Sarah stepped up on the lower rung of the fence and hooked her arms over the top. “He’s a pretty horse.”
Beth ran the brush over the horse’s rump. “It’s a she. Her name’s Princess.”
“In that case, she’s beautiful.”
Remaining silent, Beth continued to brush her horse.
“I never meant to upset you or your family,” Sarah said.
For a moment, Beth continued grooming her horse then stopped, her hand resting on Princess’s mane.
“It feels weird, you know, thinking you’ve got Mom’s heart inside you.”
“It could be someone’s else’s heart. I can’t be sure, and the doctors never tell the patient who the donor was.”
“But you came here because you thought it was.”
“True.” Against her doctor’s recommendation, which she should have listened to more closely. “I could be wrong.”
Brushing the horse’s mane smooth, Beth seemed thoughtful. “Did it hurt a lot? When got your new heart?”
“I was heavily sedated during surgery and didn’t feel a thing. After I woke up, yes. It hurt like crazy. But it doesn’t anymore.” Sarah wasn’t entirely sure how much Beth wanted to know or should be told. She wanted to tread gently.
“Did it start working right away?”
“The doctors told me I’d gotten a strong, healthy heart, so I assume so.”
“Mom was healthy—until the accident. Then she—” Her voice broke.
“I’m so sorry, Beth. If I could change what happened to your mother, I would.”
“But then you wouldn’t have gotten a new heart and you’d be dead.”
“Possibly,” Sarah agreed. Somewhere along the way, another suitable donor might have appeared. In any case, for her to get a new heart someone had had to die. She would always live with that knowledge and the sense of guilt that went with it. A sense of awe and gratitude for the sacrifice the family had made, as well.
In the fading light, Sarah saw tears form in Beth’s eyes. She ached for the youngster, her pain and grief.
“If Mom had to die like that, I’m glad you got to live.”
“Oh, sweetie…” Before she could think about it, Sarah climbed over the fence, dropped down on the other side and took Beth into her arms.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to hold this young girl, now on the cusp of womanhood, in her arms as she cried. She soothed her and smoothed her hair. Whispered that she understood the girl’s pain. Felt the dampness of her tears soak through her tee and welcomed the baptism of the girl’s grief.
Somewhere inside her, near her heart, a feeling of love bloomed for this half child, half woman, and she didn’t want to let go.
For more than an hour, Kurt had studied the information Sarah had discovered about Western Region Cattle Feeding and tried to organize his presentation to the county commissioners. The hearing was scheduled for next week.
But he couldn’t concentrate.
He couldn’t get his head around Sarah being a heart-transplant recipient. She didn’t look like someone who’d needed a new heart. She didn’t act like one either. She’d ridden a horse. And been thrown off.
Sweat slicked his palms when he thought about what could have happened. Maybe a heart attack. Or the incision could’ve split open. Why on earth would she take a risk like that?
Because he’d teased her into it. Challenged her.
The possibility that she’d gotten Zoe’s heart made the situation even stranger. He didn’t know how he felt about that. One minute he was grieving over Zoe’s death. The next, he was glad Sarah was alive.
Talk about feeling conflicted. It was like having two teams in the Super Bowl and wanting them both to win. In football and heart transplants there were no tied scores. Someone lost; someone won. That’s how the game was played.
He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned his elbows on the desk. This whole business was making him crazy.
At a knock on the door, Kurt looked up. Sarah stood in the open doorway. Her face looked drawn with fatigue, her complexion pale.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Sure. Of course.” Wiping his palms on his jeans, he stood and stepped toward her. “Are you all right?”
“Outside of feeling guilty about hurting your family, I’m fine.” Her voice sounded as weary as she looked.
He led her to the couch on the wall opposite his desk. It was half full with papers and magazines he hadn’t gotten around to reading. He shoved them aside.
“Here. Sit down.” A spurt of panic shot through him. Had the whole ordeal, the revelation that she might have Zoe’s heart, been too much for her? “Can I get you anything? Coffee? One of your pills?”
Her lips lifted in a half smile. “No. Really, I’m fine. I’ve just had a rather emotional conversation with Beth and I’m pretty well drained.”
He scowled. “Did she give you a hard time? If she did—”
“Not at all, Kurt. She’s upset about the situation I’ve put you all in but she’ll be all right.”
Sitting back on the edge of his desk, hooking his hands over the edge, he said, “I’m pretty much in shock myself. If I’d any idea you’d had a heart transplant, I’d never would have let you get on a horse. Something terrible could’ve—”
“Kurt, I’m healthier now than I’ve ever been in my life. If it weren’t for me being a coward and my mother being overprotective, I probably would’ve ridden horses and skied down hills and maybe even taken off in a hot air balloon. But I wasn’t healthy and I’m still a coward. The first problem is taken care of and now I’m working on not being such a wimp.”
Her spirit, her courage, amazed him. He couldn’t imagine all she’d been through—and survived.
“Are your parents still around?” he asked.
“Dad died several years ago. Mother passed away in February. I think having a sick child stole years from both of their lives.”
Blaming yourself was a bad habit to get into, one that was hard to break. “What happened that you had to have a new heart? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s a boring story, actually.” She told him about her childhood leukemia, chemo therapy and radiation. “By the time I approached thirty, all the damage they’d done to keep me alive caught up with me. My heart began to fail. There weren’t many choices left so I was put on a heart-transplant waiting list. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Zoe’s heart.”
“Possibly. But that doesn’t change who I am. I’m not Zoe and never could be.”
He pushed away from the desk. “I know that.”
“I’m not sure your mother-in-law does.”
“There are a lot of things Grace doesn’t know. Like how Zoe wasn’t the perfect wife. Not that I was the perfect husband, either,” he admitted. They’d married too young. Neither he nor Zoe had given themselves much chance to grow up, to discover who they were before they started to grow apart. He’d loved Zoe. He thought she had loved him, too. But it was an adolescent love that wasn’t strong enough to last during the tough times. Ranchers had a lot of those.
“I feel as though I’ve put you all in a very awkward position. If you’d like, I’ll leave. It wouldn’t take me long to pack. I could be on the road within the hour.”
“No.” The panic he’d felt a moment ago was mild compared to the mental alarm set off by her words. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I’m sure the kids wouldn’t want you to go. You’ve been great with them. I mean, how would Toby ever get any good with that ventriloquism business you’ve taught him?” He chided himself for making such a dumb statement. Toby and his clowning around wasn’t the reason he wanted Sarah to stay. He wanted her to stay because…
Because he liked the way she’d smiled at his stupid comment.
“I’m reasonably sure Toby and Sarah will adjust to the situation,” she said. “But I’m less sure about Grace. Or you.”
“I’m fine wit
h you staying.” More than fine, he thought, as he went back to his desk chair and sat down.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the person I hired to be our housekeeper and I still need your help with the kids until school starts. Let me worry about Grace.”
A frown creased Sarah’s smooth forehead. “At dinner, Grace seemed…I don’t know. Maybe determined to plant Zoe’s memories in my head so I would become Zoe. I don’t think that’s healthy for her. I can’t replace her daughter.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I’m not so sure. Has she—or any of you—received any grief counseling?”
“Hardly. I sure don’t have time for that sort of nonsense. Plus, Sweet Grass Valley isn’t exactly home to a whole lot of psychologists. Around here, if we’ve got a problem, we grit it out on our own.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you think you’re strong enough to handle emotional trauma and the loss of your wife. But Beth and Grace could certainly use some help. Maybe Toby, I don’t know.”
Picking up a pencil, he tapped the eraser on his desk. His jaw muscle clenched. “It’s been more than a year. We’re doing fine.”
“Perhaps if they talked with Pastor Hoffman.”
He snapped the pencil in half. “Sarah, I’ll take care of my family. If you’re going to stay, great. Right now I’ve got work to do.”
Her lips tightened into a straight line. Her blue eyes darkened with disappointment. She stood, graceful, her head held high.
“I’ll have your breakfast ready for you at the usual time in the morning.”
His chest tight with regret, Kurt watched her walk out the door. He wanted to call her back. To tell her he was sorry. But he couldn’t.
God had deserted him once. He never planned to let that happen again.
Nothing Pastor Hoffman could say would ever change that.
Chapter Nine
The following day, as the heat rose and storm clouds formed over the distant mountains, tension mounted at the Rocking R Ranch.
Kurt had barely spoken to Sarah at breakfast. Right after that he’d ridden off somewhere in his truck without telling her or the children where he was going.
Feeling let down and restless, Sarah cleaned up the kitchen and put a load of sheets in the washer. She stood in the laundry room staring out the window as the washing machine agitated the sheets in a hypnotic rhythm. Swish-swish. Swish-swish.
She’d heard wolves howl in the night. The distant cry of the pack had stirred her and deepened the sense of loneliness she’d felt since her conversation with Kurt last night. Maybe she should leave, go back to—
Beth popped into the laundry room. She’d changed from the nightgown she’d worn at breakfast into a tattered pair of jeans, tank top and flip-flops.
“I thought I’d start planting those flowers and stuff we bought the other day.”
In the face of Beth’s energy and enthusiasm, Sarah’s spirits lifted. “Good idea. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll join you.”
“I’ll get the tools from the shed.” With that, Beth went out the back door, letting the screen slam behind her.
Invigorated, Sarah finished the chores she needed to do.
Once outside, she found Beth already digging a hole for one of the two climbing rosebushes they’d bought. By the end of summer they’d both be covered with baby-pink blooms, which according to Beth was one of her mother’s favorite flowers.
Rudy had assumed his watching position in the shade of the front porch.
“How big should I dig the hole?” she asked.
“A few inches deeper and wider than the pot. We want to be sure the roots can take hold and spread and won’t get bound up. I bought some soil amendment that we can use to replace some of the dirt.”
Under Beth’s firm tutelage, the hard-packed soil surrendered to the shovel a few inches at a time. For a young girl, Beth was strong and not afraid of getting dirty or building up a sweat.
Together they’d decided to plant sunflowers on the south side of the gazebo. As the flowers grew, they’d attract birds to feed on the seeds. Sarah picked up a trowel and two of the six-inch pots of sunflowers. She was more than happy to let Beth do the heavy lifting with the shovel.
They worked in companionable silence, commenting occasionally on the weather or the movie that was playing in town, a G-rated show. Beth wanted to go to the matinee with her friends. Sarah saw no problem with that.
“We don’t have to plant everything we bought in one day,” she said, realizing that would be an impossibility without more willing workers. “We’ll keep the pots well watered and take care of the rest another day. I’ll drive you to town when you’re ready to go.”
“Great. Thanks. Maybe Caroline’s mother can bring me home.”
“Fine. Just call and let me or your father know what’s happening.”
Toby appeared from the barn. “I’ve mucked out the stalls and spread new hay, like Dad said. Can I go now?”
Sarah sat back on her haunches and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Where to?”
“Billy’s house. There’s a vacant lot by him where the guys play baseball ’n stuff. I can ride my bike.”
“Will you be home for lunch?”
“Naw. Mrs. Morgan usually feeds us something.”
Sarah wished she knew the families in town, but it sounded as though Toby was used to visiting the Morgans.
“You’d better clean up before you go,” she said.
He looked down at his dirty jeans. “Why? I’m fine.”
“You smell like you’ve been rolling in manure, little brother,” Beth said. “Phew!”
Sarah suppressed a smile. “Go change. And wash your hands good. I’m sure Mrs. Morgan doesn’t want any smelly little boys in her house.”
He pulled a face, then marched around to the back of the house to go inside.
A sense of pleasure filled Sarah as she realized both children were responding to what she told them without an argument. Only a niggling feeling that they might be responding to her because she had their mother’s heart dampened her delight.
Surely they’d begun to realize she was their friend, someone they could count on. That knowing about her heart transplant hadn’t changed the situation.
A few minutes after Toby left, Beth leaned on her shovel before attacking the next hole to be dug.
“Are you planning to go to church tomorrow?” she asked.
Sarah looked up from her work, curious about the girl’s seemingly casual question. “Yes, I plan to. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged and jabbed the shovel into the ground. “It’s just that Mom and Dad and us kids all used to go. I kind’ve missed it. I mean, a lot of my friends go to church.”
Nerves tingled along Sarah’s scalp. After Kurt’s reaction to the mere mention of Pastor Hoffman, she’d have to be careful what she promised.
“I’d be happy to have you go with me, but we’ll have to ask your father if it’s okay.”
Beth grew thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged again. “I don’t think he’ll care.”
Sarah’s confidence wasn’t quite that high.
After delivering Beth to the movie theater in town, Sarah returned to the ranch. She fixed herself a sandwich and iced tea, and sat on the side porch gazing at the dark clouds roiling in the distance.
The parched ground could certainly use some rain.
Rudy joined her, sitting down right in front of her. The dog studied her with his big, brown eyes, his tongue hanging out. Lots of gray whiskers showed around his muzzle.
“You’re begging, aren’t you, ol’ fellow?”
His tail made a sweep of the porch.
She pulled off a bit of chicken from her sandwich.
“You won’t tell Kurt, will you?” She offered Rudy the chicken, which he neatly plucked from her fingertips.
He resumed his begging stance.
“No, no more for you. This is my sandwich.”
At the sound of Kurt’s truck returning, her heart rate accelerated. Rudy left her to welcome Kurt home.
Not knowing what his mood might be, Sarah intentionally kept her expression neutral.
He pulled to a stop beside the house. When he climbed out of the truck he was carrying a plastic shopping bag from the general store in town and his rifle.
Eyeing the rifle, a ripple of unease skittered down Sarah’s spine.
“I stopped in town and got you something.” He stepped up onto the porch and handed her the shopping bag.
Curiosity replaced her dread. “For me?”
“It’s nothing much. Open the bag.”
She did and found a straw hat with a powder-blue grosgrain ribbon wrapped around the crown. She placed it on her head. “Thank you. This is very thoughtful of you.”
His lips hitched into a smile. “Looks good on you. The sun around here can bake your brains if you’re not careful.” His voice, his cordial body language, held no hint of their conflict last night or his sour mood this morning.
Inordinately pleased with his considerate gift and improved mood, she said, “I could have used this hat earlier today. Beth and I spent the morning planting flowers around the gazebo.”
“I noticed when I drove in. There’re some gloves in the sack, too. Your hands are too soft to be digging in the dirt bare-handed.”
The gloves were a light blue like the ribbon on the hat and had little yellow daisies printed on them. A color-coordinated gardening ensemble, she thought with a smile.
She slipped one hand into a glove. “They fit. Thank you again.”
Lifting the rifle, he held it at angle across his body and sat on the porch railing. “Next time I’m in town, I’ll get you a pair of riding gloves at the tack store.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can pick up a pair when I’m in town.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Meaning you’re willing to get on a horse again?”
Montana Hearts Page 10
