As of the time of this writing, there are Eleven 'tastes' of Sarah in the sidebar on the right. The OCD/Asbergers/'really weird shit in my head' part of me HATES odd numbers. I feel much more comfortable with even numbers. This could explain a lot, I think. Odd numbers are masculine. Even numbers are feminine. I was always close to my mother. Hmmmm.
Anyway, in order to get things to even numbers (I know, I know), I'm including an episode of (taste of) Sarah in this - one of my rare Tuesday Tales.
Well, they ARE rare.
And now, Sarah, and her dream ....
While Jake stood and watched Skinny disappear into the dusty night, Sarah slept, and as she slept she dreamed. A dream she had had before. Only this time, it felt different. She and Michael stood together, in each other's arms, on the pier, next to the ship that was going to take him away. Take him to war. She could feel his heart beating in his chest. And suddenly he was pulled away from her and she looked up and he was high above where she stood, standing at the rail of the ship, leaning over and waving to her. And she waved back but then she couldn't find his face in the sea of faces at the rail. And then, in an instant, all of the faces were his face and they were all waving to her and then she saw something different. Something she had never seen before, in this dream she had had so many, many times. She saw a shock of white blond hair among the faces at the rail. She could see the face. It was The Kid. She could see his eyes, and she felt herself pulled into those eyes and his hand came up in a little mock salute and there was a knife in that hand and he was making stabbing motions at the neck of the man standing next to him and why would he do that? Why would he be trying to stab the guy next to him and she looked more closely at the face next to him and it was JAKE! She woke up with a start and sat up in her bed, her heart pounding and sweat on her forehead.
She heard a bunch of clatter and bang and something thumped as it hit her door and she pulled the blankets up to her chin and yelled "Who's there?" at the door.
"It's just me. Sorry." It was Ma's voice.
She jumped out of bed and opened her door only to find Ma getting up off the floor, with a fallen chair next to her and a rifle laying along the wall on the other side of the corridor.
"What are you doing, Ma?"
"Nuthin'. Go back to sleep. You startled me, is all. I guess I musta closed my eyes for a second and you screamed and the next thing ya know I wuz on the floor."
"No, Ma. What are you DOing? And what do you mean, 'I screamed?'"
"Nuthin' I tell ya. Jus' keepin' an eye out, is all. Jus' makin' sure you're safe. And yeah - you screamed. You hollered 'NO!' like you wuz scared to death. You gonna help an old lady get to her feet or what? It's hard to get up off my knee."
She reached down and helped Ma to her feet, picked up the rifle and handed it to her and grabbed the chair before Ma could get her hands on it.
"This isn't necessary, you know? Tell you what - I'll just take this chair and stick it under the doorknob. Nobody's going to get into my room and you can get some sleep."
She reached out and pulled Ma in, wrapped her arms around her and held her close.
"Thank you, Ma. You are a sweetheart. Now go to bed, please?"
"Okay. I'll go to bed. But you make sure you use that chair. You want my rifle?"
"No, Ma! I'll be fine. Now go to bed."
"Alright, alright. I'm goin'. Just don't say nuthin' ta Jake, okay?"
"You just get your sleep. And don't worry 'bout Jake. I'm not gonna say anything. Good night, Ma."
"Good Night, Sarah."
Sarah watched as Ma moved down the corridor toward the front desk and the door to her rooms. She closed her door and wedged the chair under the doorknob, just as she had promised Ma she would do. She climbed into bed and there was a smile on her face.
She heard a little scuffling in the hall.
"Go to BED, Ma!"
"Alright, I'm goin'. I'm goin'. Can't sleep, ya know?. Got insomnia or sumthin' I guess ..."
Her voice slowly faded to a mumble as she distanced herself from the door. And Sarah slowly settled back in the bed, under the covers, and into the fluffy pillow. She felt comforted. Reassured. Grateful that this cantankerous old woman would do what she did. For her. She gently fell back into a dreamless and deep sleep. Her last conscious thought was how lucky she had been to find such people out here, in the desert, out in the middle of nowhere. And this bed is REALLY comfortable .....