Sarah's Smile (The Daughters of Riverton Book 1)

by Dawn Kinzer

  Peter sniffed and dried his face with a shirtsleeve, then headed back to the house. The empty wagon sat near the barn. Ole and Martha had returned, and now the family needed whatever strength Peter could provide.

  Frank’s children trickled outside through the front door, their faces tear-stained, and their eyes filled with sorrow. Rose carried Lucy, and James clung to her side. Daniel looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. Rose stared into Peter’s eyes, and seeing her despair, he leaped the porch steps and wrapped his arms around her, the baby, and James. They couldn’t leave Daniel out. Peter extended one arm to invite the other boy into the fold, and the youngster rushed to join his siblings in the embrace.

  The screen door creaked. Ole and Martha stepped outside. At Ole’s slight nod, a new wave of grief overcame Peter.

  “I’m so sorry...” he whispered.

  “He’s gone, Reverend. Our pa is gone, isn’t he?” Rose sniffed and her chin quivered.

  “Yes.” He smoothed her hair like he often did to comfort Mary. “Come.”

  Peter sat on the top porch step and the children followed, huddling around him. Peter lifted Lucy from Rose’s arms and placed the one-year-old on his lap. She curled up and drifted off to sleep, oblivious that she’d never play in her father’s arms again. Rose laid her head on Peter’s shoulder and cried silently. Daniel crossed his arms over his lap and buried his head. Five-year-old James looked from one person to the next, his eyes filled with fear.

  Lord, how can I comfort them when they’ve lost so much? What can I possibly say?

  Peter had failed Frank. He wouldn’t fail Frank’s children.

  chapteR THIRTY-ONE

  A door latched shut. Footsteps came closer. Wake up. Sarah forced her eyes open, but the bright morning sun streaming through the window blinded her, and she squeezed them shut again.

  “Sarah?”

  Peter hunched on the floor next to her, blocking the sun’s rays from penetrating. Now alert and flinging the blanket to the side, Sarah sprang from the parlor sofa.

  “I’m sorry. I meant to stay awake until you got home.” She must look a mess with her hair down and her clothes disheveled from sleeping in them. Unshaven and wearing rumpled clothes, he didn’t look so fresh himself. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost six thirty.” His eyes were steeped in pain. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

  “Frank didn’t make it, did he?”

  Peter’s face contorted before he took her in his arms and hugged her close, as though he’d never let go. Sarah clung to him. She’d never seen him shed tears before—ever. Not when he broke his arm skating on the river—not when his dog got sick and died. And Sarah knew he wouldn’t cry now. No matter how badly he hurt, he’d always insisted that men didn’t cry. Tears were for women and children.

  Peter’s arms loosened and slowly released their hold. He dropped onto the sofa, his face reddened. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his jaw, then drew a deep breath. “The finality of it just hit me again. Poor Clara. The children are devastated.”

  “And so are you.” If she could snap her fingers and make it all better...But grief wasn’t something that could be fixed. A person had to walk through it. Experience had taught her that much.

  “I feel like a failure.” He laid his head back on the sofa. “I wanted so much for him to make peace with God. Not only to receive forgiveness, but to also forgive himself. But he was too entrenched in his belief that he didn’t deserve it.” Peter sat up and held Sarah’s hands against his rough cheek. “We humans are so foolish. We hold on to our past mistakes when God so willingly and generously provides a way to be free.”

  Sarah caressed Peter’s prickly jaw.

  “I think one of the reasons Frank and I became friends was because I understood feeling unworthy of God’s grace.” Peter inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve needed—wanted—to tell you about a horrible mistake I made, Sarah.”

  “What is it?” Her heart couldn’t hammer any faster. She yearned to know, but his dread-filled eyes frightened her. “You can tell me.” A lump lodged in her throat, and it would cause her to choke and stop breathing altogether if he didn’t explain right now. “You made a mistake in telling me that you love me?”

  Horror crossed his face. “No.”

  “Peter, you promised.” She grasped his hands in hers. “No secrets. Not ever again.”

  Opening her hands, he kissed each palm. Tingles shot up her arm and into her body. “My feelings haven’t changed, but I’m afraid yours will.”

  “Then you don’t know me as well as you claim.” Sarah breathed with ease again. Peter still cared for her.

  “You do surprise me from time to time.” His lips met hers, but the brevity left her feeling like she’d been kissed by his warm breath alone—and hungry for more.

  “Please tell me what’s been bothering you.” Sarah searched his eyes, so full of pain.

  “I—” He squeezed her hands and closed his eyes.

  “Peter, you’re scaring me.” Sarah’s heart thumped against her chest, and her mouth had gone dry.

  He opened his eyes, and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You need to know the truth—”

  “Sarah!” Mary, dressed in a nightgown and with her hair tousled, ran toward them on tippy-toes. She threw her arms around Sarah and hugged her. “Did you come for breakfast? Can we have pancakes?”

  “Honey, what are you doing up so early?” Peter picked up his daughter and plopped her on his lap.

  “The birds outside woke me up.” Mary rubbed her eyes.

  “We’ll talk—I promise.” Peter brushed the curls from his daughter’s face. “But now isn’t the best time.”

  Sarah nodded and stood. “I should go home and get ready for work. Fridays are always busy.” What could be so terrible that he worried her feelings would change? Whatever bothered him would remain a mystery for now. She’d have to be patient.

  He carried his daughter to the staircase leading up to the second floor. “Mary, please get dressed while I make breakfast.”

  “Pancakes?” she squealed.

  Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Pancakes it is.” He grabbed her shoulders and faced her toward the stairs leading up. “Now, get dressed, young lady.”

  She turned and gave a pouty face.

  “What’s wrong?” Peter sounded exhausted.

  Mary’s face scrunched and her feet did a little dance. “I need to...”

  “Then you’d better hurry.”

  Mary raced toward the kitchen and slammed the back door on her way to the outhouse.

  “Everyone will be up by now at the farm, so I’m sure Ellie wouldn’t mind if you took Mary out there earlier than usual. You need to get some sleep after such a rough night.” If she could stay longer she’d take care of the child herself, but Mr. Carter depended on her to be at the store.

  “You’re right.” A large yawn escaped. “After I get some rest, I’ll go check on Frank’s family.”

  “I’ll stop by after work. Clara may need help with the baby or a listening ear. Rose shouldn’t feel responsible for bearing her mother’s load. The poor girl needs freedom to grieve herself and in her own way.” Sarah retrieved her bag from a small table, opened the front door, and stood in the frame. “Gram may be difficult at times—well, most of the time—but when it comes to things like this, she’s a great help. We’ll talk to members of the Ladies Aid Society. I’m sure they’ll be willing to provide some meals for the family.” She laid her hand on Peter’s arm and locked eyes with his. “We’ll pitch in and do whatever we can for Clara. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I love you, Sarah McCall,” he whispered in her ear, his heated words warming her against the morning’s chill.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her head to meet his kiss. His lips brushed against hers as light as the morning breeze lifting strands of her loose hair.

  They’d onl
y displayed even the smallest forms of affection in private. Now they stood outside the parsonage door—in the open. They should stop before...

  Peter entwined his fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss. It lasted only a moment, but long enough to make her lightheaded.

  It must have caught him off guard too. He stepped back, his eyes large. “You should go.”

  Sarah touched his arm. “Get some rest.”

  The suspense would gnaw away at Sarah’s insides until she learned the blunder Peter alluded to. Whatever the problem, he obviously feared it had the potential to damage their relationship or he wouldn’t have struggled with telling her. Sarah couldn’t imagine hearing anything so terrible it would cause her to stop loving him.

  But how long would she have to wait?

  ***

  Rebecca, peering around the large lilac bush planted in front of the house next door to the parsonage, watched the shocking scene. Peter kissing Sarah—out in the open. Rebecca wasn’t spying. She’d decided to walk in that direction on her way to school early that morning, but she didn’t expect to come across a public display. She certainly wasn’t going to stroll past the entangled couple and pretend they weren’t there.

  Her hands clenched. Sarah had always been a thorn in Rebecca’s side with looks that turned heads and a sad history that garnered the town’s pity.

  Sarah had complained when they were younger that Rebecca picked on her, and she was right. Rebecca had been horrible to the girl because she felt rejected by both Sarah and Peter.

  True, her mother’s attitude toward Sarah influenced Rebecca to treat Sarah unkindly. Still, for a while, the two girls had been close. Then Sarah befriended Peter. Rebecca hadn’t told anyone, not even Sarah, that she loved Peter. If she had, she doubted anything would have changed, because Peter and Sarah quickly became inseparable. With age, Rebecca had grown more and more envious of their relationship. While Rebecca spent her days practicing the piano and learning needlepoint, Sarah remained free to roam the woods with Peter, as though she were entitled to do whatever she pleased.

  Now the pendulum had swung the other way. Sarah must have been jealous of the time Rebecca shared with Peter and Mary and turned him against her. Even as a boy, he complied with whatever Sarah wanted.

  The couple broke free of their embrace. Why hadn’t Rebecca noticed before? Sarah’s hair hung free down her back, not pinned up like she normally wore it for work. Rebecca’s breathing quickened. Sarah must have stayed the night with Peter. There could be no other explanation.

  Sarah had thrown herself at Peter in ways that only an indecent woman would stoop to using. She’d taken advantage of a lonely, widowed man accustomed to sharing his bed with a woman. Rebecca embraced purity—she remained untouched—but she wasn’t naïve. A man had needs, or so she’d been told.

  Peter didn’t stand blameless either. Rebecca had shown him in every possible and decent way that she cared for him. She did his laundry, cleaned his house, and cooked his meals—like a respectable wife. But he rejected her loyalty and affection. She warned him that he’d regret turning her away, and now he’d fallen victim to a woman who cared so little for him that she led him astray. Rebecca could only imagine the guilt Peter must carry for his indiscretion.

  Something had to be done. If Rebecca confronted Peter, he’d protect Sarah and deny her accusations. But how to bring the truth out into the open? If she handled it right, Rebecca could drive Sarah away and still save Peter’s reputation. With Sarah out of the way, Peter would see that Rebecca could make him happy.

  And she knew the right person to help.

  chapteR THIRTY-TWO

  Good evening, Mr. Reed.” Rebecca offered her sweetest smile.

  William Reed sat dining alone at the Sherlock Hotel, just as predicted. It would have been better if he’d been seated in a corner table, away from other guests tempted to eavesdrop on their conversation, but he’d chosen a location next to a window. How fortunate that several parties were gathering their hats and wraps to leave. After stewing all day about what she’d witnessed, the time had come to put her plan into action.

  “Good evening, Miss Hoyt.” His lips twitched upward into something that looked more like a grimace than a warm greeting. Focused back on his plate, he cut into his remaining steak.

  If he thought rudeness would deter her from further conversation, he didn’t know how stubborn she could be when wanting something. Rebecca glanced around the room. The few people remaining seemed unaware of anything beyond their own conversations.

  “I’d like to join you, if you don’t mind.” Rebecca slipped into the empty chair opposite him. “There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

  He swallowed the last bite of meat, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and leaned back in his chair. Eyes the color of light molasses stared into hers. “If you’re unhappy about anything related to the store, we can go over it tomorrow during business hours.”

  “Here’s your blackberry pie and coffee, Mr. Reed.” The waitress who’d dumped gravy down Rebecca’s pink dress the evening she’d hoped to dine with Peter stared at her with wary eyes. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “I’d like a cup of coffee—with cream and sugar—and a piece of spice cake. And please try not to spill anything on me this time.” Rebecca forced a large smile, then turned her attention back to William, dismissing the incompetent girl.

  “Of course. Right away,” the waitress responded, her voice crisp. She removed William’s dinner plate.

  “What is so important it can’t wait until tomorrow?” William dove into the pie and held his suspended fork, heavy with dark berries.

  “If you give me a chance to explain, I’m sure you’ll agree it should be handled right away.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. I can’t bear it,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Your manner this evening leads me to believe that you dislike me for some reason, but you may have a change of heart after you hear me out.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I don’t like you. It’s more that I’m not sure I can trust you.” William shoved the fork into his mouth.

  The waitress plunked Rebecca’s order in front of her. “One cup of coffee with cream and sugar—and one spice cake.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca poured as much syrup into her voice as it could hold. “That’s all.” She cocked an eyebrow at the waitress towering over her, and the young girl hurried off. Rebecca stirred her coffee with slow and methodical movements. “Sarah has obviously poisoned you with her lies.”

  “No. I’m making a judgment based on my own observations.” William downed some coffee. “Regardless, she doesn’t lie.”

  “You care a great deal for her, don’t you?”

  William eyed Rebecca. “That’s no secret to her, or anyone else in this town, I would imagine.”

  “So, what’s standing in your way?” She stared into his eyes, almost demanding he confess.

  “I think you know.” He threw his fork to the side. “She seems to care for the reverend.”

  “They’ve been close since we were children. It’s a bond difficult to break.”

  “And that infuriates you, because you’d love to have him all to yourself.”

  Her face heated. She’d work to keep her voice cool. “It seems we both have obstacles keeping us from what we want.” Rebecca slid her fork into her mouth, and savoring the sour cream frosting, she licked her lips. “What if I told you Sarah wasn’t as sweet and pure as you think?”

  “I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “What if I had proof? More important, what if I possessed knowledge that could help us both get what we want? Sarah would be free to be with you. No longer chained to that woman, Peter’s eyes could be opened to a life with me.”

  “Just what are you getting at, Miss Hoyt?”

  “I...” Her heart thumped faster. Once spoken, the words couldn’t be taken back. Rebecca stared out the window, not re
ally seeing anything, and bit her lower lip. She had to do this. It was the only way to save Peter from Sarah’s wiles. He deserved so much better. Surely, by exposing the temptress, she would be doing her Christian duty. Rebecca had to believe that, or she’d never follow through with her plan. She wasn’t devious by nature—it had just become necessary to follow desperate measures.

  William pushed away his plate and leaned over the table. “Don’t lead me down a path that goes nowhere.”

  “All right.” She drew in closer. They’d kept their voices low during the conversation, but now she barely whispered. “Sarah has...” The thought of it churned Rebecca’s stomach. “She and Peter have been conducting themselves in a sinful manner.”

  William scowled. “You’re not making sense.”

  “I left for school early this morning to finish preparing for the day. On my way, I saw Sarah leaving the parsonage.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.” He gulped some coffee. “She could have stopped there for any number of reasons.”

  “At six thirty in the morning? With her hair down, like she’d just crawled out of bed? And he looking like he hadn’t slept a wink?”

  “You’re still making assumptions without any facts.”

  “And you’re not listening to me.” The memory, seared into her heart, burned like an eternal flame. “I watched them kiss. Not a quick, innocent exchange between friends, but the kind shared between two lovers. Passionate.”

  William’s face paled. He rubbed his eyes, as though trying to wipe out the picture created in his mind. “Why are you telling me this? If Sarah and Peter are lovers as you say, how can that knowledge possibly help me?”

  “It’s our Christian duty to make sure the indecency doesn’t continue. Not only for the sake of the church and community, but also for Sarah and Peter.”