Sarah's Child Read online

  “I’ve seen it,” he said thoughtfully. “I always thought it was a machine shop. Hell, that place is a dump!”

  “Was a dump,” she corrected cheerfully, turning on the shower. When the water was warm, she stepped in and closed the door, which opened immediately. He got into the shower with her, his big body taking up most of the room and making her feel inordinately small. She looked up at him, her green eyes questioning as he took the bar of soap and rubbed up a rich lather in his hands.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, and she did. He began sliding his hands over her back and shoulders, kneading her stiff, sore muscles, and she groaned aloud at the mingled pain and pleasure, her head hanging forward to allow him full access to her neck and shoulders. When she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he knelt at her feet and gave the same thorough attention to her legs. She felt her muscles loosening as the pain eased, and she sighed in ecstasy. It was wonderful to have him pampering her, and not a day passed that she didn’t pinch herself to make certain it wasn’t a dream.

  She wanted him to make love to her again, but he didn’t. He was already late, and she knew that although she could probably entice him back to bed, he’d resent it should she interfere with his work.

  Rome had already left when Sarah went down to her car; he’d hurried through breakfast and gone without even kissing her good-bye, an omission that totally destroyed the warmth left by their morning of passion. She reminded herself over and over that she had to accept the limits of their relationship; they were married, but he didn’t love her, so she shouldn’t expect him to act like a lover.

  Marcie hailed her as she opened her car door, and she paused, her eyes narrowed against the bright morning sun as the other woman crossed the small brown strip of grass between the street and the building. The weather was still cool, but Marcie was in her shirt-sleeves, an abstracted frown on her face.

  “Good morning,” she said, and that was Marcie’s total nod to conventional chitchat. She plunged right to the point. “Sarah, were you going to hire anyone to help you in the store?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said readily. She’d have to, just to give herself time enough to eat lunch. One person really couldn’t handle things, and even in its ramshackle condition, the little store had had a fairly steady stream of customers.

  “Would you consider Derek? He can only help you after school and on weekends, but I’d appreciate it. I don’t like that grocery store where he’s working now,” Marcie said worriedly. “One of the cashiers is chasing him.”

  “I’d love to have Derek,” Sarah said, and meant it. The boy was so strong and efficient, he could do whatever had to be done after school hours. She looked at Marcie and saw that her friend was really worried about her son.

  “How old is the cashier?”

  Marcie grunted in disgust. “She’s closer to my age than she is to Derek’s!”

  “Does she know that he’s only fifteen? He looks so much older.”

  “I know, I know. Sarah, girls from his school follow him home! He takes it all for granted, but it’s getting harder for me to handle. He was my baby!” she wailed. “He’s still just a baby! I wasn’t cut out to be the mother of a…a Greek god! Italian god,” she corrected herself, with scrupulous adherence to the facts.

  “If Derek wants to work at the store, I’ll thank heaven for him every night.”

  “He’d love to. He likes you, and he likes that sort of work. You don’t know how I appreciate it!”

  Sarah smiled and waved away her thanks. Derek would take a huge load off her, and she liked having him around. Despite his spectacular looks, there was a calm, capable air about him that made her feel more comfortable. The only person who gave her a greater feeling of physical security was Rome.

  “Why don’t you come by and see how the store’s shaping up?” she invited Marcie.

  “Thanks, I will. If you have time today, why don’t I bring in lunch?”

  “I never turn down lunch!”

  She was proud of the store, she thought, as she pulled her little car into the parking area in back of the building. It sparkled under new paint, now pristine white, with crisp blue trim around the windows and on the door. The windows had been cleaned with a mixture of vinegar and lemon juice, and they literally sparkled in the morning sun. The diamond panes gave a homey air to the crowded little store, with its raw plank flooring and old-fashioned bins for the merchandise.

  New shelves lined the walls, however, and the pottery took up one entire wall. Bright hues of red and blue, earth brown, and a unique salmon color, were splashed against the wall like an abstract design, because all of the pottery had been colorfully glazed. Homemade quilts were draped across a couple of ladder-back chairs, while others were neatly folded and stacked on the woven straw bottoms of the chairs. There were nails, hammers, screwdrivers, nuts and bolts, scissors, pins and needles, and scores of other small necessities, but already Sarah had ideas for expanding the selection. She would carry supplies for macramé, cross-stitching, candlewicking, and knitting, complete with patterns. Doll-making was very popular, and that could be another section; there were two more small rooms in back besides the pottery room and the tiny office, and she could turn one into a doll room, with everything necessary to make anything from a soft-sculpture doll to china dolls. Stuffed animals were another possibility. She had so many ideas, she feared she’d never have room for them all.

  The small store brought her much more satisfaction than working in a large corporation ever had. She’d liked the demanding work at Spencer-Nyle, but the corporate structure really wasn’t for her; it was far too impersonal. This small, homey, and homely store was very personal, uniquely hers even in the short length of time she’d owned it. The soothing colors, the comfortable display of items, all spoke of her personal touch. She hadn’t hesitated at all when she’d learned by chance that the store was for sale; some intuition inside her had recognized that this was what she’d wanted. She’d looked at the building, and at the stock and hadn’t haggled. The price had been very reasonable, probably because of the condition of the building. Buying it had made a considerable dent in her savings, and the renovations had further depleted her funds, but she thought it was worth it. This was hers, something she’d bought herself and shaped to reflect her own personality.

  The old building was drafty, and she turned on the ancient furnace, thinking that here was something else needing replacing. It was only October; what would it be like during January and February? A new roof and insulation was a necessity.

  The store had been closed while she’d been cleaning and painting, and Derek had been putting in the new lighting fixtures. She’d been astonished that a boy his age would know how to do electrical wiring, but he’d explained it and made it all seem very simple. It was only after he’d done it that Sarah had gleaned from Marcie that he’d never done any wiring before; he’d simply read about it and decided to try it. As she flicked on the lights she noticed how much better the merchandise looked with the brighter, better-placed lighting. What would she have done without Derek? She wouldn’t be anywhere near ready to open.

  But as it was…She took a deep breath and flipped the sign on the front door for the first time from CLOSED to OPEN FOR BUSINESS. Sarah’s store was officially open.

  The little store had its own regular customers, who were used to dropping in and puttering around whenever someone needed a pack of finishing nails or a skein of yarn. She was never overflowing with business, but the place was seldom completely empty either. There was a slow relaxed pace about it, with people comfortably looking things over, commenting on the changes. She kept a pot of coffee on the counter, which encouraged people to come up and talk to her while they drank a free cup of coffee. She especially liked talking to old people, who had fascinating tales of making almost everything by hand in days long past.

  The time passed so quickly that when she looked up to see Marcie coming in the door, she was amazed to realize it was time