“I’m falling in love with you, Sarah. I want to be the man to help you with your burdens.”
The words escaped before he could think about them or pull them back. They hung echoing in the air between them.
He didn’t want to take them back. He hadn’t consciously thought them through, but he meant them. A sense of rightness filled him, an inner sureness God meant for him to tell her.
He did love her.
Though by her horrified expression, it was the last thing she wanted to hear.
Chapter Ten
Sarah longed to believe Fraser’s words and accept the comfort he offered. She wanted to let him take her into his arms again. Let herself cry on his chest. Find strength enough in his warm support to stand tall beside him and face whatever came. His love would shine a light into her dark future.
She wanted to tell him she believed she could love him, too.
But she couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t that easy.
As if he sensed her weakening, he leaned in, softening his tone. “I won’t leave you. I won’t forget you as easily as you seem to think.”
“You have to. And you will.” She tensed, ready for the inevitable once he knew the truth. Oh, he’d be kind, gentle, let her down easy, but the rejection would be there.
“I wouldn’t pressure you to put her into care. We’d weather it together, with help from God and the kirk.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not just Mum.”
The tight band around her throat strangled her words, stopping her speaking.
Fraser waited, the question burning in his eyes.
She swallowed, and then blurted out the words she should have told him right from the start. “Her illness is hereditary. I have it too. If I have a child, there’s a fifty-fifty chance of passing it on to them.”
Fraser stiffened and stepped back. Blinked. Swallowed. The shock and dismay on his face said it all. His words might contradict it, but she’d seen the truth.
Leaving was only a matter of time.
“Oh, Sarah….”
He said nothing more. Didn’t reach out to her. Didn’t offer to hold her. Just stood there, arms hanging at his side, with that same crease between his brows, that same disbelieving little head shake.
She’d lost him, as she knew she would. Whether now, or later once symptoms developed, it was bound to happen. Staying was too much to ask.
Words tumbled from her to break the silence, solid as a wall between them. “Things went wrong with Mum a few years before we found out what was happening. She had mood swings. She started forgetting and getting angry and frustrated. Her doctor put it down to the change. Finally, it got so bad they sent her to a specialist. After she was diagnosed, they offered me genetic testing. I wasn’t sure, but Dad wanted me to have it. I tested positive. Early onset familial Alzheimer’s. Right after that, Dad left.”
Her lips twisted, and she hugged herself tighter. “Maybe he could handle having an ill wife, but not a daughter too. Who knows? I decided right then that I wouldn’t ever marry and place the burden of caring for me or the guilt of leaving me on the man I loved. And I won’t risk passing the defective gene on to a child. I can’t inflict what my mother and I will go through on another person.”
Fraser seemed to find his voice. He straightened, and concern replaced the dull disbelief in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity.” She clenched her teeth, clamping down the bile in her throat. “I just want you to leave. Then I can get on with caring for Mum and trying to live the best life I can until it strikes me, as well.”
He took a deep breath and let it go. “It’s a heavy thing. I’m not pretending otherwise. But I don’t feel pity for you. I love you. I want you to have the best life possible, too. I want to be part of it.” He opened his arms to her.
She swayed toward him, wishing she could believe it. Everything she’d ever wanted to hear from a man. And not just from any man, from Fraser.
But the pastor at her old church had counselled her against marriage, and the genetic counsellor against having children. Life with her brought heavy burdens. It had been too heavy for Dad.
At times, it felt too heavy for her.
Why would Fraser be any different, just because she wanted him to be?
She stepped back. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Are you sure you want to share your life with a woman who could already be ill? It might start tomorrow, or it might not happen till I’m seventy. Could you live with the uncertainty?” Her voice choked. “Every time I get upset or moody, every time I can’t remember a name or phone number, every time I let the dinner burn, you’d be wondering. Is this it? Is this the start?”
“That would be hard.” He dipped his chin to meet her eyes. “For us both. But wouldn’t it be easier to face it together, side by side, rather than alone? And if I couldn’t cope, if I left when you got really sick, are you any worse off for having lived more in the meantime?”
“No! I couldn’t live with the fear of seeing the love in your eyes turn to pity, then resentment. I can’t bear the thought of being a burden to you. Or anyone. I can’t let myself love and depend on my husband, then have him leave right when I need him most.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“No, Fraser.” She stopped his protest. “This is my decision, not yours. This is where it ends.”
Before he could argue, try to change her mind, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, his stubble rough beneath her lips. “Goodbye. I need to get back to Mum. I’ve left her too long already.”
Then she pushed the door open, stepped through, and locked it behind her. She slumped against the hard wood, breathing fast as if she’d run a five-minute mile.
Half of her hoped Fraser would pound on the door and demand she let him in. The other half dreaded it.
Please, God, make him go. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
Eventually, his footsteps crunched on the path outside, moving away. A car started and drove off.
He was gone.
Forcing a deeper breath into her constricted chest, she straightened her shoulders and walked down the hall to the sitting room.
Time to start forgetting she’d ever fallen in love, and get back to life as usual.
Mum sat in her usual chair, watching the Sunday political discussion with her usual sweet, confused expression. Sarah pinned on her usual smile as she entered the room.
Mum looked up. “Who was at the door, darling?”
“Someone I know from school. He’s gone now, Mum.”
Her heart burned with unshed tears at the truth of those words. Fraser wouldn’t come back once he’d had time to think about it and realised all that being in her life meant.
“Why is the duvet and pillow on the sofa? Are we expecting a visitor?”
Mum had forgotten Fraser already. In time, Sarah would too.
She picked them up. “I’ll put these away. Let’s get you dressed. It’s a lovely day. Shall we go for a walk? I left my car at the church yesterday, and I need to collect it.”
Mum nodded and stood, smiling. “Of course, darling. What should I wear?”
This was her reality, not waiting for her prince to come and take her away from all this.
If God had sent her a prince, she’d just told him to leave. No prince deserved what marrying her would put him through.
And not even a prince could love her enough to stay.
*
Fraser felt numb as he drove away from Sarah’s house. An icy, desolate nothingness.
Finding out about her mother shocked him. And now this. Leaving as she’d asked meant Sarah would believe she was right, he’d run away once he knew her deepest secret.
It wasn’t the truth.
He needed to find out more about her condition, pray it through, talk to someone with the wisdom to see things clearer than he could right now. Mum and Dad, when they came home from their retreat. Gr
owing up with Brodie had been tough, and life with Sarah and Isabel would bring even bigger challenges.
He wouldn’t make any promises he didn’t fully intend to keep.
Once he was sure, he’d try again. Try to convince her to give him a chance.
She wouldn’t trust him all at once, of course. But if she’d let him start helping, give him time to prove himself, then maybe she’d learn to believe he’d stay around for the long haul.
One thought ran through his mind—why? Why Sarah? She didn’t deserve this. And could he be man enough to help her?
Mary Mackay’s ancient Morris Minor blocked the manse driveway, not Mum and Dad’s Volvo. He found her in the kitchen, stirring something in a mixing bowl.
“Hello, Fraser.” She smiled up at him. “My oven’s been temperamental, and I need a cake for the Monday morning Bible group. Your mother said I could come in and bake today.”
Her eyes glowed with questions and concern. No doubt the gossip network already had it all round the church that he’d driven Sarah home last night, and his car hadn’t been outside the manse this morning. Them both missing their usual services would be noted, too.
Telling Mary the truth would protect Sarah’s reputation.
She loved chatting about people, in a kind way, with a clean heart and good intentions. And sharp-eyed Mary would surely have noticed any signs of his distress.
“I have a lot on my mind right now, but I’ll be down soon to talk.”
He rushed upstairs and flipped his laptop open. It never seemed to take so long to start up. Finally, twitched with impatience, he typed early onset familial Alzheimer’s into the search box.
The internet reinforced what Sarah told him. Variable age of onset, variable rate of progression. Most people with the gene developed symptoms between thirty-five and fifty-five, though a rare few didn’t till much later. Eventually the person became totally dependent on others, unable to do anything for themselves. That stage could last years.
None of the websites said much about treatments. Medical care could slow how fast the symptoms worsened, but offered no cure.
He released the burning air from his lungs. Every aspect of normal life gone. More bad years than good ones.
Sarah would have to deal with that for her mother. And the whole time, she’d be hit in the face with the knowledge that it was her future too, without a miracle.
Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his arms. After a sleepless night, this was too much to take in. But Sarah had that and worse, every night.
He would too, if he married her. Maybe after her mother passed, they’d have a brief interval of “normal” life before Sarah too fell ill.
Or maybe not.
Please, God, no. Let her be one of the few who don’t develop problems till she’s older. Let the doctors have found a cure for it by then.
His wishful prayer didn’t ease the reality. He had to deal with the huge what ifs to be any help to Sarah.
What if he married her and she started showing symptoms before she was thirty? Then he wouldn’t have only Sarah’s mum to look after, but Sarah herself, too. It could happen, and he needed to be prepared.
He’d pray for a miracle, but he also had to pray for strength to deal with the worst-case scenario. His chest tightened and his throat clogged as he imagined her unable to remember his name, forgetting who he was and the life they’d shared.
There was the biggest what if of all.
What if fear of that pain held him back in their relationship, stopped him from loving her and intertwining his life with hers as deeply as she deserved? If thinking of her looking at him with that sweetly unfocused questioning gaze of Isabel’s tore at his heart, how would he ever deal with the reality?
The question wrenched him.
Lord, guide me. I wanted an easy life, and You gave me Sarah. Am I man enough for this? I told Sarah she was afraid to trust in You, but I’m afraid, too. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to betray her trust. I want to follow Your leading, and it feels like You’ve led me right to her. Show me what to do.
There couldn’t be any immediate answer to such a huge question. He shut the laptop and headed downstairs.
Mary sat reading her Bible in the big farmhouse kitchen and looked up when he entered.
A rich scent wafted from the oven. “Your cake smells good.”
“I made a few extra cupcakes for you, just as I used to when you were a wee bit of a bairn. And I left the bowl for you to scrape, if you want.” She smiled. “So your parents are on a retreat for relationship counselling? Now they’d be the couple least likely to need that.”
Fraser choked out a laugh. “True. The retreat is about counselling others, not being counselled. They have the best marriage of anyone I know.”
His line about wanting a simple uncomplicated life had been a front. He craved a marriage like Mum and Dad’s, strong and real, deepening over the years. He’d never believed he’d find it.
Could he and Sarah have such a marriage? Could sharing the care of her mother even deepen their love?
He prayed she’d allow them to find out.
“So, Fraser, when will we see you and Sarah married?” Mary’s quiet question jolted him. When his gaze jerked to hers, a warm smile sparkled in her eyes.
With a thump, he sat at the big scrubbed pine table and braced his palms on the cool surface. Shrewd Mary missed nothing.
“I’ve told her I love her. She won’t have me.”
“Does this have anything to do with her mother? Poor lass. What a load to bear alone. Caring for an ill mother, and sure to be fearing one day she might develop the same illness.”
“You know? Sarah said she’d told no one.”
“She hasn’t. I guessed. You know I looked after my sister with dementia. I’ve watched Isabel at church, and I recognised the signs.”
“But you said nothing.” He stared at her.
“It was Sarah’s secret to speak, not mine. I told you she needed a strong man.” Her scrutiny assessed him, and she nodded. “I hoped it would be you. If the disease comes on so young, it always runs in the family. So cruel. I hate that we live in a fallen world.” She brightened, straightening her frail shoulders and tipping up her round wrinkled chin. “But one day, God will heal all ills.”
“He will. But maybe not soon enough for Sarah.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve worked with her for eight months and had no idea she looked after her mum.”
“She’s one who’s too independent for her own good. So, what happened yesterday after you drove her home?”
“I met her mother and realised Sarah’s problem was total exhaustion. I spent the night on the sofa, so I could help with her mum and let her sleep. This morning I as good as asked her to marry me. She turned me down.”
Mary’s eyes twinkled. “I can’t imagine she’s not at least halfway in love with a bonny blue-eyed lad like you, when she’s known you the biggest part of a year. I saw how she looked at you yesterday.”
Fraser hoped Mary was right. Even if she was, would love would be enough?
The timer rang. She scooted over, her starchy apron rustling as she lifted a tray of cakes from the oven. “Maybe she needs more time. She’s not a lass who can be rushed, I’m thinking. In my courting days, flowers and little gifts always helped.”
“She won’t give me time, and I’m not sure flowers and gifts will change her mind. She doesn’t trust I’ll stay when things get tough. Her dad left when her mother fell ill.”
Mary slid off her oven mitts and tested the sponge cake with a deft thumb. “Some people can’t deal with it. Nursing Duncan in his last illness and caring for my sister showed me well how hard and frustrating it can be. We have to work to keep the love alive. But you already know that, growing up with Brodie. You’re the man for her.”
He loosed a hard breath. “Am I? That’s what worries me. You know I didn’t always manage as well as I should’ve with Bro. I lost my temper and h
ad to walk away, more than once.”
She flapped her hands, brushing away his concerns. “Everyone has those moments. You walked away, but you came back. Even your parents struggled at times.”
“They did?” Surprise twisted in his chest. “But I never saw any sign they were upset or angry. I thought I was the only one to feel that way.”
“They hid it well, in that case. Many’s the time your mother cried with me and prayed with me and wondered how she’d carry on.”
The final weight of doubt lifted as quiet peace and certainty filled him. He knew too much about life with a disabled family member to minimise what they’d face, but now he felt sure God would pull them through regardless.
He smiled. “That gives me more hope I can stick it out, if she’ll give me the chance.”
“Och, you’ll find a way to convince her. Loving Sarah Browne will be the making of you. God has a plan in all this. We just need to trust Him. And you start thinking about those flowers and gifts.”
Chapter Eleven
Sarah arrived at the kirk with Mum to collect her car and stared open-mouthed. Bright yellow daffodils covered the entire windshield. The cheery colour glowed in the afternoon sunshine.
Despite the ache still surrounding her heart, she couldn’t stop laughing as she gathered them into her arms. Laughter, with tears stinging her eyes.
He may as well have written on the windscreen, “Fraser was here.”
Clearly, he wasn’t giving up so easily.
Yet.
She rubbed her eyes with her free hand. Surely his persistence now would only make the inevitable goodbye harder?
But how could she think of that with her arms filled with gorgeous flowers? She inhaled deeply and smiled as she breathed in the sweet scent. Only heirloom daffodils had perfume. They must have come from someone’s garden.
“Are those for you?” her mother asked. “How lovely.” She chuckled. “You have a secret admirer.”
Sarah lay the flowers on the car bonnet and picked up the envelope they’d hidden, tucked under the windscreen wiper.
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 27