“And for being sulky and childish.”
“On that one I plead guilty, damn it.” Ignoring propriety, he took her gloved hand in his and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry, Angie. I’ve missed you. I particularly miss talking to you at the end of the day.”
He’d missed the light rose scent of her and the wink of dimples when she smiled. He’d missed the way her skirt crackled with purpose when she walked. And the pleasure in her eyes when he complimented her cooking or noticed a freshly scrubbed floor. He’d missed the undercurrent of tension between them and the possibility, even if remote, that she might step forward and into his arms, that she might hunger for him as he hungered for her.
The chill in her eyes gradually thawed, and she sighed. “I’ve missed you, too, Sam.”
Well, that was something. It gave him an absurd burst of pleasure to hear her admit it.
“This probably isn’t a good time to mention this, but there’s never going to be a good time. I get so anxious and worried about everything.” Closing her eyes, she withdrew her hand and raised it to her throat. “I worry that the high grade will play out and we won’t be able to pay the grocer or the iceman or buy lamp oil or wood for the stove. I worry that we’ll never have money in all the jars at the same time. And I worry most that you’ll lose the girls and the Govenors will win. Then they’ll be sent off to Miss Washington’s school and they’ll be lonely and unhappy, and—”
“I promise you, Angie. None of that will happen.”
She stared. “How can you sound so certain? Did you find your jackpot?”
“No. But I’m following a solid vein and it isn’t going to play out. Someday the L&D Mine is going to be as famous as the Moose Jaw.”
She looked away and he knew that she didn’t believe him. She thought he was presenting dreams and hope as fact. That had always been the problem. She hadn’t believed in him ten years ago, and she didn’t believe in him now.
But he suddenly knew why he kept delaying doing what he knew he had to do. It wasn’t just the hope of finding a vug and marvelous riches. It was knowing that the joy of arranging Daisy’s surgery would be balanced by the devastation of losing Angie.
She stood on the boardwalk in front of Stetson’s Ice Cream Shoppe and watched Sam walk away from her. Thank heaven the period of silence had ended. The days had seemed so long when she didn’t have their time together to look forward to. She didn’t remember ever feeling that way about Peter.
She had never wondered where Peter was or what he was doing. Had never asked herself what Peter might be thinking. She had never gazed into Peter’s eyes and felt as if she were drowning in heat and light, and she had never longed to stroke Peter’s skin or drink a hundred kisses from his mouth. But she had thought all those things in regard to Sam Holland.
Frowning and feeling confused, she lifted her hem off the dusty street and climbed Fourth Avenue to the Carr Street crossway where she halted abruptly.
Half a block ahead three boys circled Daisy, chanting, “Gimp along, gimp along, look at Miss Limp-Along.”
Horror filled Angie’s eyes. She couldn’t see Daisy’s face, but she saw her small rigid back and the way she struggled to stand up straight. She saw the handfuls of skirt gripped in Daisy’s shaking hands.
And she spotted Lucy farther up the block walking away from Daisy and the jeering boys.
“Gimp along, gimp along, look at—”
Angie charged forward and cuffed the boy’s ear hard enough to knock the rest of the taunt out of his head.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves, all of you! What kind of low-down bully would ridicule a little girl for a condition she can’t help?” The boys stared at Angie, then glanced toward Daisy and lowered their eyes to the ground. “What if it was you with the crippled foot?” Fury snapped in her gaze. “What if you were the one who was different?” None of the boys would look at her. “Is this how your parents taught you to treat girls? Is this how you treat people with afflictions? If I hear of any of you doing something like this again, I’ll call on your parents and ask if they’re proud of you for bullying and taunting defenseless little girls.”
All three boys looked up with dread and alarm.
“Oh yes, I’ll do it,” she promised, letting them see her disgust. She grabbed the nearest boy by the collar and dragged him forward. “You apologize to her, you nasty little ruffian!”
One by one they muttered apologies while Daisy stood silently, tears running down her face.
The last boy threw a quick look at Angie, then shyly touched Daisy’s sleeve. “I really am sorry,” he said again. “You have pretty hair.”