Family of the Heart

by Dorothy Clark

  Clayton waited until Sarah’s father left the room, then walked over and stared out the French doors that opened onto a porch, and from there to formal gardens as far as he could see. Could he make Sarah happy? Was what he had to offer her enough? Stony Point was certainly no Randolph Court. He turned back to the spacious room, glanced at the furnishings and thought about the tomahawk gashes on his front door and the bullet holes in his mantel at home. What right had he to ask her to give up all this elegance? What made him think he could compete with her dead fiancé? She had said she wanted no other.

  His stomach knotted. His palms turned moist. What if she said no? How would he ever live the rest of his life without her? He glanced at the floor beside the chair where he had been sitting, swallowed and closed his eyes. “I have made enough mistakes, Lord. Thy will be done.”

  The library door opened, closed.

  “You wished to see me, Father?”

  Clayton turned. His heart, his very life stood in front of him.

  Sarah gaped. Stared at him. A flood of emotions washed over her face so rapidly he couldn’t identify them. And then there was only one. Fear. Her hand went to the base of her throat. The blood drained from her face. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. He started toward her. She tried again, and one word came out on a breathless gasp.

  “Nora?”

  It stopped him. He had not considered—“Nora is fine.”

  “Oh.” Sarah’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank goodness.” She closed her eyes, sighed. “I thought—” Her eyes opened, widened. She averted her gaze and glanced around the room, looked back at him. “What are you doing here, Mr. Bainbridge? And where is Father? I was told he wanted to see me here in the library.”

  “I am the one who wanted to see you.”

  Her gaze touched on him, confused, disquieted, then skittered away. “I do not think that is wise. If you will excuse me—”

  “Sarah—”

  Her gaze jerked back to him. She took a breath. Her hand went to the base of her throat again.

  “I have come all the way from Cincinnati to speak with you. Will you please listen—without interruption?”

  She stared at him a minute, then gave a polite nod. “Very well.” She moved to the front of a leather chair, sat, rested her hands in her lap and lifted her chin.

  His heart thudded. She was so beautiful. Proud, defiant and beautiful. Lord, please give me the words to say to make her understand. He looked down at the floor and gathered his thoughts. “Do you remember the night we talked about our childhood dreams? I told you about my mentor and best friend. What I did not tell you was that Andrew was an older man who had an only child he adored. A daughter who was sickly from birth and unable to do the things other children did. Andrew gave her every thing within his power. But he could not give her a healthy heart. And so he centered his life around making his daughter safe. And then he became seriously ill.”

  Clayton glanced Sarah’s way. She gave a polite nod, but remained silent, as she had promised. “Andrew did not fear dying. But he feared leaving his frail daughter unprotected. So he called me to his bedside and asked me to marry his daughter, Deborah, and keep her safe always. I promised to do so.”

  Sarah stiffened. “I am sorry, Mr. Bainbridge, I know I said I would listen, but I do not see—”

  “Please. Let me finish. It will not take long. And I promise I have a purpose.” That caught her interest. Clayton went back to his story. “Deborah and I were married at Andrew’s bedside. He died two days later.” He paused, uncertain how to go on. “Some of what I must say is…indelicate. I will be as circumspect as possible.” He turned toward the windows to spare her embarrassment. “The doctor informed us that, due to Deborah’s frail condition, having a child would probably take her life. I was determined that should not happen and so we occupied separate bedchambers. In spite of visiting many doctors and employing every effort known, Deborah’s health continued to decline.”

  He heard movement behind him and glanced in the window. Sarah had risen and walked around to stand behind the chair. At least she was still listening. He braced himself for what was to come. “We continued on as before. But Deborah changed. She became insistent that she did not want to die without knowing the…intimacies…of marriage. I was not willing to risk her life with a child and refused. But one night—”

  “I have heard enough, Mr. Bainbridge!” Sarah whirled and swept toward the door.

  Clayton hurried around the desk and blocked her way.

  “Let me pass.”

  “Not until you have heard what I have to say.” He tried to hold her gaze but she refused to look at him. “Sarah, I realize you are a maiden and this is difficult for you to hear. But I promise you, if you do not feel what I have to say is important to you—to your life—when I am finished, I will allow your father to have me horsewhipped!”

  Her lips quivered. She spun away and walked back to stand behind the chair. “Very well. If you will not let me pass, say what you must and say it quickly. Or I will have Father do as you suggest!” She looked the other direction.

  Clayton clenched his hands and cleared his throat. “That night Deborah told me the doctor had given her precautions, and I yielded. Her wish was granted. Though she grew weaker daily she lived to give birth to the baby conceived that night. Her heart stopped beating a few minutes later.

  “To my shame, I could not look at the child. She was, to me, a living symbol of my guilt, my failure to uphold the deathbed vow I had made to my friend. I was consumed with that guilt. I lost sight of anything good and saw only the shame of my weakness. I blamed God for everything and turned away from him. My heart, my life, was full of darkness.”

  Sarah had turned back to face him. The anger was gone, her eyes shimmered with tears.

  “And then you came to Stony Point.”

  She did not move, her expression did not change, but he could feel a sudden tension emanate from her.

  He took a step closer. “I did not understand, Sarah. I was so consumed with my own ugliness I thought you were a punishment from God. A test of my will. I was drawn to you from the start, but I was determined that this time I would not fail—I would not give in to my feelings for you though they grew stronger every day. And then you told me you still loved your dead fiancé and wanted no other. I determined then my only course was to avoid you. And when you asked to go home, I let you go. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

  She raised her hand, pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips.

  To still an outcry? To protest his mention of her beloved? Clayton took another step toward the chair. “I have made so many mistakes, Sarah. But God in His mercy has forgiven me and set them right. All but the last. That is for me to do.”

  He bent down and picked up the small chest he had polished until the wood gleamed, sat it on the chair cushion, opened it, unfolded the unfinished sampler and handed it to her. “God showed me the answer to why He sent you to Stony Point, Sarah. You hold it in your hand.” He took the last step that separated them as she read it. “You are my gift from God, Sarah. The light that brightened my darkness. I love you, Sarah, with all my heart and soul. Please forgive my foolishness, marry me and come home.”

  Sarah blinked away tears, looked up. Flames burned in the dark-blue depths of Clayton’s eyes. Her knees buckled. She gave a little cry, dropped the sampler and grabbed for the chair back.

  Clayton caught her. He lifted her up, drew her close against him and lowered his head. “I told you I would not let you fall.” His warm breath whispered across her skin. He brushed his mouth against hers. “I told you you are safe with me.”

  Safe? Calm, comfortable, serene safe?

  Clayton’s arms tightened, his hand slid up and cupped the back of her head. His mouth claimed hers.

  Sarah sighed, slipped her arms around his neck and answered his kiss, quite certain she would never be safe again.

  Epilogue

  The carriage cli
mbed over the break of the hill and there it was, Stony Point. Her home. Every nerve in Sarah’s stomach fluttered to life. She leaned out and drank in the sight of the rectangular stone house, with its set-back kitchen ell, sitting square in the middle of the point of land that forced the road to curve. It was not large. And there was nothing ornate or fancy about it. Its solid wood-plank front door had deep gashes in it from Indian tomahawks. But it was her home, and she loved every inch of it.

  Clayton squeezed her hand, smiled when she looked back at him. He reached up and cupped her cheek, leaned down and kissed her lips. “Welcome home, Mrs. Bainbridge.”

  Sarah’s heart overflowed into her eyes and blurred her husband’s handsome face. He kissed the tip of her nose, then climbed from the carriage and offered her his hand. She placed hers in his, reveling in his touch, and stepped out of the carriage. He placed his arm about her shoulder, leaned down and opened the gate sandwiched between the two lamp-topped stone pillars that anchored the low stone walls enclosing the front yard.

  Maaaa.

  One of the sheep grazing on the lawn lifted its head and followed their progress up the slate walk. Sarah’s pulse quickened. Her new life was starting.

  The front door opened. Sarah caught sight of a smiling Eldora standing in the opening, and then a small figure darted out of the dim interior onto the stoop.

  “Nanny!” Nora held up her pudgy little arms and bounced up and down, beaming a smile that rivaled the sun overhead.

  Sarah laughed through her tears, scooped the toddler into her arms and hugged and kissed her until Nora squealed.

  “I misseded you, Nanny!”

  “She is not your nanny, Nora.” Clayton wrapped his arms about them both and kissed Nora’s rosy cheek. “She is your mama.”

  Mama. How wonderful that sounded. Sarah smiled up at her husband. He looked down at her, blue flames flickering in the depths of his dark-blue eyes, and her knees turned to water. Clayton’s strong arms stopped her from tumbling backward off the stoop. He lowered his head, covered her lips with his, and her heart melted. No. She would never be safe again.

  Dear Reader,

  My dad passed away shortly before I began writing Family of the Heart. He was elderly and had led a full life, so I did not suffer the jarring sense of “young life interrupted” that Sarah and Clayton experience upon the tragic deaths of their respective fiancé and wife. However, with every loved one’s passing, there is a sense of loss and of helplessness in the face of that loss. And, inevitably, regrets arise in your heart, either for things done you wish undone, or for things that never were and now never will be.

  In the story, Sarah and Clayton deal with the pain of their loved ones’ passing by trying to run from their hurt, grief and regrets—or to ignore and bury them. They grow angry with God, blame Him and turn their backs on Him. And they allow their grief and anger to keep them from going on with their lives. Yet God, in His mercy, uses the circumstances of their lives to open their hearts to the truth, restore their faith, heal their hurt and bring peace to their troubled souls. He mends their shattered lives and blesses them with an everlasting love. God is like that. Therefore, it is my sincere hope that, should you someday find yourself facing circumstances that bring pain and sorrow to your heart, you will not make the mistakes Sarah and Clayton made but will instead run to the Lord, open your heart and receive the wondrous healing of His perfect love.

  Sarah’s younger sister, Mary, is a lot too skeptical and a little too stubborn to run to God, no matter what her problem. But God is patient and faithful and loving, and methinks Mary will be learning that lesson soon.

  Thank you for choosing to read Family of the Heart. I would like to hear from you. I can be reached at dorothyjclark@hotmail.com

  Until next time,

  Dorothy Clark

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  Sarah Randolph, beloved daughter of wealthy parents, member of Philadelphia’s socially elite, takes a position as a nanny. What drove her to do such a thing? Do you think God had a hand in her decision?

  Grief comes to everyone in this life. How did Sarah handle her grief? How do you feel about her decisions?

  Elizabeth sees God’s hand in Sarah’s decision to become a nanny. And in the results of that decision. Do you agree or disagree with her views? Why?

  Clayton Bainbridge also suffers from grief. What complicates his grief? Do you think it keeps him from healing? In what way? Do you feel the complication to his grief is a common one? How can people get beyond this complication?

  Are there similarities in the ways Sarah and Clayton deal with their grief? What are they? Do you feel these are common reactions to the loss of loved ones? What common trait(s) of human failing do you see in Sarah and Clayton? How does this trait(s) affect their personal relationship with the Lord?

  Sarah and Clayton are both blinded to the Lord’s goodness and love for them because of how they reacted to the things they suffered. How did the Lord open their eyes and hearts to the truth of His love?

  What circumstances forced Clayton, Sarah and little Nora together? Do you believe God created those circumstances? Why? Or why not?

  What had to happen in both Sarah’s and Clayton’s hearts before they could receive the blessings of healing and love God had for them?

  Do you think Nora played a large part in the healing of both Clayton and Sarah? Do you think that was orchestrated by God? And if so, why is He able to use children?

  Sarah and Clayton both got angry with God and stopped praying. What were the results?

  Prayer, or the lack of prayer, plays an important role in the story. Do you believe the same is true in real life? What Scriptures can you think of to illustrate your belief?

  Another aspect of Sarah’s and Clayton’s reluctance to enter into a relationship was the subject of loyalty to their departed loved ones. Do you believe, as they did, that it is betrayal of a departed fiancé or spouse to open your heart to another? Why? Or why not?

  Harsh, hurtful things happen in this world, as they did in this story. Do you believe God uses such real-life events to draw people closer to Himself? Can you give an example?

  ISBN: 9781408937716

  Family of the Heart

  © Dorothy Clark 2008

  First Published in Great Britain in 2008

  Harlequin (UK) Limited

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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  All characters in this work have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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