by Dawn Kinzer
“You must be Mary.” Rebecca sat next to Peter’s daughter on the blanket. “When you’re a little older, I’ll be your teacher.” She clapped and caught the other children’s attention. “Does everyone feel ready to perform your recitations and songs in the program today?”
Mary slipped into Rebecca’s lap, and her arms encircled the child.
chapter NINE
No pressure. It wouldn’t be Peter’s first time in the pulpit, but it would be the first in his home church in front of those who had known him since he was a boy. No pressure at all. If he didn’t stop pacing, he’d run out of steam before the service even started.
Dressed in a white robe and clerical collar, he stood in front of a small mirror staring at his pale reflection. You’d think he’d hidden in a cellar the past several months instead of spending every spare minute outside in sunshine. He draped the red stole around his neck, a symbol of his yoke of obedience to Christ and responsibility for his congregation.
More than ever, Peter wanted to make things right with Sarah. His decisions had affected their relationship, and he’d lived with regret every day since. He hoped she’d be in church that morning, and he prayed that his message would help restore even a small part of what they’d lost.
It was Pentecost Sunday, the day Christians celebrated the gift of the Holy Spirit. Like his stole, the altar and pulpit were draped in red cloth that morning to symbolize the Holy Spirit descending like tongues of fire upon Christ’s disciples.
Peter had gone through the sermon so many times he could recite it without glancing at his notes, but he’d left the scrawled papers on the pulpit, just in case. It was important to make a good first impression, so he’d struggled with the right words. From the comments he’d received, people held high expectations. But Sarah had been the first to hear and support his decision to go into the ministry, and he wanted so much for her to be proud of him. Of anyone, he didn’t want to let her down.
Rebecca began playing “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” on the piano, and the music drifted back into the sacristy. That was his cue. Peter rubbed his forehead and sweaty palms on a towel, then tossed it aside. Please, God, let me be up to the task. He took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and stepped out to face his congregation.
***
Gram insisted on sitting in the third row, next to the aisle, as though God reserved that spot every Sunday for Abigail Hansen himself. Unfortunately, that location gave Sarah a perfect view of not only Peter, but every smile that Rebecca threw him from the piano.
Temptation to shove Rebecca off the bench and wipe that sickening, sweet grin off her face bubbled up inside of Sarah. Instead, she clenched her hands together in her lap, as though in constant prayer.
Instead of fighting anger over flirtations that might never be reciprocated, Sarah should be hanging on to every word Peter spoke. Not only was this his first sermon in their church—it was the first she’d heard him preach at all. She’d known about his calling since that day at the top of the bluff overlooking the river below. Peter was fourteen at the time and she only thirteen, but neither held any doubt about what God wanted him to do.
Instead, her mind kept replaying that awful, uncomfortable Memorial Day picnic two days before. Peter might have assumed she and William were together. Though she held no romantic interest toward William, a part of her had felt relieved to have his attention after Peter showed up with Rebecca on his arm. Her heart ached at the possibility he might be attracted to the school teacher.
The day had grown slightly better when she and William had excused themselves to go for a walk. After strolling into the tent to watch the performances, and seeing Peter and Rebecca seated on the left, Sarah had led William to the right. From then on, grateful for his company, she tried to forget about the other couple and enjoy the day. William had made it easier with his light-hearted banter and jokes.
In the pew ahead of her and Gram sat a mother with a baby who eyed Sarah as he leaned over his mother’s shoulder. As he opened his mouth and displayed two front teeth, drool slid down his chin onto his mother’s blouse. Peter said something about forgiveness, drawing Sarah back to the pulpit. Shame at not paying attention flowed over her like a dirty waterfall. Forgive me, Lord.
Forgiveness. Had the sermon been directed at her? Sarah had forgiven Peter—she just wasn’t sure she was ready to let him back into her life again. He’d hurt her before, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t cause her pain again. For Sarah, vulnerability with Peter could mean grieving all over again. But if she tried too hard to protect herself, she might lose out on a blessing—something God wanted for her.
The last hymn concluded and the congregation filed out of the church and into the sunshine. Peter stood at the head of the steps, greeting people in his robe and minister’s collar—both brilliant white in contrast to his dark hair. He shook a parishioner’s hand, and his warm laughter filled the air.
Simultaneous joy and heartbreak almost choked her. What was wrong with her? She should be singing God’s praises at the top of her lungs. Wasn’t this what she desperately wanted and prayed to see—Peter fulfilling his calling? But she’d also begged God to let her be a part of it—of Peter’s life—but that prayer hadn’t been answered. Instead, in their desire to serve the God they both loved, they were being led down separate paths.
Two people ahead of her grandmother. Then Sarah would greet him next and—and then what? Congratulate him on a sermon she never heard? Well, she’d listened to the last few minutes, but she couldn’t recall the rest.
This feeling awkward around Peter—it seemed unnatural. In the deepest part of her heart, she wanted him back as her confidant, best friend, and more. But she might as well search for the gold at the end of the rainbow—she’d have better success.
“Reverend Caswell,” Sarah’s grandmother greeted Peter, “thank you for a wonderful sermon.”
He took her hand in his and gave her a broad smile. “Mrs. Hansen, if it passed your test, I couldn’t be happier.”
“To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. I would have been even more pleased if it had been in Norwegian, like pastors used to preach. But I know times have changed, and you young people think we all need to be progressive.” The elderly woman’s lips twitched, and she seemed to fight a smile. “You made us proud today, young man.” She stepped ahead and made room for Sarah.
Peter reached for Sarah’s hand and grasped it with a strong and comforting grip. No longer a boy who smelled of fish, barn, or sweat, his masculine, woody-scented cologne teased her senses.
“I’m so happy for you, Peter—” The rest of the words stuck in her throat.
“That means a lot.” His hand slipped away, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Could you please stay for a few minutes?”
She nodded and took her grandmother’s arm to help her down the steps. What could he possibly want—here and now? With the entire congregation milling around and all eyes on him? He must know that whatever he did or said that day would draw attention.
“I need to speak to a few women about this week’s Ladies Aid Society meeting. It shouldn’t take long.” At the bottom of the steps, her grandmother released Sarah’s arm.
“I’ll wait over there, Gram.” Sarah found a shady spot under a nearby maple tree and Ellie soon joined her.
“I’m so proud of my brother, I could sing—and you know I don’t sing—at least not on key.” Ellie’s face, flushed with excitement, glowed. “Even Isaac sat still—and he never sits still in church.”
Her friend’s enthusiasm was contagious and Sarah gave her a quick hug. Then she leaned against the tree, and her attention floated to the church entrance. “Peter asked me to stay for a few minutes.”
“And...”
“I need to be honest with him about some things. Our friendship is too important to keep secrets.”
“Good.” Ellie took a deep breath, then expelled the air from her lungs. “You don’t know how hard I’ve been p
raying.”
Sarah nudged her. “Oh, I think I do.”
Ellie nodded toward her family. “Thomas and the children are waiting for me. Since it’s a special day, I was going to invite Peter out to the farm, but he’s probably ready for a quiet break from us. And I want to give the two of you as much time as you need.”
“Go. Have a restful afternoon. You deserve it.”
The line of parishioners leaving the church dwindled down to the last three people, and Peter hiked down the steps to the ground. Sarah’s breath caught. With his robe flying out behind him, and Mary looking like an angel dressed in pale blue, her golden curls almost reflecting the sun’s rays, the pair looked like they had stepped right out of heaven.
Eager to hear Peter out, she strode toward him so they could have a few words before her grandmother finished her business. A couple approached him. It would be rude to interrupt their conversation, and anyway, wasn’t patience a virtue? Sarah stood to the side.
Rebecca stepped through the front door of the church and almost danced her way down the steps. She reached Peter just as the husband and wife finished their brief conversation, and although Rebecca glanced at Sarah, she ignored the fact that Sarah was obviously waiting to speak to him.
“Reverend Caswell, my parents and I would love to have you and Mary join us for Sunday dinner.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but—”
“We insist. You can’t rely on your sister to cook all the time, and my mother has made her mouth-watering roast beef and gravy.” She knelt down to Mary’s level. “We have gray kittens at our house. Just born four days ago. Do you know a little girl who would enjoy playing with them?”
That conniving, manipulative woman—using innocent animals. Sarah held her tongue and remain rooted to her spot, all for the sake of Christian charity.
“Can I see the kitties, Daddy? Please?” Mary tugged on her father’s hand. “Can I see the kitties?”
“Maybe another day, honey.” He turned and caught Sarah’s eye.
No chance of escaping now. “Peter, you had something on your mind?” Once again she would either be chosen or rejected.
“Daddy...please?” Mary hopped up and down.
His eyes searched Sarah’s...and she knew. With that one decision, an arrow found its mark and wounded her heart all over again. But she’d do anything to not betray her emotions in front of Rebecca.
“Go ahead, Peter. It will be fun for Mary to have time with the kittens.” Sarah didn’t miss the satisfied smile that grew on Rebecca’s face. “We can take care of that business matter another time.” Sarah drew upon whatever inner strength she could to appear nonchalant. She leaned over and smiled at the child. “Have fun with the kitties, and next time we see each other, you can tell me all about them.”
Mary nodded vigorously.
Sarah lightly touched the tip of the little girl’s nose, then glanced behind her. “Gram is waiting for me. You all have a nice afternoon.” Thank goodness for an excuse to leave the three standing there.
Something always came between her and Peter, and this time it was Rebecca and kittens. Lord, are Peter and I not even allowed to make peace?
Halfway to where her grandmother stood, Sarah heard footsteps pounding behind her.
“Sarah, wait!” Peter, swift on his feet, took no time to reach her. “Meet me on the bluff? Our spot. Tomorrow night after supper. I’ll ask Ellie to let Mary sleep over.”
Lord, is this what you want? Sarah caught her grandmother eyeing them, and she felt Rebecca’s stare on her back. But Peter’s eyes pierced right though her, begging for an answer.
“Please, Sarah.”
“I’ll be there.”
chapteR TEN
So you liked the roast I made for dinner?” Sarah’s grandmother relaxed in her chair on the front porch with a copy of The Delineator lying in her lap.
“Delicious, Gram—like always.” Sarah swayed the porch swing with her feet, watching the afternoon sun creep closer across the wooden floor. A light, but warm breeze kissed her cheeks. Peter had dined on a similar dinner, but with Rebecca and her parents. Maybe he sat enjoying a lazy afternoon with Rebecca on their porch this very minute.
“The gravy tasted a bit too salty.”
“If you say so.” But Peter hadn’t seemed all that eager to accept Rebecca’s invitation. She’d manipulated him by enticing his daughter. Sarah didn’t stand a chance against kittens and a four-year-old with pleading eyes.
“Remind me not to put in so much next time.”
“I’ll do that.” Rebecca couldn’t have been pleased to see Peter chase after Sarah. He’d probably given a vague explanation—something truthful while avoiding the truth.
“I must say, Reverend Caswell did a nice job on the sermon this morning.” Sarah’s grandmother opened up her magazine and flipped through a few pages. “But we’ll see how he does in the coming weeks. You watch. Once he’s more settled, he’ll come up with strange, modern ideas.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Gram.” Sarah didn’t feel any concern about potential changes at the church. Her nerves were on edge because she didn’t know what to expect the next evening.
“After church today—why did he run after you? Looked like he had something on his mind.”
“Nothing important.” Just that he wanted to see her—in their old spot—the one she couldn’t bear to return to since his engagement to Lily. Nothing important at all. “He wants to meet tomorrow night after supper. Since I oversee the Young People’s Society, maybe he wants to talk about planning a social event for the youth this summer. We usually do a few.”
“Young people have plenty of opportunities for socializing. What they need is more Bible learning. But no one asks my opinion.”
There was no point in arguing. Sarah wouldn’t win. “It’s such a nice day, I think I’ll take a walk.”
She picked up The Last Journals of David Livingstone in Central Africa lying next to her on the swing and skipped down the porch steps. After a bit of exercise, she’d find a shady area down by the river where she could read. Before meeting him at the bluff, Sarah needed time to examine her emotions about Peter and not only what she wanted in a friendship, but what might be possible. Maybe reading the missionary’s journals again would help her clear her head and focus on future plans.
Sarah approached the blacksmith shop, almost leery of Peter surprising her like that first morning, but the building stayed dark and lifeless. Every Sunday afternoon, the businesses on River Street remained closed and quiet until Monday morning. Even the opera house stood silent. McIntyre’s Drug Store occupied the first floor, but social gatherings found a home on the second. Once she reached Africa, would she miss the dances, the lyceums, and lutefisk suppers held there? No, definitely not the lutefisk suppers. She never understood why her Norwegian ancestors liked eating slimy cod.
A sobering recollection replaced pleasant memories. As a small child, the morning Sarah woke up to find that she’d been left with an angry grandmother she barely knew, she’d slipped out the front door. She’d run down this very street crying, wondering what she’d done wrong to make her mother not want her anymore. Sarah’s grandfather found her curled up in an empty stall in the livery. He’d taken her home, cleaned her up, and then rocked her while Gram paced the room, moaning and shaking her head.
Despite the day’s heat, Sarah shivered. Since that day, she’d tried so hard to put the past behind. But a nagging thought always remained that maybe she deserved to struggle when it came to love.
Her parents had made mistakes that hurt people—and not just Sarah and her grandparents. Maybe nothing would fit into place until she’d done enough good to balance out her parents’ wrongs. Did God expect that of her?
The sun beat down on her body, and a trickle of sweat slid down her back. Time to head for the river and a large shade tree. The Carter mansion overlooked the water and was known as the most expensive and elegant house in the county. Sarah a
dmired its beauty, as well as the surrounding gardens.
An open veranda wrapped around three sides of the twenty-six-room mansion. The family also enjoyed a two-story enclosed summer porch and indoor plumbing. The Home Store also offered that luxury for customers and employees. But with living in a house built years ago by her grandfather, she and Gram had to use either the outhouse or a chamber pot when the need arose.
As Sarah approached the mansion on her way to the river, she glanced up at a third-floor window. She’d never seen it, but the upper floor contained a mini roller coaster Mr. Carter had built for the children.
Alice Carter waved from the veranda. “Come join me for a glass of lemonade.”
So gracious and charitable in every part of their lives, the Carters often entertained church groups, dignitaries, business groups, and neighborhood children in their home.
On more than one occasion, Sarah had sought Alice’s advice. Only four women knew about Sarah’s plans—her grandmother, Ellie, Alice, and the widow who had agreed to move in with Gram when Sarah left. Mrs. Carter understood Sarah’s desire to serve as a missionary and her request that nothing be made public about her leaving until given a departure date.
Maybe what she needed was a chance to talk to this friend and share some of what had been plaguing her thoughts. Sarah waved back and headed toward the house, passing Alice’s six- and seven-year-old daughters, Frances and Pearl, playing in the yard.
Alice, dressed in a skirt and shirtwaist with a lace-trimmed collar, met Sarah at the top of the steps and showed her to a comfortable chair.
“I’m so glad you agreed to join me.” A pitcher of lemonade sat on a small table next to Sarah’s chair. Alice poured a glass for Sarah.
“Thank you.” Sarah sipped the refreshing liquid.
“Stella decided to read in her room, and George is napping. I’m used to having guests for dinner after church on Sunday, but with all the holiday activity the last few days, we decided to have a quiet afternoon. However, I discovered that I missed the company.”