“Rachel, you won’t believe what just happened,” she murmured to her friend. “Tom’s best friend has come here asking me to reconsider Tom’s proposal.”
“Oh, Sara! Do you see? What other proof do you need?”
Sara took up the tray to deliver another round of afternoon tea and scones to a nearby table. When she passed by Lawrence’s table, she couldn’t help catching his gaze once more.
“I hope you will think about what I said, Miss McGee. I wouldn’t come here unless it was important. Tom is miserable and lonely without you. And I’m sure you are, too.”
“Actually, I’m doing all right, Mr. Boshen.” Oh, Sara, what a lie of the heart! You may be fine on the outside, but on the inside you hurt.
He stirred sugar into his tea as his lips spread into a thin smile. “Ah, bravado that covers up the true intent. I know exactly what you are saying, Miss McGee. But think on this if you will. At this very moment Tom is creating a masterpiece he hopes will win the love he so desperately wants. Will you deny him that pleasure?”
Sara knew in an instant what Lawrence was referring to. Tom must be painting, and not just another portrait. He was painting the Old Man of the Mountain. The place where God makes men…and women, too. All mankind. And just for her. “Thank you, Mr. Boshen. You’ve given me quite a bit to think about.”
Sara returned to the Turners later that evening, absorbed in thought. She shook her head when Sammy asked if she might go sledding with him come daybreak. In the drawing room Elisa was embroidering and Susan was reading a book. They both looked up and smiled, but neither of them could help her in this time of need. Elisa would even say that Sara’s doubts had already spoken the truth. But now there were new doubts brought forth by Lawrence at the hotel dining room. They now begged the question of “what if.” What if she had made a mistake and now Tom’s heart was torn in two? What if she was indeed supposed to accept his proposal?
Sara wandered into kitchen to find Adelaide taking several loaves of bread out of the oven for the morning breakfast. “You’re working late. Let me help you put the kitchen in order.”
“Time got away from me today. But you’ve worked hard. I can take care of it.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “Did Tom walk you home tonight?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s—he’s angry, I’m sure.”
“Oh, no. About what?”
“I’m not sure I should say. But I’ve already told others, so I might as well tell you. He proposed to me on Christmas Day.”
“He did? Why, Sara, that’s wonderful.”
“But I told him I couldn’t accept.”
Adelaide drew up two stools. “Come sit with me. Tell me why you can’t.”
“For many reasons. When I first came here, I dearly wanted Tom to love me for who I am. But I knew I upset him. I was not what he expected. I was not refined but instead a poor woman of the street without a penny to my name. I didn’t know the ways of a lady. And there was another woman in competition for his heart. It didn’t make sense to try to win him over with all these obstacles, which is why I left and struck out on my own.”
“I see. But things have changed.”
“Yes. Tom changed his mind. And I guess I changed, too. He saw me differently. Somehow he knew that Annabelle wasn’t the woman for him. And maybe God had a purpose for me in his life by answering the ad. That God did want to bring us together.”
“Is that what you want, Sara?”
“At first I wasn’t sure. I think I was afraid. I know I’m afraid still. When I left the house on Christmas, just the thought of being a bride, someone’s wife, scared me. It made me feel like I did when I first lived with him and Claire—that I could never fulfill his expectations, that he would regret ever marrying me. And I remembered what Elisa said, too.”
“Oh, no. That girl. I’m afraid to ask.”
“She said if I had any doubt about this to take heed and listen. Like she should have done with Joseph, before he ran off.”
“Dear Sara, you can’t compare that awful incident to what you are going through. Your doubts come from insecurity, not questioning whether this marriage is right in the eyes of God. You feel you can’t measure up to what is expected of you. But isn’t that what our Christian walk is all about? We can never measure up to God’s standard of perfection…which is why Jesus came as a small babe born in Bethlehem. To show men He can do what we can’t. And through Him, we have no shame before God. We measure up fully in His eyes. You need to let go of your imperfections and let God make of you what He desires. We do not live for ourselves. We live for Him and for His glory. And I believe it’s through God’s eyes that Tom is seeing your true beauty and worth. We often look on the outside, but God looks at the heart. And you have a heart ready to love and be loved.”
Sara heard the sincerity in Adelaide’s voice and saw it in her face. She embraced the woman before telling her she must go think things through. And contemplate she did, in the confines of her room. She thought about her life in New York and her life here in the New Hampshire woods where even the rocks were fashioned into the image of man. How vastly different the two places appeared on the outside but, in reality, they were no different in how God used them for His purpose and in shaping His will. Oh, God, I pray You seal Your will in my heart. I need to know this is from You and no one else. For no one else knows my heart like You.
A knock came on her door. Sara opened it to find Susan standing there with wide eyes.
“This came for you today, Sara.” She held out an envelope.
“Thank you so much, Susan.” It was a letter from Mrs. Whitaker. She immediately settled into a chair and unsealed it. Several weeks had passed since Sara had sent a letter to the woman. The latest had been crafted with help from Mrs. White and written during the time she sought employment at the Maplewood Hotel and held a desire to return to New York. But before she dared leave, she awaited Mrs. Whitaker’s opinion. After all, it was by her hand and desire that Sara came to Bethlehem.
My dear Sara,
I’m so sad to hear you’re unhappy. You deserve happiness, my child, and I believe you will find your happiness. Sometimes it’s hard to think that our blessed Lord is working for us in these matters that test the heart. But it is through our unhappy times that He is doing a miracle in our lives, allowing our hearts to grow closer to Him, searching His will, and embracing what He has for us rather than seeking it ourselves.
But I know for a fact that Mr. Haskins loves you. I saw it in his face when he came here to find you. I know that what he had first told you in past letters and what you experienced when you first came to Bethlehem were not the same—that you thought he would look on the inside and not the outside. But I believe that has changed. Only a man in love with a woman and who she is would venture out of his place of comfort to find her. And I saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice. Like all of us, he has learned, and he has grown to love.
I encourage you to hold on to what you have been given. Walk the narrow road before you, and don’t be afraid. I believe the road will lead to your happiness if you don’t lose heart. Though it may seem like the road goes nowhere right now, you must look to what is unseen. To trust and have faith. And I believe you will see the light, and it will guide you to a perfect and satisfying end.
Your loving friend,
Mrs. Whitaker
Sara allowed the letter to flutter to her lap. The entire letter spoke to her, but one sentence moved her above all else: “I saw it in his face when he came here to find you.”
Tom had traveled all the way to the city, looking for her? “Oh, Tom,” she breathed. “Dear, dear Tom, you went to find me! Even to New York City!”
She hurried for her wraps. The path was set before her, as sure as the sun rose and set in the course of a day. And now the sun was rising.
Tom looked at the painting of the Old Man, satisfied with how it turned out even if the work in his own life remained incomplete. The woods, the sky, the face
itself, crafted out of craggy rocks pieced together. He felt like that man of rock many times, looking outward to the land beyond, searching, inquiring, and feeling as if he, too, were made of cold stone. He folded his hands, reconciling himself to the life of a bachelor. It made no sense to pursue this sad affair any longer. It had caused enough conflict and pain. He would thrust it aside, the burdens of it all, and live life one day at a time alone with his paintbrush and easel.
He heard a knock on the door. Claire had gone to be with her sewing circle this evening. She’d announced earlier today that she would be returning to Massachusetts after the New Year. Tom didn’t blame her. She had no reason to stay. He thanked her for everything she had done and wished, as she did, that the results had been different. Now he reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and walked to the door, wondering who could be calling so late. He opened it to see a shivering woman holding a lantern. Her large eyes reflected the glow of the flame. “Tom,” came a feeble voice.
He opened the door wide, ushering her into the house. “Sara, my word. What are you doing out here? It’s terribly cold tonight.”
“I—I had to see you,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I couldn’t let another evening pass.”
“Come near the fire and get warm.” He set a chair close to the blaze.
She sat still for a time, staring into the fire, the orange bursts of light playing on her features. How beautiful she looked, but sad, too.
“Is Claire here?”
“She should be returning any time now. She went to bid farewell to her sewing group. She’s going back to Massachusetts at the end of the week.”
“She is! How sad. I will miss her.”
“I will, too. No brother could have a finer sister.”
“She was like a sister to me, too. As I’m sure Lawrence has been like a brother to you.”
Tom snickered. “Lawrence has his ways of doing things and speaking his mind.”
“Yes, he does. He came to see me at work today.”
“What?”
“And he said—he said that we should be together.”
Tom blew out a sigh before running his hand through tufts of hair in frustration. “I can’t believe he did that. Well, actually, I can. I’m sorry he forced his opinion on you, Sara. He is very good at doing that.”
“He spoke wisdom, Tom. And truth.” She removed a letter from the pocket of her coat. “I received this today from Mrs. Whitaker. She encouraged me to continue on the path God has planned for me.” She paused. “But that’s not all. She—she said you two had met. I don’t understand, Tom. When did you go to New York?”
He hesitated. He twisted his fingers and looked away. “It was a few weeks ago when I thought you might have left town—when you moved into the Turners’ home. I didn’t know where you had gone. No one had seen you. I thought you must have returned to New York. So I was determined to find you.” He chuckled. “And, yes, I experienced life in New York. My bag was stolen and my pride quite humbled.”
“Oh, Tom! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not sure. But it was good for me, Sara. I discovered the difficult life you lived there. But more importantly, I met the woman who cares for you like a mother. I felt a bond with you in a way I never did. I understood you much better afterward.”
Sara looked at him as if marveling over what he’d just said. Like him, Sara was also seeing in a new light. They had both undertaken physical and spiritual journeys—leaving what they knew most to experience what they knew least. And together they had grown by it.
“Tom, I—I would like to keep that bond we have alive somehow, if you will let me. I know I’ve given you no cause, leaving like I did at Christmas. I will understand if you don’t think it’s for the best.”
Tom took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest.
“But God can make men and women of one mind and heart, just like He makes them in His mountains.” She stood to her feet, the blanket falling on the ground. “Don’t you think?”
“Oh, Sara.” He swept her up in his arms, unable to bridle the love that welled up within him. He kissed each of her cheeks before settling on her lips.
“Do you still have the little box?” she asked breathlessly.
He immediately went to fetch it, even as his mind and heart filled with thoughts and emotions. “Sara, I do want you to have it, with all my heart.”
“Please, would you put it on me?”
“Gladly, my love.” He slipped the ring on her delicate finger. And with it, he gave her a lasting kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Marry me?”
“Yes. Now and forever.”
“And there is one more thing.” Tom hurried to the back room. “I’m long overdue with this, but here at last is your gift. Welcome to Bethlehem.” He displayed the painting of the Old Man of the Mountain.
“Tom, it’s beautiful. I love it so much. Bethlehem is blessed to have a man of your talent painting God’s creation like you do.”
“On the contrary, I’m the one blessed. I’ve found the beauty of my forever love.”
They agreed with a reverent amen, sealed by the kiss of love.
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Love Finds You in Bethlehem, New Hampshire Page 24
