A Match for Sarah

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by Marlene Bierworth


  “I’m leaving for Texas next week,” she said bluntly in response to Genevieve’s question.

  “Is someone in your family ill? You should have told us. We could pray.”

  “No one is ill.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away to face a shelf. Her sister-in-law would have none of it, and she spun Sarah back around.

  “Spit it out. What did my brother do now?”

  “Nothing at all,” Sarah said defensively. “He has been supportive and gallant through all this.”

  “Then what could possibly entice you to leave his side?”

  “I’m not as brave as you, Genevieve. Every day I relive the frightful nightmare that Cretis brought to our home. Every time I look at Nick, I wonder how many others are planning his demise. I can’t stay here expecting harm to befall him at every turn. It’s exhausting and Nick deserves a braver candidate. Please, tell Marianne that the next time she sends for a wife.”

  “Nick does not want another wife,” Genevieve said. “In fact, he sat at our table just a few days ago, praising you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, and of course, you are. Life isn’t always safe, especially tucked away on farmland where the nearest neighbor is miles away, but it’s a good life that Nick is offering you, Sarah. Don’t throw it away and let fear win the day.”

  “Fear is the opposite of faith,” Sarah said. “I struggle with that, too, and I wonder if this isn’t all some giant test the Lord has given me to make me stronger.”

  “I like that idea better because if God sent the challenge, He will see you through it,” Genevieve said. “Look at the success you had building a bridge between Nick and his brothers. That would never have happened without your interference—or so the boys label it to make themselves sound manly and hen-pecked by women.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I do believe they like our guidance, as silly as that sounds, but they are hard-pressed to admit such a need.”

  “The Bible says that a man does well to listen to wisdom from his life partner, or something like that. I’m sure I got the words all wrong.” Genevieve took Sarah’s hands in hers. “I understand that not everyone craves dangerous adventures like me, but I think God brought you here to be the Traftons’ calming influence. We are such a bunch of hotheads. Please, reconsider. I know your leaving will devastate Nick, as it will all of us who have gotten to know you.”

  That brought a flood of tears.

  Genevieve held Sarah in the small pantry while she sobbed it out.

  Pushing her away, Sarah said, “I am the worst coward of all. I came here wanting love and a family, and God has blessed me with both. Yet the fear of losing any of it at the hands of irrational mayhem keeps me observing it as if it were through a glass wall, one that keeps my feet firmly frozen on the wrong side of my heart’s desires.”

  “Very well said. Now that you’ve labeled it, perhaps that’s all the push you need to smash that wall down. Shall we go outside and beat on something? It always helps me to vent that way.”

  “Heaven’s no! That won’t be necessary.”

  “Then, is it settled? Shall we hear no more of your leaving?”

  “I promise to consider it,” Sarah said.

  “Don’t block Nick out. Talk to him. He’s got big shoulders; believe me, I know. I’ve tested out his resilience and dependability many times while growing up.”

  Gen picked up the items she’d come to gather, and went to the door. “I’ll leave you alone to get composed. We don’t need all the jabber mouths in town relaying your business.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  At the end of the day, Sarah helped the women to re-box the leftovers to carry out to the new barn. The walls were standing, a roof sheltered it overhead, and the men had nailed the last plank into the floor. Rough tables had been arranged to hold the food that would vanish long before the last wagon pulled off the property later that night. Kids scurried around, excited about the dancing that would start as soon as the band set up. There were men with guitars, a fiddle, an accordion, a harmonica, some spoons, and a home-fashioned beating drum.

  Where anyone found the energy to party after the enormous amount of work that had gone on that day was beyond Sarah’s understanding, but it was apparently, tradition. That was the norm, the way folks ended a day of barn-raising.

  Sarah had never gone dancing, sad to say. She’d served at many festive celebrations upstairs at the Texas manor, but not once had she tried to dance—not in public, anyway. Many a time, when alone in the downstairs kitchen, her feet dared to follow the beat of the tune she hummed. It had seemed silly and almost blasphemous, and she’d always feared someone would see her and report her to the head butler who guarded their activities with a strict hand.

  She frowned at the memory. Yes, life held more challenges here, and there was certainly more danger than was in her twelve-foot square kitchen located in the Cranstons’ downstairs servant’s quarters.

  Nick had not restricted her in any way, allowing her to remodel the home he’d started to ensure she’d feel as if it were her home, too. He was thoughtful, hardworking, and most desirable—everything a woman needed or should want in a man—yet, there she was, coddling fear as if it owned her and planning to throw all the good away to return to the restricted life of a paid servant in someone else’s manor.

  Genevieve should have slapped sense into her in the pantry earlier instead of showing her a breadth of kindness she didn’t deserve. She had no right to allow those she’d grown to care for over these past weeks to beg for her to stay when, in her heart of hearts, Sarah knew that leaving this place called home would destroy her.

  Sarah peered across the room, saw Nick conversing with the band members, and felt herself melt into effortless submission. She loved her husband and hated that she might put him through such anguish with her leaving.

  Flinging the last remnants of selfish immaturity aside, she resolved to stay. For as long as the Good Lord gave breath to her body, she would use it to please her man and make the good times ahead far outweigh the sorrowful ones that would surely pass their way.

  It turned out that dancing was all about releasing the pent-up joy inside one’s being. In the arms of men well-accustomed to leading, Sarah flew around the room until she was dizzy, going from one partner to the other. Nick did not approach her, and she was saddened, knowing he was guarding what little was left of his heart.

  When the music slowed, she declined Saul’s offer to dance, and moved toward Nick. Sarah reached for his hand. “Nick, I feel it only right we make an announcement thanking everyone for their time and resources to rebuild the barn.”

  “You’re right, of course,” he said. “Are you having a good time?”

  “You may be surprised to know that this is the very first dance I have ever attended.”

  “Really?” he said, surprised. “You’d never know it the way you’ve been stepping out on the dance floor.”

  “I hope you didn’t mind. The gentlemen were most gracious, and to your benefit, I made all of my mistakes stomping on their toes, saving the most experienced dance for you.”

  “You want to dance with me?” His expression was a mix of hopefulness and despair.

  “For the rest of my life, if you’ll forgive a very stubborn lady her folly. I love you.”

  That got Nick’s attention. He studied her, his eyes penetrating her darkest secrets. When a grin spread across his face, she knew he’d found the answers to his search.

  “I have dreamed of those words for so long, but feared I’d never hear you say it.”

  “You mean the foolish part or the part where I said that I love you?”

  “Definitely the second half. The foolish part just makes us even. We both know I’ve walked farther down that path than you.”

  He took her hand in his, lifted it, and brushed his lips over her flesh before finishing with a tender kiss. His eyes never once left her face. “I fell for you only days after you arrived. You are so easy to love, as
anybody who knows you would agree.”

  “I’m glad love comes in different forms for different people,” she said playfully. “I think one husband is quite sufficient to keep a woman busy.”

  “About that speech,” Nick said, nodding to where the band played. “I’m not good with words—do you want to take the lead?”

  “My pleasure,” Sarah said.

  Together, they walked to the front. Nick put up his hand. The musicians stopped the music, and they waited for the guests in the barn to quiet. “Thank you all for coming. My wife wants to say a few words.”

  Sarah laughed, as did everyone. “My man of very few words.” She scanned the room and felt the bond for so many neighbors and family. “I wanted to thank you all for the time and energy you’ve given us today to rebuild our barn. Those of you who stood by Nick during the recent battle will always hold a special place in my heart. Until I came here, I had no idea of community and what it meant to support one another through the good times and the bad. You have opened my eyes to a new way of life, and I will be forever grateful.”

  Sarah took her husband’s hand. “Thank you for making this a memorable day in the Trafton household. May heartfelt traditions continue amongst us forever.” She looked at Nick and whispered, “I’m done.”

  Nick motioned to the band. “Let’s dance, folks.” He leaned closer to his wife. “Shall we?” he said as he led her to the dance floor.

  Nick pulled her close, blurring out everything and everyone around them. When Sarah looked at him, the full meaning of home came into focus. He was her home—not a cabin, not a farm, not even a room in Cranston Manor. Unity was found when hearts merged into one, and all it took was resigning to what God had preordained. Joy filled her cup to overflowing, and she drank in her husband’s love like a tonic for a lifelong ailment.

  “Welcome home, Mrs. Trafton,” Nick said before he bent and kissed her.

  What’s Next in the Series

  Book #3 A Match for Esther Rose by Lynn Donovan

  Esther Rose Givens can’t imagine any man who would want to be married to her, or that she would change herself to suit a man’s image of a perfect wife. Even when she acknowledges feelings for her best friend’s brother, Deputy Patrick O’Riley, she seeks Marianne Gordon’s matchmaking skills to find the right husband.

  Patrick O’Riley is certain he wants Esther Rose as his wife, but is held back by her callused responses to him. Can Marianne Gordon help him learn if Esther Rose is a willing candidate for marriage? Or should he focus on his career and not worry himself about marriage?

  Can anything bring these two together despite their stubborn self-sabotaging personalities? Not even Marianne and her matchmaking skills can foresee how this match will turn out.

  From the Author

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  Table of Contents

  A Match for Sarah

  Copyright © 2021 Marlene Bierworth

  Special Thanks

  Be sure to read all the books in this series.

  Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Special Thanks Other Books in the Series Table of Contents About this Book Chapter 1 through 13 What’s Next in the Series From the Author

  About this Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  What’s Next in the Series

  From the Author

 

 

 


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