by Dawn Kinzer
She’d never told him how deeply wounded she’d been when he married. When he’d written about his engagement, she’d climbed to their spot on the bluff, curled up, and remained until spent. She hadn’t returned there since. Sarah couldn’t bear to visit the place where she and Peter had shared thoughts about their faith and the world outside of Riverton. It was also where in her heart she’d said good-bye to her dream of sharing a life with him.
chapter two
Peter unwrapped the photo of a woman who had grown as cold as the silver frame surrounding the image and placed it on the fireplace mantel. If the action didn’t reek of selfishness, he’d pack the visual reminder away, but he had to think about his daughter. Though only two at the time of her death, Mary still missed her mother. The child had a right to keep the memory of Lily alive for herself.
“Grace and I will help Mary finish putting her room together.” Ellie poked through a box filled with her niece’s toys.
“Auntie Ellie is going to make my room pretty.” Mary’s eyes lit up as she skipped around the room, her blonde ringlets bouncing. “And tomorrow, she’s taking me to the farm to play.”
“Is that so?” Peter scooped his daughter into his arms and swung her around in a circle.
“Daddy!” Mary squealed—a joyful sound to her father’s ears.
“There you go.” Peter set Mary back on her feet and glanced at his sister. Thank God for Ellie.
People said it was easy to tell that he and Ellie were related because they had the same dark hair and blue eyes. But Peter—although mischievous as a young boy—was far more serious than his lighthearted sister. It would be good for Mary to spend time with her aunt.
“Grace, you and Mary go ahead up to her bedroom and get started.” Ellie nodded toward the staircase. “I’ll be right there. We have a lot of work to do before we all go back to the farm for supper.”
“Come with me, Mary.” Grace, four years older and with dark curly hair like her mother’s, took her younger cousin by the hand and led her up the stairs.
Ellie studied Peter, put the box down, and hugged her brother. “It will take a little time getting used to small-town life again, but it’s the right thing for both you and Mary.”
“So you’ve gotten wiser in your older years?” He tugged on her ear.
She swatted his hand away and wagged a finger at him. “I’ve always been wise. The question is whether you’re finally smart enough to listen to me.” Ellie hooked her arm around his, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you and Mary are here.”
“I know.” He kissed the top of her head.
“With God’s help, time will help heal whatever is eating away at you.”
“It’s that obvious?” He’d thought he’d buried his pain fairly deep.
“Not to the ordinary person, but I’m blood.” She released her hold and picked up the box of toys. “You have one hour, then we head out to the farm. My husband and children will be starved after a day in the fields.”
“Ellie?”
“Yes?” Ellie whirled around and faced him.
“I saw Sarah.” Ellie had never shared personal information about Sarah in her letters, but Peter could tell by what she’d relayed that the two women had grown close.
His sister tilted her head. “When?”
“After I dropped the tools off at the blacksmith’s.”
“And?” She quirked her right eyebrow.
“I told her you’d made coffee, but she was in a hurry to get to the store. I just hoped...” With the heavy responsibility he now faced as a pastor, he could use a good friend. Sarah had been the first to believe in him, but he’d hurt her when he left for college and stopped answering her weekly letters. One had shown up every Friday until his engagement to Lily, then all correspondence from Sarah had stopped. He’d treated their friendship as though it meant little to him. Sarah hadn’t deserved to be kept in the dark about his relationship with Lily.
“You can’t expect to go back to the way it was between you.” Ellie’s soothing tone sent a message. “Things changed while you were gone.”
He nodded to let her know he understood. The early morning hours that day had been spent on his knees praying for God’s help in starting over in the small town. His wounds needed healing—even more than his little girl’s. Sarah appearing only several hours later, like an angel coming to the rescue, felt like an answer to prayer. He’d missed her smile—the way he could talk to her about anything—the way she understood him and knew what he wanted to say when words didn’t come. She’d never let him down.
Time had passed and the opportunity arrived for him to return and see if she was willing to open her heart up to him again. He wanted to create a life for himself and Mary in Riverton, and if possible, also with Sarah.
An inner voice continually taunted him with the memory of the horrible night Lily died, reminding him that he didn’t deserve any woman’s love, especially Sarah’s. But after seeing her that morning, he grabbed on to what little hope he could that she might still care. They’d been close once. Maybe they could rediscover what had been lost between them. That had been his prayer for some time.
“You better get upstairs.” He knelt next to a box and winked at his sister. “Mary won’t be patient for long.”
Peter glanced at the floral wallpaper on the parlor walls—too feminine. But women liked frilly things, so his congregation wouldn’t take kindly to him changing it. The den, a quiet place where he could prepare his sermons, contained a desk and several bookcases. Boxes packed with books should be moved in there.
His gaze fell back on Lily’s photo. Guilt and regret coursed through every vein in his body. Peter longed to serve his congregation well. But how could he encourage his flock to seek God’s forgiveness when he couldn’t even accept it himself?
chapter three
William, his eyes filled with questions, leaned against the desk.
“Are they gone?” Sarah swiveled back and forth in the wooden chair.
“I took care of them. Annie will cover your place behind the counter for a few minutes.”
Sarah’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
“I don’t have a right to ask, but what does that teacher have against you?”
“Did Rebecca make a complaint?” Sarah sat at the edge of the chair. Not that she’d done anything wrong, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Rebecca used any small excuse to make it look that way.
“It’s not what she said or didn’t say.” He gave her a slight smile. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re a conscientious worker, and Mr. Carter thinks highly of you.”
“I appreciate working here.” Sarah eased back into the chair.
William rubbed his jaw, and his face broke into a grin. “I keep hearing about the big Memorial Day celebration.”
“It’s quite an occasion. People come from all over the area to participate.” Living in Riverton wasn’t like residing in a city. The village didn’t have much excitement during the year, so Sarah looked forward to Memorial Day almost as much as she anticipated Christmas. “You met Mr. Hagar the other day when he came into the store to speak to Mr. Carter. He’s in charge of the event, along with the G.A.R.”
“The Grand Army of the Republic veterans.”
Sarah nodded. “A large tent is put up for shelter in case it rains. Mr. Carter stores it here, so I imagine that’s why Mr. Hagar was in the other day.”
“Sarah, if I were to ask you...”
Her pulse raced as the blood drained from her head. She liked William, but...
The door to the shipping room opened and Stella, Mr. Carter’s young niece and secretary, breezed in. “I’m sorry to disturb you, William, but my uncle wants to see you in his office. He’d like to go over your farm equipment orders.”
“I’ll be right there.” William’s gaze fell back on Sarah.
Before he could say another word, Sarah bolted from her chair. “I still have some things to
finish before closing.” She reached the doorway, then whirled around. “Thank you for handling Rebecca. I hope I can be as good a friend to you.” Sarah hurried back into the store.
If she hadn’t made a hasty exit, he would have asked her to accompany him to the Memorial Day celebration. That’s where the conversation was heading—she was sure of it. But how she felt about a possible invitation wasn’t clear in her heart or mind.
Though she’d only known him a few months, it was easy to see that William was a fine man. A fair amount of young women had set their sights on him. Several made excuses to frequent the store with requests to see the store manager.
But Sarah couldn’t get involved with anyone because her future plans included leaving Riverton. Her mind was made up. She’d waited years for this, and she’d begin a new life, despite Peter’s return.
Besides, he’d made his choice when he married a high society woman from the city. Obviously he knew Sarah would never fit the role of a pastor’s wife. They weren’t kids anymore, and pastor’s wives didn’t race horses across pastures, enjoy fishing for bullheads, or tromp through the woods. He needed someone more genteel. And he certainly didn’t need a wife whose family held a sordid past.
Peter deserved an educated spouse who would also be a good mother for his daughter. Although Rebecca was known to be strict, her teaching skills were admired by the parents in the community, and the children respected her. Even Rebecca would make a better...Sarah brushed the disheartening thought aside.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room. Sarah whipped around. A rose-patterned china tea cup and saucer lie shattered on the floor. A girl about twelve and a boy about five stood next to the display. Tears streamed down the boy’s dirt-smudged face, and his sister looked close to shedding her own.
Sarah approached the wide-eyed children. They looked plenty frightened. They didn’t need someone descending on them in anger. “Looks like we had a little mishap.”
“I’m soooo sorry,” the girl whispered. Her brother clung to her, and she put her arm around his shoulder. “We were just looking for a birthday present for our ma. My brother didn’t mean to drop anything.”
“You’re new in town.” Sarah knelt down to eye level with the boy. “What’s your name?”
He buried his face in his sister’s side.
“His name is James. I’m Rose. Our pa works at the blacksmith shop.”
“Hi, James.” Sarah stood. “Nice to meet you, Rose. My name is Miss McCall. How many more brothers and sisters do you have?”
“One more brother and one baby sister. They’re both home. It’s my job to look after James. Pa gave us some money.” Her chin quivered. “We’ll pay for what we broke.”
“Hmmm...is that what you wanted to give your ma?” She pointed to pieces on display that were still intact.
“Yes, ma’am. She’s been dreaming of pretty dishes, and Pa thought it would be a nice start. Like a promise.”
“I guess we’ll just need to wrap them up in a pretty box then.” Sarah removed a cup and saucer and placed them on the counter.
“But we can’t pay for them.” Rose, her chestnut-colored eyes filled with fear, rushed to the counter. James followed close behind. “We only have eleven cents—just enough for what we broke.”
“What happened was an accident, so we’re going to apply a little grace in this situation.” Sarah pulled a small box from beneath the counter.
The girl’s eyes squinted, and she cocked her head full of brown curls to the side. “Grace?”
“Sometimes the prayer said before a meal is called ‘grace.’ But it’s also the mercy we receive when we do something wrong.” Sarah wrapped the delicate cup and saucer in tissue and placed both china pieces in the box. “Seems to me that you two need a little grace today, which means there will be no charge for the damaged pieces.”
The girl brightened. “You’re not pretending?”
“Not in the least.” Sarah wrapped a pink ribbon around the box. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
James wiped his wet, messy face with the back of his hand.
“We’ll be extra careful next time, won’t we, James?” Rose laid a small pile of coins on the counter. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Sarah dropped the money into a container attached to a wire, then cranked on a small wheel, and sent the canister across the store to the office on the mezzanine floor.
The children’s eyes widened.
“It will only take a minute, and then your receipt will come back the same way.” Sarah peered into the girl’s eyes, then the boy’s. “I have one question while we wait.”
The children glanced at each other.
Sarah slid three jars over from the other end of the counter. “Lemon drops, peppermint, or licorice?” She pulled small bags from a shelf below. “You can each choose your favorite. My treat.”
“Lemon drops, please.” A smile flashed on the girl’s face before her brother tugged her arm. She bent down and he whispered something in her ear. Rose straightened. “James would like licorice, please.”
“Then he shall have it.” Sarah placed ten candy pieces in each bag and held them out to the children. “I’m partial to peppermint myself.”
“Thank you, ma’am—I mean, Miss McCall.” She gave her brother a gentle shove closer to the counter.
“Thank you,” the boy said with a small voice, but a large grin, as he accepted his bag.
“You’re welcome.”
Rose’s jaw dropped. “James never talks to people ’cept family. He’s scared to.”
The canister slid back on the wire. Sarah removed the receipt and handed it and the wrapped gift to her young customer. “Now, when your brothers and sister get the best of you, I expect you to pass a little grace along to them too.” She winked at Rose.
The girl hugged the package for her mother close to her chest. “I will.”
The children passed the broken dishes on their way to the front door.
“I’d better clean up the mess.” Sarah retrieved a broom and dustpan from the back room and swept up the pieces. She dumped the broken china into the trash can, replaced the broom and dustpan, and returned to the counter. She’d never even had a chance to give own mother a birthday gift. Though Sarah would pay for the cup and saucer herself, it was worth it to help the children.
“Our day here is done.” Annie Banks, a young clerk about twenty-three, dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief. “Where were you? It looked like you were a thousand miles away.” Annie’s father, who had always been very kind to Sarah, had owned the livery in town until his passing the year before.
“Just daydreaming.” Sarah glanced around her surroundings. Everything appeared in order. “I didn’t realize the time.”
Annie re-pinned the flaming red hair threatening to tumble from the top of her head and grinned. “Go on home. The store will still be here in the morning.”
“You’re right.” Sarah pulled a peppermint stick from the jar, broke off a piece, and popped it in her mouth. The sweet, cool flavor tingled her taste buds. She wrapped the remaining piece in a small bag to take home.
Sarah wrote a note asking Stella to deduct the cost of the broken china and candy from her pay and sent the canister flying back to the office. With her handbag and the mail retrieved from the post office during her lunch break, she strolled out the door and down the long driveway to the main road. The river lay to the left, but Sarah turned to the right, toward the center of town. The late afternoon breeze refreshed her.
After living in the town most of her life, Sarah could navigate it blindfolded and find her way on the dirt roads to the creamery, the meat market, and grocery story. Although Riverton had a fair number of businesses, it still lacked sidewalks. As she crossed River Street, Sarah glanced in the direction of the parsonage where Peter was currently settling in and making it his own.
As a parishioner, it would be an acceptable excuse to stop and officially welcome him if she had someth
ing to bring. She should have thought of that before she left the store. But then, she might have made a hasty purchase.
Welcome back to Riverton, Reverend Caswell. Here’s a new pot for your kitchen.
Not likely to make him feel warm and tingly, and not as enticing as a freshly baked chocolate cake. At least he’d know what to do with food. The man had a sweet tooth—or he did. But without sorting through the confused feelings that flustered her earlier in the day, she wouldn’t have the courage to knock on his door even if she had a cake, two loaves of bread, and a batch of cookies in hand.
Besides, she’d only appear eager to accept him back into her graces, and Sarah wasn’t quite ready to open her arms. Better to keep some distance until she cleared her head and prepared her heart.
chapter four
It only took a few minutes more to reach the porch steps of her home. A rhubarb scent mingled with the sweet fragrance of spring in the air. Her grandmother had left the front door open to let in a breeze, but she’d closed the screen door to keep the flies out.
“I’m home.” Sarah dropped her handbag and mail on the small table near the entrance and made her way into the kitchen. Gram stood against the sink, fanning herself. Sarah touched her palm to the older woman’s forehead. “Are you all right?”
Her silver-haired grandmother scowled. “Of course I am. I’m just a little heated after canning rhubarb all afternoon.”
Sixteen filled mason jars sat on the kitchen counter. Sarah held one in front of the window, allowing the sunlight to filter through the ruby-colored fruit. “This looks superb.”
“It better taste superb after all the work I did.”
Sarah peered out the window at the large vegetable garden recently planted, and sighed. Abigail Hansen was known for playing the martyr, and Sarah had grown weary of dealing with her grandmother’s attitude. “I would have been happy to help, if you’d waited for me.”