by Dawn Kinzer
“It’s—complicated.” Sarah chewed on her lower lip. For once in her life, could she be vulnerable with her grandmother without fear of being criticized? “Gram, I need to ask you a question.”
“I’m listening.” Her grandmother sounded hesitant.
“Why didn’t my parents come back for me? Just how entrenched was my father in gambling?”
Gram drank some tea. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
“It makes a difference in whether I move to Milwaukee or stay here longer.” Or whether she found another way to escape the heartbreak of living so close to Peter, yet so far away. Sarah had never pressed her grandmother for answers before, but she needed to embrace reality. “Did they love me at all?”
Her grandmother fidgeted. “Of course they did.”
“Then why didn’t they visit? Or write?”
“Sarah...” Gram pushed herself up from the chair. “I need more tea. Would you like some?”
“No. Thank you. You can get more tea, but we’re going to talk about this, even if we don’t sleep a wink tonight.” Sarah leaned her head back and rocked until her grandmother returned with her steaming cup and settled back into her chair. “I’m a grown woman, Gram. It’s time you told me the truth.”
“I know.” Her grandmother’s eyes glistened. “What do you remember about your parents?”
Sarah grasped the locket that always hung from her neck. She massaged it with her thumb as she mentally strolled through foggy memories. “When I was a little girl, there were times when my mother woke me during the night. We’d search for my father. Sometimes in rooms filled with smoke and loud noises. If we found him, she’d try to talk him into coming home with us. Sometimes he did, other times we went home without him. Those nights, she cried a lot.”
“You were only four years old, the same age as Peter’s Mary, when your mother brought you here.”
“I thought we were only coming for a visit, but she left during the night while we were sleeping.” Sarah had hunted every room in the house, thinking her mother was playing a hiding game. Instead, Sarah discovered her mother’s locket on the bedroom dresser. No photos enclosed to help Sarah remember her parents. Empty, like her mother’s feelings for her daughter.
Sarah ached at the loss. No child should grow up without a mother. “All I knew about my parents was what little you and Granddad told me—and the taunts from children who had listened to their parents gossiping. My father was a gambler, and in order to afford the costs that went with the game, my parents decided to cut their losses and get rid of me.”
“That’s exaggerated and only part of the story.”
“Then what’s the rest, Gram?”
Her grandmother stared into her teacup. “Your grandfather was a forgiving soul, but I was angry when your mother ran off with your father. I’d warned her he was no good, but she was in love and wouldn’t listen to me. When she brought you here, I knew she was desperate to ask for my help.” Gram’s focus moved from her tea to Sarah’s eyes. “She meant to come back for you.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Not just a game for your father, cards were his life. Your parents moved all the way to California to avoid his gambling friends. He quit playing for a time, and they saved enough money to get out of the cheap, leaky, rat-infested apartment building they lived in. They wanted to start over and take care of you.
“One night, he weakened and agreed to go with a friend to an establishment where they played high-stakes poker. Someone accused his friend of cheating, and a fight broke out. Your father hit a man so hard it killed him. It was an accident—he stepped in to protect his friend, but the consequences didn’t change. Prison.”
Her father had murdered someone. How was she supposed to respond to that news?
“I begged your mother to come back home and live here with us, but she loved your father like a sickness with no cure. She wouldn’t leave him alone out there. She got a small room and job nearby so she could visit him.”
“I meant so little to her, she couldn’t even send a letter?”
Gram cleared her throat. “I wrote and kept your mother updated on your life here and sent a photo now and then. But I didn’t allow her to contact you.”
“You kept me from knowing my mother?” Sarah’s heart thrashed against her ribs, and a feverish heat rushed through her body. “Why would you do such a thing? You had no right.”
Gram’s lips trembled. She reached into her robe’s pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed her face and nose. “I thought it would be it would be too hard for you to know where your mother lived and not be able to see her.”
“You were wrong.”
“I know that now, but the longer I kept my secret...I was afraid, Sarah. Scared to death you’d leave, just like your mother. Your grandfather died. I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.” Gram wiped her cheek.
Thoughts spun in Sarah’s head. If her parents were still living, maybe she could find them. “Do you still have my mother’s address?”
The teacup shook in Gram’s hand. “The last few letters I sent were returned unopened and stamped with no forwarding address.”
“But, I always pick up the mail. How could...?
“I’m so sorry.” Her grandmother’s voice dripped with remorse. “The postmaster kept my secret. Any mail coming from Emily McCall was set aside and delivered to me personally.”
“So much deceit.” Sarah wanted to throw her empty teacup across the room. She’d finally received answers to questions that had haunted her since childhood, but now grief connected with a new loss. She could have had her parents all these years—even from a distance—if her grandmother hadn’t been so selfish.
chapteR FORTY-ONE
A week later, Clara Boyle strolled into the store, and catching Sarah’s eye, headed straight for her.
“Good morning, Clara.” A month had passed since Frank’s terrible fall. Instead of focusing on her own problems, Sarah should be more supportive of this sweet woman who now had four children to raise on her own.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” Clara offered a smile, and her peaceful countenance put Sarah’s guilt to rest. “I was hopin’ to see you at church last Sunday. Reverend Caswell’s sermon was just what I needed. It was so uplifting and encouraging.” Clara’s eyes enlarged. “Oh, there I go again. Not thinkin’.”
“It’s all right.” Sarah stepped from behind the store counter. “I agree. He’s a wonderful preacher, but I won’t be attending services there from now on.”
“Sarah, are you sure?”
“It’s best for both Peter and me.” Sarah faked a smile, then hugged Clara. “I’ve been a terrible friend, not visiting as often as I should. How are you?”
“It depends on the day or hour.” A shadow passed over Clara’s face, but a moment later she brightened. “I’m grateful for all that the townspeople have done for me and my children. They’ve been so kind.”
“Did you get the seamstress position with Mrs. Harley?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here so early. I start today. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have work. Without Frank here to take care of the family...” Her eyes welled up. “The job is a blessing.”
“Can I help you with anything?” It would make Sarah feel better if she could assist her friend with even the smallest purchase.
“A present for Rose. I can’t afford much, but tomorrow is her birthday. A girl deserves something special when she turns thirteen, don’t you think?”
“I do, and I may have a few suggestions.” Rose had often eyed Sarah’s locket. “We have several necklaces in the case at the end of the counter over there. I think there’s one in particular she’d like. I’d be happy to show it to you.”
“It sounds perfect.”
“Take a look while I re-shelve some items.” It did Sarah good to see Clara’s strength and determination, despite her grief. If her friend could move on with her life, then Sar
ah could too.
More than a week had crept by since the night Sarah had stayed up most of the night listening to Gram’s confessions. Sarah did what she had to during the day. She was helpful to customers and cordial to fellow employees, including Will. But she’d spoken only when needed. Suppers with her grandmother remained solemn. As soon as they cleared the table and washed dishes, Sarah retired to her room alone.
She didn’t mean to be rude, but taking time to sort out her feelings about what had taken place the past weeks took precedence. She searched the Bible for answers and prayed for emotional healing. The only person she’d spoken with at any length was Alice Carter. One evening, in the pursuit of comfort and wisdom, she’d poured her heart out to the woman.
Sarah prayed for strength and mercy to pardon her grandmother. Her secrets cost Sarah the chance to know her parents’ love. How do you forgive someone for that much loss?
Pride stood in the way of forgiving Peter. Pride and fear of being hurt all over again.
Two teapots still remained on the counter after a customer had chosen one out of three, so Sarah replaced them on a shelf. Now to help Clara pick out a gift for her daughter. Sarah headed toward the jewelry case.
Clara, her eyes filled with horror, held a finger to her lips, warning Sarah to be silent. On the other side of a shelf fully stocked with men’s coveralls, Rebecca Hoyt and Millie Kahl argued quietly, but loud enough. Eavesdropping appalled her, but Sarah couldn’t tear herself away.
“Well, I don’t believe a word of it! And neither does Matthew or the rest of the church council members.” Millie’s voice rose. “Reverend Caswell is an honorable man. The council members only asked that he be careful and not stir up any other false accusations.”
“My belief is that the reverend is not to blame in this.” Rebecca cleared her throat. “We know where the problem lies.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Millie’s voice lowered even more, but it still filtered through to the other side of the shelf. “Sarah has always been a good person and an example to the young people at church. My own daughter, Rachel, adores her. There’s no proof that she or Pastor have done anything wrong.”
“What if there was?”
“Then I guess that would be a different matter.”
“I saw them with my own eyes.” Rebecca sounded triumphant. “One morning when I walked to school. It was very early—too early for Sarah to have just dropped by for a cup of coffee. She came out of the parsonage wearing a wrinkled dress and her hair all a mess.” Her tone became bitter. “They embraced, and I don’t mean a friendly handshake. They clung to each other and kissed like two animals in heat.”
Clara paled and her eyes grew large, but Sarah’s face burned as a fire ignited in her gut. Once again, Rebecca had gone too far, but this time she wasn’t going to get away with it.
Sarah stepped around the shelf. “How dare you.”
***
“How dare I what?” Adrenaline shot through Rebecca’s body, but she couldn’t get flustered now. It would ruin everything.
“You heard...” Millie’s cheeks pinked. “I’m so sorry.”
Rebecca tried to ignore the blood pounding in her ears. “If Sarah hadn’t eavesdropped on our conversation, she wouldn’t have anything to be upset about.”
Sarah glared. “You spread those lies?”
Rebecca lifted her chin. “I’ve only told the truth.” Nothing was fabricated. She’d just made sure everyone knew what she’d seen.
“But you don’t have the full story.” Sarah spoke through clenched teeth. “The morning you saw me coming out of the parsonage, I did stay there all night. With Mary. Alone. You were so determined to make something innocent look sinful you forgot that Frank died that morning.”
Clara stepped forward. “That was the night Reverend Caswell stayed at Ole and Martha’s farm with my Frank. The reverend didn’t leave until that morning.”
“Rebecca, what you saw happened after Peter came home—exhausted and mourning his friend.”
Heat crawled up Rebecca’s neck. “That doesn’t mean—besides, the way you two grabbed each other.” If she didn’t recover, she’d be humiliated, and Peter would know what she’d done. “It doesn’t mean I’m to blame for your problems. Anyone could have seen the two of you together.”
“But you are to blame.” Will stood next to Sarah. “And everyone in the store is hearing it.”
“Will, I’m so sorry.” Sarah covered her forehead with her hand, as though she experienced a headache. “I should have just let it go—”
“No.” Will took a firm stance. “You were right to stand up for yourself.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “And who are you to lay guilt at my feet, Mr. Reed? You’re not without fault.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “What’s going on, Will?”
Millie and Clara had stepped back. Customers attentive to the disturbance also kept their distance.
Will glanced around the store. “Come with me. I don’t want to discuss this here.”
“I’m warning you, Will.” Rebecca spoke with fire in her voice. She’d burn him with his own secret before she went down in flames alone.
“She knows, Rebecca.” Will’s jaw clenched. “Go home. This is over.” He stalked off with his precious Sarah at his side.
“Rebecca...” Millie touched Rebecca’s shoulder.
She shrugged off the gesture. “Leave me alone, Millie. This is all your fault.”
“Mine?” Millie’s eyes widened. “You started the conversation.”
“Let’s do what Rebecca asks and leave her alone.” Clara nudged Millie.
Millie nodded, and without saying good-bye, followed Clara down the aisle.
Only minutes before, Rebecca had felt in control. After her plan to keep Peter and Sarah apart had proven successful, Rebecca believed, with a little more time, he’d realize how much he needed her as a wife for himself and a mother to Mary.
Now she stood alone—in the middle of the large store—surrounded by shelves filled with pots and pans. Nothing romantic about kitchenware.
But it portrayed her future now that Peter would know she instigated the rumors. Rebecca’s breathing became ragged. She envisioned Sarah scurrying to Peter like a large rat, eager to share whatever Will divulged, and then Peter’s furious response. Any chance of romance and a loving relationship with him no longer existed for Rebecca.
***
Sarah had never labeled the back room a sanctuary, but as soon as Will closed the door and left Rebecca and everyone else on the floor behind them, it became a safe haven. Stacked boxes served as an imaginary fortress against outside evils. The desk lamp gave off a soft glow in the warm, quiet, and familiar space where she and Will shared both serious conversations and laughter.
“Sarah, please sit down.”
She slid into the wooden swivel chair.
A knock sounded on the door, and Mr. Carter poked his head inside. “William, is everything all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was the disturbance out on the floor?”
“I’d like to explain later, sir. If that’s all right.”
“Please see me in my office before you leave today.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door latched shut.
Will leaned against the desk next to Sarah and rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t easy.” His standard jovial tone grew somber.
“All sorts of questions are flying around in my head right now. What’s going on between you and Rebecca?”
Will’s eyes focused on her. “I have a confession to make, and you’re not going to like it.” His strained voice faded.
She shivered at his gaze. From pieces she’d heard out on the floor, a gut feeling about Rebecca and Will’s secret nagged Sarah. She didn’t want to hear it, but she needed to hear it. Her breathing labored.
“Rebecca wanted Peter’s attention, and I think caring for Mary became a way to play house.” Will slumped against
the desk. “When her feelings for Peter weren’t reciprocated, she blamed you for getting in the way.”
“Me? I never—but even if I did, that doesn’t justify—”
Will put his hand up. “When she saw you and Peter that morning, she set out to destroy your relationship. I think she believed out of real concern for him, and I have no doubt that’s partly true. But I also think jealousy and pure spite played roles in her decision.”
“Why didn’t she just accuse us out in the open?”
“She couldn’t. Rebecca wanted to hurt you, but she still carries strong feelings for him. It’s like an obsession. No matter what happens, Rebecca still believes she has a chance with Peter.”
“She could have ruined him.” Sarah’s stomach sickened. Peter could have been asked to leave the ministry. “She’s a horrible person.”
“People don’t always make smart decisions when they’re in love.” Will closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry...”
There would be no peace of mind until she knew. “What are you to Rebecca? What role did you play in her ruse?” Sarah thought she could trust him. How could she have been so wrong?
Will rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Nothing but a pawn, Sarah. Like I said, people don’t always make smart decisions when they’re in love.” His eyes held hers for a telling moment, then he pushed off from the desk and paced.
It was no secret between them that Will harbored feelings for her, but real love? What was he trying to tell her? That he conspired with Rebecca to destroy Sarah’s relationship with Peter? Love didn’t work that way.
“Rebecca believed that two people spreading and confirming the story she’d concocted about you and Peter would be far better than one. But I refused to help her. So, she blackmailed me. Said if I went public with her scheme, she’d tell you about my gambling. Rebecca knew how you’d feel.”
“She was right about the gambling.” Sarah’s throat burned. “But she didn’t realize I could deal with it as long as you were honest.”
“And now?”
She might choke on her words, but she had to say them. Her eyes squeezed shut, dampening her lashes. “I was actually considering leaving and going back with you to Milwaukee.” She opened her eyes, her vision obscured. “Not to marry you, Will, but to work in your father’s store. I thought it might be possible as friends.”
