“You look like you could use the warmth of a friend,” came a soft, feminine voice. “It’s so cold out here.”
Tom glanced up from his contemplation to find an attractive face peering down at him. Her painted lips curved upward in an alluring smile. Furs lay wrapped around her shoulders, with a plunging neckline that revealed her bosom. Heat flooded his face. He stood to his feet and walked away, refusing to look back even as she called to him. Is this the kind of life Sara was forced to endure on the street, living among people of ill repute? Surrounded by sin and depravity? God, why couldn’t I have been more patient and understanding of her plight?
He returned to the bakery window, this time noticing a portly woman outfitted in a tight apron manning the counter. Hope soared within him. He bolted through the door. “Mrs. Whitaker?”
She paused in arranging the fresh baked goods in the glass case. “Yes, can I help you?”
Thank You, blessed Lord! “You’ve never met me…but I’m Tom Haskins from Bethlehem, New Hampshire.”
A tray of baked goods clattered to the floor, scattering freshly baked rolls.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom tried in vain to find a way behind the counter to help clean up the mess.
“Whatever are you doing here? Is Sara all right? Oh, please, don’t tell me something terrible has happened to her!”
“No… I—I was wondering if you had seen her. I talked to the man who was working here, and he didn’t seem to know anything about her. I feared I was in the wrong place.”
“My helper, Harold, is new here. He doesn’t know Sara. But why would I see her? She left to be with you, back in October. I know she made it there safely. I’ve received a few letters since then, but nothing recently.”
“She… Well, she’s gone, Mrs. Whitaker. She left. I assumed she came back here to New York to be with you. I was hoping to find her and talk to her.”
Mrs. Whitaker opened her mouth to inquire when several customers walked in. He waited, trying not to fidget, until they were served and left the establishment.
“Why did she leave?” Mrs. Whitaker asked him as she stooped to gather up the rolls that had dropped on the floor.
“If I had an evening, I could tell you the whole story.”
“Hmm. Have you a place to stay?”
“No. I just arrived on the train. And, sad to say, I have nothing to my name here, either, except my pocketbook. Some boy took off with my bag at the depot.”
Mrs. Whitaker shook her head with a look of concern evident in her large gray eyes. “You poor man. I’m sorry that happened to you, but New York is not for the faint of heart, I must say. I would invite you to stay with us, but my husband is rather grouchy. And he disliked Sara very much.”
“I’ll find a place to stay. There must be a hotel nearby.”
“Yes, just around the corner is a fine one. Will you at least come for dinner?”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She studied him for a moment or two more before a smile creased her face. “I must say, though, you’re a handsome man, Mr. Haskins. I could tell that from your letters, but to meet you face-to-face like this…it’s indeed a pleasure.”
He smiled sheepishly and thanked her before venturing once more onto the frantic streets of New York. Yet his heart still wondered where Sara could be hiding.
“I’m glad this is the night my husband plays cards,” Mrs. Whitaker mused as she poured tea for Tom. “We can talk for a long while.”
Tom sat still as he tried to work through this confusing scenario. While he had shared with the woman about the time in Bethlehem with Sara, he still mourned the idea that his quest had been futile. “I thought for certain she would be here with you. Where could she be?”
Mrs. Whitaker’s head tilted in a look of sympathy. “Don’t worry. I’m quite sure she’s still somewhere in Bethlehem.”
“Why would she be? She had no reason to stay. I told you how I never gave her any attention. Instead, I found myself chasing after something that wasn’t meant to be. A ‘postcard’ is what my sister called the other woman.”
“Sometimes God has to wake us up to what’s important in life. Just as you received this knowledge, you must give Sara time to receive it, too.”
“I thought she did, and that’s why she left.”
“Perhaps. Sara sometimes takes things too much to heart. She allows people to wound her and then holds onto it instead of letting it go. I’ve told her many times to give her wounds over to God, to forgive and go on. It’s almost as if she feels she must conquer it herself, as she’s had to do living here in New York after the death of her mother. It’s been difficult for her, going on after losing the most important person in her life. And I’m sure when she saw you with the other woman, she saw the loss and the abandonment happening again. Her determination to go on rises up to cover the hurt and the pain.”
Tom slowly fingered his cup. “I never really appreciated what a kind friend Sara had in you. I, too, have a mentor who believes in me. In fact, he lives somewhere in the city. Mr. James Astor.”
Mrs. Whitaker straightened. “My goodness, you know the Astor family? Why, they’re probably the wealthiest family in all of New York!”
“I paint for him.”
She looked about her humble home. “I’m so sorry for this simple place, Mr. Haskins. Dear me, I can’t believe you know the Astor family.” She rose from her seat and began tidying up the room.
Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. “Please, I’m no one in particular. Did you know that Sara took it upon herself to tell visitors to Bethlehem that I was the town’s famous painter? Do you know what it’s like to have to fulfill that kind of obligation? I’d rather be a humble carpenter like Jesus.”
Mrs. Whitaker returned to a seat opposite him. “Yes, you’re right. We’re just ordinary people in God’s eyes. But I had no idea what influential friends you have. Or how important you are. And here you’ve come all this way to find Sara. Oh, if only she could know.”
“Know what?”
“That an accomplished and wealthy man loves her.”
Tom looked at her in surprise. Did he love Sara? The words seemed foreign to him.
“Why else would you spend precious time and money traveling here to find her, if you didn’t? Even if you did give her the train fare, which in itself tells me a great deal. You put her needs above your own. It’s the first step in true love.”
“I’ve never done anything like that, I’m sorry to say.”
“It takes time. We’re born to selfishness, looking out for our interests. Sara is no different, though I daresay she has tried hard to slip out of that mold and become someone. And I know she will. I also believe you will find her, Mr. Haskins, safe and sound in Bethlehem.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Whitaker.” Tom took out his pocket watch. “I suppose I’d better head back to the hotel. I have an early train to catch in the morning.”
“I’m sorry this didn’t work out for you.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Whitaker. This trip is the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Not only have I been humbled beyond measure here, but I’ve seen where Sara comes from. I can understand a little more about her and about the woman who cared so much that she took it upon herself to send Sara to me. For that, I thank you.”
Mrs. Whitaker dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron. “I really do care about her. She’s like a daughter to me. I had no children of my own, you see. I so wanted to help take care of the poor orphans on the street, but my husband would have nothing to do with them. Then Sara came along, so needy, and I told God that I wanted to help her any way I could. I saw your ad as a way for her to have a new life. Not a life in a cellar, looking for odd jobs just to buy bread, but a real life in the beauty of God’s world.”
Tom grabbed her hand then and shook it. “Mrs. Whitaker, I believe the best thing you ever did was answer that ad for her.”
“You are a kind man. I belie
ve it was the right thing, too. Now if Sara would only believe it.”
Tom hoped for this as well. He offered a pleasant good night and returned to the hotel. The street still teemed with wanderers and others of ill repute roaming the streets. He sat inside his room and pondered the evening’s conversation with Mrs. Whitaker. Somehow he felt connected to Sara in this place. He had taken a short journey into Sara’s past and sensed a new bond with the knowledge he’d gained.
Armed with a new understanding, he desperately wanted to find the young woman who was slowly capturing his mind and heart. He prayed that Bethlehem held the answer.
Chapter Eighteen
“Sara, help me tie my shoes! Please!”
Sara had just tied her apron across her dress when young Sammy rushed into the room, the laces of his shoes dragging along the ground. “You’re such a big fellow, why don’t you learn to tie them?”
“No one ever taught me.” He sat on the edge of her bed, his feet dangling off the side.
Sara sat beside him and took his foot in her lap. “I’ll show you. First we’re going to make a rabbit ear.”
“A rabbit ear?” He giggled.
“See, you make a rabbit ear with the lace. And then you wrap the other lace around the rabbit ear and poke it underneath like this. Now you have made two rabbit ears, and you’re done.”
“Let me, let me!”
Sara watched as he tried to mimic the instructions with the other shoe. When she looked up, Adelaide Turner stood in the doorway, shaking her head. “Sara, I’m so glad you decided stay with us. It’s as if new life has come into this house. Everyone is enjoying having you.” Adelaide moved to the stairs.
Sara was glad to be here, too. Not long after Tom left that one morning, she remembered the friendly invitation extended by the family for her to stay with them. She went at once to inquire if she might live with them while doing household chores to earn her keep. Adelaide pounced on the idea and invited her at once. Since that time, Sara found the love and acceptance of a true family and the example of a loving marriage, watching Adelaide and her husband interact. When the couple thought no one was looking, they would sneak a kiss or exchange tender caresses. Sometimes Sara imagined her and Tom exchanging a kiss with their little ones scattered around the table…until a pain in her stomach silenced the scene. Tom had not been seen at the Maplewood since he asked to be her escort. She had left word with a worker the first evening that she was leaving early, but Tom had chosen not to follow through on his promise. No doubt Annabelle Loving was to blame for his distraction. The fact burdened her so much, she nearly cried. But he had made his choice, and now she’d made hers.
Sara immersed herself in the lives of the Turners, who filled her days with joy. Elisa and she sewed gifts for Christmas. She read with Susan famous works like A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. And Sammy and she played in the snow and built a snowman. The days were exciting until Sara was obliged to dress for work at the Maplewood.
Today was no different as she took a comb to her hair then twisted it up into a tight chignon suitable for work. Maybe she would look forward to work if Tom had kept his promise to escort her. Several times she thought of walking by the house to see what had happened to him, but the constant snow and ice forced her to stay close to her job and the Turner home.
“I hope you have a nice evening.” Adelaide offered a smile when Sara descended the stairs.
“Thank you.” Sara took up her disheveled coat, which she slipped on as she left the home, though it did little to shield her from the cold. It didn’t take her long to arrive at the Maplewood. The number of visitors to the hotel and town were growing with the approaching holiday season. Only a week remained until Christmas Day. She’d been invited by the Turners to their family celebration when relatives gathered at the home to share in brunch and gifts. “You’re family, too,” they insisted when Sara opened her mouth to decline and say she didn’t want to intrude. Silently she thanked God for intersecting her path with the family. Maybe this was His way of easing the pain in her heart over Tom’s lack of interest in her welfare.
The evening went by quickly, with many customers enjoying the fancy meals. Sara carried out pan after pan of dirty dishes until her arms began to ache. When it was time to leave, she was thankful to say good night to her fellow workers.
“You look tired,” said Rachel, carrying one last armful of dishes to the kitchen.
“Yes, I am. Very tired. And still upset, too.”
“Upset about what? Did Mr. Akins shout at you again? He said I was too sloppy with setting the silver. I know he’s looking out for us, but he could have been a little kinder.”
“No. I was…wondering about someone.”
“That man? The one who came here a few days ago?”
Sara whirled. “He came here? Tom? You saw him?”
“Well, some man was lookin’ for ya. He didn’t tell me his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Oh, he was handsome all right. Real tall, too, with dark hair and eyes. I told him you’d left. He just took off then. I haven’t seen him since.”
Oh no! Sara had told James at the desk to inform Tom she’d left early that day to move into the Turner home. She wished then she had also mentioned something to Rachel. It might explain his absence, thinking she didn’t care about him or their plans for a nightly walk.
Sara headed for the coatroom to find her ratty garment. At least it warmed her heart to know Tom had come looking for her—that he did care about the arrangements, that he’d not forgotten her. She paused. But why hadn’t he come back? If Rachel had told him she was gone and then he went to Mrs. White to hear she had packed up and left…perhaps he thought she’d left for good. I had the money for the train fare he gave me. He might have assumed I returned to New York! “Oh, I have to tell him I’m still here!” There was no time to waste. She would go at once.
“Sara?”
She turned, expecting to find Charles or James. Instead it was Tom. He swept off his hat, staring wide-eyed. “It’s true. You’re still here. God be praised, she was right.”
“Tom, you—you look like you’re seeing a ghost. Maybe you are?” She chuckled uneasily.
He came forward with his arms wide, looking as if he couldn’t wait to take her into his embrace. Oh, how she’d imagined a time like this, relishing the touch of his arms holding her close. She held her breath when he did come and slip his arms around her, but it only lasted a moment. Still, he felt warm and strong to her, as if everything would be all right.
Tom released her and stepped back. “I thought—I thought you had left for good. That’s what everyone said.”
“I did leave early the day you came here, but I left a message for you with James of where to find me. I was moving in with the Turners. They’re the family whose little boy I helped that other night.”
“Thank You, God.” He uttered it as if he meant every word, that he was truly thankful to God Most High that he had found her. He seemed to be looking her over carefully. First he stared into her eyes with his own dark brown ones in a manner she found quite appealing. Her mousy brown hair flowed over her shoulders, having fallen out of the chignon due to her labors that day. Her face was no doubt quite flushed from this unexpected encounter. And she still wore her tattered coat.
He now pointed at it and frowned. “You are not wearing that anymore,” he said, beginning to remove his own coat.
“Don’t be silly. You can’t give me your coat. What are you going to wear? It’s snowing…again.” She shook her head. “It’s always snowing here.”
“I don’t care. You need a coat. You can’t wear that thing.”
“And I will not have you freeze.”
They looked at each other and suddenly broke out in laughter. Laughter of freedom, as if they enjoyed this little game. To her, the laughter reminded her of the freedom when hurt and pain were gone, and they could move freely in life and in love.
“I will
ask James if he knows of any coats that have been left by previous guests,” Sara suggested. She went to inquire while Tom remained with his coat in his arms.
She returned with a large coat. “It’s another man’s coat and far too big for me. Maybe even for you, though you’re quite tall.”
“Then you will take mine, and I will take this. As it is, my coat is short on me.”
She agreed and put it on. The sleeves covered her hands and the coat reached to mid-calf. Yet Tom seemed to relish seeing her slight form nestled in the confines of his coat. She felt warm and happy, more than she ever thought she would.
He picked up his lantern and offered her the cane. “It’s to steady yourself. It’s very slippery outside.”
“But I have your arm to help me in that matter, don’t I? That’s much better than a cane.”
He smiled when she placed her slender hand around his arm. He patted it as if thanking her for trusting in him. And Sara did want to trust him, more than anything.
“Tom! What are you doing here?”
Tom stopped and turned. It was his friend Lawrence standing in the hotel lobby. The joy drained from Tom’s face and was replaced by grimness.
Sara’s hand slipped off his arm. She felt light-headed and weak. Tom looked at her in concern as Lawrence came forward to greet them.
Lawrence looked from one to the other. “What brings you here this time of night?”
“I’m walking Miss McGee home from work.”
“Ah, the famous heroine of Bethlehem. It’s all over town, still, how a certain maid from Maplewood rescued a young boy lost in the snowstorm earlier in the week. I had to come here and see for myself.”
“Yes, it was Sara.” Tom couldn’t help boasting about it to his friend. He then went on, making her out to be so courageous that it seemed as if a statue ought to be erected in her honor. Sara stood in stunned silence, listening to it all.
Lawrence gave her an inquisitive look. “Well, I’m sure the Turners are indebted to you, Miss McGee.”
Love Finds You in Bethlehem, New Hampshire Page 18
