Restless Heart (20 page)

Angeline stopped and yanked his arm. “In the water, Sam. In the water!”

Sam howled, “No!” as he ran toward the shore, toward the body floating facedown in the sun-warmed water. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought his way through the water. By the time he reached the body, he tasted the salty tears of grief.

It was his father. Sam sobbed openly as he turned him over and searched for signs of life. It was too late. Too late.

Michael Carver was dead.

Angeline was numb as they walked back to the restaurant. She felt like a warrior returning alive from a battle. Her body, mind, and soul were bruised and battered. Sam was silent by her side, his sadness and grief as real as the tears on her face.

She was so exhausted, she wanted to sleep for hours, but she had duties to attend to first. That began with Lettie.

The group of them had set the restaurant back to rights. Karen and Marta were cleaning up the dishes, while Alice stood by the kitchen door with her arms crossed. Rather than a mulish expression on her face, she looked a little lost. Let-tie wasn’t even in the room.

Marta met Angeline’s gaze. “Did you find him?”

“He’s dead. Jessup and Pieter have brought him over to the house.” Sam’s voice sounded so raw, Angeline’s heart hurt just to hear the pain in it.

Marta pulled Sam into an embrace. “I’m so sorry, Samuel.”

He closed his eyes briefly as he accepted the hug, but to Angeline’s surprise, he stepped away within moments. “Thank you. I’m going to see about a coffin and find Will to get the burial done today.”

Sam kissed Angeline’s forehead, then took her hands in his. She was distressed to realize hers were shaking.

“If you can prepare my father for the burial, I will get everything else done.”

“Of course. I’d be honored to take care of Michael.” An-geline didn’t recognize her own voice either. They truly were different people than they had been an hour earlier.

“Thank you, Angel.” With that, Sam left her at the restaurant.

Marta met Angeline’s gaze with a worried one. “What happened?”

Angeline shook her head. “He drowned in the lake. Perhaps he was trying to swim, or maybe he was just ready to join his wife in heaven. I don’t know.”

Marta pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Angeline.”

“Sam wants to bury him today, so I’m going over to the house to get the body ready. I won’t be able to work tonight.” She was simply doing what she had to, not really thinking about the fact she’d already told Marta she wouldn’t work anymore.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Now go take care of your new family. I’ll be at the funeral.”

Angeline nodded and left the restaurant. It was time to say good-bye to the father-in-law she had just found.

J
essup readily volunteered to dig the grave for Michael Carver. They’d apparently become friends over the last few weeks and he told everyone what a good man had been lost. The entire town wept over Michael’s senseless death.

The wedding night would wait. They would hold the burial before dinner, with Will Baker there to speak over the grave. Sam hadn’t wept since his father had died. He appeared to be shutting himself off from emotion, taking care of business and working with Jessup at the cemetery to dig.

That left Angeline to prepare the body, which she’d done before at home. Yet this time it was someone she’d come to know and love. It was the man who would have been the only grandfather her children knew. Now they would have none.

Angeline scrubbed her hands clean, then changed out of her wedding dress and into her old, but serviceable, navy blue one. She carried her bags over to her new home with grief rather than joy. She put a sheet on the new kitchen table, then prepared the rags and a bucket. Sheriff Booth and Pieter laid out the body on the table. The tall lawman stayed in the kitchen with her, hat in hand.

“Well, Miz Carver, I don’t know rightly what to say. Never
had a wedding go so wrong before.” He watched as she brought the bucket to the table.

Angeline undressed her father-in-law with care, then covered his lower half for modesty. She tried not to cry, she really did, but she couldn’t help feeling responsible for what had happened.

“It ain’t your fault.” The sheriff seemed to want company as much as she did. “I know’d it was hard to keep track of Michael. He was a wanderer. More than once I caught him leaving the jail with wanted posters in his hand.”

Angeline ran the rag down Michael’s body, wiping away the dirt that clung to his damp skin. As she worked, tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away on her shoulder, knowing Booth was right, but not wanting to let go of her guilt just yet.

“Would you please go up to Michael’s room and check what he has to dress him in? I’m sure there has to be something.”

“Oh, of course, of course. I know just the clothes. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” The big lanky man left the room, leaving An-geline alone.

She needed a few moments to grieve and find the strength to carry on with what was to have been a joyous occasion. Angeline took Michael’s hand in hers.

“I’m so sorry this happened. I never meant for you to leave us so soon. You were such a good man, a wonderful father to Sam.” Angeline got to her knees beside the table. “Dear God, please take good care of this man. He deserves every accolade you have, happiness and peace.”

A whisper near her ear made Angeline shiver. It sounded as if it said “Angel” and it was a woman’s voice. She smelled something sweet, almost like vanilla. Angeline got to her feet and looked around the kitchen, but no one else was around.

When she looked back at Michael, a single feather lay on his chest. Angeline jumped back in surprise, crashing into the
chair and landing on Booth’s hat. Her heart thumped against her ribs as she tried to reason why and how that feather came to be there.

Booth walked back in the kitchen with a black suit and a blue shirt. He frowned at Angeline, who was still perched on his hat.

“Ah, Miz Angeline, can you get off my hat?”

She rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving the body. Booth handed her the clothes and started reshaping his hat.

“Good thing you ain’t a heavy girl or this’d be squashed flat for good.” He glanced at Michael’s body. “Oh, good, you found a sparrow’s feather. He must’ve had some in the box on the mantel.”

Angeline gaped at the sheriff. “A sparrow’s feather?”

“Ayup. He used to say it was the way he paid tribute to his wife. Every year on her birthday, he would carry one next to his heart all day.”

“Why?” Angeline’s voice was hoarse, barely controlled emotions bubbled through her.

“Didn’t you know? Sam’s mother’s name was Sparrow.”

Booth’s voice echoed through Angeline’s head and then a buzzing began; it turned into a wave and then suddenly she was on her knees with her head on the floor. The cool wood felt good on her forehead. The sheriff fluttered above her, shouting something about women and the vapors.

She wasn’t having a fit of the vapors though—it was much deeper than that. Sam’s mother had just shown Angeline she was watching over them. Not only had she whispered to her, but she had put her mark upon her husband. Angeline’s tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she held them tightly closed. It was so much, too much.

“Henry, what’s going on?” Sam’s voice cut through the cloud of grief.

“I don’t know. I went up to get your father’s suit and when I come back, she was sitting on my hat. Then she fell on the
floor crying and sobbing.” Booth sounded exasperated. “This is why I ain’t never gonna get married.”

Angeline felt Sam’s hand on her back.

“Angel?”

She sat up and fell into his arms, holding on to her new husband as she let the grief run its course. A shuffle of boots let her know the sheriff had stepped out of the room. Sam simply held her while she cried, never murmuring silly things or telling her to calm down. Angeline loved him even more for that.

She felt the tears begin to subside and finally let Sam loose. A handkerchief appeared in his hand and she gratefully took it. He helped her onto a chair and squatted beside her as she cleaned her face.

He watched her with his dark eyes, patient and steady.

She took a deep breath. “I was talking to the sheriff and getting your father’s body cleaned up when something happened.”

Sam frowned. “What happened?”

“I thought I heard someone whisper in my ear.”

Instead of looking dubious, he nodded. “Go on.”

“Then when I looked, there was a feather on his chest.” She pointed a shaky finger at the body.

Sam rose and looked at his father, reaching out to touch the feather. He looked back at her expectantly.

“Booth told me it was a sparrow feather and about how your mother’s name was Sparrow. A-and I realized she must be here in spirit, looking out for you, and for him.” Angeline smiled sadly. “It was a bad time to cry, but at that moment, I felt the purest love imaginable. It was overwhelming. You probably think I’m hearing things.”

Sam took her hands and brought her to her feet. “No, actually I think you just met my mother’s spirit. And I think she is telling you everything is going to be okay.”

Angeline had feared he would think her silly or discount
her story. Yet he believed her; not only that, he reaffirmed her feelings. She knew she’d fallen in love with the right man, and it was a love blessed by the two people who loved him best.

The wind picked up on the hill as the wagon rolled up to the cemetery with Michael’s coffin in back. Angeline walked beside the wagon with Sam. A trail of mourners followed them.

Jessup stood at the top of the hill, waiting for them. When the wagon rolled up, six men were there to carry the coffin, including Sam, Booth, Pieter, and Jessup. Angeline was pleased to note the old man had bathed for his friend’s funeral.

The day had started with so much excitement and happiness, and was ending with death and sadness. Angeline barely heard the words Will spoke as the wind whipped around them. Sam closed his eyes and looked toward the sky, his lips murmuring. She squeezed his hand and tried to give him all her strength.

Too soon Sam was taking a handful of dirt and throwing it into the grave. Then others did the same, each one saying good-bye to the man who had graced them all with his skill as a schoolmaster, then as a newspaper publisher. He’d been well loved and respected, and he would be sorely missed.

Sam helped Jessup fill in the grave while Angeline said good-bye to each person who had come to the funeral. She felt a bit odd doing so since she had only been his daughter-in-law for thirty minutes before Michael’s death. Yet no one made her feel awkward or out of place. In fact, their grief was as real as hers and it made her feel better to know how they mourned him.

After the grave was filled in, Jessup pulled out a wooden cross he’d made.

“I know Michael didn’t want nothing fancy, but I carved
him something.” Jessup put the cross in place and pounded it into the ground, each hammer swing echoing around them as if the world were grieving with them.

“Thank you, Jessup.” Sam shook his hand after the older man finished. “I know he would have appreciated it.”

Everyone left the cemetery but Sam and Angeline. She wasn’t sure if he needed her there or not, but she wasn’t about to leave just yet. The wind blew his dark hair as he stood beside his father’s grave. Sam was murmuring again and she stood there patiently waiting for her husband.

He pulled out a knife from a scabbard in his boot that she didn’t know he had. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he pried a large chunk of the cross open and slipped the sparrow feather in the opening. He glanced up at her with his dark gaze unreadable.

“I want to make you a part of this. Will you trust me?”

She nodded, unsure of what he was doing, but what she did know was that he was saying good-bye to his father. He rose to his feet and walked toward her with the knife. Ange-line knew no fear—she loved Sam and he loved her. He reached for her hair and cut off a lock near her hairline. Then he did the same on his own head.

Angeline watched as he braided the two together, blond and black woven into one. He’d obviously braided hair before, judging by the speed with which he completed it. With a knot she didn’t recognize, he looped the two ends together until they were a perfect circle.

Sam went back to the grave and slid the circle onto the cross until it fit perfectly right over the spot where the sparrow feather was. He’d made both of them a part of the family, together with his parents, a talisman of sorts.

She didn’t know much about what he did, but it touched her heart deeply. This man believed in family, in loving and respecting those within his circle, even after death. She had always known loyalty to God and church first, the ward second,
and family a distant third. It wasn’t wrong, it was just different. Angeline understood that now.

Being born into the Church of Latter Day Saints was simply fate, but neither she nor her sister, Eliza, were meant to be a part of that church. Angeline believed God would show her the right path in His own time and He had.

Sam pulled her into an embrace and they stood together on the hill. The wind whistled through the trees, a mournful sound, as if the earth were grieving along with them.

Sam and Angeline made their way home slowly. He told her stories of his father, giving her a piece of what was a good man. She laughed and gasped, cried and listened as her husband dealt with his father’s death in his own way.

As they stepped inside, Angeline heard noises from the kitchen. She looked up at Sam, but he didn’t seem to be worried. They walked in to find Lettie cooking and Jessup at the table with clean hands and a scowl.

“Lettie, what are you doing here?” Angeline hugged her quickly. “I’m so glad to see you.” She’d been worried about her friend.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Lettie leaned against the sink and folded her arms, her gaze locked with Sam’s.

“Tell me what?”

Sam glanced at Jessup and Lettie. “I invited Lettie to live here with us. She’s family.”