bench.” She tugged him over to a rude plank and arranged her skirts while Beck came down beside her. “You should have Gabriel bring you here. His back gets to bothering him, and he’s too stubborn to find what relief he might.”
Beck took her hand as an experiment in modest comforts. Sara’s weight settled against his side, perhaps her own version of an experiment.
“This is a pretty spot, Sara. Thank you for showing it to me.”
The location was peaceful and attractive, not just to the eye but also the ear, graced as it was with the sound of gently flowing water.
“I resumed the use of my maiden name because I wanted to forget most of what transpired while I was married. I wore my caps because it was appropriate to my station.”
Beck looped an arm around her shoulders—the evening was chilly, and the sun was all but gone. “You wore your caps because they meant you had a kind of privacy, but housekeeping is an occupation, not the sum total of who you are.”
The longer she remained silent, the more Beck pondered the rightness of his words. She was Polly’s sister, somebody’s daughter, Allie’s mother, and much more that he could only guess at but was sure of too, somehow.
The first star winked into view on the western horizon.
“I am not just a housekeeper, Beckman, and Three Springs is not just a list of purchases and tasks. It has beauty and dignity and value—also hot springs some people would find a very valuable addition to their holdings. Most people.”
Another star winked into view against the darkening sky. Beckman rose and offered Sara his hand, which she took. As they strolled back in the direction of the house, he admitted that making love with Sara Hunt—who also had beauty and dignity and value—might be about more than loneliness and lust after all.
***
“I love that sound,” Beck said as North set a mug of hot tea down before him.
“What sound?” North sat across from him at the kitchen table and shuffled a deck of cards.
“If you’re quiet,” Beck said, “you can hear the murmur of the women’s voices in their apartment. They’re discussing the day, trading opinions, making plans for tomorrow, and so on. It’s the same cadence and rhythm in any language.”
And it put him in mind of the music of the stream by the springs.
“You notice odd things. Prepare to be defeated.”
“I notice you’re still disconcerted by today’s letter,” Beck said. “One hopes you’ll be able to concentrate on the game.”
“With your witty repartee to distract me,” North drawled, “the matter is in question.” He played carefully but made the occasional chancy decision, and they were evenly matched halfway around the cribbage board.
Beck moved his pegs. “I have a question for you.”
“You always put your fives in the other fellow’s crib,” North said, which was fine advice provided a man wanted to lose badly.
“Earlier today, you said Polly spoke six languages and had been to every capital in Europe. Were you speaking literally?”
North appeared to consider his cards. “Sara, as well. I don’t think Allie was much more than an infant when they returned to England to visit. Why?”
“So Sara speaks all those languages? Sara’s been to all those exotic places?”
“She has.” North tossed down a card. “If what Polly says is true, Sara was touring.”
“Touring?” Beck glanced over his cards. “As in being a tourist, seeing the sights?”
“That too.” North waited for Beck to play a card. “Sara has musical talent, as a violinist. She performed all over Europe. The Continentals aren’t as stuffy about women on stage as we are.”
Beck set his cards down as a curious prickling sensation ran from his nape to his fingers. “She was that good , and she’s spending her days washing the lamps and polishing the silver?”
“I believe it was her choice,” North said. “She has a child, if you’ll recall, and that effectively ends a career
Beck took her hand as an experiment in modest comforts. Sara’s weight settled against his side, perhaps her own version of an experiment.
“This is a pretty spot, Sara. Thank you for showing it to me.”
The location was peaceful and attractive, not just to the eye but also the ear, graced as it was with the sound of gently flowing water.
“I resumed the use of my maiden name because I wanted to forget most of what transpired while I was married. I wore my caps because it was appropriate to my station.”
Beck looped an arm around her shoulders—the evening was chilly, and the sun was all but gone. “You wore your caps because they meant you had a kind of privacy, but housekeeping is an occupation, not the sum total of who you are.”
The longer she remained silent, the more Beck pondered the rightness of his words. She was Polly’s sister, somebody’s daughter, Allie’s mother, and much more that he could only guess at but was sure of too, somehow.
The first star winked into view on the western horizon.
“I am not just a housekeeper, Beckman, and Three Springs is not just a list of purchases and tasks. It has beauty and dignity and value—also hot springs some people would find a very valuable addition to their holdings. Most people.”
Another star winked into view against the darkening sky. Beckman rose and offered Sara his hand, which she took. As they strolled back in the direction of the house, he admitted that making love with Sara Hunt—who also had beauty and dignity and value—might be about more than loneliness and lust after all.
***
“I love that sound,” Beck said as North set a mug of hot tea down before him.
“What sound?” North sat across from him at the kitchen table and shuffled a deck of cards.
“If you’re quiet,” Beck said, “you can hear the murmur of the women’s voices in their apartment. They’re discussing the day, trading opinions, making plans for tomorrow, and so on. It’s the same cadence and rhythm in any language.”
And it put him in mind of the music of the stream by the springs.
“You notice odd things. Prepare to be defeated.”
“I notice you’re still disconcerted by today’s letter,” Beck said. “One hopes you’ll be able to concentrate on the game.”
“With your witty repartee to distract me,” North drawled, “the matter is in question.” He played carefully but made the occasional chancy decision, and they were evenly matched halfway around the cribbage board.
Beck moved his pegs. “I have a question for you.”
“You always put your fives in the other fellow’s crib,” North said, which was fine advice provided a man wanted to lose badly.
“Earlier today, you said Polly spoke six languages and had been to every capital in Europe. Were you speaking literally?”
North appeared to consider his cards. “Sara, as well. I don’t think Allie was much more than an infant when they returned to England to visit. Why?”
“So Sara speaks all those languages? Sara’s been to all those exotic places?”
“She has.” North tossed down a card. “If what Polly says is true, Sara was touring.”
“Touring?” Beck glanced over his cards. “As in being a tourist, seeing the sights?”
“That too.” North waited for Beck to play a card. “Sara has musical talent, as a violinist. She performed all over Europe. The Continentals aren’t as stuffy about women on stage as we are.”
Beck set his cards down as a curious prickling sensation ran from his nape to his fingers. “She was that good , and she’s spending her days washing the lamps and polishing the silver?”
“I believe it was her choice,” North said. “She has a child, if you’ll recall, and that effectively ends a career
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