Diamonds and Dreams (16 page)

“I like the way he acts. When he gets
forceful about somethin’, his chin raises a little bit. My stomach
goes all fluttery when he does that. And y’know? I think that chin
raisin’ of his is real dukish. And I didn’t even have to teach it
to him. He does it all by himself. Yeah, he’s comin’ right along
with bein’ dukish. It won’t be long before we’ll set out for London
for the duke-spyin’.”

Big frowned, realizing she was trying to
change the subject. He refused to let her. “You’re attracted to his
chin?”

She blew a curl out of her eye. “Big, I like
all
of him, not just his chin. I like his everything.”

Big stiffened. “His
everything
? And
just what the hell does that mean?”

“Nothin’,” she replied flippantly. “But even
if it did mean somethin’, you forget I’m almost nineteen. Phyllis
Crackle got
married
when she was sixteen. Big, I’m not a
little girl anymore.”

Big felt a wave of sadness. “I know. But...
It’s hard for me. Sometimes I think of you as my daughter. I try
to—You—I worry.”

She softened immediately. “I’m sorry, Big. I
didn’t mean to talk back to you like that. You know I love
you.”

He nodded. Her love was a precious gift, he
thought. He hoped to God that if she decided to offer it to Saber,
the man would see its worth. “Tell me why you were crying.”

“Oh, Big, I’m so afraid to show him how I
feel. I say dumb things to him. When he looks at me with that
softness in his eyes, I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared I’ll
mess up, and then he’ll laugh at me.”

Big decided then and there that if he ever
saw Saber taunting Goldie, he’d kill the blackguard with his bare
hands. “Be yourself.”

“But he won’t like—”

“If the man doesn’t like the real Goldie
Mae, he’s too stupid to bother with in the first place.”

“But—Big, the real Goldie Mae... I’m
so...”

When her voice trailed away, he knew exactly
what she was thinking. “I’ve told you over and over again that the
things people say about you aren’t true, Goldie,” he said as
tenderly as he knew how. “I suffer ridicule too, and I know how
hard it is to ignore cruel remarks. But—”

He stopped talking. How many times had he
tried to convince her of her worth? He’d never been able to do it
before, and found he didn’t have the right words now either.
Nevertheless, he’d try. “Many people criticize you because they’re
jealous, Goldie. They wish they could be more like you, and since
they can’t, they make themselves feel better by taunting you.
Others tear into you because of Asa. And Asa himself—The things he
says—You
aren’t
worthless. You
aren’t
ugly. You
aren’t
—”

“Big, you say that because sometimes you
think you need to be a father to me, and that’s the sort of thing a
father would say.”

Her distress was almost tangible. “Goldie,”
he said, and heard his own voice tremble, “that’s not why I’m
trying so hard to convince you of your merits. You—”

“Big,” she cut him off, unwilling to hear
more of what she just couldn’t make herself believe, “you’re always
tellin’ me—”

“I
know
I’ve told you all this
before, but it just doesn’t sink in! Your problem is that you’ve
been put down so much and for so long and by so many people that
you can’t see anything of value about yourself. You’ve suffered so
much anger and hatred from people that you’re scared to death of
making someone mad at you. So you’re never sure how to act in
certain situations. That makes you nervous and totally lacking in
confidence.

“Oh, you’re very good at hiding your secret
pain and anxieties from others,” he continued, “but do you know how
many nights
I’ve
laid in bed worrying about you? Wondering
if there is anyone in this entire world who can open your eyes and
heart to the special person you are? It tears me up to see you
trying so hard to do everything the way you think others want you
to. To see you dreaming so hard for things, only to have those
dreams vanish right before your eyes. I can’t even count how many
prayers I’ve said that someone would come along one day and make
you feel like the beautiful princess you are.”

“Oh, Big, I’m not a princess.”

“You take everything so literally, Goldie.
To me, a princess is a girl deserving of every wonderful and
beautiful thing she desires. She’s someone who deserves to be
cherished and loved.”

He shuffled to the door and turned to look
at her. The longing on her face tugged at his heart; he knew very
well she was yearning for Saber. His misgivings about her feelings
for the man didn’t lessen, but he knew at that moment there was
nothing he wouldn’t do to help her. “I have to go make supper now,
but before I go I want you to know something, Goldie. I can’t
understand what it is you see in that big oaf, but whatever it is,
I trust it’s something good. Granted, you showed poor judgment over
that halfwitted Fred Wattle, but you were younger then. As you
said, you’re going on nineteen now, and I guess that’s old enough
to recognize good qualities in a man. So if there’s any way that I
can assist you with all this romantic nonsense, I’ll try. Lord
knows I’ll probably regret it, but I’ll try.”

She shook her head. “Big-—”

“I know, I know. It won’t work, right? He
won’t respond. He’ll laugh at you. You’re not good enough for him.
You don’t deserve him. It’ll all start out like a dream come true,
and then it’ll disappear. Right, Goldie? Isn’t that what you’re
thinking? Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. He’d already said it
all.

“Couldn’t we just try?” Big suggested. “What
harm is there in that?”

“I-Well...”

“Who knows what might happen? And now that I
think of it, it’s probably a damn good idea for you to be around
the man as much as possible. Saber’s got enough confidence in
himself to share with the entire world, and you have none at all.
It could be that some of his self-assurance might rub off on you.
And I
don’t
mean that literally, Goldie Mae. There will be
no rubbing going on between the two of you.”

She blushed. “What are you going to do for
us?” she asked anxiously, wanting with all her heart to believe
that a romance with Saber might very well be possible.

“Well, I might could make a special supper
for the two of you one night. Maybe some nice pork ribs and—”

“Oh, no, Big. Ribs are too greasy, and if he
smiled at me, I’d drop ’em on my dress.”

“Right. Then I’ll make a beef stew and—”

“But I might spill that too.”

“Look, Goldie, you’re going to have to calm
yourself when the man smiles at you. If you don’t, you’re going to
starve to death. That or ruin all your clothes.”

She nodded obediently. “I could make sure
not to look at him when I’m puttin’ somethin’ in my mouth.”

“Yes, do that. And the night I make the
supper, I’ll put fresh flowers on the table and maybe a candle or
two.”

In an excited gesture, Goldie clapped her
hands together. “And you could play your harmonica in a darkened
corner! You know how good you play ‘Amazin’ Grace.’ “

“Yes, I could do that, couldn’t I?” He
nodded, dwelling on his musical talent and feeling rather smug over
it. Goldie’s giggle brought him back to the moment. He cleared his
throat. “Yes, well, I can’t promise I’ll ever like the man, but
since you do, I’ll try to be civil to him. I ask only one thing
from you, and that is for you to be careful. Guard your heart well,
Goldie. It’s the only one God gave you, and I can’t imagine Him
giving you another.”

“Thanks, Big.”

Big started into the hall. “Oh, and one more
thing. I don’t know why you’re brushing your hair with your
fingers. There’s a perfectly good brush lying right there on that
table. You may as well use it while you’re here.”

When Big was gone, Goldie hurried to the
dressing table. There, gleaming up at her from a snow-white doily,
was a gold brush. She picked it up, staring at it for a very long
while before clasping it to her breast.

Only one person here at Leighwood knew of
Hiram Winkler’s solid gold brush, she realized. Only one person
here knew of her secret desire to find out how well a gold brush
worked.

A tear of pure joy slipped down her
cheek.

* * *

Sitting at the massive desk in his room,
Saber looked at the papered wall in front him. On the other side of
it was Goldie’s bedroom. She’d been in there since running from the
library earlier that afternoon. He wondered what she was doing.
Wondered if she’d found the brush, his farewell gift to her.

And he wondered why he felt so empty
inside.

He turned up the lamp and reread the letter
he’d written to the people in Hallensham. It said everything he
wanted it to say, and he hoped it would convince the villagers that
Goldie had, indeed, found him. He folded it, sealed it with the
Tremayne crest, and placed it next to the packet of money he would
instruct her to use for a village festival. Near the money lay the
diamond stickpin he would give her also. It, too, bore the Tremayne
coat of arms.

From across the room, Addison stared at
Saber’s back. “It wouldn’t take very long to journey to Ravenhurst.
A week. Probably less. You could stay for only a short while.
Saber, it would do you good to see your lands, and—”

“No.” Saber rose, but kept his back to his
friend. “I’ll never go back.”

“Goldie lives there,” Addison hinted. “If
you never go back, you won’t see her again.”

Saber tensed. That empty feeling came to him
again. Blast it! He had to get control of himself. “What has that
to do with anything?”

“You like her. I can’t say fairer than
that.”

“I like the tailor who makes my shirts too,
but if I never saw him again it wouldn’t be the end of my life.”
Comparing Goldie to his tailor was utterly ridiculous, but in light
of his impatience for this conversation to end, it was the only
thing he could think of to say. He had no desire to discuss Goldie.
It was hard enough to keep from thinking about her.

“The end of your life,” Addison repeated.
“She’s
brought
you to life again. Can you not see that?”

“Addison—”

“She makes you laugh.”

“Lots of things make me laugh.” God. Another
utterly ridiculous statement. Goldie wasn’t a thing. She was a
person. A special little person. One who, after tomorrow morning,
he would never see again. He looked at the wall, again wondering
what she was doing on the other side of it.

“Lots of things make you laugh?” Addison
asked. “Name one.”

Saber tried and failed. He tried again.
Nothing.

“Admit it,” Addison pressed. “She’s—”

“Leaving for Hallensham tomorrow,” Saber
finished for him. “Just as I am departing for London. Her world is
in the village, mine is in the city. And that, Addison, is the end
of this discussion.”

Addison sighed. He felt extremely
disappointed, for he’d been praying that Saber would want to see
more of Goldie. But apparently the time they’d spent together
simply hadn’t been sufficient for Saber to become truly attached to
her. If only something would happen to keep Saber here at
Leighwood, he thought wistfully. Something important enough to make
Saber want to stay.

But there was nothing Addison could think of
that would successfully bring about those ends. “Very well, Saber.”
He rose and walked to the door. “Will you be joining us for the
last charred meal we’ll be forced to eat? The boys and I hunted
ducks today. They were fresh and plump when we gave them to Big. I
shudder to think about what they look like now.”

Saber smiled. “I’ll be there.”

“Saber?”

“What now?”

“Your crown is crooked.”

Saber reached up and felt the wreath of
flowers he’d forgotten to take off. Removing it, he held it for a
moment, then dropped it to the desk. It landed over the stickpin.
From within the circle of bright yellow blossoms, diamonds
glittered up at him.

Diamonds and dandelions. And dreams weaving
through them. Dreams. His, all lost. Hers... He didn’t know. He
knew only she had them.

God, so many, many dreams, and all of them
buried so deeply.

“Daydreaming, Saber?” Addison asked,
noticing Saber’s profound reflection.

“Addison, did I ever tell you about the time
when I caught a duck? I was nine.”

It was a moment before Addison could answer.
This was the first time Saber had offered to share a memory of his
childhood at Ravenhurst. “No,” he said softly. “You never told me
that.”

Saber stuffed his hands into his pockets and
walked to the window. He stared out at the pink sky of dusk. “I
told my parents that I would bring home the meat for supper that
night. I was so anxious to provide it. I worked all afternoon on a
trap of my own design. When I’d finished it, I set it near the
pond, put a bit of com inside it, then hid to wait and watch. About
an hour later, a duck walked straight into it. The door snapped
shut, and he was caught. Addison, I was so proud that the trap had
worked.

“I brought the duck home, and my father
instructed me to kill it. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I freed it,
even though I was afraid Father would be angry at me. I’d wanted so
much for him to see how manly I was.”

“Was he angry?”

Saber felt a rush of tender feelings. “No.
He laughed, and so did Mother. We ate eggs that night. No one said
a word to me about not being able to slaughter the duck. I remember
those eggs being one of the most delicious meals I ever had.”

It was difficult for Addison to imagine
Saber catching a duck. Poignant emotion swept through him at the
thought. “Eggs are good for supper,” he said lightly, trying to
talk past the lump in his throat.

Saber nodded, still staring at the rosy sky.
“And I had a tree house,” he mumbled, more to himself than to
Addison. “The men in the village built it for me. I hung a painting
of the Nativity in it. I’ve never been overly religious, but that
particular painting was the only one my mother was willing to part
with. And I really did like the picture. My favorite thing about it
was Mary’s donkey. It had the most gentle eyes, and it made me want
a donkey of my own. I...wonder if my tree house is still there? I
wonder—” He broke off, looked down at his boots, and cleared his
throat. “Addison, I’ll be downstairs directly.”