in their own selections.
She purchased a pound of fudge, assorted maple cream, white chocolate, and almond roca along with a half-dozen each of chocolate covered cherries and coconut delights. Popping a cherry into her mouth, she savored the sweet combination of flavors and the syrupy texture.
“The girls want to look at new hair ribbons for tonight. Do you feel like coming along?”
“I really need to—”
“C’mon. It’s a dry goods store. Let’s look at the ribbons and set things right. Then you can go.”
“All right,” she said, before she could start picking it his words apart and analyzing them. It was only fair that she offer some explanation. She forced another smile. “As long as you don’t mind me nibbling chocolate.”
They followed the girls up a flight of stairs. Bolts of cloth and rolls of ribbons were arrayed behind a long counter. On the opposite side of the aisle, dozens of ready-made dresses were displayed. Daniel was silent until the girls had skipped far enough ahead.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice for her ears only. “You ran out on me.”
Sarah nodded, not willing to share the jumble of emotions that were gnawing at her. “I’m sorry. I got rattled, I guess.”
“I got rattled, too.”
She’d realized it the moment she had looked into his eyes. “Those ghosts you kept insisting were banished?”
He shrugged. “I—”
“Papa, look, isn’t it grand?” Kate stood among the dresses, stroking a cream colored frock.
Daniel offered Sarah an apologetic tilt of his head and crossed to his daughter.
Sarah watched the two of them, sure they were having a discussion about the purchase of the dress, something she wasn’t part of.
She wandered among the fashionable dresses, drawn to the new designs, and stopped next to a striped street suit. The two-tone green camel’s hair was simply trimmed, without the grand flounces that had been the rage last year. It was draped, not bustled, like the dress she’d worn Monday night.
“You should try it on.”
Sarah started and took her hand away from the fabric she hadn’t even realized she’d been fingering.
“Try it on,” he urged again. “The girls went to the toy section so there’s plenty of time.”
Sarah shook her head. “No, that’s all right. I’d have no need for anything that impractical.”
“Plain brown work skirts, only.”
Always, comments on her work skirts. “What’s wrong with work skirts?” She stood among the ready-wears, feeling trapped.
“Oh, they’re fine. It just seems like you’d want a few fancy things, dresses as pretty as you are.”
Sarah bristled. “For what? So men can concentrate on my dress and my hair and my shape instead of listening to what I have to say?”
Daniel stared at her and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Is that what this is all about?”
“I will not be defined by what I look like.”
“Like your mother was? Is she the one who told you that you shouldn’t let yourself be beautiful?”
The comment stung. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. She took a step forward and glared up at him, ignoring the concern in his expression. She didn’t need his misdirected pity.
“You won’t leave it be, will you?” Her hands gestured without direction. “All week long, you’ve kept digging for some buried comment my mother made. Let it alone. She never once insisted I behave any certain way, and this week doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not I wear fancy dresses.” She paused, fighting the feeling of exposure that stormed inside her. “My challenges were about controlling things, remember? Isn’t that what you said? Why do you keep at it?”
She stalked away, farther into the ladies-wear section, unwilling to let him see how worked up she’d become.
He followed, cautious and quiet. “Because I think this has more to do with who you are than you realize.”
Sarah sighed, controlled her breathing, and turned around. “All right, here it is.” She kept her voice measured, focusin
g on control. “I don’t wear fancy dresses because I will not be reduced to being any man’s ornament. I want to be seen for what I am. I watched my mother struggle every day to be heard for her intelligent comments and her capable understanding, but no one, no one, ever paid attention to her. All they ever saw was what she looked like. I will not allow that to happen to me.”
He reached for her. “Sarah, there’s not a chance in the world that would happen to you.”
She moved away from his touch. “It shouldn’t have happened to her.”
“And your father? Surely, he—”
She turned back to him. “Is there a point to all this?”
He opened his palms. “What was it you said last night? With your father, it’s not what you do but how you do it? What’s that mean? If you’re not being the perfect ornament, then you have to achieve perfection at something else?”
Her hands flew out in a flamboyant gesture of dismissal. “Oh, now that’s just about the most—”
“Is it?”
She turned away from him and started toward the stairs. This was going nowhere.
Daniel followed, his longer legs keeping easy stride with her short ones. “If you control things, you can shine, can’t you, Sarah?” he said, beside her. “You can know you’ve achieved something, you can win acceptance and glory. And if you never take a chance on anything you’re unsure of, including opening yourself up and this relationship, you never risk failure.”
His words clawed at her, opening the uncertainty that had lingered in her heart since last night. She’d let him in, and it had opened vulnerabilities she preferred not to bare.
“What relationship?” she asked him. “There is no relationship.”
* * * * *
Frank Bates sat in the telegraph office staring at the logbook. Voices of a few afternoon travelers reverberated from the waiting room, distracting him for a moment, then quieted.
It wasn’t enough that Jim had been called to some big meeting and he was pullin’ double duty, but he was smack in the middle of a double shift on top of it, just so Sarah Donovan could rehearse her little play at the school and get ready for tonight’s performance. Miss Clay had sent a note over, special, and he figured there’d be trouble if he didn’t let her go.
