is that.” Clayton stopped beside her, staring down at the town. “And it will become even more so when the northern section of the Miami Canal is finished.”
She glanced up at him. “Forgive my ignorance, but what is the Miami Canal? And how does it affect Cincinnati?”
A warmth and excitement swept over his face that completely transformed his countenance. Sarah fought to keep her own face from reflecting her surprise. Clayton Bainbridge was a very handsome man when he wasn’t scowling. She shifted her attention back to his words.
“—is a man-made waterway that, when finished, will connect Cincinnati to Lake Erie. It is already in use from here to Dayton.” He lifted his hands shoulder-width apart and slashed them down at a slant toward each other. “Cincinnati is like a huge funnel that takes in the farm produce of Ohio for shipment downriver. And that will only increase when the canal is finished.” A frown knit his dark brows together. “That is why it is vital that I make an inspection trip over the entire southern section soon to check on weak or damaged areas. But first I must oversee repairs to the locks here at Cincinnati.”
“Locks?”
Clayton shifted his gaze to her and she immediately became aware of the breeze riffling the curls resting against her temples and flowing down her back. She should have taken the time to fetch her bonnet. She would have to guard against her impulsiveness—it was such an unflattering trait. Sarah held back a frown of her own, reached up and tucked a loosened strand of her hair back where it belonged.
“Yes, locks. There are a series of them on the canal that lift or lower boats to the needed level. Unfortunately, the contractor who won the bid on the locks here at Cincinnati scanted on materials and construction practices to make it a profitable venture. Hence the locks were unequal to the demand placed on them and must now be either repaired or strengthened.”
“And that is your responsibility?”
He nodded. “I am the engineer in charge, yes.”
“Of the repairs over the entire southern section of the canal?
“Yes.”
“That must be daunting.”
“It could be, were I not educated and trained to handle the work.”
Sarah’s cheeks warmed. “Of course. I meant no—” His lifted hand stopped her apology. She looked down at the city.
“I understood your meaning, Miss Randolph. And I wish you to understand mine.” His gaze captured hers. “If you recall, during your interview, I told you I do not wish to have any personal contact with the child. Not any. I will overlook the incident in the hallway this morning, but I do not want it repeated. See that it is not.”
Sarah’s budding respect for Clayton Bainbridge plummeted. She drew breath to speak, glanced up and bit back the retort teetering on her tongue. His face had a cold, closed look, but there was something in his eyes she couldn’t identify. Something that held her silent.
“I also wanted to tell you I have given Quincy orders to drive you to town whenever you wish.”
He was not going to dimiss her? “That is most kind of you.”
“It is a necessity.” He glanced at the road that led into the city below. “The grade of the hill is mild, but it is, nonetheless, a hill. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my work.” He gave her a polite nod and started back toward the house.
Sarah watched him for a moment then pushed open the gate, stepped out into the road and, holding her long skirts above the dusty surface, walked to the carriage entrance and followed the graveled way out beyond the kitchen ell. A stone carriage house snuggled against the rising hill at the end of the way. A gravel walk led off to her left and she turned and followed the path, walking along fenced-in kitchen gardens to another gate set in pillars.
She stopped, gazing in delight at the small formal garden on the other side of the gate. Trimmed lawns cozied up to boxwood hedges lining a brick walk that led from a large back porch to form a circle around a birdbath, sundial and pergola surrounded by blooming flowers. Lilacs and other shrubs, their feet buried in lush green ivy, threw splashes of color against the high stone walls that defined the garden area. Daffodils and other spring flowers bloomed among the ivy. It was a perfect place for little Nora to play in and explore.
Sarah lifted the latch, stepped through the gate and let it swing shut behind her. Birds drinking and bathing or feeding on the ground fluttered up to rest on the spreading branches of the bushes. For a moment silence fell, then the birds started their twittering again. Sarah smiled and moved slowly toward the porch. What a lovely place to sit and read or have an afternoon tea. All of Stony Point was lovely. Though it was much smaller than her home.
Home.
Her pleasure in exploring Stony Point dissolved. Sarah blinked away a rush of tears, lifted her long skirts and climbed the porch steps. She glanced at the table and chairs on her left, walked to a wood bench with padded cushions and sat staring off into the distance. When would the pain of Aaron’s death go away? A year? Two? When would she be able to face going home again?
Sarah moved around the nursery straightening a doll’s dress here, adjusting the position of a stuffed animal on a chair there—anything to keep busy. The afternoon had been a challenging time with the toddler, who seemed to think she should have a cookie every few minutes. It had left her no time to think or feel. But Nora was now in bed for the night, the demands of caring for the toddler were over for today, and the night was hers. The dark, idle time that had become her enemy.
Sarah looked around, stepped to the shelves and rearranged the few picture books, fixing her thoughts firmly on the present. Why hadn’t Clayton Bainbridge dismissed her? He had certainly been angry with her. The scowl that sprang so readily to his face testified to that. Aaron had never—
No! She would not think about Aaron. Sarah spun away from the shelf and searched the room for something else to do. There was nothing. Everything was tidied and in its proper place. She had unpacked and her own bedroom was in order. And she wasn’t ready to write her mother and father and tell them she had been accepted in this position as a nanny in Cincinnati. They thought she was still visiting Judith in Pittsburgh. And when they learned what she’d done…Oh, they would be so worried. And she didn’t want to cause them more distress. They were already concerned for her.
Sarah blinked away a rush of tears, walked to the windows and closed the shutters on the deepening shadow of the coming night. How she hated the dark! She shivered and started toward her bedroom, listening to the light pad of her footsteps, the soft rustle of her long skirts. The quietness, the solitude pressed in on her. She stopped, fought for the breath being squeezed from her lungs by a familiar cold hand. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face the long night with nothing to do, with no weapon with which to hold off the memories. She cast a glance at the sleeping toddler, hurried to the door and slipped out into the hall. There must be a library, or study, or someplace in this house where she could find a book to read.
Sarah hurried to the stairs, lifted the front of her skirts and started down. Light shone out of an open door on the left side of the small entrance hall below. She paused. The room was only a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, and she had a strong intuition it was Clayton Bainbridge’s study. Would he hear her? She had no doubt it would anger him to find her snooping about his house in search of reading material. Of course, if she asked his permission there was no need for such clandestine measures.
Sarah
