by Dawn Kinzer
“It’s so lovely and peaceful here.”
A robin landed on the edge of the veranda’s floor, surveyed his surroundings, and then flew off into one of the large nearby trees. The children’s giggles partnered with the sun in brightening the day.
“Just like a Sunday should be, I suppose. The good Lord made it a day of rest for a reason.” Alice rocked in her chair. “How are you doing, Sarah? No letter of confirmation yet?”
“No, but hopefully soon. I’m anxious to receive an orientation schedule.” Despite wanting to make peace with Peter, it would be salvation to put physical distance between them again, especially if he continued to spend time with Rebecca.
“Part of me envies you, Sarah. You’re bound for Africa and great adventure.” Alice adjusted her eyeglasses and smiled. “What I wouldn’t give to see a lioness in the wild. Such a strong creature. I believe God also made women with enough strength to survive challenging circumstances. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose …” Sarah yearned to ask the woman she highly respected a difficult question. She sipped her drink, debating whether to bring up the subject or not, her heart thumping.
“Something on your mind, Sarah?”
Alice had always been kind and understanding, a listening ear. Sarah could trust her. “I’ve had questions—doubts—things I’m trying to sort out before leaving for the missions field.”
“You know I’ll help, if I can.”
“I’ve been wondering …” Sarah took a deep breath. “Since you know so much about the Bible …” She just needed to say it, or she’d end up leaving with regrets. “Does God have favorites?”
Alice gave a gentle smile. “No. He loves everyone the same.” Her confident tone said the statement couldn’t be argued. “Are you questioning his feelings for you?”
“I know God cares about me. If I didn’t believe that, I couldn’t travel all the way to another continent to tell other people about his love for them. I’m just questioning as to why, no matter how hard I try, things keep getting in the way of my happiness. Not that I’m unhappy—it’s not exactly that. I have a lot to be thankful for.” A frustrated sigh escaped Sarah’s lips. How could she better explain her struggle?
“But the deepest desires of your heart, the things you want most, seem to be withheld.”
“Yes,” Sarah whispered. Somehow, Alice knew exactly how she felt. Sarah had prayed for her parents to return and for Peter to love her as a woman. But after years passed, neither were granted, and it seemed unlikely either wish would come true. If God loved her—and she believed he did—why did he give her yearnings and then choose to keep those blessings from her? Seemed unfair and cruel. Didn’t refusing the desires of her heart go against what he promised in his Word?
“I understand. God has blessed George and me beyond what we ever dreamed, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced pain and disappointment. I’ve borne eight children, Sarah, but we lost five infants and our dear Hammond to tuberculosis. There were days when I raised my fist to the heavens and shook it in rage at God, knowing that he accepted my anger and forgave it. Not a day goes by that I don’t carry the pain and loss—that I don’t wish things could have been different—that we’d have those children with us now.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sarah had forgotten how much grief the Carters had endured. Yet they continued to serve God as though they harbored no ill feelings toward him. Surely Sarah could find a way to get past her own disappointments.
“Some things in life aren’t easily explained or understood, but God gives us the strength to go on,” Alice continued, rocking.
Sarah chewed her lower lip. Another question burdened her. “It says in the Bible that God will punish children for the sins of their fathers. So, sometimes I wonder if I’ve been punished for things my parents did.”
“I see …” Alice stopped her chair.
“My mother went against my grandparents’ wishes and eloped with my father, which devastated them. You know the story. It turned out they were right to be concerned. My father was a thief and a gambler, and he not only hurt other people, but he lost everything my parents owned. So my mother pretended to return with the intention of reconciling with my grandparents, but instead, left me and went back to my father. I grew up wondering if I carried bad seed, like some people in town whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear.”
“You believe you’re paying for your parents’ mistakes?”
“Sometimes, it feels like I’ve been compensating all my life.” Sarah clasped both hands around her glass. She would not cry. “I’ve always been compared to my mother and have been afraid of disappointing my grandparents. Children taunted me while growing up because my parents didn’t want me.” She yearned for answers—she longed to make sense of her life. “Obstacles have hindered almost anything I’ve desired.”
“I know this much, Sarah. As parents, the sins that George and I commit today can directly impact Pearl and Frances, our grandchildren, and even our great-grandchildren. Wrong-doing always has consequences, and the influence of the parents’ sin gets passed on to the child, but God provided a way through the cross for us to break free.”
“You believe that my parents’ actions shouldn’t impact my life?”
Alice held Sarah’s eyes with her own. “It’s tempting to blame them for our problems and shortcomings, or justify our bad behaviors because our parents also failed. But we reap the results of our own choices.”
Her hands sweating, Sarah set her glass aside. Had she done that—made her parents guilty for anything that didn’t go right in her life, despite her responsibility?
“Oh, sweet girl.” Alice rose from her chair and knelt next to Sarah. The older woman took Sarah’s hands in her own. “You may be wounded because of your parents’ decisions, but you are not destined to repeat their mistakes. You’re not doomed to follow in their footsteps. But at some point, you’ll need to let go of your anger toward them, or you’ll miss out on some of the joy God wants to give.”
chapteR ELEVEN
The night before, a swarm of locusts had found their way into Sarah’s stomach while she slept—or at least that’s how it felt. Her insides fluttered so much throughout the day, she almost became nauseated. Maybe if she ate a little, carried on enough conversation during supper, and pushed the food around her plate long enough, Gram wouldn’t question her lack of appetite. Sarah sliced a small portion from the browned pork chop, chewed it slowly, and swallowed. At least the mashed potatoes and peas should go down a bit easier.
Her grandmother assumed Sarah planned to meet Peter at the church that evening to talk about the Young People’s Society, and Sarah didn’t correct her.
On days like this, the arrangement to oversee the livery’s books once a month in exchange for access to a horse and buggy when needed filled her with gratitude. As soon as it seemed a reasonable time, Sarah drove on River Street out of town, across the bridge, and onto the narrow road through the field to the base of a wooded hill.
She tethered the horse to a large tree, next to another buggy—Peter’s. Although, she’d planned to arrive early, he’d managed to get there first.
Sarah leaned against the tree, held her stomach, and took a deep breath. The time had finally arrived. They’d agreed to meet at their old spot to talk. She didn’t know his intentions, but if they were going to live in the same town—even for a short amount of time—they needed to mend their friendship. They owed each other that much.
Ferns and trilliums covered the area beneath the hardwood canopy. White flowers blanketing the ground, and rays of remaining sun filtering through the leaves above, made the beaten trail up the hillside look like a path leading to heaven. And Peter sat waiting for her at the top.
With the hem of her skirt in one hand, Sarah hiked upward. A squirrel darted across her path, then chased several more as they raced up a tree. A chickadee gave its cheerful call and another responded.
At the summit, Sarah stepped qui
etly from the woods’ protection into a small, open space protected on three sides by trees and covered above by a ceiling of blue sky. She stood, not making a sound—barely breathing—watching him. Peter rested on a large boulder with his back toward her, dressed in trousers and a shirt he might wear on the farm instead of a suit befitting a reverend. She could have stood there indefinitely, soaking in the sight of him, but a squirrel playing in the tree next to her disturbed a branch and Peter turned.
He seemed to hesitate before a grin flashed on his face. “You surprised me.”
“You’re out of practice.” Sarah made her way over to the boulder. “Living in a big, noisy city, you probably haven’t had much opportunity to listen for woodland creatures.”
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough. If I were a thief or murderer, you would have been done for.”
He offered his hand to help her up, like he’d done a million times when they were younger. If she weren’t burdened with female clothing—she could have climbed the monumental rock herself.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a thief or murderer then.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or are you?”
He was willing to accept a little teasing—a good sign. “You’re safe with me.”
“Just like I’ve always been.” Peter’s warm eyes fixed on hers.
She studied him—the boy-turned-man who held her heart—who could crush her so easily again if she let him. A lock of his hair had fallen across his forehead, and she resisted the temptation to brush it back—to touch him.
They sat near the edge of the bluff, and Sarah broke eye contact and focused on the view. The flour mill had been built on the other side of the river directly below and the Carters’ mansion to the left. The rest of the town spread out before them, and it was easy to spot the church, the parsonage, and Sarah’s grandmother’s house.
“Are you sure being here together is all right? I mean—would it have been better to talk at the church? After all, you’re a pastor now, and you have a reputation to keep. Some people might find it inappropriate for you sit in the woods alone with a woman.” Sarah hadn’t given thought to that until just that moment. Peter didn’t need rumors challenging his character—he had too much at stake.
“Thanks for being so considerate.” He raked his hand through his hair. “But it was important to me that we meet here. At least tonight, I hope you can think of me as just Peter—not your pastor.”
“I’ll try.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Through memories, she’d traveled back to the last time they’d spoken at this very place, but where had his mind wandered?
“Remember when I confessed I wanted to be a minister?” Peter stared out into the open expanse before them.
“It was right here,” she whispered.
“You were the first person I told. I was so afraid people would laugh, but I knew you wouldn’t. I knew you’d understand.” He shifted his body and faced her. “I could always trust you to believe in me.”
Sarah couldn’t bear to look at him—terrified of getting lost in his eyes. She focused on a small plant poking up from a crevice in the boulder. Funny how something could grow with so little nourishment. Her throat closed in and she tried to swallow, but, as if paralyzed, her entire body wouldn’t move.
“I need to ask for your forgiveness, Sarah.”
Her head whipped up—she hadn’t expected to hear those words. She’d expected excuses, not an admission, and certainly not a request.
“When I went away, I jumped into new experiences that overwhelmed, but also exhilarated me. I got caught up in a life filled with other people and unexpected challenges, and I wasn’t there for you. And I’m sorry for that.”
Not prepared for his confession, Sarah didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
“I knew I’d hurt you when you stopped writing.” Peter sighed. “I can’t tell you how much I missed your letters.”
Words, all jumbled, tussled in Sarah’s mind. She needed to grab some and somehow line them up to make sense.
“I think I understand the blunders I made in our friendship, but I’d like to hear them from you.” His voice remained strong, but also kind.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Sarah toyed with a loose thread hanging from her sleeve. “It might be a lengthy list.”
Peter nodded and scratched his head. “I’m willing to sit here all night if that’s what it takes.”
“All right.” He’d swung the door wide open and given her an opportunity to share her heart. This was her chance to speak honestly. If she kept silent, she’d later regret it. Sarah took a deep breath. “When you left for college, I wanted to go with you and experience life beyond this town, but I couldn’t leave Riverton. My grandfather died, then my grandmother became very ill, and it took time for her to recover. One thing or another kept me here.”
“I know.”
“But every letter you sent was like manna for me—they gave me hope. Then I heard about your engagement. I didn’t even know you were courting someone.” Sarah’s face heated—her flushed cheeks surely betraying her emotions.
“It happened fast.” Raw pain filled his eyes. “But that’s no excuse.”
“When you decided to put ministry aside and join Lily’s father in banking, I was afraid you’d changed. Regardless, once you and Lily wed, it became improper for me to write.”
“I understood, but I missed your letters. There were so many times when I wanted to pour out my own thoughts, knowing you’d read and understand them.”
“But they were to be shared with your wife, Peter.” Sarah gulped a breath, and she wrapped her arms around her body, willing herself to stay in control. She wouldn’t break down like a child.
“Always the voice of reason. You’re right. A man in my position should know better.” The sun continued to slip lower in the sky, but they still had more than an hour of strong daylight. “Forgive me?”
Sarah nodded. How could she refuse? She still loved him.
A whoosh of air expelled from his lungs. “Thank you.” Peter cleared his throat. “I’d like to be friends again. Is that possible?”
“I’d like that too. But first, I want you to promise something. No more secrets between us—at least not about anything important.” Sarah wanted to believe in him again. “I don’t need to know the color of your long johns.” A little humor wouldn’t hurt right now.
“I promise.” Peter chuckled. “And you?”
“I promise too.”
“Good. Because I really need you in my life—and in Mary’s.”
Something stirred in Sarah’s soul. Did that mean he hoped for something more than friendship between them? Could she finally trust him enough to give her heart fully again? No more secrets.
“Peter …” Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. Please, God, help me. She opened her eyes, but avoided his. “If there really aren’t going to be any secrets between us, I need to confess something.”
“I’m listening.”
“When you married Lily, it didn’t hurt only because it was a surprise.” Sarah almost choked on her words. “You shattered my heart.”
“I—I didn’t know.”
Had she only imagined that Peter understood her like no one else? “You had to know that I loved you.”
“Sarah, I’m so sorry. I was a selfish idiot back then. I could only see the world opening up for me.”
“But we spent hours sitting on this very spot, talking about our desire to serve God. I always assumed it would be together.”
He reached for her hand. “I made a mess of things.”
“You sure did.” And now, by her confession, maybe she had too.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I needed you in my life then, and I still do now. You’re one of the reasons I fought to return and stay as long I can. It took some doing for me to get a position in my home church, but under the extenuating circumstances, the bishop allowed it. I could be here for f
our or five years, maybe longer. But at some point, I’ll need to move on to serve another congregation.
“I also came back because of Mary. Lily’s parents want to control her manners, her playmates, what school she’ll attend...My daughter needs a family, but one with people who can help her stay grounded and appreciate simple things. She’ll get that by being around her aunt, uncle, and cousins. It would also be great for her to have other female influences. I can’t always expect my sister to drop everything just because Mary or I need her.”
Sarah should have known. The only reason he wanted her in his life now was so he’d have help with his daughter. Sarah’s hopes of anything more between them left with a crow flying above, and she suddenly felt ill.
His eyes pleaded. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but besides Ellie, you’re the only one I can go to—the only one I can rely on. My daughter is more important than anything else in my life.”
She’d be his friend and help whenever he needed her for as long as she remained in town, but that would be the end of it. “I know what it’s like growing up without a mother. I’ll help in any way I can, but there’s something else I need to tell you.”
chapteR TWELVE
All right.” Peter braced himself. What else needed repenting? Besides being blind to Sarah’s deep affection toward him when they were younger, had he done something else to hurt or offend her?
Maybe she had questions about his wife—Sarah was bound to be curious. But share the whole truth? Confess he was responsible for Lily’s death?
How could he ask Sarah to accept that part of his past? Here and now they’d begun rebuilding their damaged bridge—he couldn’t risk her walking away. Lord, I’ll keep my promise and share the whole story—but please don’t ask me to do it today.
Sarah wrapped her arms around bent legs and rested her head on her knees. A familiar, protective position—cautious steps until she felt safe. “I’ve made plans for my future.”
“Something to do with the Home Store? If you think helping with Mary is going to hinder you taking on more responsibilities there, I don’t want to stand in the way.”
