Free Unbroken Hearts by Anna Murray

details of his mother's ailment.
         She swallowed.
"Oh, we'll be happy to have her company." Sarah nervously pushed
dough into a pan. "I know something about nursing sick people." She
paused and her eyes flickered to the left, remembering. "I took care of my
papa when he was ill." Her voice fell to a whisper. "At the
last."
          Anguish
flickered at the memory of her father. Cal's mouth tightened, and he twisted
his hat in his hands.
         "Obliged,"
Cal nodded. Then he cleared his throat, thrust his hat back on his head, and
strode out to the porch. A minute later he pushed Mama into the kitchen. He
leaned down and adjusted pillows in her chair. He gently smoothed her skirt
where it was rumpled.
         A lump formed in her
throat as Sarah watched Cal attend so lovingly to his mother, and a part of her
suddenly ached for her own mother.
         Cal brushed a kiss on his mama's cheek,
and he pushed the loose locks of her hair back from her face, tucked them
behind her ears, lingering a bit over the task, as if this might be the last
time he'd touch her. Then he glanced up at Sarah, and caught her staring. She
looked away and blushed, sensing that she'd intruded on a private intimacy. Cal
frowned, straightened awkwardly, and walked briskly out the back door, headed
straight toward the barn.
         Sarah and Emily happily chatted as they resumed their
work. Keeping up the banter, mostly for mama's benefit, they talked about how
much molasses to add to the birthday cake, and they wondered aloud whether
onions grew in the garden they saw on the ride up to the house.
         Emily paused over
setting the table.  
         "I wish we had a
birthday gift for Mr. Easton."
         A good idea, thought Sarah. If we cook him a good
meal, and we give him a small present, then maybe . . . .
         She put a hand to her
hip as she mentally sorted through the old satchel with the items she'd
recovered from the wagon.  
         "Emily I think
we do have something to give Mr. Easton."
          Sarah poked at
the coals in the stove, then she swished down the hall and fetched the bag. She
dug until she found their small treasure and carried it back to the kitchen.
Emily ran into the pantry and she emerged with a piece of brown paper to
wrap the gift. Sarah glanced at Mrs. Easton, and she could have sworn she saw
the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of her lips.  
         "Oh, Oh, I hope
you can keep a secret Mrs. Easton," said Emily. Her face was lit with an
angelic smile, and she hopped from one foot to the other.
         When Sarah looked at
Mrs. Easton she was stunned to see her graying head slumped forward. Tears ran
from her sparkling blue eyes. She hurried across to Mrs. Easton's side, wiping
her hands on her apron as she closed the distance between them. Lacking a
handkerchief, Sarah frantically wiped Mrs. Easton's tears from her soft skin
with the back of her hands.
         "Did I say
something wrong?" Emily fretted.
         "No, Emily."
Sarah dropped to her knees and took Mrs. Easton's hands into her own, holding
them as if she were protecting a baby bird that fell out of its nest. She
looked into the old woman's face. "Mrs. Easton, if we've hurt your
feelings, we're truly sorry."
         The more Sarah
reflected on their actions, the more convinced she was that Mrs. Easton must be
troubled by their intrusion into her home. Like all mothers, she had cooked
meals, and had joyfully wrapped gifts for her sons to celebrate their growing
up years, and, no doubt, thought Sarah, she suffered merciless pain watching
two orphan waifs as they took charge in her sacred domain. They'd donned her
aprons and rattled her pots and pans. It was surely bitter tonic for Mrs.
Easton.

Chapter 7

         To escape the kitchen heat Sarah and Emily
brought Mrs. Easton to the back porch, where they sank onto the step. They
lifted their skirts up around their ankles to feel the cool evening