by Dawn Kinzer
“But that would make things even worse. It would look like we’re guilty of those accusations.”
“What do you want then, Peter?” she half-yelled, half-cried. “What do you want from me?”
He’d done it again. Reacted without thinking when all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and tell her he couldn’t stand to be away from her. That her very presence on Sunday mornings had become salve to his wounded heart.
“Forgiveness,” he choked out.
“For what?”
“For all of it. For hurting you.” If she could forgive him, he could hold on to hope that everything would be all right—that they would be all right. “Please, Sarah.”
“No, Peter.” Her sad tone matched the grief in her eyes. “Not this time.”
chapteR THIRTY-NINE
Peter followed Sarah toward the farm house, but kept his distance, his heart heavy and his mind confused. He’d done everything but get on his knees when he begged for her forgiveness, and she still refused it.
Thomas stood watching from the open barn door, looking like Thor with his thick chest. He put his shovel down and leaned his arm on the handle. “Didn’t go well?”
“Not even close.” Peter clamped his hands behind his neck. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t make her understand the choices I’ve made or how I feel about her.”
The Viking raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Peter leaned against the door frame. “I love her, Thomas. I do. But my ministry, my calling...”
“And you think bowing to what a few gossips say to avoid trouble is putting God first?”
“It’s not like that. As a pastor, I have certain responsibilities.”
“So, you’re special?”
“No, but I do have to set an example.”
“I seem to recall that the Bible says we all fall short and need forgiveness—even you. That’s where grace comes in. Isn’t that what you preach up there in your pulpit?”
“I know what you’re suggesting. I asked for forgiveness—just minutes ago. Sarah refused.”
Thomas frowned, but didn’t say a word. What was he getting at?
“She’s hurt—and angry. Thinks I’m not willing to take a stand for her. But she’s looking at it all wrong.”
“Or maybe she sees it for what it is.”
“Just say it, Thomas.” His brother-in-law would be direct, but Peter’s gut told him he wasn’t going to like it.
Thomas straightened his back. “You’re a selfish fool, Reverend Caswell. It’s not God you’re putting first—it’s you and your stubborn pride. It’s time you start being honest with yourself and with Sarah. But first, you might want to start with the Almighty himself.”
***
Grateful her grandmother hadn’t noticed Sarah’s mood when she returned from the farm, she avoided talking about anything other than what Ellie had cooked for supper. Gram, tired from playing cribbage with friends that evening, didn’t press Sarah for conversation before retiring to bed.
Ellie had meant well in pushing Peter and Sarah to talk through their problems, but the night had turned out disastrous. Not only had they fought, they’d left on worse terms than when the evening started. Perhaps if Peter hadn’t acted so condescending about how she should live her life, Sarah might have forgiven him for past hurts when asked. But confronting her on Will’s proposal before getting the facts riled her. Peter didn’t have a right to tell her who she could marry.
The clock in the parlor struck nine thirty. Although emotionally exhausted, something stirred in Sarah’s heart. She needed a change of scenery. Gram didn’t like her out at night unaccompanied, but for Sarah, her safety had never been an issue in the small town. A walk in the night air might do her some good—help her think—and her wool cape would keep her plenty warm from the drop in temperature.
With no certain direction in mind, Sarah wandered down River Street where the few staggered lamps gave off enough light for her to see the road leading the way out of town. Businesses had been closed for hours, store owners were home with their families, and the town sat quiet.
She’d told Will she would stay in Riverton until she could decide what she wanted to do with her life. But after the confrontation with Peter, she couldn’t stay much longer. Not with him here. Every time she saw him, her wounds deepened. And after growing so fond of Mary, how could Sarah spend time with the little girl without causing more problems? The child wouldn’t understand Sarah keeping her distance, and it would break her heart to hurt Mary over and over again.
A part of Sarah yearned to knock on Peter’s door now and offer the forgiveness he wanted—despite the hour or the possibility someone might see her and misunderstand. But fear refused to allow movement in that direction. She couldn’t risk being hurt again. As long as she stayed angry, the threat of that happening seemed less formidable.
Mr. Carter would give her a good recommendation if she pursued a clerk position in another town. There remained one possibility, but it might not be wise to pursue it. Will’s father owned a large store in Milwaukee, and Will was planning to return to manage the business. He might be anxious to hire her, but knowing how he felt about her, it would be taking a chance. Sarah would have to be clear about her intentions.
But if they could come to an agreement where he understood their relationship would be strictly business and their friendship would go no further, it could solve everything. She’d never have to see Peter and Mary, and he could live his life without fear of losing credibility or his job. At least where it concerned Sarah.
An urgency rose within to see Will and talk through her proposal. But at this late hour? She couldn’t go to the hotel now. That’s all she needed to add to her list of black marks in the community—to be seen arriving or leaving William Reed’s hotel room during late evening hours. How tongues would wag.
Shame at judging the townspeople so harshly flowed from her head to her toes. Forgive me, Lord. Here she stood, doing the very thing she condemned. Though some people challenged Sarah’s forbearance, most were good, kind people—like the Carters, Ellie, Mrs. Jorgenson, and Clara Boyle.
Raucous music and laughter spilled from the nearby tavern every time a door opened to the street. She’d walked farther than intended. Several men staggered out, and one fell to his knees, his vomit spraying on the walk. This was no place for her.
The door swung open again. “I just need some air,” Will yelled to someone inside. “Don’t deal the cards until I get back!” He swayed to the left—to the right—then leaned against the outside tavern wall.
Sarah’s heart sank. He’d lied to her about the extent of his gambling. She should turn around and skedaddle home. But misguided loyalty—compassion—something kept her from leaving. If she were in trouble, he wouldn’t walk away. If Mr. Carter knew Will still gambled, out of integrity, he’d have to share that information with Will’s family. That knowledge would jeopardize Will’s standing with both his mentor and the father whose respect he’d worked so hard to gain.
Sarah paused in the middle of the road, just feet from the tavern. Despite the cool night breezes, she broke out into a cold sweat. The other men had wandered off, and no one else had ventured outside. William stood alone.
“Will?”
With his eyes closed, he looked like he’d fallen asleep propped against the wall.
Sarah cupped his shoulder in her hand and gave a gentle push. “Will. Are you awake?”
A slow, lazy grin answered before she could see his eyes through open slits. “Sarah, my love.”
“I’m not your love.”
His eyes now fully open, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He leaned in as if to kiss her, his breath smelling heavy of booze.
Sarah shoved with both hands, and he staggered back. “William Reed! You promised. No more gambling.”
“I know...”
“You’ll feel even worse than you look right now when Mr. Carter
finds out you’re back to your old vices. And if your father doesn’t believe you’ve changed your ways, you’ll never run his business.” Sarah was starting to sound like Gram. “You should leave. Now.”
Will stared at the tavern door. “Just one more hand.” He appeared almost mesmerized, as though the card game had bewitched him.
What was the right thing to do? Wake Mr. Carter, drag him down to the tavern, and expose Will? Hiding his gambling would make her an accomplice. But how could she betray him when he’d rescued her time and time again from difficult or humiliating situations? He’d shown her kindness many times over.
If she left him alone, Will would probably march right back into the tavern and play poker all night. He could probably survive losing some money, but he wouldn’t survive his father’s disappointment if something even worse happened. She had no choice but to help Will back to the hotel and make sure he stayed.
Sarah would figure out what to do about the gambling another day—when he was sober and able to think straight. But one thing was certain—she couldn’t pretend this never happened. For his own good, Will would have to confess to Mr. Carter, if not his father.
“Come on, Will.” She slipped her arm around his and led him away from the tavern.
“What are you doing?” He sounded more coherent than he had a few minutes earlier. Maybe getting away from the noise and tempting card game helped clear his head.
“I’m taking you home.” It was the right thing for her friend, but it could be wrong for Sarah if anyone got a mistaken impression. She’d have to put that out of her mind.
They moved at a snail’s pace, but that had more to do with feeling anxious at getting Will settled in his room as opposed to the actual time it took to reach the hotel. At that late hour, the restaurant sat closed, and no one loitered at the front desk.
“I can manage from here.” Will grasped the railing along the stairs leading up to the second floor and stepped up. “Thank you.” His foot hit the edge of the stair, which compromised his balance, and he skipped backwards. He would have toppled over, but Sarah reached out and steadied him.
“I’d better help.” Sarah held his arm with her left, and pulled her skirt up with her right so she wouldn’t trip.
They made it to the top of the stairs without any further mishaps. He fumbled with the key, but managed to unlock the door.
“Goodnight, Will.” Now she’d escape down the staircase as quietly as she could and get out the front door without anyone seeing her. She glanced down the hall.
Will grabbed her arm and pulled her into his room, shutting the door behind him.
“I’m not staying,” she said in a tone that meant business. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. He’d never acted like this—he’d always behaved like a gentleman. But she’d also never seen him intoxicated.
“Not yet.” He led her to the bed and forced her to sit. After lighting the lamp sitting on the nightstand, he dragged the desk chair across the floor and set it in front of her. Will sat down, his knees almost touching hers, and reached for her hands.
“Will—”
“Shhh...” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
Sarah’s chest heaved—she couldn’t get enough air. If only she could just get up and leave, but any movement toward the door would probably set him off. He seemed determined to say his piece, so she needed to stay calm.
“I know you care for me.” His eyelids half-closed, he gazed adoringly into her eyes. “Just admit it. You wouldn’t have risked more scandal by coming up to my room if you didn’t have strong feelings. Remember the Fourth of July? Alone on the third floor at the Carters’?”
“Will, we’ve had this discussion before. I care for you as a friend.”
“Friends don’t kiss like that. We shared—passion. You can’t deny it.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “The reverend has never given that to you, has he?” Will, now sounding and looking completely sober, tilted her chin so she had nowhere to look but his eyes. “You know I’m right.”
Liquid pain filled her eyes and spilled over.
With the pad of his thumb, he wiped her cheeks before brushing his lips against hers.
Sarah gently pushed his face away. “No, Will.”
He slid back in his chair and stared at her, looking hurt and frustrated.
She grieved the loss of what could have been with Peter. But for her to find comfort in Will’s arms would not only be wrong for her, it would be cheating him. She sniffed and wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her hands.
“I know I messed up tonight, Sarah.” The confident, charming man sat there like a wounded puppy. “If you could forgive me and give us a chance to start over...”
“It’s not just what happened tonight, Will.” He refused to hear that she didn’t love him the way he wanted—or deserved. “But regardless, I could never marry a gambler.”
He tunneled fingers through his hair. “I’ve tried to stop. But it’s like a demon that gets under a man’s skin and controls him.”
“I don’t believe it.” With her heavy cape still draped around her shoulders, the room felt stifling. She wiped her damp brow with her fingertips. “You’re only making excuses for going back on your promises to me, Mr. Carter, and your father. Nothing can do that you unless you allow it.”
“You don’t understand. It’s like needing a drink to stop the shakes. I can’t even describe the excitement I experience when playing, or the sick feeling I get in my gut when I can’t get to a card table. I can lose a wagon-load of money, but the thrill of winning keeps pulling me back.”
“It’s just a game, Will.” Sarah rose from the bed.
He grabbed her.
“Let go of me!” Sarah tugged, but he held on.
“Don’t you get it? It’s like a drug.” His face contorted, as if in pain. “You judge me harshly because your father gambled. Maybe it affected him the same way, but I’m not him, Sarah. I won’t leave you.”
“Let go,” she hissed. How dare he try to make himself look better by making comparisons to her father.
Will released her and put up his hands. He sank down on the edge of the bed. “Leave then. But know this. I haven’t lied about anything said in this room. Not anything.” His eyes held hers. “You can’t continue to run from the truth.”
“Maybe that’s the problem, Will. When it comes to you, I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s false anymore.”
Sarah stepped into the hallway, closed the door behind her, and peeked over the staircase. No one stood below. She tiptoed down the stairs and slipped out the front entrance.
The evening breeze cooled her feverish body. Her head throbbed between her temples, and the road ahead blurred as her eyes welled up. Overwhelmed, she wanted to hide for days. The argument with Peter—encountering Will at the tavern. Raw emotion clawed her insides. The man she’d given her heart to didn’t love her enough to fight for her. And the other—the one she cared for, but could never love—pledged to not give up.
chapteR FORTY
Sarah stumbled up the porch steps to her grandmother’s house. A soft light glowed through lace curtains covering the front window. Inside, Sarah slipped the cape from her shoulders and hung it in the closet.
“Where have you been? It’s almost eleven thirty.” Gram, dressed in her pastel pink bathrobe, stood like a sentry protecting their home. “What’s going on, child?”
When was enough, enough? The confrontation with Peter earlier that evening had emotionally worn her down. Then discovering Will had gone back on his promise to stop gambling, despite the possible consequences, added to her frustration—and sadness. Too weary to hold the flood waters back, the dam broke.
“Oh, my...” Gram’s voice softened. “Did someone hurt you?”
Sarah couldn’t speak. She merely shook her head.
“Come sit down.” Gram led Sarah to the parlor and her favorite rocking chair. “I made some chamomile tea. I�
��ll pour us each a cup, and then we’re going to have ourselves a talk.”
The rocking motion helped soothe her, and Gram soon returned with a clean handkerchief and tea. Holding the cup in her hands had a calming effect on Sarah.
Gram settled into a comfortable chair next to her. “Now. Tell me what’s got you so rattled.”
Sarah didn’t know where to start, or if she even wanted to try. She shook her head and blew her nose into the handkerchief, not caring that it sounded unladylike.
“I’m not accepting your silence as an answer. If I’m going to be up in the middle of the night, there had better be a good reason.” By Gram’s tone, she meant to keep Sarah hostage until she confessed.
Sarah sipped her tea, then cradling the cup in her hands, drew a deep breath. “I—I don’t know what God wants from me.” A short sob escaped. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Until Africa was ripped from my hands. Even before that happened, I wanted to believe God had brought Peter back to me as a part of a greater plan.”
“And then those horrible rumors...” Her grandmother sighed.
“They’ve torn us apart, Gram.” They’d ripped her heart to shreds. “Peter’s feelings for me aren’t as strong as I thought. He won’t do anything that might jeopardize his ministry.”
“Oh, child, would you really want him to?” Gram fingered her teacup handle. “His deep commitment to serving the Lord has always drawn you to him. It’s one of the reasons you love him. You see in him something you want for yourself.”
Her grandmother’s words, filled with truth, stung. While Peter’s actions were hurtful, she would not only have been disappointed, she would have lost respect for him if he’d tossed his responsibilities and calling aside for her.
“I thought I had a solution. Something that would make it easier on both of us. Since arrangements were made for someone to live here with you when I went to Kenya, I considered moving to Milwaukee and working for William and his father.”
Gram shifted in her chair. “You’re just telling me now?”
