Walker's Wedding Read online

  “You’re not doing what’s best for either of us, Father. I’ve made my decision.”

  She addressed Walker. “I’ll have our child in Boston, and the boy or girl will be delivered to you within a month after the birth.”

  Their eyes met and held.

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll remain in to Boston and resume life at my father’s house.”

  Her sudden strength surprised him. “You’d be willing to relinquish all claim to the child?”

  Sarah bit her lip. “The baby is your heir, Walker, as you wanted all along. I’ll lay no claim to it. When he or she grows up, you can tell him or her that I didn’t survive the birth.”

  Lowell interrupted. “Sarah, you’re talking nonsense! This child is part Livingston and the heir to the railroad. I’ll not hear of you giving our flesh and blood away.”

  Ignoring her father, Sarah held Walker’s gaze. “Is that acceptable to you, Mr. McKay?”

  “You are willing to abandon your child?”

  “I am capable of keeping my word. Maybe I lied in the beginning, but I knew what I was agreeing to: to provide you with a child.” Her hand moved to her stomach and his eyes followed. “This is your baby, Walker. I will carry it, nourish it with my body, and deliver it safely into your arms.”

  Lowell sprang to his feet. “You propose to carry that child beneath your heart for nine months and then walk away? You have no idea what you’re saying, Sarah. That child is part of you—part of me.”

  “And part of me,” Walker reminded him.

  Sarah squared her shoulders. “Do you accept my proposal?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Sarah. I’ve told your father that I’m willing to let you stay.”

  She lifted her chin. “I heard. My heart nearly stopped, knowing that you’re ‘willing’ to have me around.” She met his gaze defiantly. “But I am unwilling to stay.”

  Their eyes clashed.

  “That’s nonsense. My child will not be born away from Spring Grass.”

  “If you want this child, it will be.”

  “Sarah—”

  “Papa is right. I won’t live in a loveless marriage.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m fully aware of how difficult it will be to leave my baby, but the child is yours.”

  He shrugged. “You have a deal—with one exception. You remain here at Spring Grass until the child is born. I don’t want you hightailing off somewhere where I can’t find you or the baby.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay, but not of my own accord.”

  “Then we have a deal.” They shook hands.

  Lowell shook his head. “I have never in my life witnessed anything this disgraceful.”

  “Well, now you have, Papa.” Sarah gathered up her skirts. “May God forgive us both. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to lie down. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Walker, if you’ll excuse us for a moment, I want to speak to my daughter in private.” Lowell started to follow Sarah out.

  Walker nodded.

  “Sarah!” Lowell caught his daughter at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t mean this.”

  “I do, Papa. It’s Walker’s child. That was the bargain.”

  “But it’s yours too. Where is your faith? God doesn’t send innocent children into the world to be bartered over. You could never live with yourself if you determined your child’s future in a moment of anger.”

  Her hand moved to cover her stomach. “This child is part of Walker, Papa. Don’t you know how difficult this is for me? Of course I love this baby more than my own life, but God also expects us to be trustworthy, and when we give our word we are to honor it. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught me?”

  “I never thought honor would lead to so great a sacrifice.”

  A few moments later, Lowell returned to the study, drying his eyes.

  “Sarah will remain here with you.” He reached for Walker’s hand. “Take good care of her, son. She means the world to me. And if the child ever needs anything…”

  Getting up from the desk, Walker ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t send the man away thinking he was allowing Sarah to stay only out of a sense of obligation to his child. It went much deeper than that.

  “Lowell?”

  “Yes, son?”

  The two men faced each other, both loving the same woman yet in a different way.

  “I’ll see that she’ll want for nothing.”

  Lowell’s shoulders slumped. “If you should need anything—if there’s anything I can do…”

  “I have money to buy her whatever she wants. What I don’t have,” he said quietly, “is the ability to change her mind.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sarah sat on the porch swing, praying for strength and guidance. Oh how she needed guidance. And this time I will listen, Lord.

  The sun rimmed the tops of the clouds, spreading reds and golds across the barnyard. Occasional lightning flashes raced through the building clouds forming in the west. Walker came out of the barn and strode toward the house. The wind picked up, whipping his clothes around his tall, rugged frame. Sarah shivered, images flashing through her mind: pictures of how lonely Papa had looked when the train pulled out earlier, how big and incredibly lonely her bed was without Walker.

  She held her tongue as he walked toward her, unaware of her presence. Give me the words to soften his icy reception, she prayed. Sliding off the swing, she met him at the foot of the porch steps.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  Ignoring her, he reached for the screen door handle. Desperate now, she threw herself between him and the doorway.

  “Just listen to me, Walker. We cannot live under the same roof for the next six months without speaking.”

  The coldness in his eyes stopped her. Within the blue depths she saw the pain she had caused, and she longed to erase it. He stepped back as if debating whether to move her aside by force. Sarah swallowed against her dry throat, determined to stand her ground. The air crackled with the building storm both within and without. He was still attracted to her; she could see it in his indecision. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. We have to talk about this, Walker. It won’t go away.”

  Turning on his heel, he started back to the barn—his sanctuary, the one place he could wrap himself in his misery and refuse to face the problem.

  She pursued him across the dusty barn lot, unwilling to let him walk away. Dark clouds swallowed up the sun as she picked up her skirts and called out after him.

  “You’ve never once asked why I was driven to such desperation. You have to believe that I would never deliberately set out to hurt you.” The first wet drops struck the dusty ground as she followed him into the barn.

  “I don’t care why you did it.” He disappeared into the dim interior, and then a moment later a lantern blazed to life.

  “Well, that’s a horrible attitude.” Shaking the rain off her blouse, she sat down on a bale of hay next to Diamond’s stall. Walker might not care why she’d lied, but he was going to hear her side of the story. “All I ever wanted was a husband and my own family and children. Papa never understood that need. Truthfully, he’s spoiled me shamefully since Mama died, and I do know how to wrap him around my little finger.”

  She probably shouldn’t be telling Walker that, but she refused to tell another lie. Never again. “This whole fiasco began the day Papa said he was going to send me to live with my Uncle Brice in Georgia. He said a year with my uncle might get my head on straight, but a few months with him would have been the death of me. Believe me, every time I acted up, off to Uncle Brice’s I would go. So I ran away—and not for the first time. I’ve run away more times than I care to admit this past year, but only because Papa refuses to understand my needs. All of my life I’ve wanted my own home, my own babies, and a loving husband.”

  Walker glanced at her over his shoulder. She met his eyes defiantly. “If our butler hadn’t happened along, I would have married a dockworker the day
before I ran away.”

  Clearing her throat, she continued, “Papa and I quarreled, and the next morning I left the house and boarded a train to New York. I intended to live with my friend Julie until I could find suitable employment.”

  He glanced over his shoulder again, and then away.

  “Rodney Willbanks is a no-good gambler Lucy was in love with. Lucy had cried herself dry when I sat down on the train to eat breakfast with her that morning. One thing led to another, and Lucy made it plain she didn’t intend to marry you, Walker. And since you were willing to marry a stranger anyway, I thought, well now, this could be the answer to my prayers. And it was—until Lucy had to spoil everything.”

  She could see his silhouette against the glow of the lamp. His face was hidden in the shadows.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  She slid to the edge of the bale. “I’ve thought about it every day. At times, I had my mind made up to tell you the moment you got home, but then something always happened to stop me. Fear, mostly. I was terrified you wouldn’t understand.”

  “When, then? In five years?”

  “Of course not. I couldn’t keep a secret that long. Ask anyone who knows me. I tell everything I know.”

  “Except this time.”

  She studied her hands. “Except this time. Oh, Walker, I’d never leave you. I wouldn’t walk out on you like—” She caught herself.

  “Like who?”

  “Like…Trudy.”

  She didn’t have to see his eyes to know they had turned to granite. “You knew about her. You knew and yet you still deceived me.”

  “I didn’t deceive you—well, I did, but I was going to tell you the truth. Why can’t you believe me?”

  “Sarah, I trusted you. I was—” He stopped, turning back to the rigging.

  What had he been about to say? That he thought he was falling as deeply in love with her as she had with him?

  “I adore you,” she whispered. “I love living at Spring Grass, and I love our home. I’ve wanted to tell you the truth so many times, but I was afraid. I knew the lie was between us and it tormented me day and night. Every Sunday I sat in our pew and asked God for forgiveness…and I walked out of the church and continued the ruse. I was afraid that when you knew, you’d react exactly the way you have. And the thought of losing you—” Tears welled in her eyes and her voice trembled. “I couldn’t bear it. But I also can’t stay here with you if you aren’t in love with me.”

  Thunder pealed in the distance, but the weather was of little concern. Why didn’t he comfort her? Why couldn’t he accept that she loved him more than anything in this world?

  Lightning flashed outside the barn. Sarah slipped off the bale and approached him. “Walker, I love you.”

  Walker turned and their eyes met. For a brief, euphoric moment she thought he was going to take her in his arms. Passion and anger warred on his features. Pain and desperation battled between them.

  “We can start over. I promise I will never lie to you again. However painful or awful the matter might be, I will not lie to you again.” When he still didn’t answer, she pleaded softly, “Say something.”

  Tossing the bridle over the stall, he brushed past her. “You should have married that dockworker.”

  With that he walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Days went by; long hours of impasse. Sarah stood at the parlor window, admiring the glorious early autumn colors. Warm sunshine filtered through tree branches of bright yellow and gold; the scent of burning leaves was a pleasant reminder of nature’s cycle.

  She sighed. She had been so certain that it would be only a matter of time before she was back in Walker’s good graces, yet her time at Spring Grass was waning. Nothing she said or did had made the least difference to him. At times she’d caught him looking at her, studying her rounding belly, his face an emotionless mask. Her love refused to die; his would not surface.

  Sarah rose early to eat with Walker. At first he had refused to sit at the table with her. He’d stride straight through the kitchen, reaching for a biscuit on his way out the back door. Sometimes he acknowledged her; more often he didn’t. Eventually, hunger got the best of him and he began eating supper in the dining room. She cherished those brief interludes because they represented one of the few times she was alone with him. Communication was limited with Flo acting as mediator. Walker wasn’t rude; he just wasn’t there. Somehow he’d removed himself from the situation, and she envied him. She wished she could do the same, but day in and day out, memories of their love haunted her.

  This morning the crisp fall air and her rapidly expanding middle made it hard to get out of bed. She dressed in half darkness, and as she slipped into her boots she realized that before much longer Flo would have to help her lace them. Happiness bubbled inside her as she felt the growing roundness of her stomach and the tight skin covering the child being formed. Then the futility of the situation hit her, and she lay across the bed, Papa’s parting stern warning in her ear. You will never be able to walk away from that child, Sarah Elaine. Never.

  But she would. As much as she cherished the new life growing inside her, she was strong, capable of keeping her promise. It would be better for the child to think he or she didn’t have a mother than for Sarah to remain and have her son or daughter witness a loveless marriage. The realization brought tears to her eyes, and the bed shook with the force of her sobs. By the time she could control herself to rise and leave the room, she was exhausted from her emotional burden.

  Flo was scrambling eggs when Sarah rounded the kitchen corner. She was ravenously hungry these days, and as she walked into the kitchen she eyed the mound of sausage and biscuits. The aroma of eggs fried in butter captivated her.

  “Everything smells so good! I’m famished.” She plucked a biscuit from the pile and peeled apart a hot, flaky layer. Steam rose from the bread and she sniffed appreciatively. “Who would think that it took this much food to feed one little baby?”

  Flo smiled and ladled eggs into a white bowl. Sarah downed the biscuit and reached for a second one.

  “Yer eyes are red as a beet. Have you been crying?”

  Biting into the biscuit, Sarah nodded. “I think something’s wrong with me. One minute I’m happy, the next I’m crying. I can’t seem to stop once I get started, and I never know what’s going to set me off. Yesterday I was watching Potster carry eggs from the chicken house into his kitchen, and all I could think of was how those mother hens would never know their babies because they would be eaten even before they hatched. I couldn’t stop crying about it. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  Flo chuckled. “All part of having a young’un. You cry and laugh at the same time. There’s no particular reason for either.”

  “Does it get any better?”

  “Eventually, though never soon enough.”

  Sarah tried to laugh, but she ended up bursting into tears. Flo laid the spoon aside and stepped around the table to embrace her. Sarah sank into her warmth, grateful for the kindness. It seemed years since she’d had any physical contact with another human being, and Flo’s hug was like manna from heaven. The older woman stroked her hair lovingly.

  “Flo, will he ever love me again?”

  “I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know. I’ve never seen Walker this stubborn about anything but love. You’ve got to hold on to hope. If you lose that, you don’t have anything.”

  After drying her eyes Sarah went to the dining table, where she prepared a plate heaped with eggs and sausage. She glanced up as the object of her misery strode in, yawning. She sank into her chair. Former concerns about baby chickens and their unfortunate demise forgotten, she used the edge of a biscuit to herd a few stray pieces of egg onto her fork.

  Walker sat at the far end of the table, as distant from her as possible without eating in the foyer. She’d realized what he was doing a few days into the game and tried sitting at different places around the table. He w
ould invariably take the seat farthest away. Once she had tried removing all of the chairs except the one next to hers, but he only picked up the chair and carried it to the farthest end. She had finally given up and let him sit wherever he pleased.

  “Walker, don’t forget Caleb is coming today,” Flo called as she scoured a skillet at the kitchen sink. “You’ll need to leave the study key.”

  Caleb. In all her misery, Sarah had forgotten the accountant.

  Walker dug into his pocket and produced a long skeleton key, laying it before him on the table. He’d taken to locking the study.

  The key sat there, taunting her. Her food suddenly tasted bitter.

  Resentment bubbled in her throat and before she could check them, the words tumbled out of her mouth. “How well do you know Caleb?”

  Walker’s fork hovered halfway between his plate and his mouth. He studied the utensil as if it were a foreign object. Sarah heard Flo cease scrubbing for a moment and then resume. The silence at the table was deafening. Walker slowly lifted his head to look at her.

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “You’re not going to like this, but I think Caleb might be taking advantage of you.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d lost her mind. She had no real proof of the accountant’s dishonesty, and she certainly wasn’t on the best of terms with Walker, but given a few hours alone with the ledger, she was certain she could point out some puzzling inconsistencies.

  Walker calmly picked up a biscuit and spread butter on it. “Are you suggesting that my best friend is stealing from me?”

  She was but not so candidly. “Have you looked at your books lately? Really looked?” She wasn’t going to win points on this one, but if he was so blind that he couldn’t see what the man was doing, he shouldn’t accuse her of bad judgment.

  Walker slid a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Snooping again?”

  “I have no reason to steal your money, Walker. You’re in such an all-fired hurry to believe the worst of me, yet you turn a blind eye to others’ manipulation.”

  “You’re speaking of Caleb again?”