Read Online Davey's Daughter by Linda Byler - Free Book Online Page B

own fire.
    A smile of belonging played around her lips, and she cuddled the small Rebecca close. Always, Matthew’s love sustained her, lifted her spirits, no matter what.
    When Hannah returned, she was pulling an express wagon laden with groceries. Sarah helped carry them in, amazed at Hannah’s “extras.”
    The children were falling asleep again, so Anna Mae carried a few of them to her mother’s bed, emerging white-faced but helpful as reality sunk in.
    They made coffee and then sliced bread for sandwiches. Lydia came into the house and said, oh no, they shouldn’t go to all that trouble, but she said it softly, as though if she spoke too loudly, her voice might break into tears, and she could not display weakness now.
    Sarah spread mayonnaise on one piece of bread, mustard on the other, then layered the sweet Lebanon bologna and Swiss cheese between the slices and cut them diagonally while Hannah finished the coffee.
    They put bags of pretzels, cans of beans and peaches and applesauce in the pantry. A large round container of oatmeal cookies and one of chocolate chip were stored away beside them.
    Lydia watched and apologized. She said she was a bit short this month, but the milk check was due tomorrow.
    Hannah was kind, telling her she’d get a lot more than that before this was all over, chuckling in a way that meant well for Lydia.
    When the men slowly trooped in for refreshment, Sarah couldn’t help watching for Matthew, who remained maddeningly absent.
    Hannah sidled up to her.
    “He wasn’t feeling good last night. I think he took too much Tylenol for a headache.”
    So that was it. Good. Sarah was relieved now, and she stopped watching the line of men. Matthew would be here if he felt well, that was one thing sure. He was so good-hearted, so neighborly.
    The last one to come in was Omar, his face streaked and black, his eyes weary. Lee Glick walked with him, his own face darkened, highlighting the electric blue of his eyes. They were talking seriously but stopped when they reached the light of the kitchen.
    Lee thanked Sarah for the coffee, but she did not meet his eyes, finding a certain safety in avoiding them.
    Lee stepped to the side of the kitchen with Omar following him the way a stray dog follows his benefactor, a look of adoration on his young, traumatized face.
    Priscilla tried to be discreet, but her ears were tuned to everything Lee was saying, her eyes opening wide, snapping, alert. Finally, she just gave up and joined in the conversation. Whatever it was they were discussing, it was apparently an interesting subject for her as well.
    Weariness overtook Sarah soon after the refreshments were served, and she looked around for Dat, caught his eye, and gestured to the clock.
    He nodded. Relieved, Sarah moved to his side.
    “Ready?”
    “I’m falling asleep.”
    She told Lydia they’d be back in the morning after a few hours of sleep. She told Priscilla to come, they were going home now.
    “Hey, thanks. You…you saved the cows,” Omar said, talking mostly to Priscilla.
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Thank you, Sarah.”
    “You’re welcome. You know we experienced the same thing, so we know exactly how you feel.”
    He nodded shyly.
    “Good night, Sarah.”
    She looked up and met Lee’s blue eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t. The light in them questioned her, mocked her, put her on guard, as if she needed to explain her position in life, for being here, for dating Matthew, for…so many things.
    She decided then that he was gros-feelich (proud) and she had chosen well, being with Matthew.
    “You could at least have said goodnight to him,” Priscilla grumbled as they wound their way between the throbbing fire trucks.
    Sarah said nothing.
    “Did you hear what he was telling Omar?”
    “What?”
    “He’s interested in raising Belgians for profit. Lee is. He doesn’t think Omar knows the value of that big stallion. Oh my goodness, Sarah! That horse could walk right over you and