98. George
George
Ithrew back the blanket that had concealed me during the wagon ride into town, stretched and smoothed my hair with gloved fingers.
I planned to surprise Sarah by appearing for lunch in town.
Viola’s scheming must be rubbing off on me.
Down the street, Sarah and Jo climbed the steps to the general store.
I’d pop over and convince her to have lunch with me at the Inn.
Very respectable. I followed a small group of women into the store, planning to sneak up behind her.
“George and I will only ever be friends, truly.” Sarah’s words slid in like a blade. I must’ve misheard.
“I’m not giving up on the two of you yet.” Jo’s eyes widened when she noticed me over Sarah’s shoulder. Thank you for the confidence, Jo.
“You’re wasting your time.”
I stumbled backward into the snowy day and trudged the long miles back to Viola’s, arriving with my mind as numb as my toes. But my heart wasn’t numb.
I set my boots to dry by the fire in the cozy little room near the kitchen where Sarah had almost kissed me. I waited for Sarah to return from town. How could she want to limit what we had to friendship? She wanted more, too, right?
Footsteps in the hall. I wouldn’t hide. We’d figure this out somehow. Sarah took two steps into the room, then stopped.
My heart twisted at the sight of her. Two long strides brought me close enough to catch the faint scent of her almond soap. I gestured to the couch. She stared as if she’d never seen cushions before.
She sat primly on the couch, and I threw myself down at the other end. Her stiff posture grated on me. “You can relax, Goldie. I promise to restrain myself.”
Her lips pressed into a line.
Maybe it wasn’t my lack of restraint. Before she’d left for town, I’d explained how it wouldn’t be proper to court her here. I probably should’ve asked if I could court her first. Was my presumption what had turned her against me?
Damnation. I couldn’t ask to court her now. I said, “We need to talk.”
She bit her lip. “Why?”
“Just because I can’t court you, doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with you.”
Twin tears tumbled down her cheeks.
“Sarah?” I reached to take her hand but she pulled it away.
“No one will ever court me,” she said, staring at the floor.
“What?” My pulse hammered as I willed her to look at me. When her hazel eyes finally found mine, I asked the only question that mattered. “What about me?”
She choked out, “What about you, George?” She jumped up and strode toward the door.
“Wait. Sarah. Stop.”
She spun, and the look on her face stopped me in my tracks. The fire crackled in the silence.
She said, “Why are you doing this? Stop playing with me.”
“Me? You’re the one who told half the town I was a waste of time.” I swallowed. Stop yelling.
“You were there?”
“I heard it straight from your mouth.”
“What was I supposed to say? You would barely look at me this morning. And I hardly admit my feelings to myself, why would I spout them in front of strangers in the middle of town?” She covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean it.”
The blade slid free, but would the wound heal? I set my hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s real. Please…”
She took a deep breath and then another. “You don’t want me.”
I pulled her into my arms. Her body shook with silent sobs. “Damnation, Sarah, why would you say that?” I crushed her to me and kissed the top of her head again and again.
Her voice was muffled against my chest. “You told me so yourself. This morning.”
“What? No!” I searched my memory. “I’m sure I never said that…
that I don’t want you. That’s the whole problem.
I want you too much. I told you I had to stay away from you because I couldn’t restrain myself, and it wouldn’t be proper for me to court you here while you’re under our protection.
I tried to think of sardines, but it didn’t work. ”
“Sardines?”
“Don’t ask.” I groaned. “You thought I meant…”
Sarah tilted her head back to meet my eyes. “That was not what you said.”
I wiped her tears.
She said, “I don’t understand,” and thank the stars, there was hope on her face.
“I am such a fool.” I laughed softly. “We skipped lucky number seven—clarity. I am so blazing terrible at clarity.” I cupped a hand on each side of her face. “Time for absolute clarity.” I beamed down at her. “I am in love with you, Sarah Everson.”
She gaped. “You… love me?”
“Head over heels.” I kissed one delicate brow. Her face softened. I kissed her other brow. “I can hardly keep from kissing you every single time I see you.”
A smile broke across her face, beautiful and welcome.
“When we get home, if you let me, I’m going to court you. Properly.”
“But you said?—”
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
A tremor of something—joy, I hoped—flickered across her lovely face. “You… really love me?”
“Just facts, Goldie.”
She tilted her face up, and I bent to meet her sweet lips. I told her with kisses everything I’d muddled up with words and didn’t stop until I was sure she understood my feelings exactly. She fit so perfectly in my arms, inside my bubble, inside my heart.
“I love you, too, George. You’re a lunkhead, but I love you, too.”
Joy flooded through me at her words, worthy of the biggest headline—She Loves Me in sky-high letters across the whole front page. And I communicated that joy with more kissing. For clarity. I’d restrain myself later.