"That's gorgeous! This is the one I am thinking of. I don't have anything this color." She indicated a very pretty, pale green shade that would be very flattering against her almost-black hair.
"That's beautiful, too. It will look lovely on you."
"Thank you. We'll see you tomorrow, then, around this time?"
"Perfect." Sarah bought the white thread she was looking for, and then continued walking home with Andrew. She went back into the library to finish up Ricky's shirt and when that was done, it was time to start dinner. She was surprised that Ricky wasn't home yet.
* * *
"You made her day, you know. I think it was a real treat for her to have you all to herself." Ricky's father said as they walked outside. Ricky had intended to just stay for a short while and then go home and work, but his mother was in such good spirits when he arrived, and yet she looked even weaker than the day before. He sat with her for several hours, until her eyes grew heavy and his father suggested that she could do with a nap.
He promised her that he'd be there when she woke up and he spent the next few hours sharing lunch with his father and walking around the fields, talking about anything and everything. Always, the conversation came back to his mother.
"I think she might be getting ready to go," his father said quietly as they stopped to rest for a bit at the base of a pond. His father seemed smaller, somehow, consumed with worry.
"She can still fight this," Ricky insisted.
His father sighed. "She's always been a fighter. I agree with you. But, she's tired and she just doesn't feel good. When she coughs, sometimes it looks as if the effort might break her. It's the look in her eyes that I hate to see. She hurts and I just want to take her pain away, but I don't know how. I'm scared that we're going to lose her soon."
"Do you really think so?" The thought of losing his mother was unfathomable to Ricky. She'd always been such a rock.
"I do, and in a way, I think it will be a blessing, as much as I hate to lose her. I just want her to be out of pain, even if that means she can't be here with us anymore. I just don't know how I'll manage without her." His voice broke and Ricky put his arm around him to comfort him. They stayed that way for a while, just leaning on each other and watching the water ripple on the pond.
Finally, his father spoke again. "She might be awake by now, if you want to go say a few words before you head out for the day. I don't think she's up to much more than that."
"I wore her out," Ricky said ruefully.
"No, soothed her soul is more like it. She'll sleep well because of it."
"I'll come back every day this week, whenever I can, even if it's just for a short visit."
"She'd love that."
* * *
An hour or so later, at about half-past three, Ricky drove away from his parents’ house in a bit of a daze. He'd been concerned when he visited his mother the day before, but he hadn't realized how seriously ill she was until he spent the better part of the day there. No one that Ricky loved had ever died before and the thought of losing his mother was alarming, overwhelming even.
He supposed that he should go home and go do some work, but Sarah was sharing that room with him now. He was happy to have her there, but at the moment, he couldn't handle small talk. He wanted to be alone, to wallow in his misery, to have a drink or two and to think or not think.
He was confused as to what exactly he did want to do, but the only clear thing was that he wanted to go to the saloon, sit at the bar and have a whiskey, straight up. And that's what he did.
The saloon was quiet, given the time of day, and that pleased Ricky. He wasn't feeling especially social, not yet. He sat in his favorite seat and when Nick, the bartender, ambled over, he ordered a double shot of whiskey.
Nick set it down in front of him and he tossed it back and ordered another. This one, he sipped slowly as he gazed off into space and brooded. He felt empty and sad and cold. He knew that the next few weeks were going to be difficult ones and as hard as they were going to be, he didn't want to miss a moment, and he planned to visit his mother every day. After a little bit, a very pretty saloon girl, one he hadn't seen before, strolled over and introduced herself. Her name was Paige and normally he’d banter with her a bit, but he just wasn't in the mood.
"Paige, it's a pleasure to meet you, but I'm not feeling very social today, I'm afraid. However, your suggestion of another drink is a very good one, so if you want to go tell Nick, I'll gladly take another."
She wandered off, happy to have sold another drink so easily.
"Rough day?" Nick asked as he set the third whiskey in front of him.
"My mother's sick and it doesn't look promising."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, real sorry." Nick was a good guy. Ricky liked him and he seemed genuinely concerned which Ricky appreciated.
"Thanks. I thought I'd just stop in here for a bit before heading home. Seemed like a good idea."
"The best. It's what I would do," Nick agreed and then wandered off to pour a beer for a new customer. It was after five now and more people were coming in. Ricky was starting to feel a little better now that the several drinks had kicked in.
Actually he was starting to feel very little, which was exactly what he wanted. He was in a happy warm haze where there were no dying mothers, just smiling saloon girls and affable bartenders. At this moment, it was exactly where he wanted to be.
* * *
When Paige stopped by to suggest another drink, Ricky thought it was a splendid idea. He was happily sipping his fourth whiskey when the trouble started. His friends Peter and Ted had joined him by then, stopping by for a quick one on their way home from work. He told them about his mother and they expressed their sympathy, and then the subject turned as it usually did, to the campaign.
"I think that is an exchellent idea," Ricky said in response to a suggestion Peter had. His two friends exchanged glances. Apparently, they'd caught that he'd slurred his words just the tiniest bit.
"How many of those have you had?" Ted asked.
"These? I don't know, four or maybe five." It was hard to remember.
"Maybe this one should be your last," Peter said gently.
"Thas probably a good idea." Ricky was starting to feel tired. Perhaps he would go to bed early.
He picked up his glass to have another sip and felt a poke in his back. He turned around slowly to see two unfamiliar faces staring back at him. They were men about his age and neither was smiling.
"You Ricky Donovan?" one of them asked. They both looked like businessmen but he couldn't place them.
"Yes, I am. And you are?"
"I'm Tim Meadows and this is Jim Carlson. We just opened an accounting practice on Main Street."
"Oh, that's very good. I might be in need of an accountant in the future. I wish you good luck."
The two men exchanged glances, and then the one named Jim, spoke, "Thank you. I am curious, though, is it true you married a saloon girl? One who used to work here and even has a child?"
The look of disgust on his face was shocking to Ricky. It was the first time he had encountered such a reaction. He struggled to keep his tone civil.
"Yes, it's true that Sarah used to work here. Is that a problem?" His voice was icy as he spoke and he noticed both Peter and Ted leaning in to listen to the exchange with interest.
Tim answered this time, his voice dripping with disdain. "A saloon girl? That's the best you could do? I'm just not so sure that reflects well for someone who wants to be mayor."
"Have you ever met Sarah?" Ricky asked.
"No, but I don't see what difference that makes. A saloon girl is a saloon girl." Tim's tone was belligerent.
"Sarah is a respectable woman. She was a widow working here to support herself and her child. I think that's commendable."
"Some people think a saloon girl is the same thing as a prostitute," Jim taunted. "How do you know she wasn't earning extra money upstairs with customers?"
Rick
y was off his stool before Jim finished speaking and he swung his arm with all his might, connecting with Jim's nose, before losing his balance and almost landing on the floor.
He was saved from falling and from any retaliation from Tim and Jim by Peter and Ted, who immediately jumped up when they sensed trouble and caught Ricky's arms after he swung. Tim helped Jim up from the floor and Nick came out from behind the bar at this point to make sure things didn't escalate.
"Tim and Jim, it would be a good idea if you both left right now. Our saloon girls here aren't like that. This is a respectable place and Ricky is darn lucky to have married Sarah. That's all I have to say about that. Here, you can take this with you." He handed Jim a clean cloth to stop the blood that was gushing out of his nose.
"Fine, we'll go," Tim said and then turned to address Ricky. "This just proves that you're not the right man to be our mayor. A drunk married to a saloon girl. I think Bozeman can do better." The two of them left in a huff and Ricky sat back down, feeling defeated.
"This goes down as one of the worst days on record," he said as he swallowed the last drop of whiskey in his glass.
"Let's get you home. Things will look better after a good night's sleep," Peter said. Ricky paid his bill, left a generous tip for Nick and then followed Peter and Ted outside.
"I'll take you home and Ted can follow with your buggy," Peter said and Ricky didn't argue. He climbed into the passenger side of Peter's buggy and they drove off with Ted behind them. When they reached Ricky's house, Ted got the horses settled in the barn while Peter helped Ricky inside. At this point, Ricky couldn't wait to fall into bed.
* * *
Sarah heard voices outside the door and was concerned until she recognized one of them as Ricky's. Finally, he was home. She'd gone from worry to anger that he'd missed dinner completely to worry again that something had happened. She went to open the door and saw Peter helping Ricky walk up the front steps and into the house.
"Is he okay?" she asked, wondering what had happened.
"He's fine, just had a little too much whiskey. Sounds like it was a rough day. You know his mother isn't doing well?"
"Yes, we saw her just yesterday."
"He went to see her today and didn't like what he saw. Spent the rest of the evening at the saloon. We brought him home and got the horses settled."
"Thank you for that."
"Can you make it upstairs?" Peter asked Ricky, who just nodded yes.
"Need to go to bed," Ricky muttered, and then wobbled toward the stairs. Peter stayed and watched to make sure he got all the way up, and then waved goodbye to Sarah. She shut the door behind him and then went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
While the water was heating up, she went upstairs to check on Ricky and make sure he’d made it into his bedroom. Sure enough, he was facedown on his bed, fully dressed and still wearing his shoes.
She tiptoed into the room, being careful not to disturb him, and quietly took off his shoes and then left the room and went back down to the kitchen. When the water was hot enough, she made her tea and went into the library to curl up on the sofa there and stare into the flames.
She was hurt that Ricky hadn't felt that he could come home to talk to her about whatever was bothering him, and that instead he had to go drown his sorrows in multiple glasses of whiskey. She knew he was hurting, though, and she was pretty sure it had to do with his mother. She must have taken a turn for the worse. She wanted to get out to see her again soon, to see if there was anything she could do to help.
She hoped that Ricky would eventually feel comfortable enough with her that he could turn to her in times like this. She would love to offer comfort and do what she could to help ease his pain.
Chapter 12
The next morning, Sarah was up early as usual, made coffee and breakfast and by the time she left to walk Andrew to school, Ricky still wasn't up. When she returned, there was no sign of movement, so she went into the library and started to work on her sewing. About an hour later, she heard shuffling in the kitchen and went out to see what she could do for him.
"Good morning," she said brightly as she walked into the kitchen. Ricky was standing by the stove, staring at a pot of water.
"Hello," he mumbled.
"Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast, does that sound good?" Sarah almost laughed at the look of horror that came across Ricky's face. Apparently the idea of eggs didn't sit well with his stomach.
"No, thank you. Just coffee today."
"All right. If you change your mind, let me know. I'm just sewing in the other room," she said, and then softly asked, "How are you?"
Ricky met her eyes then and she saw a combination of sadness and embarrassment. It made her want to hug him, but she held back, sensing that it would only confuse things further at this point in their relationship. Right now, she just wanted to help and to comfort.
"I've been better. Yesterday was a rough day, and I owe you an apology. I missed dinner again and I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I understand. It's your mother?"
He nodded, took a sip of coffee and then spoke. "I've never seen her look so frail and weak. My father thinks that she's dying. He's trying to get himself ready for it. I'm not ready."
"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" Sarah's heart went out to him. He looked so forlorn and lost.
"Thank you, but I don't know what anyone can do at this point. I'm just going to try and see her as much as possible."
"That's a good idea. I'd like to go with you at some point, too, if that's all right?"
"Of course. I am going to stop by for a short visit later this morning if you'd like to join me?"
* * *
When they arrived at Ricky's parents’ house, his father once again met them at the door and answered Ricky's unasked question, “She's in good spirits today. I told her you'd be by and it gives her something to look forward to. She'll be even more thrilled that you're here as well, Sarah."
He led them down the hall to Evelyn's room and then left them alone to enjoy their visit.
"Good morning, Mother. I think you're looking better today." Ricky kissed her hello and then Sarah gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek as well.
"You're a sweet boy to say that, but I think we both know I'm not getting better. Not this time. I've accepted it." She spoke calmly and there was a great sense of peace about her.
"Mother, don't say that. Don't give up. You can still fight this, whatever it is," Ricky insisted.
"No, honey. There's no more fight left in me. I'm ready. I'm not worried. It's my time soon." She smiled then and Sarah reached out to grab hold of Ricky's hand, sensing that he needed the support as these were hard words to hear from someone you loved.
"What can we do for you? How can we help?" Ricky asked.
"Tell me what it's like outside. Is the sun shining? Are those little flowers, the tiny yellow ones along the side of the road, are they blossoming yet? They were always my favorite."
"Yes, they're there. Hundreds of them," Ricky said.
"They're so beautiful," Sarah added. And for the next hour they entertained Evelyn with all the news about people she knew, about the dinner they'd had at the Bozeman Hotel and Sarah told her about the upcoming charity event they were going to and the style of dress she was thinking of making.
Her eyes were bright as they spoke and she encouraged them to keep talking until finally, Ricky's father poked his head in and said it was probably time for Evelyn to nap. She didn't protest the suggestion and reached out with one delicate hand to take Ricky's hand in hers.
"My sweet boy, there is one thing you can do for me."
"Anything. What is it?"
Evelyn smiled weakly and then gathered her strength to say, "Be happy, live well and let love into your life. Make every moment count." She released her hand and it fluttered down onto the soft blanket that was tucked around her.
"I will do that. And I'll be
back to see you tomorrow," Ricky promised. He leaned in to kiss her forehead as her eyes slowly closed and a faint smile faded.
* * *
Ricky was quiet on the drive back to their house and Sarah didn't feel like talking, either. She was shaken by his mother's appearance, and her words. She could understand how Ricky had been devastated the day before. How does one prepare for something like this? It was almost lunchtime when they arrived home. Ricky jumped out to settle the horses and even though she wasn't terribly hungry, she knew it was important that they both eat something.
"There's leftover chicken stew I can heat up for us. Will you have some with me?" she asked.
"I'm not really hungry."
"I'm not either, but we should have a little. I can make some buttered toast to go with it?"
"Fine, but just a small amount. I need to head into town after that. See some people and get back to work."
* * *
Sarah had the house to herself that afternoon, and the quiet was soothing as she worked on her sewing. Ricky's shirt was coming along nicely. She left at three to meet Andrew at school and about ten minutes after they arrived home, there was soft laughter outside and a knock on the door.
Colleen, Emma, Brianna and Julia had arrived. They came in with their arms full of fabric and Emma was carrying a box of frosted cupcakes, which she set down on the kitchen counter.
"This is the time of the day when the children always like a snack and I thought we could enjoy one, too."
"Wonderful, thank you. I'll put on a pot of tea for us." Sarah filled the teapot and set it on the stove. She got some small dishes from the cupboard and set them by the cupcakes, so the girls could help themselves. They gathered around the kitchen table and Sarah poured tea for everyone as soon as it was ready and brought the cups over to the table.
RICKY: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Mail-Order Brides Club Book 5) Page 7
