That Smile On Your Face Makes It Easy
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“I’m sorry, Mr. Covington,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound very sincere. “But I have to leave the ranch tonight.”
She’d already made up her mind when she saw that smile on his face this morning. The man seemed happy with her decision to quit working for him, so she was going home to tell her family about it. They were probably worried sick after hearing about the accident and not knowing where she was or if she was all right.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come along?” he asked. She could see him struggling with his own emotions. He wanted to be alone with her—to talk about what happened last night. And he knew how badly she wanted to go back to the ranch house to tell her parents about quitting this job.
So maybe this was God’s way of showing them they had another chance at a life together. But she couldn’t do that. Not now. If she did, there would never be a day when she felt like herself again.
“No,” she said. “I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about this for some time, and I decided to quit today. It just feels right.”
His eyes searched hers. She hoped he understood that she wasn’t trying to hurt him by making this decision. She wanted to give them both a clean break.
He nodded slowly as though coming to terms with it himself. Then he walked over to her side of the fence and put out his hand. “Thank you for your help around here.”
She took his hand. “It’s my pleasure.”
The two men exchanged a few more words before she turned away from the barn and headed toward the house. After she crossed the yard, she looked back at the barn, wondering how much longer they would keep that horse. She wondered whether he’d find another job soon or if he’d spend months in debt and poverty. She hoped her decision would bring him happiness.
As she approached the front door, she could hear her mother whispering inside. Her father was sitting on the sofa reading something off an old bookmarked sheet of paper. Their expressions told her everything: They were relieved to know she was safe but worried about what might happen next.
Her mother rushed down the stairs when she heard the front door open. “Sarah, we were so worried.”
Aunt Clara came into view. “We were waiting for you at the church. We thought you might have gotten lost.”
“I did get lost,” Sarah said. “But I found my way home.”
She stepped forward and gave each one of them a hug.
“What happened?” Aunt Clara asked.
“It’s not important,” Sarah said quickly. “I’ll explain later. For now, I need to go upstairs and pack a few things. Then I’m heading back to town.”
“Are you certain you don’t want us to come along?” her mother asked. “You can stay with us for a while if you wish.”
“I appreciate that, but no. I want to go back home.”
When she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed the closed bedroom doors and remembered why she’d left her room earlier. Her parents were arguing. That didn’t surprise her after last night.
“Mom, Dad…” she whispered loudly enough for them to hear her. “Can I talk with you for a minute?”
They followed her back downstairs.
“I think I should go home,” Sarah said quietly. “There’s no reason to wait any longer.”
Both of them looked at her in silence. She could see they were still angry after last night’s argument. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I promise I’ll try again next year. I know I can do better.”
“Do you really believe that?” Aunt Clara asked.
“Yes, I do,” Sarah answered honestly. She was tired of lying to herself and everyone else, even her parents who were only looking out for her best interests. This wasn’t working. She was wasting her time here, and she needed to start living her life instead of just existing. “I won’t quit again.”
“But—” her father started.
“Mr. Covington is going to hire someone new to replace me,” Sarah interrupted.
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” her mother asked.
“I wanted to be sure about my decision,” Sarah said. “And I also wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”
“Of course we are,” her father said. “I mean, you don’t have to quit if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I mean, I am doing this for me. But I feel guilty leaving you two behind, especially since I promised I would work here for a year.”
Her father smiled. “We’re happy to have you here, honey,” he said. “We just want you to be happy, too.”
She nodded and then went over to the window seat where she picked up the letter she’d written and left it on her bed before going to town. She folded it carefully, slipped it into her pocket, and turned to face them. Then she held out her arms. Her mother wrapped her arms around Sarah, and her father hugged her tightly.
Neither of them mentioned the argument, although she could see the disappointment on their faces. She couldn’t blame them for being disappointed; she had broken a promise to them—not once but twice.
“Thank you for understanding,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to disappoint you like this. I’ll try harder next year.”
Then she went upstairs and packed a small suitcase with the few clothes and books that she owned. She took a quick shower before she finished packing. When she finished, she put on some comfortable clothing and sat at her desk to write a note to Mr. Covington.
I regret to inform you that I will not be able to fill the position of a stable hand. My reasons are personal and I hope someday you understand. Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely yours, Sarah Lockwood.
After she wrote the note and sealed it in an envelope, she added a brief message: “I wish I could change my mind, but I’ve already made up my mind. Please accept my resignation effective immediately.”
She carried the letter to the kitchen and placed it inside the front door before locking it and putting the key back under her pillow. Then she headed downstairs and walked out through the back door.
She stopped by the gate and looked across the fence. The sun was shining brightly in the clear blue sky. It was hot outside, and she knew Uncle Sam would be working in the fields, but she decided to go for a walk anyway.
The woods were quiet, and there was little wind to disturb the leaves above. Sarah walked slowly down the trail, watching her feet step carefully among the pine needles. She could almost imagine she was walking beside a creek, but she knew that wasn’t possible since there weren’t any creeks near her house. Still, she enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of the woods.
It was a nice day for a walk, but it wouldn’t be so pleasant when the summer heat arrived. Then she realized how much she missed the city air of Philadelphia. The trees in these woods were mostly pines, and none of them offered shade from the hot sunlight.
“I wonder what it’s like in New York City?” she wondered aloud. “Are they all tall buildings? Are people always rushing somewhere? Do people ride horses everywhere?”
She shook her head. No, it couldn’t be the same. These were different times and places.
She came upon a small clearing in the woods. As soon as she stepped out of the trees, she saw the remains of a campfire. Someone must have been camping out here recently because there was still a few ashes smoldering in one spot. She picked up a stick and stirred the ashes until she found a few burned sticks. They hadn’t been there long. It was probably no more than a week or two.
She pulled off her gloves and then reached down toward the fire. With her fingers, she scooped up a handful of ash and held it to her nose. She wrinkled her nose, and she felt a strange sensation of deja vu wash over her. This reminded her of when she was a child and she used to play with coal dust.
As she stood there, looking at the ashes, she remembered a conversation she had had with her brother. He’d told her that she should go to New York City if she ever got the chance. She had never forgotten his words, but she thought of him now. What would he think if he knew she was quitting? Would he be proud of her or upset?
“Maybe I should visit,” she said aloud. “Would you be mad at me, Jack?”
There was only one way to find out. She walked back to the farmhouse and asked Uncle Sam to give her a ride into town.
***
Sarah’s first stop was the bank. She withdrew half of the money Uncle Sam gave her, leaving her with $200. She also took a quick look at the stock market and bought five shares of Union Pacific Railroad. She figured it was time to buy something since Uncle Sam had sold most of his holdings.
“You know, you shouldn’t buy anything too big yet,” Uncle Sam warned.
“Why not?” she asked. “I don’t intend to keep this money forever. In fact, I want to start investing as soon as possible.”
“But you can’t just jump right in,” he cautioned. “That’s why I started buying stocks for you early on. It takes years to build up a good portfolio.”
“I’m not asking you to invest,” she pointed out. “I’m telling you I need to buy some stock. If I wait, it won’t do any good.”
Uncle Sam shrugged. “Okay, if you say so.”
Then she went to the library and borrowed a newspaper. She wanted to see what was happening in New York City. While she read the paper, she noticed a notice in the society section that listed several engagements and weddings.
One couple was getting married on the Fourth of July. It sounded like a great idea—a holiday wedding. It made sense. Why bother to plan a wedding during the winter months when everyone was busy preparing for Christmas?
“I wonder who’s getting married on the fourth,” she muttered as she folded the newspaper and returned it to its shelf. Then she walked out of the library and hailed a taxi cab to take her back home.
It was already late afternoon by the time she reached the farmhouse. The day was warm, and she felt sweat trickling down her neck. She took off her hat and wiped her brow with her sleeve. When she stepped inside, she saw Aunt Clara sitting at the table reading a book while Uncle Sam washed dishes in the sink.
“What’s wrong?” Aunt Clara asked when she saw Sarah enter the room. “Don’t you feel well?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she assured her aunt. “I just needed some fresh air.”
“Well, come sit down and tell us about your walk,” Aunt Clara said. “Did you see any deer?”
“There aren’t any deer around here,” Uncle Sam interrupted. “If you’re hunting, we’ll drive you to the forest. There are plenty of animals there.”
“I wasn’t hunting,” she said. “I didn’t even bring my gun.”
The two exchanged puzzled glances.
“Where did you go?” Uncle Sam asked.
“To the library,” she explained. “I wanted to check the stock market.”
Her uncle frowned. “How could you possibly check the stock market without a computer?”
“I used a real newspaper,” she answered. “I’m not a hundred percent sure I understand how they work, but I want to learn.”
“You mean you actually read the paper?” Uncle Sam laughed. “Why didn’t you use the Internet, then?”
“I wanted to see what was happening in the world,” she said defensively.
“And how was it?” he asked. “Any good news?”
“Yes, there were several engagements, including a marriage on the fourth of July,” she replied. “They’re having a huge celebration in New York City.”
“A lot of people will be traveling then,” Uncle Sam said. “You might want to reconsider going to New York until after the holidays.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “When would be a good time to go?”
“Probably not before next summer,” Uncle Sam mused. “There are always a lot of tourists around Thanksgiving and Christmas. It would be better if you waited till June or July.”
“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “Do you mind driving me to town tomorrow morning instead of the afternoon?”
“Not at all,” he said.
Sarah had no sooner left the kitchen than Aunt Clara asked, “Who is getting married on the fourth of July?”
“I don’t know,” Uncle Sam answered. “Someone probably got engaged last week and forgot to mention it.”
“It sounds like a good idea to get married on Independence Day,” Aunt Clara commented. “We should have done it that way, too.”
“Why did you wait?” Uncle Sam asked. “You could have gotten married on the Fourth of July.”
“Because it wasn’t our anniversary,” Aunt Clara reminded him. “It was the fifth of July. We were waiting for the sixth.”
“Oh, right!” Uncle Sam exclaimed. “Of course.”
“I suppose that makes a difference,” she said drily.
Their conversation ended abruptly when the doorbell rang. Sarah opened the front door to find a young woman standing on the porch. She wore a long, white dress with lace sleeves. Her hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun. She looked familiar.
“Hello,” she said, smiling when she saw Sarah. “You must be Sarah.”
“That’s me,” Sarah said.
“My name is Margaret,” the other woman introduced herself. “I’m one of the new teachers at the school.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Sarah said politely.
Margaret gave a polite smile in return. “I hope you’ll enjoy teaching here,” she said. “The children are very bright and eager to learn.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Sarah said. “I’ve always loved working with kids.”
“Then you’ll fit right in,” Margaret said. “You can show me where to put my things later.”
“Sure,” Sarah agreed. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Just water,” she replied.
She turned and headed toward the stairs when Sarah called out, “Wait! Why don’t I show you upstairs first? Then you won’t need to bother Aunt Clara.”
“Thanks,” she said as she followed Sarah up the staircase.
“You can unpack here,” Sarah showed her the guest bedroom. “But if you want more space, there’s another room down the hall. You might also want to take a look at the attic.”
“Thank you,” Margaret said. “I hadn’t thought about the attic.”
“You never know what you might find there,” Sarah told her. “Some people store their old clothes and trunks up there.”
After showing Margaret where to hang her clothes, Sarah returned downstairs to make coffee. When she came back, Uncle Sam and Aunt Clara were sitting in the living room talking. They stopped when Sarah entered the room.
“Good morning, Aunt Clara,” she greeted the older woman warmly. “I made some coffee.”
“Thank you,” Aunt Clara said. “I think we all could use a cup.”
“You’re right,” Uncle Sam agreed. “We’ll all be heading off soon so let’s enjoy it while we can.”
He poured three cups for everyone. Sarah handed one to Uncle Sam and then took hers to the table, placing it in front of each of them.
“What’s this?” she asked. “Is it something you bought at a restaurant?”
“It’s a special blend of beans,” Uncle Sam answered. “I picked it up at the coffee shop.”
“You’re kidding!” Aunt Clara gasped. “You went to a coffee shop and brought home coffee beans?”
“Why not?” he shrugged. “It’s better than spending money on whiskey and women.”
“It’s not funny,” Aunt Clara snapped. “If you bring home any more coffee, I’ll have to throw it away.”
“All right,” Uncle Sam said with mock resignation. “Don’t tell me how to spend my money.”
As they drank their coffee, Sarah filled Uncle Sam in on the events that had taken place since they’d arrived in Denver. He listened carefully but his expression revealed nothing of what he thought about it all.
After finishing her own cup, Sarah went to the kitchen to pour herself another. As she set her mug down on the counter, she noticed an envelope taped to the refrigerator door. She reached for it.
“What’s that?” Aunt Clara asked. “A letter?”
“No,” Sarah shook her head. “It’s just a piece of paper. I found it taped to the fridge.”
Uncle Sam looked over her shoulder and read the note aloud: “Please forgive me for taking advantage of you. It won’t happen again. Your brother is a good man and will make a fine husband for you.”
Sarah stared at the words, unable to believe what she’d read. This couldn’t be happening. No one could write such a thing about Uncle Sam or even think it. But someone had—or maybe, Aunt Clara. What else did she know about Uncle Sam’s past that she didn’t want anyone to know?
When Uncle Sam finished reading the note, he turned to Aunt Clara. “Do you know who wrote this?” he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said calmly. “I’ll deal with whoever wrote it.”
“How?” he asked.
“I’ll call in an investigator,” she said. “I’ll send word to Chicago and have him do a background check on your brother.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Sarah blurted out. “You already know he’s innocent!”
“Of course I do,” Aunt Clara said sharply. “That’s why I’m telling you to drop the whole thing.”
“You mean that’s what you really want,” Sarah accused. “To ruin your brother’s reputation?”
Aunt Clara ignored her outburst and spoke softly. “I know what it’s like to be falsely accused of something,” she said. “I was once married to a man who was wrongly convicted of murder and spent years in prison before being cleared.”
“Then you understand how unfair it is!” Sarah cried. “Uncle Sam is not responsible for what happened twenty years ago.”
“Perhaps not,” Aunt Clara said. “But I’m still determined to find out who killed that young woman.”
“Who indeed,” Uncle Sam mumbled under his breath.
The End