Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [42]
Never in all her life had Sarah spent this much time in bed.
“Do you need anything before I head out to work?” Dennis asked this particular morning. It was Wednesday in the third week of December.
She managed a smile and casually waved him on his way. So far, she’d been able to occupy herself with designing new quilt patterns. Buffalo Valley Quilts had developed to the point that she felt safe venturing beyond the natural-dyed muslin designs she’d started with. These days, she experimented with bright, bold colors and complex patterns.
With Christmas approaching, the company was busier than ever. Jennifer Logan, who’d worked the longest for Sarah, made trips to and from the house twice a day. It helped Sarah stay involved with what was happening. Jennifer, whom Sarah had recently promoted to manager, had a good head for business. Together they talked over every aspect of the daily schedule. If Jennifer was going to be late or needed an immediate answer, she phoned.
The telephone was set up next to the bed for just that reason. When it rang, Sarah knew it was either Jennifer or Dennis.
“Hello,” she said, hoping to sound cheerful and in good spirits, although she’d grown weary of forced bed rest. She followed her physician’s orders because she very badly wanted this child. Nothing in her life had ever come easy and she’d learned that what she treasured most often brought her the greatest pain.
“Mom.”
Sarah’s heart froze at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Calla?”
“What are you doing home? I called the store and Jennifer told me you weren’t at work. Are you sick?”
Now, their first conversation in months, wasn’t the time to tell her about the pregnancy. Instead, she avoided the question. “Oh, Calla, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you?”
“All right.” Her voice was flat, dull, and Sarah could only imagine what had been left unsaid.
“Me, too.” She’d say anything just to keep the conversation going. “Where are you?”
“Home.”
Sarah had to bite her tongue to keep from insisting that Calla’s home was and always would be with her. She didn’t bother to ask why her daughter wasn’t at school this time of day.
“I bought a phone card. Dad doesn’t have long-distance service.”
Probably because he couldn’t be trusted to pay the bill, but Sarah didn’t say what was already obvious.
“Juliet said you called on Thanksgiving.”
Juliet must have been the woman who’d answered the phone at Willie’s place. “Your grandfather did—we were hoping to talk to you.”
“I was working.” Calla sounded none too pleased about that. “Juliet’s moved in with Dad, but I doubt it’ll last,” she added, almost in afterthought. “It never does.”
“What about Christmas?” Sarah asked, plunging ahead, hoping Calla would consider joining them, if only for a few days. “Will you be working then, too?”
“I…I was sort of thinking about coming back to Buffalo Valley around then.”
Sarah’s relief was so great, it was all she could do not to break into sobs. She didn’t dare reveal too much emotion. Not to Calla. She cleared her throat. “That would be fabulous. We’d love it if you could.”
“Just for a visit, Mom, so don’t go hyper on me.”
“I won’t,” Sarah promised, although she wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to.
“How’s Jessica?” Calla asked about her best friend next.
“Jessica? Good, great,” Sarah reported. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d talked with the girl. It must be months now. She’d been so busy with the business; she rarely had any opportunity to see the people who’d once been close to her daughter. Jessica and the others hadn’t asked about Calla, either. After so many months of not hearing from her, they’d given up.
“What about Joe?”
“Joe Lammermann?” It was a mistake to ask, but Sarah didn’t realize that until it was too late.
“Of course Joe Lammermann. I went to the Sweetheart Dance with him last February, remember? You’re supposed to be my mother. I thought real mothers remembered details like that.”
Sarah stiffened. “Mothers, even real mothers,