by Dawn Kinzer
Sarah pulled a black wool cape from a closet and draped it across her shoulders to keep her warm.
They swung back and forth, the familiar creak of the chain irritating her nerves. Peter seemed distant, like he’d traveled elsewhere with his thoughts. A breeze swept through the open porch, bringing with it the first fallen leaves, swirling them in a graceful ballet before depositing them to rest.
Chills shot through Sarah’s upper body and she shivered, but not from the cold. Peter sat quietly. Why didn’t he say something? He was supposed to be the hero and comfort her like he’d always done. Tell her everything would be all right. Kiss her and convince her they’d work together to fix this mess.
“You’ve heard.” His raspy voice finally broke the silence between them.
Sarah drew in a shaky breath. “Just today. Ellie came into the store, worried about the emergency council meeting.”
“So she said. She’s keeping Mary at the farm tonight so you and I can have some time.”
“I thought you’d drop by earlier.” She’d barely eaten a bite of her supper, expecting to hear the doorbell ring at any time.
“I went up to the bluff. Needed some time to think—and pray.”
“Without me?”
He didn’t answer.
A hurtful pang plummeted from her heart into her quivering stomach. He’d gone alone, when they should have been praying about this ugly situation together. Why didn’t he take her in his strong, protective arms and allow her head to rest on his shoulder?
“I’ve been experiencing strange reactions from people for a little while. Today, I pretty much forced poor Annie to confess what she knew.” She yearned to reach out for his grasp, have her fingers intertwined with his, but sensing he would pull away, tugged the cape tighter around her shoulder. “What did the council members say?”
Peter took a deep breath. “Individuals didn’t necessarily confess to believing or disbelieving the possibility that you and I are involved in an affair, but they made one thing clear.”
Sarah’s pulse raced. “And what was that?”
“Repairing the damage that has been done will take some time and work. They fear that, unless the rumors are snuffed out for good, the church will lose a significant amount of people. Some have already stopped attending.” He scrubbed the sides of his face with his hands. “I won’t take any salary if that’s what it takes to keep the doors open.”
He shook his head as if in disbelief. “I just can’t stand the thought of people stepping away or losing their faith because they believe they can’t trust me to lead them.”
“But we’ve done nothing wrong. And even if we had, would there be no forgiveness or grace offered? As a pastor, are you expected to never fail?”
“Sarah, it’s not what we’ve done or not done. It’s people’s perceptions.”
Hot anger boiled beneath Sarah’s surface. “This isn’t right! How can people believe such nonsense?”
“We don’t know how the rumors started, if there’s anything they’re based on, or if they’re completely fabricated stories. The council has promised to get to the bottom of this. But without some kind of proof or source, we don’t have anything to fight with.” He rubbed his eyes and released a heavy sigh that grew into a moan. “Regardless, I need to be careful about the example I set. So, the church council members were unanimous in their decision. If we adhere, they believe parishioners will start to feel more comfortable.”
There was a way to put this horrible misunderstanding behind them. She grabbed on to that crumb of hope as though it were an entire meal and she’d gone days without food. “You see?”
“Sarah...you haven’t heard their decision.” He stopped the swing—and the chains’ creaking. Now only the whistling wind kept the moment from complete silence. “We can’t be seen together. There can’t be anything between us that people could perceive as a close relationship. That means no more picnics, no family outings, no visits to either of our homes. And because of my role with the Young People’s Society, you need to remove yourself from leadership.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I’m very serious.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t risk losing my integrity. I’d lose everything. You, more than anyone, know that all I’ve wanted my whole life is to be a man who places God above everything and anything.”
“Peter...” A sob caught in her throat—she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t expect or want to be placed above God in his life. But wasn’t their relationship important too? “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “You know I do.”
She grabbed his hand. “If we were engaged...” Heat crawled up Sarah’s neck. This wasn’t the wedding proposal that filled her dreams.
“Not this way, Sarah. When I ask you to marry me, I don’t want the moment or decision to be attached to anything negative.”
“It would only feel that way if we let it.” She’d begged him to be honest with the church council—the entire town—about their commitment to each other and he refused?
Peter reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to her. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” His voice carried weighted sorrow, but still remained calm and controlled. “You’ll hear about your orientation soon, and then you may be living in Africa for two years. It doesn’t make sense to risk ruining the good created here in order for us to spend a few more weeks together. We can write, and when you return life can get back to normal.”
“Once again you assume that you can have everything your way, and then when you’re ready, I’ll just come running.” Surely her heart pounded loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve always loved you, and I would have done anything for you. When you married Lily, my hurt went so deep, I thought I’d...” She pressed clammy, trembling hands against her temples. “Now you want me to pretend we don’t have true and honorable feelings for each other. That’s not right.”
Her body wanted to curl up on the porch swing beneath her cape until snow buried her—until freezing temperatures stopped her breathing and the ache lodged inside.
“I was so stupid. I really believed we’d stand together like two musketeers. I thought you loved me enough to fight for me. But you don’t...” Sarah’s head throbbed. “Fortunately for you, I love you enough to give what you want.”
“Sarah, let me explain.” Peter’s hurt-filled tone didn’t penetrate her heart or change her resolve. “You don’t understand. This isn’t only about me.”
“Oh, I think I have a clear understanding. I just never thought of you as a coward.” Sarah pushed herself up from the swing, unsure her weak legs would carry her to the door. She’d never forgive him for abandoning her again. “Good-bye, Peter.”
chapter THIRTY-FIVE
The dark, burnt-tasting liquid flowed down the drain. Peter didn’t miss Rebecca fluttering around, but he did pine for her coffee. The fried eggs he’d made for breakfast were edible, and Mary had eaten a few bites, but he didn’t have the stomach for food. He tipped his plate, and the eggs slid into a can used for garbage.
After a sleepless night, he’d crawled out of bed and tried to make himself presentable by shaving and putting on clothes that weren’t wrinkled by carelessness. More important things occupied his mind than caring for his shirts.
Like guilt.
Knowing he’d hurt the person he loved deeply weighed heavy on him. He thought and hoped Sarah would understand why he’d complied with the church council’s request to avoid spending time with her until the rumors were proven false. Through her parents’ actions, Sarah had experienced how destructive a damaged reputation could be. It didn’t just touch one person—it carried a rippling effect.
Why couldn’t she see that his actions had nothing to do with not loving her? Or not wanting to be with her? He was only trying to protect Sarah’s character and his ministry.
They had such limited time before she left for the
mission field. What if she couldn’t forgive him? He had to hear it for himself that she was all right—that they were going to be all right. Even if it meant going against the church leadership’s approval.
Peter slumped onto a kitchen chair. His neck and shoulders ached as though he’d spent a full day digging and hauling rocks out of a field.
Stop fooling yourself. Sarah’s reputation wasn’t the only reason he didn’t fight the council’s decision. One woman had stood in the way of him following his calling and serving God, and he had vowed to never let it happen again.
He’d worked hard to put the past behind him, but the time might come when he’d be forced to share his dark secret in order for Sarah to grasp how much pain he already carried because of selfish choices.
***
“It’s almost eight o’clock. What are you still doing in bed?” Gram threw the bedroom curtains open, revealing a sky burdened with heavy, gray clouds.
“It’s my day off. Annie asked me to work for her last Saturday, so she’s covering for me today.” Sarah rolled over and pulled the covers above her head. Gram sat down, and the added weight lowered the bed behind Sarah’s back.
“You may not have any responsibilities at the store today, but I certainly could use your help. It’s almost mid-September. We need to start our fall cleaning. The windows are filthy, and the baseboards should be dusted.”
“Gram, please—” Sarah bolted up and leaned against the oak headboard.
“Are you ill?” Gram scowled. “I see dark circles under your eyes. You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”
“I’m not sick, but yes, you’re right. I was awake most of the night.” Sarah crossed her arms over bent knees and laid her head down. Both mind and body were exhausted, but her weariness didn’t come only from lack of sleep.
“What’s bothering you, child?”
The unexpected and rare concern in her grandmother’s voice put a chink in the wall Sarah had carefully and painfully built throughout the night. An involuntary sob escaped, and the dam burst. She wanted to be strong and courageous and fight the wrong that had been done. But how could she battle untruths alone? Peter had given up without even trying. Her shoulders quaking, Sarah clenched her fists, trying to gain control.
“There, there...it can’t be all that bad.”
Sarah lifted her wet face. Maybe just this once, she could lean on her grandmother. “Oh, Gram, but it is.”
Her grandmother went to Sarah’s bureau, pulled a handkerchief from the top drawer, and handed it to her granddaughter. “Wipe your tears and tell me all about it.”
Sarah dried her face and blew her nose, then hiccupped several times. “Have you heard anything about Peter and me—anything bad—that would jeopardize his standing in the church or town?”
Gram eyed her, scrunching her face. “No. Nothing I recall.”
Sarah tucked strands of loose hair behind her ear. “Rumors are spreading that Peter and I have been sharing...immoral conduct.” Just saying the words made her stomach sour.
“Oh, child. The way you picked at your dinner last night, I thought you just were coming down with a cold.” She wrung her hands. “So that’s why Kathryn Hoyt and her friends were even less social than usual at the Ladies Aid Society meeting the other day. Acting haughty, looking down their noses at me like they were better. Oh, Sarah, how could you?” Her voice was thick with disappointment.
“Gram, you have to believe me. What’s been said—it isn’t true!”
“It still matters if people believe it.” Gram gave a sharp tap on the oak floor with her cane. “What else is there? Tell me, child, and get it over with.”
“There’s nothing more.” Was Gram angry with her or the gossips? “Either people have believed the lies, or they’re unsure of what they think and are willing to be led along like sheep. People have stopped coming to worship, and the church council is so concerned they’ve asked Peter to make some changes.”
Gram lifted her chin. “Leave Peace Lutheran?”
“No. Not yet. There’s no proof of any indiscretion, but they also haven’t been able to discover the source—whoever started spreading the lies. So it’s been difficult to dispute them. You know how people are. They believe what they want to believe, and once untruths are shared, it’s difficult to erase them entirely from people’s minds.” She wiped her nose with the handkerchief.
Maybe she’d been too hard on Peter. But he claimed to love her. Didn’t she have a right to expect more from him? He’d never put her first. His goals, dreams, and reputation were once again more important than her feelings or needs.
“Peter agrees with the council members that he and I should have no contact with each other aside from church attendance. We can’t be alone together or visit each other’s homes, and I can no longer hold a leadership position with the Young People’s Society.” Restrained tears stung her eyes.
“Oh my.” With pursed lips, Gram leaned on her cane and lowered her body onto the bed’s edge. “It seems this family can’t stay out of trouble. I thought when your mother left that was the end of my misery, but this may be the death of me yet.”
“I’m sorry, Gram.” A throbbing pain settled between Sarah’s temples. How stupid. For a moment, she’d thought confiding in her grandmother might provide her some comfort, but once again the older woman seemed more concerned about how the problem affected her. Sarah should have known better.
She pulled the bedsheet up to her chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll be leaving soon.” Her throat raw, her voice sounded scratchy.
Gram sighed. “Yes, I suppose you are.” She sat quietly for a moment, then reached over and squeezed Sarah’s fingers with her own bony, wrinkled hand. Gram’s eyes softened as they filled with pain. “You’ll be fine, Sarah. Trust me and the good Lord. Everything will work out for the best. You just have to believe.”
Sarah blinked her eyes. Compassion? From Gram?
“Now, child,” her grandmother said in a stern voice that sounded forced, “staying in bed crying all day isn’t going to solve anything. Wash your face and get dressed. Scrubbing this house down may just be what you need to get your mind off your troubles.”
***
The wind and rain thrashed outside as Peter worked at tidying the parsonage. Until he’d released Rebecca from her job as Mary’s nanny, he didn’t realize all she’d done to keep the home in order. Ellie enjoyed having Mary at the farm, but he couldn’t ask his sister to manage his house too. He needed to hire someone to come in and clean the place at least once a week—and soon.
His stomach growled. Almost noon. He and Mary had finished the leftovers Ellie sent home the other night, but he’d find something in the pantry for lunch. There would be time to pick up a few groceries after a necessary trip to the post office that afternoon.
Several raps came from outside, and Peter opened the door. A blustery wind blew into the entryway, ruffling the curtains on the window next to him.
“Are you going to let me in?” Rebecca offered her familiar charming smile. “Or make me stand outside in the storm?”
Peter didn’t have the energy to deal with Rebecca or her agenda—whatever it was this time. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t—”
“Daddy, who’s here?” Mary, kneeling on the second-floor hallway, peeked through the staircase railing.
“It’s Miss Rebecca, honey.” Peter gazed up at his daughter. Rebecca swooshed in as soon as his back was turned. He gritted his teeth, but kept a calm tone. “She just dropped by for a moment. Go back to your books. I’ll be up soon.”
Mary stood and skipped down the hall and out of sight.
“I was actually hoping to stay longer than a moment.” Rebecca’s eyes brightened as she held up the basket in her arms. “Hungry?” She brushed past him and marched toward the dining area. “I know these past days have been difficult for you with those nasty rumors spreading like spilled milk on a clean floor. I thought making your favorite fried chicken would be something n
ice that I could do for you and Mary.” She laid the basket on the table.
He inhaled. “It does smell good.” His stomach rumbled. Hopefully, Rebecca didn’t hear.
A sly grin slid across her face. “Not a bite until you clean up. I’ll lay out the food and put a plate together for Mary. Now go wash your hands.”
Peter was no better than Adam accepting forbidden fruit. He’d almost succumbed to this woman’s wiles for fried chicken. “Rebecca, I appreciate your kindness.” He grasped the top of a chair and spoke in a firm tone. “But Mary ate a late breakfast and won’t be hungry again until later, and I’m in the middle of getting some work done. It would be a shame to eat such fine cooking unless truly enjoyed.” He pushed the chair close to the table. “If you don’t mind, we’ll save your generous gift for supper.”
“I’ll just put everything in the icebox for you then.”
“Thank you, but I can do it. You’ve already gone to so much trouble.” He needed get her out of the house before she took anything he said or did as an invitation to stay— or even worse, encouragement that his feelings toward her could change.
Rebecca’s smile fell. “Peter, you’re a good man, and you’d never do anything that would bring shame or embarrassment to you or the church. But you’re going through a difficult time now, and I want to help.”
Were those real tears in her eyes? Now he felt like a cad for wanting to remove her from the premises. “Thank you. I wish everyone felt the same.” His gave a weak smile, the best he could offer. “Come. I’ll walk you to the door.”
She followed him to the entry way.
“I’ll bring your basket and clean dishes to church tomorrow, and you can pick them up in the kitchen after the service.”
Rebecca offered a glimmer of a smile, then gave Peter’s arm a gentle touch. “That will be fine. I hope you enjoy your supper.”
“I’m sure we will.” Peter held the door open. “Rebecca?” She’d warned him that he’d regret his decision to end her involvement with Mary’s care.
