by Renee Ryan
“If sitting up to eat a meal exhausted him, how can he possibly work at the livery?”
“Rebecca, I know Edward fairly well. If he’s determined to return to work, you won’t be able to stop him.”
She sighed. “He said as much himself. And then he accused me of acting like a mother hen.”
Pete made a noncommittal sound in his throat, one that sounded a lot like a stifled laugh.
“Of course, I won the argument when he couldn’t make it back to the livery without my assistance.”
He did chuckle then. “I bet he hated that.”
“You have no idea.” She sighed again. Edward’s defeat had only made him more determined to prove her wrong.
“Tell you what.” Pete’s gaze slid over her face. “If your brother shows up tomorrow, I’ll keep him busy with tasks that won’t require too much physical effort on his part.”
“You’d do that for him?”
“No, Rebecca. I’m doing this for you.”
Her fingers flexed on his arm. “For…for me?”
“Yes.” His gaze bore into hers with an emotion she wasn’t quite able to decipher. “For you.”
“Thank you, Pete.”
“My pleasure, Rebecca.” He lifted her hand so he could touch his lips gently to her knuckles.
Her breath skidded in her lungs.
This tender-hearted blacksmith was maneuvering his way into her heart one kind deed after another. But whether she would end up with a broken heart or a happy marriage was yet to be determined.
Chapter Eleven
Pete nodded to several members of the congregation, but didn’t stop to speak to anyone as he led Rebecca up the church steps. Even if he wanted to talk, he wasn’t sure he could force words past all the difficult thoughts vying for his attention.
An odd sense of expectancy raced through him. Longing, as well. Yearning, perhaps? But, oddly enough, guilt was not one of the emotions he experienced as he settled into one of the middle pews with Rebecca.
He wondered why. Why didn’t he feel the usual onslaught of guilt and misgivings whenever he found himself softening toward his new wife? What was different about today?
Hoping to find his answer, he cast a quick glance in Rebecca’s direction. Instead of guilt, instant fear gripped his heart and his pulse hammered savagely through his veins.
He was going to fail. Again.
He’d done something wrong in his marriage to Sarah to create such unhappiness in her. There’d been a fatal flaw in him that had made him a terrible husband, a man unable to bring his wife simple joy. And if he didn’t figure out what was wrong with him, in him, he would repeat his mistakes with Rebecca.
He gnashed his teeth together and stared straight ahead. He didn’t want to hurt his new wife. Something about her made him want to be a better man. And despite the way their marriage had come about, he wanted to be good to her. More than that, he wanted to be good for her.
His thoughts were cut off when a horrible, off-pitched whine rent the air—Mrs. Preston banging out the refrain for the first hymn. Cringing at the awful sound, Pete scrambled to his feet with the rest of the congregation.
He wasn’t a singer. Nor was he a man to pretend to be something he was not. So instead of attempting to force out the words of the unrecognizable tune, he allowed the music—such as it was—to flow over him.
Closing his eyes, he offered up his praise to the Lord in silence. When the second hymn began, he ran his thumb along the wedding ring on his finger. The gold band felt different from the one he’d worn to symbolize his union with Sarah. It felt comfortable. He supposed it was because the ring was thirty years old and well worn. What else explained the sense of reassurance it gave him?
Whatever the reason, he liked the feel of the simple gold band around his finger.
Pete opened his eyes as the final hymn began. Aware others watched him and Rebecca, he scanned the congregation for friendly faces.
The church was fuller than usual. Edward, Mrs. Jennings and ten-year-old Alex Henning from the wagon train sat in the front pew together. Directly behind those three, Will and Emmeline Logan, with their extended brood, filled an entire pew.
Fortunately for everyone, there were three particular people he did not see in church today. The Tully brothers. Not that he’d expected them to attend worship. But their absence was a concrete reminder that the “boys” had moved on. The trio hadn’t been seen in town since their fight with Edward.
The thought did not bring Pete much peace. There were other threats sitting in this church. Evil thoughts about Rebecca still filled the minds of some, spilling out in ugly insinuations about a coming babe.
Of course, time alone would prove that particular piece of gossip false.
Before Pete could turn to see who sat at his back, the pastor took his place at the lectern and opened his Bible. “You may be seated.”
The congregation obeyed the request with a rustling of clothing and muffled murmurs.
“Our text is from the Book of Philippians, chapter three, verse twelve through fourteen.”
The pastor paused. This time, the sound of flipping pages filled the silence.
Pete didn’t need to open his Bible. He knew these verses by heart. They were the same ones he’d remembered when he’d checked on Leroy’s kittens four days ago. The night Rebecca had moved into his home.
He repeated the words in his mind as the pastor spoke them aloud. “But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before…”
The Lord was trying to tell him something, calling to mind this verse twice in one week. But Pete had no idea what the message might be.
He considered himself an obedient Christian, a man who honored and revered the Lord. But he was not someone who talked to God as one would a friend.
Was the Lord trying to tell him to look deeper in what He could provide?
Pete slanted a look at Rebecca. She was leaning slightly forward, listening with undivided attention. She was so beautiful, with an innocence about her that called to him. He reached out and took her hand in his.
Peace filled him. He waited for the guilt to follow. When it didn’t come, he wondered what that meant. Was he forgetting Sarah, or slowly letting her go?
Rebecca squeezed his hand.
He settled back into the sermon.
“There is no denying we have all suffered pain and loss since the storm,” Reverend Preston continued. “But it’s long past time we heed the Lord’s words in this passage. We must not continue to look backward, either as a town or as individuals.
“We must not continue to hold on to past hurts. Funerals have taken place. And people have made mistakes.”
Several heads turned toward Rebecca and Pete. A loud, feminine sniff came from behind them. Pete knew that sound all too well. Matilda Johnson had chosen the pew directly behind them.
Pete glanced over his shoulder. His gaze landed on Abe Johnson, Matilda’s husband. The man looked more haggard than usual. His jowls seemed to hang lower. His balding head appeared shinier. Even his eyes looked more fatigued and blood-shot. Most surprising of all, there was an apologetic glint in his weary gaze as he stared back at Pete.
For the first time since moving to High Plains, Pete wondered what life must be like for Matilda’s husband. Certainly not easy.
Frowning over the thought, Pete turned back around and clutched Rebecca’s hand tighter. She moved a fraction closer to him in return.
They both focused on the sermon once more.
“There have been false testimonies and misunderstandings, pointed fingers, fights and angry words.”
Another sniff rose up, followed by a spattering of harsh whispers. “He doesn’t mean us, my dear. How can you say such a thing? Abigail and I have done nothing wrong.”
As if the pastor had heard Matilda’s comment, he lifted his voice a little higher. “I speak to all of us, including myself.” He nodded direc
tly at Pete. “I stand before you now and boldly say that this behavior must end. Today.”
Several people sat up a little straighter. Others lowered their heads. All remained silent. Even Matilda Johnson.
“I implore each of you to think before you speak. We must, as a town and members of the Christian community, draw together as a family. We must work together to rebuild our homes, our lives. And our reputations.” He looked out over the crowd, his gaze resting on a spot directly behind Pete. “Let us pray.”
Heads bowed, some slower than others.
“Father God, may You have mercy on High Plains and all our members. May You teach us to forgive one another as You have forgiven us. We know Your grace is sufficient. Like waves on the shore, Your love never ceases. May You cover this town with Your all-consuming love. In our Savior’s name, amen.”
After a collective “amen” and a closing hymn, people began shuffling out of the church. Holding several interested stares, Pete silently dared anyone to say something nasty to Rebecca.
Glaring at anyone who opened their mouth, Pete remained seated with Rebecca until Edward, Mrs. Jennings and Alex drew close to their pew.
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they rose together.
Smiling broadly, Mrs. Jennings raised her voice above the chatter going on around them. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin. It’s so lovely to see you in church together.”
Pete smiled at the woman’s obvious attempt to alert the congregation to their new marital status, not that everyone hadn’t heard the news already. It was a nice gesture, nonetheless.
Once the way was clear, Pete joined Rebecca in the aisle. He noted Matilda and Abe Johnson sweeping toward the doors, their pouty-faced daughter following closely behind.
Pete couldn’t understand why the people of High Plains called Abigail Johnson a great beauty. He hadn’t once seen her smile. How could anyone deem a woman like that beautiful?
“Well, that was certainly an interesting sermon.” Edward ruffled Alex’s sandy-blond hair. “What do you think, little man?”
The boy frowned. “I didn’t understand any of it. The preacher used too many big words.”
Edward chuckled. “Don’t think the message was intended for you.” He glared at the back of the church. “Wonder if it made any impact with certain other people we know.”
Following the direction of Edward’s gaze to Matilda Johnson’s retreating back, Pete lifted a shoulder. “Only the Lord can determine that.”
“True enough.”
The five of them continued down the aisle in silence. Outside, Pete and Edward moved away from the milling crowd while Rebecca moved closer.
Pete liked that about her. Her courage. Her strength. Her ability to face hardships head-on. He’d never met a woman quite like Rebecca Gundersen—Benjamin. Rebecca Benjamin.
Eyes suddenly burning like they often did in the smithy, he squinted into the sun, noting that it had moved to the middle of the sky and begun its brutal assault on the land. There was no wind today, only heat and sticky air. The smithy would be sweltering.
“I’m coming back to work tomorrow,” Edward said. There was a belligerent edge to his words.
Pete lowered his gaze. The big Norwegian leaned slightly to the left, favoring his injured ribs. He started to tell Edward to stay home, but then remembered his earlier conversation with Rebecca. “If you think you’re ready.”
“I am.”
Pete nodded. “Then I’ll meet you in the livery at sunup. I have a few things I’ll need you to do right away.”
He didn’t add what those “few things” were. Edward would find out soon enough, when he spent the day running light errands.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a distracted look on his face, Edward moved toward the dwindling crowd. “There’s someone I need to speak with for a moment.”
“Good enough.”
In a wobbly yet determined line, Edward headed straight for Mrs. Morrow and her daughter, Winifred. He had an intent look on his face, which made little sense to Pete. What could Edward possibly want with the dressmaker and her shy daughter?
Shrugging, Pete gazed over the dissipating crowd. He was glad people left him alone this morning. He was in no mood to speak to anyone, not even Will Logan.
From his vantage point, he watched Rebecca talking to Alex Henning. She spoke with her hands, gesturing wildly as she made some important point. The boy’s face lit up and then he laughed. It was nice to see the joy on Alex’s face. After losing his older brother in the tornado, he’d been withdrawn and quiet.
Sadly, no one from the wagon train had taken him in. Although Mrs. Jennings agreed to be the boy’s temporary guardian, Pete sensed Rebecca was the one who gave the kid motherly attention.
As if to prove his point, Alex laughed again and then hugged her, almost desperately, around her waist.
Watching them together brought an ache to Pete’s heart. But instead of thinking about what he’d lost, he thought of what he wanted. A future, one with smiles and laughter and maybe a few desperate hugs. He was tired of all the sorrow in his life.
Like so many others had already said, Rebecca would make him a good wife. If he gave her a chance.
He didn’t know how. Every time he took a step toward her, the jolt of happiness he experienced was instantly replaced with guilt.
He felt a blinding pain just below his collarbone at that last thought.
Maybe, rather than using his past failure to prevent him from having a normal life with Rebecca, Pete had to let go and believe. Maybe he needed to give his new wife a chance. Maybe he needed to give them a chance.
Rebecca released Alex, kissed him on the head and then shooed him toward the boardinghouse. Pete kept his expression blank as she turned and strolled back in his direction.
“Will you be eating at the boardinghouse or should I bring your food home for you?”
“Home. I have to work in the smithy this afternoon.”
The corners of her mouth lowered into a slight frown. “But it’s the Sabbath. From our conversation earlier, I thought you’d be taking the whole day off.”
“I can’t.” He pushed the guilt away. Before the storm, he’d honored the Sabbath without question. But now that so many homes and businesses had been destroyed, he couldn’t afford to take off an entire day. Sunday mornings were the best he could do. “It’s the way it has to be.”
She bent her head, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. Did she think he was using work to avoid her?
He needed her to know that wasn’t true. Placing his finger below her chin, he applied light pressure. Once her gaze connected with his, he lowered his hand, but not before he noted the flash of hope in her eyes.
“Bring your supper home, as well,” he said. “I’d like to share a meal with you, and when I say share, I mean talk, too. About important things. It’s time we got to know each other better.”
“I’d like that.” An echo of a smile trembled on her lips. “Very much. But I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
He looked into her beautiful, hope-filled eyes and realized he wanted to make this woman happy.
“It doesn’t matter when you get away,” he said. “I’ll wait for you, for as long as it takes.”
“I…” She twisted her hands together. “I’m glad.”
Ribbons of sunlight threaded through the golden hair piled on top of her head, tugging him a step closer. Aware they had a small audience and uncaring what they thought, he lowered his head toward hers. He wasn’t completely sure what he intended to do, but he wasn’t sure he could stop himself, either.
With his face inches from hers, he smiled. Really smiled. Perhaps for the first time since Sarah’s death. And thus, he took a metaphorical step toward Rebecca. “I’m looking forward to eating with you.”
“I am, too.” Her voice came out melodious and smooth.
Feeling strangely undone by that sweet sound, the Scripture from Philippians came back
to mind.
But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind.
It was time to look toward the future and stop dwelling on the past.
Of course, Pete knew it wasn’t that simple. Wanting something wasn’t the same as having it. Freedom may not be within his reach.
But what if it was?
He took a step toward the cemetery. “I’ll meet you at home later.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can get away.”
He spared Rebecca one final glance before setting off toward Sarah’s grave. Resolve forced one foot after another.
Would he finally be able to let Sarah go?
He wouldn’t know until he tried.
Chapter Twelve
Rebecca watched Pete circle around the church. He stopped at the gate leading into the cemetery, hesitated there, head down, hand poised over the latch. Then, with a jerk, he lifted his chin and shoved forward. His long strides ate up the ground, making him look very purposeful. And yet, somehow, sad, as well.
Rebecca’s heart constricted painfully at the picture Pete made. He seemed so…so…alone.
She wanted to run after him, to stand in support by his side. But she recognized the futility of such a gesture. Pete would not welcome her company, not in the cemetery beside his wife’s and child’s graves.
Her eyes watered at the sense of helplessness she felt, but she held back the tears and exhaled slowly. The pain in her lungs had everything to do with…anticipation. Anticipation for Pete, for what he was attempting to do.
Apparently, the sermon had moved him as much as it had her, and now he was trying to make peace with his past.
She only wanted him to do so if he was ready, not out of guilt brought on by a passionate sermon.
Lord, I lift Pete up to You. Be with him today. Bring him comfort as he sits at his wife’s grave.
“Rebecca.” Edward patted her hand. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Oh.” She jumped away from her brother’s touch. “I didn’t see you standing there. I thought you were still talking to Mrs. Morrow and her daughter.”
