by Dawn Kinzer
Her head and body jerked up. “The store? No! Why would you think that?”
“It’s a good job, isn’t it?”
“That doesn’t mean I want to devote my life to it.” She sounded shocked he’d even suggest anything related to the business.
“Sorry, I just—tell me.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Peter studied the woman sitting next to him, giving her his full attention. She’d always been pretty—her long hair had a habit of freeing itself and falling around her face. Those blue eyes had always sparkled with joy, even while hiding pain. The lips—he needed to look away, or he’d kiss her—just like he did on his sixteenth birthday. Just a quick peck, but he’d surprised her, and she’d shoved him away.
Several minutes slipped by without her speaking. God must have created women to try men’s patience. Maybe if he prodded her a bit. “Go on, Sarah.”
She grabbed a part of her skirt and scrunched it in her hands, as though holding on to something would give her courage. “I’ve always wanted to get out of this town—move away—start a new life where no one knew anything about me or the past. A place where I could be whoever I wanted to be.”
“I remember.” This wasn’t sounding good.
“But even that dream has never been enough. When you’d talk about going into ministry and how you wanted to help people, that ignited something in me. At first, I thought I might be latching on to your excitement because I wanted to be with you. But when that was no longer a possibility, I realized I needed something more in my life.”
“Like what?” She needed to just say it instead of frustrating him with a long explanation.
Sarah moistened her lips. “Purpose.”
Peter moved his eyes away. Avoid staring at those wet, kissable...his mind kept going where it shouldn’t.
“You’ve found something that will give you purpose?” Focus on her words. He’d fail as a pastor if he couldn’t keep his thoughts and feelings in check.
“I’m going to Africa, specifically Kenya, as a missionary.” She fixed her eyes on him, as though trying to read his response. “I’ve only told a few people, so please keep it to yourself—for now.”
The news struck him like a blacksmith’s blow on an anvil. Peter didn’t know how to respond to her words or the unexpected ache in his heart. He’d come back to Riverton to make a home for himself and Mary, but to also see if there was still something between him and Sarah to build on. She’d just confessed she once loved him, and she didn’t deny those feelings currently existed. But now she was leaving?
“When? What led to this decision?” He tried not to sound defensive but failed, even to his own ears.
An evening breeze cooled the air, but Sarah’s face glowed as though she’d been in the hot sun all day. “My grandfather and I prayed about it a long time. I promised him that I would live a life of service to God, and just minutes before he closed his eyes and died, he gave me his copy of David Livingstone’s journals.
“I plan to keep my promise to him.” Excitement filled her voice. “I believe his last wish was for me to become a missionary. It was a path he regretted not following when he had the chance.” Sarah freed the fabric from her hands and smoothed her skirt. “It’s taken some time to get things in place, but a letter could arrive any day from the missions society telling me when I need to arrive for orientation.”
Peter, stunned, searched his mind for words. What could he possibly say? If he could be sure beyond a doubt that God had called her into missionary work...but he wasn’t convinced. It sounded like she was going because she wanted to escape Riverton, and also because she believed her grandfather wanted his own dreams fulfilled through her.
“Be excited for me, Peter. It’s my chance to break free from here—and to do something for God—something good.”
“But, you’re not doing it for the right reasons, Sarah. You can’t go into the mission field to run away from your problems or the past. They’ll always go with you. Trust me. I know.” He did know—his own painful memories lingered. Moving back didn’t mean he could bury and forget what happened with Lily. He carried it with him every day. “You’ll have to let God help you deal with those things wherever you go.”
“Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Sarah slid off the boulder. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes smoldered. “Just because you’ve decided this is where you want to live doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for everyone.”
“That’s not—” He rubbed his eyes. “You’re an intelligent woman, Sarah. Your grandfather giving you a book doesn’t mean he wanted you to go all the way to Africa. Deep down, you must know that. You’ve never lived anywhere else. You can’t possibly have any idea of what you’re getting into as far as living conditions and possible danger. Being a missionary is a huge responsibility and commitment. You can’t go and then decide it’s too difficult a week later.”
Sadness—disappointment—filled her eyes. “Peter, I’m not naïve. I understand the challenges, and I’m willing to make sacrifices. Like you, I want to do God’s work. I need my life to matter. Even if that means living in a remote village in the jungle.” She spun in the opposite direction, then turned back to face him. “I wish you could support my decision like I supported yours.”
“Sarah, wait!”
Ignoring him, she marched off and disappeared into the woods.
Peter slumped over. The thought of her leaving created an empty pit in his stomach, so he’d failed her again. Sarah was right—she deserved better. There’d never been a time—not one—when she hadn’t cheered him on and believed he could accomplish whatever he set his mind and heart on. But he’d just swooped down like a hawk on a harmless rabbit, picked her up, and dropped her without any thought of a soft landing.
***
Sarah trudged down the wooded hillside, mumbling under her breath. “How could he be so cruel?” In so many words he’d told her she wasn’t worthy of being a missionary. Peter didn’t think she was strong enough to deal with the challenges—that she’d even be tempted to turn tail and come running home as soon as she arrived in Africa. How dare he?
She slipped on a clump of vegetation, her feet flew up from beneath her, and she landed in a heap on solid ground. A sharp pain shot through her bottom on the right side where she fell on a protruding rock. The new blue skirt, now with a large tear along the bottom hem, lay jumbled around her legs.
Her lower lip quivered. If she’d been alone in the woods, Sarah would have curled up right there. But at any moment, Peter could be following the same trail down to his horse and buggy. He couldn’t find her sitting there, falling apart. It would only prove he was right about her lacking enough strength for the adventure she was about to undertake.
Sarah detangled her skirt, pushed herself up from the ground, and brushed the dirt and foliage from her clothes. With no handkerchief available, she sniffed and used the back of her hand to wipe her runny nose. Abigail Hansen would faint at seeing her granddaughter in such a state.
The evening hadn’t turned out the way Sarah hoped. But then, what did she actually expect? That Peter would exude pride about her future plans in another country? That he would profess his love and promise to wait for her? Pure fantasy.
He only wanted to fix things between them so she’d take care of Mary when he had no one else to help.
“Oh, no…” Sarah still had a commitment to the Young People’s Society, which meant leading the group with Peter. The youth would see right through any charade, and that would never do.
Lord, help me.
chapteR THIRTEEN
Sarah, what on earth?”
There was no conceivable way to sneak into the house undetected after meeting Peter on the bluff. Her grandmother had remarkable hearing when she wanted to listen, and that cane moved her along with a cougar’s speed whenever she pounced on Sarah.
“Answer me.” The tip of the cane hit the floor with a loud thud. “What happened to you? You�
�re all disheveled.”
“I’m fine, Gram.” Sarah moved toward the kitchen. Her grandmother followed. “I just had a little spill.”
“How could you possibly fall between here and the church?” Gram lifted the bottom of Sarah’s skirt. “Oh, my. You’ve gone and ruined it. Just look at this tear.”
“It’s nothing.” Sarah dampened a cloth with fresh water and freshened her face. Hopefully Gram wouldn’t notice any tear smudges. That would only lead to more questions about Sarah’s evening. “A needle and thread will take care of it. Only the hem was damaged—no one will even notice the repair.”
“I hope you didn’t go to your meeting with Reverend Caswell looking like that.”
Funny how “that boy, Peter” has become “Reverend Caswell.”
“No, Gram, I slipped on my way home. No one saw me.”
“You’re a grown woman, Sarah. It’s time to start acting like a lady.”
“Like Rebecca Hoyt?” Sarah strangled a scream before it broke free.
Gram scowled. “Don’t talk back to me. And since you brought it up, Rebecca is a lovely woman with many fine qualities.”
Sarah clenched her teeth to keep from spewing hurtful words. Maybe she should never have kept Rebecca’s cruelty a secret from her grandmother, but as a child, Sarah been fearful she’d somehow be blamed. To bring it up now would only sound childish and petty.
“I’m going to make chamomile tea.” A headache was budding at the base of her neck, and Sarah needed to relax before it opened into a full bloom. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you.” Her grandmother ambled across the kitchen floor. “I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”
The doorbell rang.
“Who in the world is here at this hour?” Gram shuffled toward the front entrance.
“I’ll get it, Gram.” Sarah arrived first, brushed dust from her skirt, and opened the door.
Peter, the man who could melt her heart one minute and vex her faster than anyone else the next, stood there with drooped shoulders.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping we could finish our conversation.” Peter’s eyes diverted from hers. He pulled a twig with several small leaves from her hair and held it up between them. His eyebrows hiked, and the corners of his lips twitched.
“Don’t ask.” Sarah’s face burned from him finding amusement in the foliage.
Gram moved in so close, if she took another step she’d surely push Sarah right into the man.
“Reverend Caswell, what brings you here this time of night?”
“Good evening, Mrs. Hansen. I’d just like a few minutes with Sarah, if that would be all right.” Peter gave Gram an imploring half-smile.
“You have that much planning for the Young People’s Society that you couldn’t get it done earlier this evening? My goodness. You’d think there would be more important things to think about—like next Sunday’s sermon. Your preaching received praise yesterday, but that doesn’t mean you can be lazy from here on. You have a big responsibility to your congregation, young man.”
Peter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Oh, enough! “Gram, please. I’m sure Peter just has something on his mind that he doesn’t want to forget. It won’t take long.” Sarah didn’t have any idea of what more they could possibly talk about. He may not feel she qualified to serve in the mission field, but he’d better not have come thinking he could change her mind.
Her grandmother glanced at Sarah, then Peter. She shook her head and made a dismissive gesture. “I’m too tired to stay up and chaperone, so I’ll leave you two alone.” She hobbled toward the back of the house and her first-floor bedroom.
Sarah felt Peter’s eyes on her. “Would you like to sit in the parlor?”
“Would you mind coming outside?” Peter held the door open for her.
“I...” She glanced toward the other room and back. “All right.”
The porch swing would be more relaxing than standing, and with the sun setting below the horizon, the sky had darkened. She’d feel more comfortable hidden in the shadows. Less worried that her expressions would reveal too much—Peter could always read her eyes. But sitting on the porch would also put her at a disadvantage because she wouldn’t be able to read him as well either.
Peter slid onto the swing, his weight making the seat bounce just a bit. His body heat—even from a foot away—radiated through the night air, warming her left side. Her pounding heart betrayed the calm demeanor she tried to portray. Even when she hurt the most, she couldn’t bury her intense feelings for this man.
Their feet moved in rhythm as they rocked the swing in a slow tempo. Only the chains’ slight squeaking broke the silence.
He wanted to talk, so she’d let him speak his piece.
***
She wasn’t going to make this easy. But Peter didn’t blame her.
Lord, help me. I need the right words.
“Sarah, I’m sorry.” This was difficult—he’d been apologizing for too many things lately. “You’ll be wonderful in the mission field. You’re kind and giving. People around here rely on you to be there when they need help. I’d assumed you’d be here to help me, but that’s because I’m selfish. I can’t tell you what to do, even though I know at times I’ve tried.”
“You can be kind of bossy.” There—the teasing in her voice he’d missed.
“And you can be plenty stubborn.” Peter tugged on loose strands that had escaped from her hair, like he used to when they were kids. An intimate gesture, but he didn’t care. He wanted his friend back—he wanted to be close again.
“Only with good reason.” A cheerful lilt to her voice had returned. The mass of hair on top of her head had slipped sideways. She pulled the remaining pins out and her dark mane tumbled around her shoulders.
Peter wanted to wrap his hands in the curls, but stopped himself from reaching for them. He’d come to make peace, not woo her like some ruffian. It didn’t matter that Sarah had grown even more beautiful over the years. He needed to remain honorable and not only respect her, but remember his new role in her life and the community.
“I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful.” Sarah tucked several locks behind her ear. “I shouldn’t have been so sensitive.”
“You had every right to be angry.” Peter put his foot down, stopped the swing from moving, and turned his body toward her. Even though night had fallen, he could still see her face in the moonlight. “I do believe in you, Sarah, and I’ll do anything to help you prepare for your adventure. And I mean that.”
***
Sarah had wanted his support of her involvement in missions, and now he was offering it. But reality hit that, although he’d admitted she was a big part of why he’d returned to Riverton, he wasn’t fighting to keep her there. He was even willing to help her leave.
Emotions collided like two trains going in opposite directions on the same track. How could she feel so conflicted? Confused about what she wanted, Sarah couldn’t be angry with Peter for attempting to honor her request for encouragement.
“Thank you.” She reached over to give him a quick hug. An impulsive move, but once she’d flung her arms around him, she couldn’t turn back.
His arms wrapped around her, and she instinctively laid her head on his chest. She wanted to inhale as much of him as she could. He smelled woodsy—a mix of earth and pine. The slight weight of his head on hers comforted her.
They couldn’t stay this way long. Although the large lilac bush near the house partially hid the porch’s front corner where the swing hung, someone out for an evening stroll might spot them. Tongues would wag if anyone saw the pastor embracing a woman who wasn’t his fiancée or wife. Peter loosened his hold, but he didn’t completely free her.
Beneath her palm, Peter’s heart kept pace with hers, like two thoroughbreds side by side. Afraid any movement would break whatever was happening between them, she didn’t even want to breathe. With her eyes still closed, his
gentle kiss brushed her forehead, and then he released her. Peter stood and leaned against the pillar next to the porch steps, and she shivered from the absence of his warm body.
“Sarah...”
Her heart constricted as though a boa had wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed until it could compress no further. Get a hold of yourself, Sarah. One brief exchange of affection didn’t mean anything. “We still need to have that planning meeting, you know.”
“What meeting?”
“First thing on the agenda is organizing a social event for the Young People’s Society. And some members have requested that we continue holding a weekly Bible study through the summer—but something a little less formal than meeting at the church.”
“Of course.” He sounded taken off guard by her switching from them embracing to talking about youth work as though nothing had just happened between them. “Are you able to come by the church on Wednesday after work?”
“I’ll be there.” That would give her two days to get her head together and find a way to guard her heart. Hopefully, that letter from the mission society would arrive soon.
***
Peter strolled home from Sarah’s at his leisure, grateful that Mary was spending the night at Ellie’s. He needed time to think—and pray.
Sarah’s sudden affection had surprised him. It must have been gratitude for his offer to help her prepare for the mission field. She couldn’t possibly still have romantic feelings for him. Not when she seemed so eager to leave Riverton.
It had been a long time since he’d held a woman—someone he deeply cared for. Peter wanted to feel Sarah’s warm lips on his, but loneliness and self-centered desires couldn’t be allowed to rule him. She’d told him she wanted—needed—to leave town and begin a new life. It would be unfair to start something they couldn’t finish. It would only confuse her, and if God had called her into the mission field, Peter had no right to persuade her otherwise or stand in God’s way.
