Chapter 12 - Christmas Without Forgetting Elizabeth
Elias stood outside the kitchen for nearly a minute.
Sarah was crying quietly.
He had heard grief before.
Elizabeth's sister after the funeral.
Lahi in nightmares.
His own, on nights when he thought nobody could hear.
Sarah's crying was different.
Controlled.
As if she were embarrassed by it.
Elias knocked softly.
The crying stopped.
“Sarah?”
“I'm fine.”
“You don't sound fine.”
Silence.
“Go away.”
He almost did.
Then remembered everything she had taught him.
Stay.
“I can go away,” he said. “Or I can sit outside this door like an idiot until morning.”
A wet laugh came from inside.
“You are an idiot.”
“I've been told.”
The door opened.
Sarah's eyes were red.
Elias did not ask why.
He sat at the table.
She sat opposite.
After several minutes she handed him the telegram.
He read it.
Thirty-five dollars.
Transportation.
Room.
“That's a good offer.”
“Yes.”
He hated every word.
“You should consider it.”
“I am.”
More silence.
Then Sarah said:
“Tell me not to go.”
Elias looked up.
Her face changed instantly.
“No.”
She stood.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“Sarah—”
“Forget it.”
He stood too.
“You want me to ask you to stay?”
“I don't know what I want.”
She turned.
“I know I don't want to stay because Lahi needs me.”
Elias understood.
“And you don't want to stay because I need you.”
Sarah's shoulders tightened.
“Yes.”
“What would make you stay?”
She faced him.
“You should know.”
He stared.
Then finally understood what she had been asking.
Not for employment.
Not for gratitude.
For truth.
Elias stepped closer.
“I think about you when you're not in the room.”
Sarah's breath caught.
“I notice when you laugh.”
He continued.
“I notice when you're tired and pretend you're not.”
“Elias…”
“I know exactly how you take your coffee.”
She blinked.
He almost smiled.
“You barely drink half of it before it goes cold.”
“That is because everyone interrupts me.”
“Probably.”
He became serious.
“I know this house feels different because you're in it.”
Sarah's eyes filled.
“And I know that terrifies me.”
The honesty surprised them both.
“I loved Elizabeth,” he said.
“I know.”
“For years I thought loving anyone afterward would mean I had loved her less.”
Sarah whispered:
“It doesn't.”
“I am starting to believe that.”
They stood only inches apart.
Elias wanted to touch her.
He didn't.
Not yet.
“I am not asking you to stay tonight.”
Sarah looked hurt.
He continued.
“Because if I ask, I want to know I am asking for you. Not a housekeeper. Not someone to save my daughter. You.”
Her expression softened.
“That may be the first intelligent thing you've said.”
He laughed.
“Thank you.”
Christmas Eve arrived under clear skies.
Elias brought in a small pine tree.
Lahi decorated it with strips of cloth.
Sarah baked molasses cookies.
They placed Elizabeth's blue ribbon near the top.
Nobody acted as though she had never existed.
That mattered.
After supper Sarah brought out the finished quilt.
Lahi stared.
Blue silk.
Red flannel.
Brown work cloth.
Yellow calico.
Tiny flowers.
Pieces of everyone.
Sarah spread it across Lahi's lap.
“Merry Christmas.”
Lahi touched each square.
“Mama.”
Blue.
“Papa.”
Brown.
“Sarah.”
Yellow.
She touched a tiny piece from her old dress.
“Me.”
Sarah nodded.
Lahi looked at the quilt.
“Family.”
Nobody moved.
Elias's eyes closed.
Sarah's heart stopped.
Lahi looked worried.
“Wrong?”
Elias crossed the room.
“No.”
He knelt.
“No, sweetheart.”
Sarah's tears returned.
“Very right.”
Lahi wrapped the quilt around herself.
Then around Sarah.
Then stretched one corner toward Elias.
He joined them.
Three people beneath fabric made from four lives.
Elizabeth included.
Not erased.
Carried forward.
Later, after Lahi slept, Elias and Sarah sat by the tree.
“I made a decision,” Sarah said.
His chest tightened.
“St. Louis?”
She nodded.
“I wrote them.”
He could barely breathe.
“And?”
“I declined.”
Relief hit so hard he had to look away.
Sarah saw.
“Don't make me regret it.”
“Never.”
“You cannot promise that.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“But I'll try.”
“Why did you stay?” he asked.
Sarah looked toward the tree.
“Because leaving out of fear is still letting fear choose.”
Elias absorbed that.
“And?”
She smiled slightly.
“And I want to see whether that horrible stove ever learns respect.”
He laughed.
Outside, bells rang from a distant church settlement.
Elias held out his hand.
Sarah looked at it.
“What?”
“Dance.”
“There is no music.”
“I hear bells.”
“You cannot dance.”
“That is an ugly rumor.”
Sarah accepted his hand.
He pulled her gently into the center of the room.
They moved slowly.
Awkwardly.
Sarah laughed.
“You stepped on me.”
“Unproven.”
“I felt it.”
“Circumstantial evidence.”
She looked up.
Their faces were close.
The humor faded.
Elias lifted one hand toward her cheek.
He stopped before touching.
Sarah closed the distance herself.
His fingers rested against her skin.
For one suspended moment, he almost kissed her.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs.
“Papa?”
They jumped apart.
Sarah laughed into her hand.
Elias called:
“Coming!”
He turned toward the stairs.
Before going, he looked back.
Sarah stood beside the tree.
Yellow dress.
Warm lamplight.
Soft smile.
Elias knew.
He did not need more time.
He was falling in love with Sarah Jenkins.
And the realization came one day too late.
Because on Christmas morning, Sheriff Bell arrived with news from Helena.
May you like
Crowe had filed legal notice to seize Thorne Ranch in thirty days.
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