Walker's Wedding Read Free Page A

man in the division to obtain such a position—” he paused to look at her. “You didn’t ask him to marry you, did you?”
    Sarah shook her head. “He volunteered the information. His mother doesn’t want him getting married. Not now and, judging by his tone, not ever.”
    Papa slapped his forehead. “Great day in the morning!”
    Sarah shrugged. He was clearly aghast at her candor, but how was a woman expected to know a man’s potential if she didn’t ask? If Papa could be nosy, why couldn’t she? Papa’s health was precarious. Three heart spells in two years reminded them both of his mortality. Wadsy and Abe were even older, and someday she was going to be completely alone. Alone. With no one to love her or for her to love. If she were married, losing Papa would still be devastating, but she could surround herself with her family and ease the pain.
    She had seen the way Mama had looked at Papa during her illness—as if he owned her soul. He’d looked back at her exactly the same way, with so much love and need in his eyes it took Sarah’s breath. That was what she wanted. Love so strong that even death couldn’t snatch it away. If it was wrong to seek that kind of devotion, then she was guilty as charged. Wadsy said she shouldn’t depend on others for happiness, but if she had her own home, babies to look after, and a husband to love, she could cope with the losses certain to enter her life sooner than later.
    â€œSit down, Papa. Remember your heart.”
    â€œHumph. You remember my heart.”
    The somber reminder calmed her. She did remember. She thought about it every day.
    â€œI’m sorry, Papa. I love and respect you, and I don’t mean to be such a bother. I wish you could understand.”
    Lowell sat down, allowing Will, their cook, to spoon thick slices of beef swimming in a rich brown broth onto his plate. Dr. Mason had advised him that he should eat more vegetables and fruit, and he said Lowell was going to die from eating so much rich food—but Lowell wouldn’t hear of it. When the cook moved to serve Sarah, she waved his efforts aside. “I’m not hungry, Will.”
    â€œMay I bring you some nice broth, Miss Livingston?”
    â€œNothing, thank you.” She watched Papa lather thick butter onto a slice of warm bread as she waited for the inevitable. This time she’d gone too far. This time he would carry through with his threat to sendher to Uncle Brice. She couldn’t bear even the thought of a dreadful, hot Georgia summer full of long, boring days in Brice’s company. Tears of self-pity and hollow remorse threatened to break loose, and she quickly averted her eyes. Clenching her fists, she waited for the storm to break.
    â€œI’m at the end of my rope, Sarah.”
    â€œI know, Papa. I’m sorry.”
    â€œToday’s little escapade has convinced me that you will be better off with your Uncle Brice.”
    â€œPapa, no!” A tear coursed down her flushed cheek and hung on the tip of her quivering chin.
    Slamming his fist down on the table, Lowell glared at her. “Daughter, yes! I can’t watch you every waking moment, and you have proved to be too much for Wadsy and Abe to handle. Wadsy will pack your bags and Abe will take you to the train Saturday morning. A year in Savannah will help to refine you and make you see the error of your ways before you drive us all into an early grave.”
    â€œA whole year? Papa!” Her thoughts turned from self-pity to anger. “I won’t go!”
    She’d run away. She’d run so far this time that Papa would never find her. The times she’d been forced to endure living under Brice Livingston’s roof were intolerable. He was ill-tempered and would keep her confined if she did the least little thing to rile him. Brice wouldn’t let a man near her for the whole year. Why, last summer he’d