Keeping Secrets by Linda Byler Page A

screen.
    Clutching her throat in horror, she stood in the middle of the room in total darkness, wondering what to do. Grab her robe and make a dash for the stairs? Get Leah and Rebekah? Wake Reuben?
    She heard her name, a hissing sound.
    Someone was out there. Someone who knew her and knew which room was hers.
    “Sadie! It’s me!”
    A hoarse whisper. “It’s me! Mark!”
    Mark Peight! Throwing pebbles at her window like some lovelorn hero of the past. What a loser!
    Anger gripped her, its claws tightening her senses, until she realized it would never work to go to the window and tell him exactly what she thought of him. Storming out of the ranch house because of who knew why, then showing up at her window in the middle of the night almost.
    She had a notion to stay exactly where she was until he went away.
    “Sadie! It’s me. Mark!”
    Again, she heard the urging in his voice.
    “Sadie!”
    Pushing her face against the screen, she looked down at his tall dark form, his face lifted as he eagerly awaited her answer.
    “What do you want?”
    She didn’t mean to sound as grouchy as she did. She wished the words, or rather, her tone of voice, would stick in the screen and stay there, or dust the night breeze without harming anyone.
    “What do you think I want?” he hissed in return. There was so much anger in his tone, Sadie took a step back, her eyes opening wide.
    “I have no idea.”
    “I need to ask you something.”
    “Ask away.”
    What possessed her? Why did she answer with barbs emphasizing every word? She wanted to hurt him, like he’d hurt her by storming out of the Caldwell dining room, then ignoring her, and leaving her to wander a desert of insecurity.
    How could she ever have felt he was her destiny? He was too hard to understand.
    “Come downstairs.”
    The words were a curt order.
    She pursed her lips, considering her answer. She no longer felt that panicky heartbeat in his presence, which uncomplicated things a lot. Folding her arms, she took her time in giving him an answer.
    “Well, I need to get dressed.”
    “No, you don’t. Just grab a robe.”
    “Hush! You’ll wake Mam!”
    Sadie knew Mam was a very light sleeper, as alert as the mouser in the barn. There was no way she could creep down the stairs without Mam knowing. Dat would go right on sleeping, the proverbial log. If Mam caught her sneaking outside in her night clothes, she would be in some very serious trouble.
    “Hang on!”
    She dressed quickly and crept down the stairs, her heart pounding now, which puzzled her. She thought she had surely moved on from that childish emotion. But by the time she reached the kitchen door, it was hammering against her ribs, drying her mouth until her tongue felt like cotton. She was still trying to be angry, but she couldn’t keep the anger if the excitement of seeing Mark again drove it away.
    Rounding the side of the house, she found him sitting on the lawn, his back to a tree, looking as if he had been there all evening. It was dark, but not so dark that she couldn’t see his features or the shape of his head, the slope of his shoulders.
    Dropping to her knees, breathless now, she said, “This is a weird time for you to come talk to me.”
    “Yeah, well…”
    There was a silence, swelling with question marks.
    Then, “Sadie, I have to know. What does Richard Caldwell mean to you?”
    “Mean to me? What are you talking about?”
    “I … was eating breakfast, and… You have never talked to me like that. Never. Your whole face lit up. You moved your hands. You pushed back your dark hair. It was like … suddenly you had a great reason to care about life. Almost like… I don’t know.”
    He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, the picture of misery. The great shoulders slumped in dejection.
    Sadie sat down, pulled her skirt over her knees, and said nothing.
    How could he? Surmise, presume, suspect, whatever. It was all the same. She could not believe him.
    “Mark, he’s my