Free Family of the Heart by Dorothy Clark Page B

grandparents raised me.”
    “Oh.” Compassion warmed her eyes. “I’m sorry you lost your parents. But how fortunate that you survived.”
    “I was here.” Clayton looked away. The vision of Sarah Randolph standing beside him with the candlelight highlighting her delicate features and playing with the golden strands of her light-brown hair was disconcerting. “It was a new posting and my parents decided to leave me here until they discovered what sort of living quarters were assigned them. I was to join them when they were settled in.”
    “But they died. And your drea—your plans to join them died with them.”
    “Yes.” His wife’s face flashed before him. The acrid taste of bitterness spread through his mouth, tainted his words. “It happens that way sometimes.”
    “Yes. Yes, it does.”
    The words were little more than a whisper, but something in her voice…Clayton looked back. A fresh spate of unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. She blinked, looked down and smoothed at her skirt.
    “The hour is getting late. I believe I shall retire now.” She raised her head and smiled. It was the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “Thank you for sharing some of your family history with me, Mr. Bainbridge. It has made Stony Point come alive for me. I shall wonder over every mark I see. Good evening.”
    Clayton dipped his head in response, clamped his jaws shut and held himself rigidly in place as Sarah Randolph left the room. He did not want to let her go. He wanted to keep her here with him. He wanted to learn what caused that sadness in her eyes and take the sorrow from her. He wanted her company.
    Clayton scowled, strode to the front door and stepped outside. Moonlight fell in cool silver radiance from the night sky, chased the darkness into shadows. He walked down the slate path to the gate, stepped out into the road and looked back at the house. Thin strips of golden lamplight showed through the slatted shutters in the front bedroom. He turned and strode off toward the tree-covered hill. Sleep would not come quickly for him tonight. It would not be easy to rid himself of the image of Sarah Randolph’s beautiful face smiling that sad smile.

Chapter Six
    “G od in heaven, save us!” Wind tore the words from her mouth, slapped at her long, sodden skirts, whipped them into a frenzied flapping that knocked her off her feet. A sulfurous yellow split the dark, flickered, streaked downward with a sharp crack. The planking of the deck heaved, shuddered. The ship tilted. She groped for something to cling to, found only emptiness, slid. Lightning flashed, threw flickering light over a gaping hole where the ship’s rail had been, over Aaron clinging to the broken end and reaching for her. She stretched out her hand.
    The world exploded. Brilliant light blinded her. Thunder deafened her. She fell through a black void, battered by wind and rain. Frigid water swallowed her, drowned the scream trapped in her throat.
    Sarah jerked upright in bed, heart pounding, pulse racing. She wrapped her arms about her ribs and rocked to and fro, shivering, waiting. The terror of the nightmare would pass. It always did. All she had to do was wait. Alone.
    Tears surged. Why did Aaron have to die? She had prayed. She had—No. There was no sense in going over the same old questions. There were no answers. Sarah shoved her feet into her slippers and pulled on her robe. Even its quilted warmth couldn’t stop the cold inside. Her teeth chattered. Her body shook. Her fingers trembled so she could not turn up the wick of the oil lamp. If only Ellen were here to bring her some hot tea. Oh, she hated the night! The darkness, the solitude, the long hours with nothing to distract her from her thoughts.
    The nightmares.
    Sarah shuddered, rubbed her upper arms, looked toward the door to the right of the fireplace. A longing, too strong to be denied, welled. She snatched up the lamp, opened the door and started down the narrow winder stairs, her