Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2)

by Sharlene MacLaren

  Jon flicked his wrist. "Enough about that foolishness." He rubbed a hand along his clean-shaven jaw as his brow line pulled into a frown. "I drove out here to speak with you about another matter altogether."

  He'd suspected there might be something else. Rocky drew up a couple of makeshift stools. "Have a seat," he ordered.

  The two men situated themselves on the overturned crates. "What's on your mind?" he asked, curious.

  Jon took a moment to formulate his words before speaking. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about our Sunday morning services. Since the schoolhouse burned, we've put a burden on the Winthrops, I'm afraid. They're not complaining, mind you, but it's clear we can't continue expecting them to open their home week after week."

  Rocky nodded. "I imagine it's been a bit of a trial for the old gal." Mrs. Winthrop was not an easy woman, and it seemed the older she got, the more crotchety she became. "My guess is Clyde's the more generous of the two."

  Jon shook his head. "No matter. You have to give them credit. Matter of fact, when this is over, the town ought to do something nice for them."

  "When it's over? Do you see an end in sight, Jon?"

  "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Rock. I've been giving the matter serious thought and prayer." Jon swallowed and snagged a deep breath. "I'm considering selling the family farm and donating the funds to the building of a new church."

  "What? You can't be serious." Rocky parted his lips in surprise. "How could you think about selling your own house? Where would you live?"

  "I'm thinking on that. I'm not a farmer, Rock. Of course, Pa would beg a quarrel if he were still breathing." At that, a half-hearted chuckle erupted. "Pa always had hopes for that homestead, but as you know, he threw away his entire life on drink and women."

  Rocky nodded, remembering all too well. The fool had even sent Jon's mother to an early grave. At least, that was how most folks saw it. Sadly, Jon, then a young teenager, had discovered his mother in the barn one day after school hanging from the end of a rope. She'd left a note in her dress pocket saying she couldn't take it anymore.

  "I'm a pastor. I would rather devote my time and energy to my parish. The farm and all that land is going to waste, and I sure don't need that big house. Maybe I'll stay at the boardinghouse until I can buy something more my size in town. It's clear the town can't really afford to put me up in a parsonage. They haven't even raised the money for a school yet. These are hard times."

  "Yes, but the boardinghouse? You're talking Emma Browning's place?" It was a known fact that Emma Browning would have nothing to do with church. Although she was a lovely woman to look at, she was hard to the bone. Chances were good she wouldn't want the town's only minister staying under her roof

  Jon grinned. "It's the only boardinghouse I know of in Hickman."

  "You should give this more thought, Jon," Rocky insisted.

  "I've given it plenty of thought, but I wouldn't mind if you'd join me in my prayer efforts. I don't want to miss God's leading."

  Rocky shifted uncomfortably. "It's been a while since anyone's asked me to pray for him. I appreciate your confidence."

  One of Jon's blond eyebrows tipped up a fraction. "You went through a tough period, Rock, but lately I've spotted a crack in your armor."

  "That so?" Now it was Rocky's turn to throw his friend a questioning glance.

  Jon's smile lent a boyish look to his clean-shaven face, and yet there was a strength of character about him that made up for his youthful demeanor. Undoubtedly he was one of the most respected men in all of Hickman, perhaps due to his own example of suffering through adversity and coming out the clear winner.

  "I've always known deep down you weren't a quitter."

  Rocky scoffed. "Thanks for your vote."

  "I'm serious," Jon said, running his boot along the brandnew floor as if to test its smoothness. "The loss of a barn would have been the last straw for most men, but I've seen a light in your eye that tells me you're not ready to give up the fight."

  Rocky bit his lip and thought about the preacher's words. "I'll admit to being angry with God. The shock of it hit me hard. But I quickly came to realize that people are more important than things. The thought of losing Rachel in that fire put everything into perspective. Then Seth getting sick..." He swallowed down a hard lump.

  "Kind of makes you realize what's truly important in life," Jon said.

  Rocky nodded his agreement before casting his gaze toward the ceiling. "I've taken to reading my Bible again." The admission came surprisingly hard.

  Jon patted Rocky on the shoulder. "That's where you'll find your answers, my friend."

  "I can't say I've found all the answers, but at least I'm willing to start looking."

  "That's a good beginning-a willing heart. God will take a willing heart."

  Both men allowed a measure of silence to envelope them while Rocky pondered his friend's words. Yes. Somewhere along the line, despite his stubborn pride, his heart had grown softer, and he suspected his wife had something to do with it. Still, maybe more than anything, it was God Himself who'd finally cracked through that outer shell, which Jon referred to as his armor.

  Both men pivoted when Sarah shuffled through the doorway, arms full with a tray containing cookies, linen napkins, a tall crystal pitcher, and two matching glasses. Jon stepped forward to assist her. "I thought you might enjoy some refreshment," she said, allowing Jon to take the tray from her and place it atop a ramshackle workbench. Somehow, the finery didn't quite fit the room, but Rocky wouldn't balk at a nice cool drink and Sarah's thought to offer it. Time and again his wife demonstrated her refined ways, and just as often he wondered what kept her in Little Hickman, Kentucky. The quiet, unadorned little town had to be as different as night and day from the commotion of Winchester's city life.

  Rocky looked on as she lifted the pitcher and filled each glass to its rim with lemonade, taking care to top them off with a lemon slice. She offered the first glass to Jon along with a smile. Sarah had no notion of what a captivating picture she made, Rocky thought to himself-her shimmering hair braided into a neat little knot, with only a few curly strands falling haphazardly about her oval face, her light blue calico dress gathered at the middle, accenting her tiny waist. The sight made him want to pull her up next to him.

  Jon gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, dear lady. I shall come more often if you promise me lemonade in crystal glasses." At that, he raised the glass to his lips and took several swallows while Sarah watched. After that, he flashed her a perfectly mesmeric smile and declared that it was the best lemonade he'd tasted since, well, since his mama used to make it.

  "And I declare if you haven't managed to charm my wife, you scoundrel! Have you no limits?" Rocky stepped forward to take the glass Sarah had poured for him. "Pay no attention to him, Sarah," he said in a counseling tone, coming up close to nudge her in the side. "Jon here has the notion that a preacher's license somehow gives him a wider margin with the womenfolk."

  Sarah gasped and covered her mouth, obviously unsure how to handle the offhanded remark. Clearly, she didn't understand the camaraderie between the old friends.

  Jon turned up his ready smile a notch. "Totally untrue, madam; he's just jealous." He grabbed a cookie off the platter and spoke between bites. "I suspect he's still bitter about all those girls chasing me around the schoolyard when we were ten."

  Rocky gripped the front of his shirt as if in pain. "Yeah, truth is, it's still raw." He dipped his face toward Sarah and gave her a conspiratorial wink. She giggled in response, catching the joke.

  Apparently Jon spotted the look that passed between the two, for he placed his empty glass on the platter, brushed his hands together, and looked at Sarah. "And now I must be on my way. I have several more calls to make. Will I see you in church on Sunday?"

  "We'll make every effort," Sarah answered, "but I'm afraid it will depend on Seth. He's still quite weak."

  Jon nodded. "How about I offer up a prayer for h
im before I leave?"

  Sarah looked at Rocky. "We would very much appreciate that," she answered for both of them.

  In the living room everyone gathered around the boy, including Rachel, while Jon prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for preserving Seth's life and asked God for continued healing.

  The heartfelt petition touched a cord in Rocky's heart, sparked a deep-set need in the center of his soul, and took him back to earlier days when he'd prayed just as freely. Lord, forgive me for my rebellion, he prayed inwardly. Help me trust You, even when I don't understand Your ways.

  It was a simple request, but when he opened his eyes, he felt somehow different.

  ut I want to go to church!" Seth's voice came off sounding weaker than normal, but at least his cheeks had regained their rosy hue.

  "I don't know, Seth. It's up to your uncle," Sarah said, looking to her husband. "What do you think, Rocky?"

  "Please, Uncle Rocky? I think Seth looks just fine," Rachel chimed.

  Rocky chuckled. "You would say that just to get out of the house again. I guess selling your eggs at market on Friday didn't quite satisfy those itchy feet."

  "It is a beautiful day," Sarah supplied. "The fresh air alone would probably do him a world of good."

  Rocky raised the lad's chin with his finger. "You are getting back a bit of color in your cheeks."

  Seth's eyes brightened. "So we can go?"

  "What's with this sudden desire to go to Sunday service? You know you have to sit as still as a dead bug. If you make a single sound Mrs. Winthrop will stare you down with those beady eyes."

  Rachel giggled.

  "Rocky," Sarah said in her best warning tone.

  "I want to sing to God," Seth declared weakly while lifting his skinny shoulders.

  Rocky's face split into a grin. "Well then, I suspect we ought to go just to listen to Seth's fine singing voice."

  So that settled it. The Callahans were going to church.

  Sarah could barely contain her joy. There was something different in her husband's countenance; his manner seemed more relaxed, much friendlier. All the way into town, there'd been happy conversation. Even Seth joined in the repartee, seeming to perk up with the bright sunshine despite Sarah's insistence he remain calm.

  In town, Sarah took the hand Rocky offered and hopped down from the wagon. Because several folks traveled a distance, most left their wagons along Main Street and walked the few blocks to the Winthrop home. Those living nearby simply walked. Thus, families came from every direction, some hand in hand, others with children who preferred to scamper ahead of their parents.

  At first glance, Sarah spotted Elmer and Bess Barrington and their two children, Thomas and Erlene. All four gave enthusiastic waves. Behind them came the Warner clan followed by the Thompsons. Sarah smiled and waved in response to everyone's greetings.

  "Look, there's my friend, Todd. I played with him at the picnic," Seth said. Even though he remained weak, there was elation in his voice. Sarah once again gave silent thanks to God for His protection over Seth and Rachel.

  "And there's Lill Broughton," Rachel cried, waving wildly. The entire Broughton family, including baby Molly, carried by Benjamin, strode toward the Winthrop home, approaching from the opposite direction. Again, Sarah gave thanks that little Molly had come through the diphtheria looking relatively unscathed. "Can I go say hello?"

  "I think it's best you stick with us," Rocky said. "There'll be plenty of time for hellos after the service."

  Rather than voice an argument, Rachel looped her arm in the crook of Sarah's and kept step. "I like this day," she announced.

  Curious, Sarah looked down at the child and smiled, thinking to ask her why, but Rocky beat her to it. "And what makes this day special to you?" he asked, glancing first at Rachel, then casting a wink at Sarah. The simple act sent a delightful shiver of longing up her backbone.

  "I don't know exactly, but maybe it's because the sun is shining, and spring is here, and Seth is better, and we..."

  When she didn't complete her thought, Rocky prompted, "And we...?"

  "We seem like a real family," she finished.

  Rocky reached across Sarah and gave a tender yank to one of Rachel's braids. "We are a family, sweetie."

  Sarah hitched a breath and tried to hold her emotions at bay. They did seem more and more like a regular family and, as if to accentuate that thought, Rocky put a hand to the center of Sarah's back and steered her around the corner of Washington Avenue.

  "Hey! There's Sarah Jenkins." Rachel turned her attentions to the tall girl straight ahead, seemingly ecstatic when the girl noticed her and waved. Rachel returned the greeting then tipped her head up at Rocky and Sarah. A sheepish grin swept across her mouth. "I think I like Little Hickman."

  "Yeah, me too," Seth chimed, gazing at his sister. "I didn't have no friends in Ohio, but I gots more'n one here."

  Sarah winced at his poor use of the English language, but smiled in spite of it. "You'll gain even more friends once school begins," she said, "if the town ever gets around to building a schoolhouse, that is."

  "Town needs to raise the money first," Rocky said, looking straight ahead. "It doesn't appear to be happening too fast."

  Sarah knew exactly how to get her hands on the necessary funds. A simple phone call or telegram to Stephen Alden would do the trick. But how would Rocky feel about her making such a contribution to the town? She knew how he felt about accepting money from her on a personal level. Would he feel similarly were she to offer the funds for a schoolhouse? A barn was one thing, she reasoned, but a schoolhouse-well, that affected Little Hickman's children, Seth and Rachel in particular, and who could deny the children their education?

  The Winthrop home couldn't have seated another person. Either the promise of spring or the retreat of the dreaded virus had brought people out in droves this sunny Sunday morning. Folks' moods were bright and cheery, exuding an air of thankfulness to God, with the exception of poor Mrs. Winthrop, who looked fit to be tied. Dark hair pulled back into a severe bun, her arched eyebrows, and a sour expression betrayed her deep frustration. Sarah couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman. Surely, hosting the weekly service had become drudgery, and who could blame her for her disgruntled look?

  Although shoes had been stacked at the door and coats lay draped across folks' laps or behind their chairs, there was still a layer of dirt and grime on the lovely marble entryway. It was clear the townsfolk needed a building of their own in which to worship. Oh, the Winthrop home was by far the largest in the area, but it was not a house of worship, and Sarah hoped the citizens of Little Hickman would soon recognize that fact.

  Jon Atkins delivered a fine sermon, challenging those present to trust God in all things, using Proverbs 3, verses 5 and 6 as his text. Several amens rose up around the room as he spoke of God's faithfulness and abiding love. Sarah glanced over Seth and Rachel's heads at Rocky and discovered him focusing on Jon's words and wearing a look of contentment. It appeared a change had taken place in her husband's heart and soul.

  At the close of his message, Jon offered a final prayer, gathered up what few notes he had in front of him, cleared his throat, and, perusing the worshipers with intent eyes, spoke without faltering. "And now I have one thing further to say."

  Sensing something important was on the horizon, folks sat up, shushed their impatient children, and sharpened their gazes on the preacher.

  "For some time now the Winthrops have been kind enough to lend us their home as a meeting place." All around the room people nodded in agreement, some turning eyes upon the Winthrops, standing at the back of the room, who appeared just as curious as the rest. "But now it's time we start building a new church. Now that spring's upon us, I'm sure you men will agree the building can begin."

  "But the town ain't raised near enough money yet, Reverend," Elmer Barrington argued from the front row.

  "Not one of us here would disagree we need to find a different meeting place, Jon," came the voice o
f Eldred Johansson, mercantile owner, "but there's the matter of the schoolhouse, too. The education of ar youngins is awful important. If we start buildin' a church, hard tellin' when we'll raise the funds for a new school. I think most folks are in agreement that we want separate buildings this time around."

  Sarah heard several utterances of concurrence rise up. Oh, how she wanted to speak, but the fact that she was Hickman's newest citizen kept her silent. She glanced at Rocky and found him pensive. If only she could read his mind. Was he worried about when his barn would go up now that talk of building a new church had taken preeminence? She longed to reassure him.

  "I want my children to start school in the fall. If we build the church first, is that going to be possible?" Esther Thompson piped up. On her lap, she held the newest member of the Thompson clan, a baby girl dressed in pink and wearing a matching bonnet.

  More than a few women showed their agreement with nods and murmurs.

  Jon raised both hands at the restless parishioners. "Folks," he cut in, "you didn't let me finish. The funds for the church have already been raised. You can now concentrate your efforts on collecting for the schoolhouse."

  Echoes of shock reverberated through the house, as people whispered among themselves. Sarah looked at Rocky and found him smiling at Jon and shaking his head. He had that look of knowing written across his face.

  Jon lowered his arms and fumbled with his papers, then cleared his throat. "I've talked to a few of you, my good friends Benjamin Broughton and Rocky Callahan, in particular, sought the Lord's wisdom and direction, and, after much soulsearching and prayer, have come to an important decision."

  Folks sat in utter silence as they waited, stiff and unsure. Finally, an unidentified male voice from the back asked, "What might that be, Reverend?"

  "I've sold my farm, and the proceeds will be more than sufficient for building a new church." When gasps erupted around the room, Jon raised his arms once more to shush the people. "Now, I don't want any protests. I've made up my mind. I don't need that big farm. You folks know I'm no farmer."