by Dawn Kinzer
His gaze didn’t waver. “Sarah, the one person I’d be willing to sacrifice everything and stay for chose someone else. At the moment, he’s no longer in my way, but she’s leaving soon herself. What could possibly keep me here?”
“I—I didn’t know you felt...” Sarah’s face burned.
He stared at the evening sky, now blended shades of lavender and pink. “Yes, you did. Remember that kiss upstairs in Mr. Carter’s house on the Fourth of July? I meant it.” Will’s tone quieted. “But you’ve been quite clear that I can only expect friendship.”
This man trusted her. How could she not divulge the truth? “Will, there’s something I need to tell you.”
He rolled to his side and sat up. “Sounds serious.”
“My plans have unexpectedly changed. I won’t be leaving—I no longer have a place to go.” Why did that statement sound like a line from a sad poem? It wasn’t like she didn’t have a home.
Will looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“A couple with medical experience will be going in my place. I’m no longer needed.”
“Sarah, I’m sorry.” He sounded quite sincere. “I know the position meant a great deal to you.”
“It did, but I’ve realized that although I could have been a great help to the orphanage, my place isn’t there.” However, that knowledge didn’t protect her from pangs of disappointment resurfacing. Sarah still felt moments of grief. “I’ve appreciated you keeping my secret.”
“I haven’t told anyone, and that won’t change.”
“Thank you.” Sarah shifted, then re-arranged her skirt. “With Peter living here and all that’s happened, I can’t promise I’ll stay forever. But, I’ll continue working at the store for now.” She sighed. “When I do leave Riverton, I need to make sure it’s right this time.”
With his gentle touch, Will caressed her check. “Sarah, come with me.” His warm, golden-brown eyes held hers. “Come to Milwaukee. We can get married. You’ve already arranged for someone to help your grandmother in your absence. There’s nothing holding you back from having a new life—just like you wanted.”
“But, Will...” What could she say to his generous and caring offer?
“I love you, Sarah.” Determination filled his eyes. “We can be happy. I know we can.”
Father God, please help me. William had never let her down. And even when she’d hurt and disappointed him, unlike Peter, this man continued to fight for her. What woman wouldn’t want such a husband?
William’s proposal coming at this time—when she’d been stripped of her dreams—could this be what God had planned all along? It would be a way out, a way to start over, and with someone who seemed to care deeply for her. She could be happy with Will, couldn’t she?
“Sarah,” he whispered, “say yes.”
chapteR THIRTY-EIGHT
Two weeks had passed since Sarah first learned about the horrible rumors. Maybe in that time, customers had forgotten that Sarah played a scandalous role in town gossip. Maybe she’d just gotten used to the glares. Regardless, for the first time in days she’d walked to work that morning without feeling ill about possible encounters with people who hinted she’d seduced a beloved pastor.
Maybe it was Sarah’s determination to not let people’s opinions dominate her actions, but one customer actually smiled and thanked her after making a purchase. Gratitude for those simple gestures lifted Sarah’s spirits.
Throughout the morning, she kept busy with tasks about the store. After rearranging the clock display, the shelf still felt a bit empty. It wouldn’t hurt to check on yesterday’s delivery for any timepieces that arrived. The new inventory should be unpacked and logged in by now. Sarah pushed the door open and stepped into the back room—she wasn’t alone. Will half-sat on the desktop with one foot on the floor, speaking to Harry Barker.
The short and stocky barber handed Will a wad of bills. “It’s all there. Forty-five dollars. Count it.”
“Don’t need to. I trust you, Harry.” Will stuffed the money somewhere inside his jacket.
“I ’preciate you waitin’ for it.”
Will gave him a slap on the back. “If you hadn’t come through, I would have expected free haircuts.”
“For the rest of your life.” Harry chuckled and wiped his forehead. “You’re a good man, Will. Just don’t let my wife know about this. She’d tan my hide herself if she found out.”
Will shook the barber’s hand. “She won’t hear it from me.”
A draft blew past Sarah, and the door unexpectedly slammed shut behind her.
“Sarah.” Will slipped off the desk.
“I sold a clock. Thought I’d look for a replacement.” Her eyes darted from Will to Harry and back. “I—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“You won’t say nothin’?” Harry, his oversized ears now crimson, fidgeted with the bowler in his hands. “I’d like to keep it private between me and Mr. Reed.”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not my place, Mr. Barker.”
“You can trust her, Harry.” Will winked at the man.
“I better get back to the shop.” The barber tipped his bowler to Sarah. “Have a good afternoon.” He stepped closer to Will. “Friday night?” he whispered.
“I’ll let you know.”
The barber shook Will’s hand again and exited out the back door.
Will grabbed a document from the desk. “Two clocks came in. You can have your pick.”
“What was that all about?” She wouldn’t say anything outside of this room, just like she promised, but his behavior concerned her.
“Harry? Nothing.” His cocked his head. “Didn’t you say you’d keep quiet?”
“I did—and I will. But I’d like to know what I’m keeping so hushed. If you believe me trustworthy, like you just told Harry, you won’t keep secrets from me.” After turning down his marriage proposal, maybe Sarah didn’t have a right to ask questions. But she still cared about him, and if he was wandering down a harmful path...
Will leaned against the desk and tossed the papers on top. “He lost a friendly poker game and owed me some money. That’s all.”
“You’ve been gambling?” Sarah’s mouth went dry. They were friends, and normally she wasn’t a judgmental person, but she couldn’t tolerate this behavior.
“One night.”
“Is that the truth?”
“It’s important?”
“I want more for you than card games. Or a life where no matter how much is lost, you can’t stop trying to win.” Maybe she was out of line for speaking her mind, but she’d gone this far. “You know what gambling did to my family.”
“That was your father, Sarah. Not me.” He moved in close. “Maybe you care more about me than you’re willing to admit,” he whispered, his breath warming her neck.
She stiffened. “Don’t mistake my friendly concern for romantic feelings.”
He tilted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I’m not giving up. I’ll convince you that I’m the right man for you.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “You’re wasting your time.”
“I don’t think so, and if it’s imperative to our...friendship, I’ll never gamble again.”
“You would do that?” Her heart softened.
“I’d do anything for you.” Tenderness laced his words.
Sarah had been hurt by both her father’s and Peter’s actions—or lack thereof. They were supposed to love and protect her, but they’d let her down. Could she trust Will?
***
Later that evening at Ellie’s, Sarah dried the supper dishes after Ellie washed them. Thomas snuck up behind his wife on his way out to the barn, wrapped his arms around her, and nuzzled his nose into her neck before kissing her on the cheek. Ellie squealed in delight and playfully slapped him away with wet, soapy hands.
Sarah smiled and ignored the envy that threatened to take root within and grow as thick and prickly as wild blackberry bushes. She may yearn
for the kind of relationship Ellie shared with her husband, but that didn’t mean Sarah needed to hold her friend’s good fortune against her. After all, their marriage had always given Sarah hope.
John chased Isaac through the farmhouse kitchen, the younger one screaming. Isaac latched on to his mother’s skirt and tried to put her between him and his older brother.
“Boys!” Ellie’s stern tone stopped them in their tracks. “You have three choices. You may play quietly, go upstairs to bed, or visit the woodshed with your father.”
John put his arm around the younger boy and led him toward the other room. “Come on, Isaac. I’ll whoop ya in checkers.”
“Those two.” Ellie washed a plate and handed it to Sarah. “I love them more than life, but they may be the death of me yet.”
Sarah laughed as she rubbed the towel over the dish. “Boys are supposed to be mischievous.”
“Just wait until you have a houseful of your own.”
If there were to be a home and children.
Ellie dried her hands and wrapped her arm around her friend’s waist. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel...” Sarah’s eyelids closed and her lashes dampened against her cheek. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Let’s finish these dishes.”
“Mother always said the best time to think or discuss anything was over a pan of dishwater.” Ellie passed Sarah another plate. “Talk.”
“You’re so happy here with Thomas and the children.”
“I am. I love my family.” Ellie became thoughtful. “But no life is perfect, Sarah. Thomas and I have our arguments. I fret about the children. I worry about the crops. Because of the family, I’ve had to tuck my own dreams away. At least for now.”
“I don’t even know what mine are anymore. Or what God wants from me.”
“You’ve had some pretty rough weeks.” Ellie submerged a large bowl into the soapy water. “You’ve been hurt...and disappointed.” Her gentle tone soothed. “But you’ve shown the kind of strength I hope to have if faced with tough times. A strong, quiet resiliency that could only come from God. I’m sure he’ll let you know what he has planned when the time is right.”
The noise level grew in the other room. Two boys could certainly make a lot of ruckus. A deeper voice had joined the mix. Odd—Thomas must have come in from the barn through the front door.
Maybe it would be helpful to get her friend’s perspective. “I need to tell you something, but promise to keep it to yourself.”
Ellie’s hands stopped working, and she gave Sarah her full attention. “Of course.”
There was no way to say it except to spill it in one large breath. “William asked me to marry him.”
“He what?” a familiar voice at the kitchen doorway boomed. The man playing with the boys wasn’t Thomas.
“Peter.” Sarah gasped as the wet plate in her hands slipped from her fingers, shattering on the kitchen floor. “Ellie, I’m so sorry.” She hurried to pick up the broken pieces. A sharp edge sliced through her finger. “Oww!” Blood trickled from the wound.
“Sarah, slow down. I don’t care about these old dishes. Here, let me take a look.” Ellie held Sara’s hand in her own. “I’ll get the antiseptic.”
Peter grabbed a broom from a small closet and swept the shards into a pile.
Sarah’s cheeks flamed. Why did he have to show up and ruin her evening?
Ellie retrieved a bottle and a roll of thin cloth from a drawer, then applied antiseptic before wrapping the finger in gauze. “There. That should do it.”
“Thank you, Nurse Ellie.” Sarah managed a half smile.
“Any time.” Ellie placed the medical aids back in the drawer.
Peter brushed the pile into a dust pan, then dumped the contents into a large empty can.
After successfully avoiding Peter for several weeks, Sarah had acted clumsily after simply hearing his voice. If only she could find a hole in the wall and escape like a field mouse. “What are you doing here, Peter? I thought Mary was spending the night.”
“I told Ellie if my meeting finished early enough, I’d drive out and tuck Mary in.” He shot a glare at his sister, then replaced the broom in the closet.
Ellie squirmed. “He didn’t know you’d be here.”
“You should have told me, Ellie.” Sarah sensed Peter’s eyes boring into her. The way he stood there, not speaking, he must not want to see her either. She needed to leave—now.
“I should go.”
“No.” Ellie grabbed Sarah’s arm. “Maybe I shouldn’t interfere, but I can’t stand watching both of you being so miserable. You need to figure this out.”
Had others seen through her as clearly? Sarah thought she’d hidden her feelings well—always putting on a smile. Regardless, Ellie was her closest friend and someone who couldn’t be fooled.
Peter cleared his throat. “She’s right, Sarah.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen door. “Walk with me. Please.”
“We’re not supposed to be alone, remember?” The acidic words flew out of her mouth before Sarah could stop them.
“Sometimes we need to break the rules,” he said, his voice calm and soothing.
His sister’s eyes pleaded.
Sarah nodded. “For Ellie.”
***
Violet, rose, and orange hues blended into the twilight sky. In step, he adjusted to her shorter strides so she could keep up. At one time on such a beautiful evening, Peter would have held Sarah’s hand, or wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they strolled. Time away from her had created a relentless ache that he’d worked to ignore—an ache that begged to be soothed. But she clutched a shawl around her, keeping distance between them, so he fought the urge to embrace her.
He didn’t like breaking his promise to the church leadership, but Peter had arrived at the farm determined to spend time alone with Sarah, even if it took swinging her over his shoulder like a caveman and hauling her out to a shed. He’d hope she’d be happy to see him—that she missed him as much as he missed her. Instead, now that they had a few minutes to themselves, she marched along acting indifferent.
Because Will had proposed? Peter’s confidence evaporated like water on a hot iron skillet. Have I lost her?
As they passed near the barn, cows bellowed and the scent of fresh manure filled the air. The family’s collie trotted beside them for a short distance, then chased a rabbit into the nearby woods, barking as it closed in on its prey.
They hiked along the cornfield, the stalks tall and ready to be harvested. The tension between them felt like a guitar string tightened almost to the breaking point—not carefully handled, it would rupture. The silence put Peter on edge, but he didn’t know where to start.
“This is ridiculous. You wanted to talk, but you haven’t said a word.” Sarah pivoted and headed in the opposite direction. “I’m going home.”
He grabbed her elbow. “Wait.”
“Let go!” Sarah pulled away from him. “You have no right.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Peter wiped his brow with his arm. “You surprised me back there.” He gestured toward the farmhouse. “You’re getting married? To William Reed?” Anger, shock, frustration—each fought to dominate.
“I didn’t say that.” Sarah spoke with an even tone.
“I heard you.” He almost choked on the words. “Will asked you to marry him.”
She clutched the shawl tighter to her chest. “That has nothing to do with you.” Her chilly response felt like cold water thrown in his face.
“Of course, it does. As your friend, how could I let you marry someone you don’t love?” He paced several steps, trying to detangle his thoughts. “And as your pastor, I can’t stand by while you fail to follow through on your commitment to missions and the people you promised to serve.”
“That’s also no longer your concern.”
He stepped closer and stared into her eyes. “What about following your dream?”
Sarah’s eyes glist
ened with unreleased tears. “It died.”
She was hurting, but convinced she’d reject any touch meant to comfort, he didn’t reach for her. “I don’t understand.” He wanted an explanation, not a trail of bread crumbs.
“I’m not going to Kenya. The current doctor onsite has requested to return home so he can tend to his elderly parents. To fill the position, they’re sending a husband and wife team—a physician and nurse—in my place.” Disappointment filled her voice.
“I’m sorry.” Peter searched her eyes with his. “I know how much serving in Africa meant to you, but a change in that situation shouldn’t be reason enough to rush into marriage.”
“You don’t want me, and the missions board doesn’t either.” Her chin jutted out. “But Will wants a life together so badly he’s is willing to fight for it.” Bitterness, directed at him, coursed through her words.
“That’s what you believe? That I don’t care enough...?” Dumbfounded, he rubbed his forehead and took several steps back.
She couldn’t see that out of love he’d made the heartbreaking decision to stay away from her so she wouldn’t have to face any more hurtful gossip. All those years of watching her parents’ actions batter her spirit and self-esteem. He thought he’d done the right thing by setting her free. Not forever—just for a window of time.
Peter should have done more to convince her that he planned—needed—to always have her in his life. Now William was going to come between them? If someone rammed an oak log into Peter’s gut, his insides couldn’t hurt more than what they did already.
Sarah tilted her head and looked him in the eyes. “Did you hear me say that I accepted Will’s proposal?”
“You’re not marrying him?”
“No.”
His lungs expelled all air, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. “That’s a relief.” If Sarah wasn’t leaving town, and she wasn’t marrying Will, Peter still had a chance to fix things between them.
“There’s something else you should know.” Sarah draped the shawl over her head as the wind picked up. “I won’t be attending services at Peace Lutheran. From now on, I’ll be going to the Methodist church.”
