Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2)

by Sharlene MacLaren

  "We are planning a two-month honeymoon trip to Europe in May and June, after which she will settle in with me at our family home in Boston.

  As I was cleaning out Mother and Father's house, I discovered these china dishes along with a note that I was to give them to you. Of course, Mother always thought that you and I would share them, but since that will not be the case, I am sure she would still want you to have them. Mother said you always commented on the lovely blue pattern, and so I thought the set would serve as a fine wedding gift. I am including the silver dinnerware as my gift to you. I hope you will accept them with my best wishes.

  I know we did not part on the best of terms, Sarah. Perhaps when the day comes that you wish to retrieve your inherita-"

  Sarah stopped there and folded the letter. "I think perhaps I will finish the rest later. It's getting rather tiresome anyway. Shall we look at the dishes?" she asked.

  "Is that all there is then, dishes and spoons and forks?" Seth asked, disappointment clearly present in his voice.

  "I'm afraid so, Seth," Sarah answered, tousling the top of his head.

  "I want to see them," Rachel urged. "They sound pretty."

  Sarah purposely avoided Rocky's vigilant eyes, noting his stance hadn't changed. If anything, he'd grown stiffer, more stern-faced.

  Indeed, the china dishes were as she remembered them: eighteenth-century blue and white Delft dishes imported straight from the Netherlands. Rachel released a sigh when Sarah carefully retrieved one of the plates wrapped in newsprint and handed it over for her perusal.

  "I never saw dishes so pretty," Rachel whispered, laying the dish on the table to finger its delicate pattern. "My mama was too poor for dishes this beautiful." A wistful notion passed through Sarah's head that one day she might will these very dishes to Rachel.

  "Yes, they are lovely. I did comment on them frequently, but goodness, I didn't expect Mrs. Alden would one day give them to me. We used to eat on them when our families shared meals together."

  "Which was often?" asked Rocky, stepping closer to eye the dishes for himself.

  Sarah looked at him. "Not as often as you might think. Holidays and special occasions, mostly. Both our mothers were involved in charitable organizations and societal events, which took up a good share of their time. They were the best of friends, Stephen's mother and Mama.

  "Neither of our fathers was home much, what with all their business travel. Papa died some eight years ago, leaving only Mama and myself. The two of us joined the Aldens more frequently after that. Stephen's parents both perished in a train crash two years ago. It was most tragic." Sarah felt herself give way to a huge sigh. "Then, once Mama took ill, well, things changed even more drastically."

  Since the topic had turned introspective, Sarah took to unwrapping the rest of the dishes, finally digging her way to the bottom of the box where she found the lovely silver dinner service.

  "Oh my," she gasped, pulling out a beautiful knife and stroking the smooth floral design. "Aren't these nice?"

  Rachel reached inside the box and took out a long, polished fork. Even Seth dug out a silver piece for purposes of studying it more closely.

  "Too nice to use," Rocky muttered, looking around the kitchen and then the rest of the house.

  "We'll use them every single day," Sarah declared, standing taller. "Silver tarnishes with lack of use. No point in allowing that to happen."

  "This is not a big city where folks much care what your eating utensils look like, Sarah; it's Little Hickman, Kentucky. And what we already have will work just fine. In case you haven't noticed, this rustic house wasn't made for china and silver." Now his voice took on a harsher tone, gaining everyone's attention. "If it is high society you want, perhaps you should go back to Boston."

  "What?" Hurt, Sarah looked at Rocky and prayed a hasty prayer for patience and wisdom. "Of course, Winchester is nothing like Little Hickman, but that doesn't mean I don't like it here. And your house-it's comfortable and cozy."

  Rocky laughed, but it wasn't the carefree laughter of before; no, this held a note of disparagement, even disdain. A snide reminder of their differences. "Comfortable and cozy?" His eyes swept the place once more. "Are you serious?"

  She ignored his pointed question. "And once you add another room to the house for Rachel, it will be even more spacious.

  He dipped his head slightly and gave her a probing look. "I don't understand you." That said, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

  "What do you mean? Where are you going?" she asked, frustrated by his change in mood.

  He threw on his coat and hat. "I have to tend to the animals. I expect you'll all be in bed by the time I come back."

  And that was half true. The children were sound asleep two hours later when he finally returned. Sarah, however, had chosen to await her husband's return by sitting in front of the fire, feet curled under her, Bible resting on her lap.

  She had dimmed all the lights except for the lone kerosene lamp atop the sofa stand, and so the only thing Rocky saw when he first entered was the myriad of shadows skipping across the plaster ceiling.

  "Can we talk?" she said, her voice quiet but strong, her oval face turned in his direction. The light from the lamp cast a glow upon her porcelain countenance, and he thought her quite beautiful. Yes, he imagined she did have words for him.

  He'd been harsh with her before he'd left, but when she'd opened the box filled with china and silver from that Alden character, something in his stomach had knotted. Whether it had come from resentment or just plain jealousy, he couldn't say. He only knew he didn't want to eat off any of those blasted blue plates or put one of those dopey silver spoons to his mouth. He didn't mix with fine things. Sweet heaven, he didn't even mix with his own wife. The two of them were like oil to water, dirt to diamonds.

  Sarah wasn't suited for the hills of Kentucky. Although she'd done a fine job of keeping house and lessening his load with the children, he couldn't imagine what motivated her to do it. As far as he could tell, she'd had everything she'd ever needed in the charming little town of Winchester, except for the fact that both her parents had passed on. But surely she had friends to whom she could turn.

  At least, she had plenty of money. He hadn't missed the mention of an inheritance, even though she'd nearly choked on the word when she'd read it aloud from Alden's letter. Well, he'd make sure that she knew he never wanted one red cent of her wealth. In fact, he'd make it plain that he was ready to grant her an annulment. After all, there was nothing to keep them together-unless one counted the sacred vows they'd both spoken some ten or so days ago.

  Rocky kicked off his boots, hung up his coat and hat, and walked to the fire to warm himself, aware that his wife watched him from the most comfortable piece of furniture he owneda big, overstuffed chair of soft fabric, something his parents had given Hester and him as a wedding gift. Much as he hated to admit it, she did make a fetching sight, feet tucked beneath her, long hair falling in gentle waves about her face.

  He found a place on the sofa situated perpendicular to her chair and plopped into it. "Say your piece," he murmured.

  "My piece?" she asked, taken aback.

  "You said you wanted to talk to me."

  "Yes. Is it still raining?" she asked.

  He doubted she wanted to talk about the weather, but he supposed it was as good a starting point as any. "It's more like a mist now, but it's still freezing. There's a thick layer of ice on the path leading out to the barn. Did you manage to make it to the outhouse with the kids?"

  "I allowed them to use the chamber pot," she said, dipping her face at the mere mention of the word. He gave an inward smile at her sense of propriety.

  "You may do the same if you like. I'll take care of it later."

  Now she really went red as she squirmed in her chair. "Thank you," she whispered.

  Settling into the sofa, he readied himself for a lecture. After all, she'd had two hours to prepare one. "What else did you have a mind t
o say to me? I know I left the house in a huff."

  "Yes, you did. I decided you were upset because Stephen sent me a gift. Am I right?"

  He felt like a weasel, but admitting it was something else altogether. "I don't like the guy."

  "You should know he didn't mean to offend you with the gifts. In fact, he intended them for both of us."

  "Well, I don't make a habit of eating off china. The flatware and plain dishes that Hester and I had should suffice just fine when it comes to our mealtimes."

  "And what if I choose to use the others?"

  Uncalled-for stubbornness swam to the surface. "It makes no nevermind to me what you and the kids choose to do, but as for me, I'll use the old stuff."

  She shrugged her slender shoulders. "Let me know if you ever change your mind."

  "Fine," he answered. "Anything else?"

  A hint of a smile played around her full mouth, and he had to confess to being the one squirming now. Somehow, his rough-hewn nature just didn't mesh with her polished sophistication, and over the past week, he'd decided they had little in common. What was there to talk about with such a woman?

  "Whether you choose to believe it or not, Rocky, I do like it here. The peace and quiet of the hillside, the glorious sunrises, the sight of a distant deer roaming just past that rise over there. I glimpsed one the other morning as I was washing the breakfast dishes. Oh, it was a sight to behold." Her large eyes went damp with emotion, and his heart stirred, not so much from her account as from the fact that she'd used his first name. "And the children are wonderful. I think they're slowly coming out of their shells."

  He had to confess he'd seen a change in them, more so in Seth than in Rachel, of course, but even small steps seemed an accomplishment. He knew it was all due to Sarah's efforts.

  "You've done a great job with them, Sarah." Unfortunately, he'd been stingy with compliments.

  She inclined her head in a gesture of gratitude. "It wouldn't hurt for you to include them more, you know. Seth was thrilled the day you took him along to mend the fences. What if you offered again, and maybe invited Rachel to come, too?"

  Sliding forward on the sofa, he clasped his hands together and let them fall between his parted legs. He'd enjoyed that day with Seth more than she knew. But looking at the kid was too much like looking into the eyes of his own boy. And now she wanted him to cozy up to Rachel as well? It was too much to ask right now. The pain of losing Joseph still burned a hole through his heart.

  "I know they care for you," she urged in nothing more than a whisper.

  "They came at a bad time in my life," he muttered, hating his own coldness.

  Tilting her head, she gave it a negative shake. "When is a good time for children to lose their mother?"

  It wasn't a fair question. He knew Elizabeth's passing had created unfathomable grief for Rachel and Seth. Shoot, even he felt the sting of her absence, although as siblings they'd never been especially close.

  "I know they're hurting, all right? But I'm a busy man. It's hard for me to make time for them."

  "But they're your family. They need you."

  He leaned back in the sofa to rest his head and study the ceiling. A pounding ache had formed at his temples. "You've taken on quite a project with us, haven't you, Sarah?"

  "Project?"

  He pulled his head up temporarily to look at her. "Isn't that why you agreed to marry me? Some notion about obeying God's call?"

  Her eyes sought his, so he lay back once more to avoid looking into their emerald depths, clasping his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

  "It wasn't a notion. It was something I sensed clear to my toes. Haven't you ever felt something so intensely that it was impossible to ignore? What began as a tiny seed of hope in my heart expanded into fervent passion. I simply knew that God had great and wondrous things in store for me, things that required much faith."

  Rocky stretched his legs out in silence, prepared to hear her out.

  "Before my mother took ill, I signed on as a mailorder bride. I loved the idea of Kentucky when I read Benjamin Broughton's response to my ad. It sounded like such an adventure. Of course, his being a Christian made it all seem so right."

  "But you wound up with me," he said in jest, imagining a hint of a smile on her pretty lips. "Why didn't you just marry someone from your hometown?"

  He felt her eyes on him and heard a round of feminine laughter. "I am almost twenty-eight years old, Rocky. Every Christian man I knew was either engaged or already married and raising his third or fourth child. I'm afraid most men assumed I intended to marry Stephen Alden, and so they thought me ineligible. I know our parents certainly wanted it. But God had other plans for me."

  "So you enlisted in this marriage agency to find yourself a man," he said, lifting his head to catch another look at her.

  "A Christian man," she put in.

  "Then why marry me?"

  She raised her chin. "Because of something you said. It stayed with me for days afterward."

  "What was that?"

  "You said you once called yourself a Christian... but that circumstances had changed you. I know that God is not finished with you, Rocky Callahan."

  He felt his brow wrinkle in confusion. "You actually think God wanted you to marry me?" The very suggestion seemed ludicrous to Rocky. God wasn't about to give him any special treatment these days. He'd certainly been anything but obedient to Him.

  "Every time I prayed about my future, God always seemed to remind me of that ad I'd seen posted in the city newspaper by the Marriage Made in Heaven Agency."

  Rocky chuckled. "Marriage Made in Heaven? With a name like that, I'd have run the other way, Sarah. It sounds risky, if you ask me, a fly-by-night operation."

  She threw up her hand to cover her mouth and smother her giggles. "They did go out of business not long after I signed up with them. That's why Benjamin Broughton never could reach me to tell me he'd had a change of plans."

  Rocky's own laughter floated up from his throat, and so they shared in the lighthearted moment.

  He figured he should be thankful for the mix-up, the agency folding before they could notify her. After all, it'd afforded him the opportunity to propose marriage to her instead. And he had needed a wife-desperately. Still, he wondered if it wasn't Sarah who was getting the short end of the stick. He was no match for her, never would be.

  "Sorry about Ben breaking your heart."

  She shook her head. "He didn't break my heart at all." She gave him a long, hard look. "Sometimes we think we have God all figured out when, in actuality, He just gives us little glimpses and nudges of the direction He wants us to go in, leading us there one step at a time. He got me to Kentucky, and that was the main thing."

  Rocky nodded, and for the next several minutes they sat in companionable silence, watching the fire lose steam and listening to the sizzling, crackling embers that formed from a dying log.

  At last, Rocky spoke, his voice hoarse. "Life on the farm is not easy, Sarah. Come spring, it will get even harder, particularly when planting season arrives. Maybe you should think about..."

  Sarah sat straighter. "I can handle it."

  He'd wanted to offer her an easy out, but she'd quickly cut him off at the pass. "If you say so," he said. But even as he muttered the words, he found it hard to believe that someone so delicate might soon have to muck stalls, feed the chickens, and milk the cows because he'd be fighting against the clock to meet planting deadlines. Hester had thought nothing of it. She'd been made of tough stuff, though. Her own family were farmers from way back.

  Sarah played with the hem of her robe, her feet still tucked beneath her lean frame. "What did you mean earlier when you said you didn't understand me?" Her voice seemed clogged.

  He swallowed and shrugged. "Nothing in particular. You're just different."

  All of a sudden, she modified her position, drawing her knees up and hugging them close to her. "What do you mean, different?"

  H
e yawned and stretched before dragging his two-hundred-pound frame to a standing position. "Could we talk another time, Sarah?" The woman made him nervous with her questions, made him worry that he might divulge his true feelings-that he didn't think she was cut out for living the hard life, that when the going got tough she would run as fast as she could back to her comfortable lifestyle.

  How could he tell her without hurting her that he regretted this marriage? That he wished he'd never dragged her into such an arrangement?

  Slanting her head to one side, she gave him a probing glance, as if to read him. "All right, then."

  He inspected the room. "If you don't mind, I think I'll bed down on the sofa."

  "It's probably a good idea on such a nasty night."

  He actually planned to make the sofa his bed from now on until he finished the extra room. It was foolish to sleep in a freezing barn when he could be curled up next to a warm hearth. Besides, now he could tend to the fire and keep it blazing all night.

  "Good night, Sarah."

  "Good night." Although he might have lent her a hand while she unwrapped her legs and stood up, he clasped his hands tight together at his back, afraid that touching her might ignite some deadly spark.

  Sarah would not be here forever. Best he not grow used to her.

  Sunday morning came in a veil of blackness.

  Sarah scrambled out of bed, shivering mightily when her bare feet hit the cold wood floor. The first thing she did was run to the window to peer outside. Had the ground thawed, or did the earth still lie under a coverlet of ice? It was difficult to tell with the absence of a moon.

  She'd so wanted to attend Sunday services, even though she hadn't broached the subject with Rocky. It would be wonderful to see folks, even more delightful just to gather with other believers. Well, if the weather conditions prevented them from attending this week, she decided, they would simply hold a private service right in their very own living room, with songs, Bible reading, and prayer. In fact, she'd already prepared the entire ceremony in her head. Oh, it would be the perfect time for gathering together to sing and praise God-whether Rocky approved or not.