Belle smiled down at Sarah. "Well, I guess we're on our way to the trottin' park."
Sarah grinned back. "I wanna be at the very front!"
Belle shot a look at Lillian. "Well, maybe not the very front, Sarah. But near there, I promise." She reached down, taking Sarah's other hand. "I promise."
Rand leaned against the railpen and sighed with relief. Everything was done. Bertha was snoring in the corner of the pen, fed and bathed, exhausted from her ordeal this morning. There was clean straw, and the dirt had been swept. It had taken him more than two hours to do it, but finally she was as ready as he could make her for the judges. Now he could relax.
He glanced around the roofed, open-sided building. Earlier he'd been surrounded by people, but now there were only a few men left, and the barn was quiet except for the rustling of the animals, the now-and-again clank of feed buckets. He reached into his pocket and took out the plain gold watch that was another legacy from his father. It was nearly time for the races. No wonder everyone was gone.
He shoved the watch away. He hadn't been to the trotting park in two years. Lillian had always thought Sarah too young to go, and though he hadn't agreed, he didn't care enough about it to fight. Now, though, he was alone, and the morning had left him feeling restless.
And he'd run out of things to do to lose the image of Belle's smile.
The races might be just the thing to do it, and if nothing else, it was better than sitting around here. He'd just get Bertha a little more water and then head up to the park. He reached over the fence for the bucket.
"Rand! Rand Sault!" A high, feminine voice came from the far end of the barn.
Rand let the bucket fall. He straightened, turning to see the woman who called him.
Two women actually. They hurried across the floor toward him, their booted feet raising little clouds of dust. He recognized them immediately. Lydia Boston.
And Marie Scholl.
He swallowed, suddenly remembering his conversation with his stepmother—had it only been two nights ago?—and feeling the absurd urge to bolt. But then the two of them were smiling in front of him, and he had no choice but to say hello and smile back.
He made a small bow. "Ladies. How nice to see you."
"Randall Sault! You should be ashamed of yourself, stayin' away so long!" Lydia scolded prettily, shaking her dark head. "We missed you the other night at the singin' party. Paula was sure sorry you weren't there. We all were."
Singing party. His mind went blank for a moment, and then he remembered. "Too much to do," he said briefly. "I'm sorry I couldn't come."
"We missed you." Marie smiled. She was wearing blue today, a sprigged frock that made her look gentle and feminine, and for some reason it made him think of Belle and her yellow wool delaine. Which was absurd. Belle never looked feminine, nor gentle. Even in demure yellow she looked rebellious and startling, like a firebrand dropped in the middle of a hayfield. Marie would never look that way. She would never do anything shocking or unconventional.
The thought comforted him. He smiled back at her. "I'll try to make the next one," he promised.
Lydia smoothed back a dark brown curl. "I guess you've reason enough now that Belle's back in town. No one expects you to go out visitin' when your sister's just come home."
"Stepsister," he corrected.
She gave him a startled look. "Well, yes, that's what I meant. Anyway I figure it's been nearly a week now, and it's about time you were out doin' some socializin'. Paula said she wanted to have another singin' party next week and that you're to come. Bring Belle if you can. Goodness knows we'd all like to see her."
"I've heard so much about her," Marie said. "Lydia tells me she's just a character."
"Well, now, you know I only mean that in the kindest sense, Rand," Lydia gushed. She turned to Marie. "She was always doin' the craziest things, even when she was young. She was always in trouble. Wasn't she, Rand?"
The air around him suddenly seemed too thin. Rand took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, she was."
"Once she even dared Rand to jump off the Rock Mill bridge. Remember that?"
He felt cold. "I remember."
"But he wouldn't do it. No one could blame him actually. No one even knows how deep that pool is. They say there's a team of horses and a wagon at the very bottom of it."
"Really?" Marie turned an interested gaze to him. "How ever did they get there?"
Rand's throat closed up.
Lydia answered for bim. "No one knows. Some drunkard probably. I guess there's a hundred stories about it. Oh, goodness, there's Ben Groves!" She shot them an apologetic look as she went hurrying off. "I'll be right back. Ben! Ben!"
Rand stared after her, still reeling over her words. A hundred stories, she'd said. None of them true. Rand's stomach knotted, the memories of his mother's suicide crowded, dark and menacing, at the edge of his mind. Frantically he pushed them away.
"A hundred stories," Marie said softly, as though she'd read his mind. "Well, now, I never knew that. Can you imagine? I guess now I'll have to find someone who can tell me all those stories."
"Charlie knows them," he managed.
Marie's face fell. Rand thought he saw a swift flash of disappointment cross her pale brown eyes.
But then she smiled. Lightly. Softly. She glanced nervously toward Lydia and Ben Groves. They were too far away to hear, but still her voice was very soft, very shy. "I'd rather hear them from you."
"Oh?" Her comment took him by surprise, the last vestiges of memory drained away. She was disarmingly, naively honest. Rand ran his tongue over his teeth. "I'm not sure Charlie would like that."
She laughed lightly, nervously. "Oh, but Charlie- he's—we're not—it's not like that."
Suddenly Rand understood. He glanced at Marie, who was looking at him with those shy, honest eyes, and he knew that this had all been a plan, that Marie had deliberately sought him out. She wanted him, maybe even thought she loved him. Charlie had only been a substitute, and Rand realized that he had hurt her when he'd drawn away. He had treated her unfairly. Had thought for a few months that he might want a wife and then thought better of it, so he'd simply stopped seeing her.
But he wasn't sure how he felt now, and before he could decide, she looked at him nervously, licked her full lips, and something about the way she did it triggered a memory. He took in her slender curves, the way the blue-sprigged calico flared gently over her hips. He remembered a kiss he'd stolen from her last summer. Chaste, gentle, barely touching. Remembered the way her lips had felt under his.
He remembered Lillian's words of a few nights ago. "You should be thinking of marriage, Rand. After all, you're nearly twenty-eight."
Marie Scholl. Maybe.
He gave her his best smile. "So you and Charlie are just friends, huh?"
She flushed. "Yes."
"And you don't think he'd mind that we're standing here talking to each other, alone."
"N-no."
"Or that he'd mind if I asked you to come to the races with me this afternoon?"
She looked shocked, confused for just a moment, and then she lifted her eyes to his, smiling. "Well—he's in Cincinnati buying a new ram."
"Guess he can't mind, then."
"No." Her smile widened. "I guess he can't."
"Good. Then let's go." He offered his arm. Lydia was still talking to Ben Groves not far away, but he knew Marie had forgotten all about her friend. Rand was in no mood to have Charlie Boston's sister following behind them anyway. Being seen alone with him at the races would hardly tarnish Marie's reputation. There would be a hundred other people there, jostling and crowding for space. There wouldn't even be a chance for them to be alone.
And he didn't regret that. He didn't want to look into her soulful brown eyes and know she wanted him to kiss her. He didn't want to have to make that decision. For now all he wanted was to forget about everything, and Marie Scholl had always been the perfect way to do that.
She talked ani
matedly beside him as they made their way past the stands selling food and crafts, weaving their way through the crowd. Before they even reached the track, he heard the sounds of cheering, and he hastened his step, anxious to get there. He wanted to stand at the rail and watch the horses sweeping around the third-of-a-mile track, wanted to feel Marie's hand at his elbow and hear her voice cheering along with his. But he didn't want to make conversation.
When they came to the trotting park, he threaded his way through the people, pulling.Marie behind him until they were near the front. The first race had already ended, but cheers still filled his ears. He couldn't hear the words Marie was shouting at him. Someone jostled them, and Marie reached up and grabbed at her hat, holding it in place and laughing as the second race began.
"Come on, Devil!" Someone beside him shouted. "Come on, now! Faster! Faster!"
"Go, Dan! Get that nag runnin'!"
"Holy hell, that mare's a doer!"
Rand laughed, for the first time in days feeling free and unencumbered. The excitement rushed through him, the blood in his fingers and cheeks tingled. The horses flew around the track, their hooves pounding the dirt, nostrils flaring. He glanced back at Marie. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glittered with excitement.
"Who do you want to win?" he shouted to her.
"The—!"
"The what?"
"The roan!"
"The roan it is." Rand pushed through the people until he was against the rail. He felt her behind him, at his back. He leaned forward. "Come on, boy, run! Run!"
The horses rounded the final curve. The roan strained to the front. Rand felt the blood rushing to his head, felt the pull of the muscles in his neck as he yelled along with the others.
"Rand!"
Marie's voice was like a gnat in his ear. He ignored it. "Come on! Come on!"
"Rand!" Her hand pulled at him, grabbing his elbow. "Rand!"
The horses pounded the short stretch. The crowd surged forward.
"Rand!"
He swung around, annoyed. "Just a minute!"
"But look!" She pointed into the crowd. "Isn't that your—?"
"My what?"
"Your daughter!"
He thought he heard the word wrong, but still he couldn't keep himself from following her finger. He stared into the crowd, searching, looking—
And then he saw her. Sarah. She was above the crowd, and her round face was lit with joy. She screamed with the others, pointing and laughing. He heard the echo of the horses, the drumlike sound of their hooves hammering the dirt, heard the cheers as the horses raced through the finish line.
"The roan! The roan won!"
But it all faded to the back of his mind, vague sounds and shapes that had nothing to do with anything. He felt Marie grabbing his arm, the bump and nudge of the people around him. And he saw Sarah clap her plump little hands and look down smiling.
Into Belle's face.
Belle's smiling face. The same face and the same smile that had burst through his consciousness this morning, that sent him reeling as if he'd never seen the sun before.
Rand's chest felt tight. His heart pounded. And he suddenly wished like hell he was alone with Marie so he could kiss her.
Chapter 13
The next day Belle waited outside the home exhibits listening to the hawk of the vendors, the baa of the sheep in the livestock ring a short distance away. The sun was hot, the afternoon felt more like an Indian summer than the start of fall, and she pushed at the brim of her large hat, forcing it back from her eyes.
Damn, where were they? She'd been standing here for the last hour waiting for Lillian and Sarah to make an appearance. They had disappeared this morning almost the moment they arrived back at the fair, hurrying off before Belle had a chance to react or protest. The thought filled her with frustration, a nagging ache. In the two days she'd been at the fair, she hadn't spent a single second alone with Sarah. Lillian was always there, grabbing hands and taking control with exasperating skill.
The way she always had.
Belle stared at the sheep in front of her unseeingly. Her mother was a master at making sure everything went the way she wanted it to, and Belle already saw the effect on Sarah: the resentment in the child's eyes, the too-obedient way she followed orders. Belle recognized it too well—that resentment had been in her own eyes once, along with a hundred plans to escape, a hundred places to hide. She wondered if Sarah had found those places yet, if she'd ever gone to the canal and sat on the banks just watching the packet boats, or pulled a few bass from the Hocking River. Had Sarah ever hidden in the loft of the barn and watched the world go by?
Or had no one shown her those things yet?
Belle sighed, wishing—again—that she knew where Lillian and Sarah had gone this morning. She was certain they would come back here. Lillian had a pie entered for judging, as well as a collection of preserves that Belle hadn't even bothered to look at. Eventually her mother would be back—with Sarah anchored to her side, no doubt.
Almost in response to her thought, Lillian and Sarah stepped from the building. Belle jerked away from the pole she was leaning against, meaning to hurry over. But then she paused. They were with someone else, a woman she'd never seen before. Another one of Lillian's friends probably. Belle steeled herself for the inevitable scrutiny and walked over.
"Hey there, Mama," she said, pasting a broad smile on her face. "I've been lookin' for you."
Lillian stiffened. Her smile was equally forced. "Why hello, Isabelle." She glanced at the woman standing beside her, "Marie, have you met my daughter, Isabelle?"
"I don't believe I have." The woman called Marie smiled and extended her hand. "Hi there, I'm Marie Scholl. It's so nice to meet you at last. After all the stories I've heard, I was beginning to think people were making you up."
Belle paused, taken aback for just a moment. The words were sincere, and she thought she saw real pleasure in Marie Scholl's face, pleasure without a hint of disapproval. It was so odd coming from one of her mother's friends that Belle wasn't sure she was really seeing it. She took Marie's hand warily. "Oh, I'm real all right," she said. "Much to Mama's dismay, I'm afraid."
She felt Lillian tense beside her, but Marie just took the words as a joke and laughed—a clear, trilling laugh that rang in the air. "From what I've heard, I imagine you were a handful when you were a child. I have a few children like that in my class."
"Marie is the teacher we brought in from Virginia last year—and a good friend of ours," Lillian explained.
Belle frowned at the strange emphasis in her mother's voice and then ignored it. "I see. So you've only been here a year?"
"Just one year." Marie nodded. Her eyes sparkled. "But I love it here already. Everyone's so friendly—especially your family."
Lillian smiled, and there was something in her eyes that made Belle feel vaguely uncomfortable. "It's our pleasure, Marie. Isabelle, did I tell you that Rand—"
"Grandma, can I have some cider now?" Sarah whined.
"In a minute, Sarah," Lillian's fingers tightened on Sarah's hand. She looked at Belle. "Marie is—"
"Grandma, I'm thirsty."
Lillian frowned. "In a minute. I'm talking to Belle right now. As I was saying," she went on, "Marie is a good frie—"
"I want some cider." Sarah twisted against Lillian's skirts, pulling at her hand. She sent a pleading glance to Belle. "I'm thirsty."
It was too good a chance to miss. Belle stepped forward. "I'll take her to get some cider, Mama."
Lillian's lips tightened. "It's quite all right, Isabelle. She can wait. You shouldn't spoil her."
"But I was heading over there anyway," Belle said, smiling. She held out her hand to take Sarah's. "And this way you can talk to Marie. I just know you have plenty to say to her."
The desperation in Lillian's face would have been funny if it wasn't so hurtful. Belle struggled to ignore it, to tell herself it didn't matter.
"It's all right, Mama," she said. "
It'll only be a minute."
Marie nodded and smiled. "We'll wait right here for you."
Lillian was caught. They both knew it. Belle saw the flash of panic in her mother's eyes, the tight anger. Lillian couldn't refuse without it looking odd, and God knew she wouldn't do that. Slowly she released Sarah's hand. Almost before the child's fingers were loose, Belle grabbed them. Sarah's chubby hand felt warm and sweaty in hers, and when Belle looked down, Sarah's smile was wide and relieved.
"I want two cups of cider," she said.
Belle laughed. "Come on, then." She threw a smile at her mother and Marie. "See you in a few minutes."
Then she and Sarah were walking away, across the path to the open space where vendors hawked candies and cider. Away from Lillian. Belle suddenly felt light and carefree. The sun was warm, the air was clear and sweet, and she was alone with Sarah. Belle wanted to run for the sheer joy of it, but she walked slowly instead, knowing Lillian wouldn't take her eyes off them and wanting to prolong the few short steps to the vendor as long as she could, to treasure this time alone with her daughter.
Sarah tugged at Belle's hand. "We're walkin' too slow. I'm hot."
"That cider'll cool you right up," Belle assured her. "Too bad we've got to stay around for the fair, or we could go swimmin'."
"Swimmin'?" There was a touch of longing in Sarah's voice. "I'm not allowed to go swimmin'."
Belle jerked to a stop in the middle of the fairway, sure she hadn't heard right. "You're not allowed to go swimmin'?"
"Huh-uh." Sarah shook her head. "Papa says it's dang'rous."
"Dangerous?" Belle squatted down even to Sarah. "The river or the canal?"
"Both."
Belle frowned. When she was young, she and Rand had spent hours at the river, at the canal. Fishing, swimming, betting on who could skip rocks the farthest. Those were some of her most treasured memories. It was impossible to believe they weren't Rand's, too, impossible to think he would deny such pleasures to his daughter.
After the frost f Page 13
