at the way her grandmother slipped in and out of the present, wished with her whole heart she could help her. Lightning flashed again. She opened the porch door, then stared agape. “He’s gone.”
Irritation flared. She stepped out onto the porch, heard the soft splat of raindrops, felt the freshness of a quickening breeze on her face and hands. How would she get her grandfather inside? She cast a sidelong glance at him, worrying over the problem. Perhaps the rockers would slide...
Her grandfather chuckled. His eyes twinkled with humor, crinkled at the corners. Her own mouth pulled up into a grin, tugged there by the chortling sound that accompanied so many of her happy childhood memories.
“Can’t...do it. Too...heavy...for you.”
Her amusement fled. “Don’t worry, Poppa. I’ll get you inside someway.” She cast an angry glance toward the garden path and stepped toward him. “Mr. Ayl—” she glanced at her grandmother standing in the doorway “—Cole never should have left you out—”
“Stay here!”
She stopped and stared at her grandfather, taken aback by his sharp tone. He reached out his good hand and took hold of hers.
“Not...child.” His face worked; his hand squeezed hers. “Told Cole...leave me. Like...storms.”
Not child. How humiliating for a proud, independent man like her grandfather to have to accept the care, the control of others. She swallowed hard and pushed back a tendril of hair the wind had plucked free of the thick coil of hair at her crown. “I’m sorry, Poppa. I should have asked your wishes.”
“You keep Poppa company, Sadie. I’ve work to do. Don’t go off the porch now.” Her grandmother smiled and stepped back into the dining room.
She stared at the closed door, aching with the need to have her grandmother and grandfather well, to have everything the way it was. “I remember, now that you’ve mentioned it, how much you like storms, Poppa. It used to frighten me when you would stand out here on the porch with the lightning flashing and the thunder crashing.” She turned from the door and forced a smile onto her face. “I was usually huddled up on the settee with Nanna.”
He tugged her closer, laid his cheek against her hand. “I...miss her...too.”
“Oh, Poppa...” She sank to her knees, placed her head against his knee and snagged her lip with her teeth to keep from crying. “Is there nothing Dr. Palmer can do to help Nanna get better? Can’t he give her some sort of medicine, or—” Her throat constricted, closed off the flow of words.
Her grandfather shook his head, his mouth working. “Some...thing in her...mind shuts...off...now and then. Doc can’t...stop it. Sorry, Sa...die.” He rested his big, work-worn hand on her hair, and she closed her eyes and imaged him whole and well and for a moment her world righted itself.
The wind gusted, snatching at her skirts. A door banged. Banged again. Her grandfather tensed. She looked up.
“Stable...door.” A frown knit his gray brows together. “Wind break...it.”
“I’ll go close it, Poppa.” She rose and shook out her long skirts.
“Lightning...”
She pushed out a small laugh and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of thunderstorms anymore.” It isn’t nature that hurts you, it’s men. “I’ll be right back.” She lifted her hems and ran down the steps, veered left onto the path that led to the stable. The wind blew her skirts against her legs. Raindrops spattered on her hair and shoulders, chilled her bowed neck.
She grabbed hold of the stable door with both hands and tugged with all of her strength to pull it closed against the rising force of the wind. It moved after a momentary lull, and she planted her feet and backed toward the gaping stable doorway, hauling the big, heavy door with her.
Lightning snapped, sizzling to the earth in a yellow streak. Sulfur stung her nose. Thunder clapped and the rain came—a wild, stinging deluge driven by the wind that snatched the door from her grasp. “Oh!” She ducked her head and jumped inside.
Raindrops drummed on the shakes overhead. The wind whistled across the open doorway and banged the door back against the building again. She stared in dismay at the heavy fall of water pouring off the roof to splash against the ground and tried to work up enough courage to go out and try again to drag that heavy door closed. And then it didn’t matter.
A large figure loomed in the opening, then pulled the door closed, shutting out the splashing curtain of water. Lightning flashed through the windows in a watery shimmer, shone on the rain-slick rubber jacket and glittered on the wet, black beard and dark gray eyes of Cole Aylward.
Chapter Four
Ice spilled down her spine, flowed into her arms and legs and froze her in place. Sadie stared at Cole Aylward, saw the image that haunted her nights. His black beard bobbed and his lips moved, but no words penetrated the glacial wall of fear.
“Did you hear me, Miss Spencer? Your poppa sent me to bring you to the house.”
His raised voice crumbled the ice, broke through her numbed senses. Poppa? How dare he use her pet name for her grandfather! A quaking took her, so strong, so furious in intensity her long skirts shook. “Don’t you call him that!”
“Look, Miss Spencer—” He took a step toward her. A towering shadow in the dim light.
She gasped and jerked back, her spurt of defiance dead.
He jolted to a halt and a heavy breath escaped him.
Light flashed on something in his hand. She caught a glimpse of a knob on the object he held before he turned and leaned it against the wall, shrugged out of his rubber jacket and tossed it on top of a nearby feed chest.
No, Almighty God, no! Not again. Her heart thudded. She stared at his hands, raised hers to cover her arms where his brother’s hard fingers had dug into her flesh as he threw her to the ground. Memory froze her lungs. A prickly warmth flooded her body, and the room swam in a slow, sickening circle, the edges turning dark, closing in.
Lightning snapped, startled her from the encroaching darkness. Thunder shook the building and rattled the windowpanes. She shook her head to clear away the fuzziness, forced strength into her quivering legs and edged backward, not daring to take her gaze off Cole.
“I came back because the storm worsened and I wanted to get Manning inside before he got soaked by the driving rain. He sent me after you—told me to tell you your poppa had sent me so you wouldn’t be frightened. That was his word, not mine.”
Did he think her a fool? If that were true, why would he remove his rain jacket? She needed a weapon. Something. Anything! She stretched her right hand backward, groped through the space behind her.
“Obviously, that didn’t work.” He turned toward her, lifted his hands.
She whirled to run, spotted a hay fork and snatched it from its place in the corner then spun back, the wooden tines extended toward him. Rain beat on the roof. Lightning flickered, and thunder rumbled. The horse in the stall behind her snorted and pawed at the floor.
Tension quivered on the air. Cole stared at her, silent and still,
