Sarah's Smile (The Daughters of Riverton Book 1)

by Dawn Kinzer

  He closed with an amen, gave Rebecca a slight nod, and she played an introduction to the closing hymn. Gram leaned on her cane and rose to sing with the congregation, her voice now warbling from age.

  The last verse. The song would soon end. Sarah’s stomach churned like river rapids. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t greet Peter with a handshake and a forced smile. Ellie and Thomas were sitting in the row behind them. They’d be willing to assist her grandmother if Sarah escaped.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” she whispered close to her grandmother’s ear. “Thomas will help you down the stairs.”

  Her grandmother scowled, but Sarah slipped out of the pew without explaining and headed toward the door. She’d come up with an excuse later.

  The air had cooled since Friday, a welcome reprieve after the sweltering Independence Day. Sarah stood beneath a large maple canopy and listened to the last refrains of the hymn filtering through the church windows. Families soon filed out of the building like hungry ants marching off to raid a picnic.

  Ellie and the children marched down the stairs from the church entrance, but Thomas held Gram’s arm to steady her until she reached the ground and was joined by several other gray-haired ladies. Mary and Grace skipped off, the boys joined in a game of tag, and Ellie sauntered away from chattering adults and playful children and headed toward Sarah.

  If Peter had given his sister even a hint of what happened at the Carters’ during their Fourth of July celebration, Ellie would either bombard Sarah with questions or scold her.

  “Are you ill?” Ellie’s eyes were filled with concern. “You ran out of the church so fast, I thought the place was on fire.”

  “I’m fine.” Sarah hadn’t wanted to bring attention to herself. “Just a little dizzy and needing fresh air.”

  “The church felt stuffy, even with the side windows open.” Ellie’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  Sarah waved to Gram to reassure her. “Have you forgiven me for going to the Carters’ instead of spending the Fourth with your family?”

  Ellie grinned. “I just wish I’d been invited. It must have been quite a party—even fireworks.”

  “Fireworks don’t compare to your apple pie and watching the sunset from your porch.” Sarah leaned against the tree. “But Gram seemed to have a lovely time. It was nice to see her enjoy herself and go home in good spirits.”

  Ellie chuckled. “Your grandmother can be a pill, but I think there’s a soft heart beneath her hard exterior.”

  “That’s because you’re a sweet soul.” Sarah pretended to brush something from her skirt. “Did—uh, did Peter mention coming to the party for a little while?”

  “He didn’t have to. Mary couldn’t wait to tell us.” Ellie glanced over her shoulder in the direction where her children were playing.

  Sarah breathed easier. Her friend seemed oblivious to what had transpired between her and Will in the upper floor of the Carter house, or the painful conversation with Peter later. But it also meant Sarah wouldn’t get any clues as to what Peter thought about the confrontation.

  Ellie’s eyes glinted with mischief.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Ellie Pederson?”

  “I have a favor to ask, and if you agree, it should alleviate any guilt for not spending the holiday with me.”

  “I’ll do anything I can.” Sarah braced herself. From the way Ellie chewed on her bottom lip, her request involved something more than a simple good deed.

  “Thomas wants to go to Minneapolis next weekend—just the two of us—for our anniversary. But we need someone to stay with the children.”

  “And you’re asking me?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we haven’t had any time alone in so long, and it would only be for one night. We’ll leave early on Saturday morning and be back by Sunday evening.” Ellie’s face beamed with hope. “Please? We would be so grateful.”

  “I can handle one night. You and Thomas deserve a romantic getaway. But, there’s one problem. I’ve never milked cows.”

  That mischievous twinkle made another appearance. “All you need to do is cook food that’s edible, make sure the children don’t kill each other, and get them to bed at a reasonable time. Oh, and take them to church. Just because we’re not there, they shouldn’t be given the impression that attendance is unimportant. Peter will take care of the farm chores, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Sure. Nothing to worry about.

  ***

  Peter stretched his legs out on the worn blanket, leaned against the trunk of the oak that grew behind the parsonage, and stroked his daughter’s hair. After spending the morning at church and eating a large lunch, she’d fallen asleep curled next to him. A light breeze cooled the warm air and blew strands of hair across her sunburned, cherubic face. Her peaceful expression made his heavy heart a bit lighter.

  “Lord, show me what to do,” he whispered.

  Listen to your heart.

  Peter closed his eyes.

  Memories passed through his mind—some lingered longer than others. The way Sarah’s face lit up when she laughed. The intense expression when she listened to people. The pain in her eyes when she begged him to not condemn her for one wrong kiss.

  She may have hurt him by kissing William, but how many times had he caused her pain? Shame flowed through him. Sarah had almost run out of the church that morning, and he had to believe his arrogant and self-righteous behavior the other day had caused her discomfort—in the one place where everyone should feel welcomed.

  After Lily died, he made a promise to God and himself to never marry again unless God’s will was made clear. “So, what am I supposed to do?” Peter searched the blue sky, as though an answer would appear. He prayed until words no longer came, then sat quietly waiting, listening for God to speak.

  The sun’s rays filtered through the leaves above as truth seeped into Peter’s spirit. He’d known the answer—even long before he left for college, but distracted by Lily’s flirtations, he’d ignored seeking God’s direction. Sarah was his best—what he wanted for Peter.

  But he’d made a mess of things by judging when he should have offered grace. She’d confessed to making a mistake—almost begged him to believe there was nothing between her and William, but his hurt pride had gotten in the way.

  Somehow, he’d find a way to make things right between them. If he rushed to see her now and expected her to forgive and forget, she may slam the door in his face. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. No...he needed to give his actions more thought, take it slow. Give her a little time to soften toward him again.

  Maybe someday he and Sarah would have what Ellie and Thomas shared—a happy marriage and a family together. He was glad his sister and her husband were taking a short trip for their anniversary. Peter had grown up on the farm, and after all they’d done to help him and Mary, he couldn’t refuse to cover Thomas’s chores. The farm animals were one thing, but five little humans were another, so it was a relief that Ellie didn’t expect him to take care of the children too.

  Ellie said she’d find someone to stay with the children. Asking Sarah would make sense—she was Ellie’s closest friend. If that was an answer to his prayers, he’d find out in due time.

  chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  Peter carried two cans as he hiked up the path from the barn to the house, his stomach grumbling as he inhaled the aromas wafting through the back screen door. Sarah must have arrived and started breakfast. Good thing Ellie had found someone who knew her way around a kitchen—he’d already worked up a hefty appetite.

  A lively song carried through the air, but he couldn’t make out the words. “That tune sounds familiar,” he mumbled as he marched up the steps to the back porch. “Good morning.” Peter swung the kitchen door open, and his heart took off like a scared white-tailed deer.

  Sarah, her cheeks pink, stood next to the stove. “Oww!” She dropped the cast iron skillet filled with sizzling
bacon on the stove and shook her hand.

  “Let me help you take care of that.” He set the cans on the table and grabbed the plate with soft butter sitting next to the strawberry preserves. He scooped up a soft glob with a clean spoon and reached for her hand.

  She grimaced and held her burned hand close to her waist. “I’m fine.”

  “That must hurt something fierce. Let me help.” He grasped her trembling hand and carefully rubbed butter over the reddened palm. Sarah’s familiar lavender scent coaxed him closer, but he resisted the urge to bury his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

  “Thank you.” She kept her eyes down.

  “Next time be more careful.” Peter attempted a teasing tone, but it came out sounding more like a reprimand.

  “I was being careful.” Her voice held an edge, and she slipped her hand away from his. “But you startled me.” She pulled a white handkerchief from her apron pocket and wrapped it around her burned hand, and after fumbling a bit, secured the ends.

  The sound of children arguing and clomping down the stairs grew louder. Within seconds, all four came racing into the kitchen.

  “I won!” John jumped up with his fist in the air.

  Grace perched her hands on her hips. “Only because you cheated and pushed Isaac out of the way.”

  “No fair, John!” Isaac pushed his older brother, who retaliated with a shove of his own.

  “Hey, there.” Peter grabbed Isaac and separated the two boys.

  Mary tugged on Peter’s shirt. “Daddy, are the boys in trouble?”

  Peter released his nephews. “Only if they don’t hurry and get their chores done.”

  “I’m hungry,” Isaac whined.

  Peter eyed the baking powder biscuits cooling on the counter and his mouth watered. “Miss Sarah has been working on getting a tasty breakfast made for you.” He grinned at her. “Those biscuits sure look better than the ones you burned to a crisp when we were...what? Thirteen?”

  The corners of her lips twitched, then turned up just a bit. “Twelve. And they couldn’t have been that bad. You ate three of them.”

  “Just being a loyal friend.”

  Sarah gave a questioning glance, then busied herself with setting the table.

  Peter exaggerated an inhale. “They even smell good.”

  She sniffed and wrinkled her cute nose. “Well, you sure don’t. What were you doing this morning? Playing in manure?”

  “Can’t work in the barn and not attract a certain aroma.” He winked at the boys.

  Mary giggled. “Daddy, you stink!”

  “I’ll get cleaned up. In the meantime, you help Grace feed the chickens. John, gather the eggs. Isaac, feed the dog. If you’re so set on racing, see who can be the first one to finish and get back for breakfast. But it doesn’t count unless your hands are washed. Go!”

  The children flew out of the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind them.

  Sarah put the cans of milk and cream Peter had brought up from the barn in the icebox. “Did you drag Mary out of bed in the middle of the night to get here so early?” She avoided his eyes and brushed a wisp of fallen hair away from her face, then picked up a large fork and began removing the cooked bacon from the frying pan.

  Peter could get used to seeing Sarah first thing every morning. She looked pretty, even wrapped in an apron. “We came out last night. Mary bunked with Grace, and I slept in the haymow. Thomas and Ellie wanted to get an early start.” Peter poured steaming coffee into a cup.

  Inspiration hit him, and he hoped it was divine. If she agreed, they could have some fun like they used to. It would be a good reminder of what they’d had together, and while the children were occupied, maybe they’d have a chance to talk. He leaned against the wall next to the screen door. “What do you have planned for the day?”

  “Planned?” She placed the dish filled with bacon on the table. “I thought I’d pick beans for supper and see if there’s anything else ready in the garden. Several flower gardens should be watered before it gets too hot outside. Ask the girls to help bake a pound cake. Fry pork chops for supper...”

  “Whoa.” Peter put his hand up. “It’s going to be hot and humid. Do you really want to spend all day in the kitchen cooking?”

  Her eyes widened. “The children need to eat.”

  “Isn’t there something you could put together without heating up the stove?” He raised his eyebrows. “They’re kids. They want to have fun. I was thinking after lunch we could take them down to the river to wade and fish like when we were younger.”

  “Aren’t you going back to town? What about your sermon for tomorrow?”

  “I finished it yesterday.” He gulped some coffee, which had cooled. “I’m planning to stay until this evening, if you don’t mind. Then come back before church tomorrow to milk.” Peter swiped a slice of bacon from the table. “Come on, Sarah. Summer will be over before we know it.”

  ***

  The basket held enough sugar cookies, apples, and bottles of water for the afternoon. Sarah glanced around the kitchen. Everything seemed in order. They’d have ham and cheese sandwiches, cucumber salad, and applesauce for supper. Peter was right—she would have made the kitchen sweltering by stoking up the oven in the afternoon. And Ellie had never asked her to cook large meals. Sarah had just taken that on herself.

  She should never have kissed Will, and Peter’s disappointment had made her even more embarrassed by her behavior. Peter hadn’t brought it up again, and she hoped they could both forget it. He must have put it behind him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have suggested spending the afternoon at the river, would he?

  Sarah peeked out the kitchen window. The boys were helping Peter dig for bait in one of the vegetable gardens. With sleeves rolled up and biceps tight, he heaved the shovel into the ground and turned the soil over to expose any earthworms. He hadn’t lost his healthy physique, even though he’d left a physically demanding job as a farmer to put on a preacher’s collar. Maybe she should feel shame for admiring the man, but she couldn’t help that his presence gave her an erratic heartbeat. After years of struggling, she still didn’t know what to do with her feelings for Peter.

  ***

  Sarah wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and she noticed moisture trickling down Mary’s temple.

  The hot mid-afternoon air hung like a heavy weight on their shoulders. The cumbersome trek through the woods with their fishing gear, food, water, and an old quilt to sit on was made even more difficult by fly and mosquito attacks. Sarah didn’t blame the children for complaining—they were covered with insect bites. All she wanted to do was get through the day without anyone getting hurt.

  “This is going to be fun, kids. I promise.” Peter offered a reassuring smile.

  They finally stepped into a clearing, and there the river lay before them, sparkling beneath the cloudless sky. On the left, rocks protruded from the river bank, but straight ahead, shallow water at the river’s edge beckoned them. The air felt a bit cooler.

  The boys cheered, tore off their shoes, and ran for the water. Sarah spread the quilt beneath a small river birch and helped Mary with her shoes. The girls didn’t show as much outward zeal as the boys, but they giggled as soon as their toes touched the cool liquid lapping up on shore. Peter dropped down on one side of the blanket. Sarah checked the food basket for no reason but to keep busy.

  The boys whooped and hollered, splashing the girls.

  “Daddy!” Mary ran from the water with Grace right behind her. They stood at the edge of the blanket, dripping. “Daddy, make them stop.” She blinked her big blue eyes, and her lips pouted.

  Peter released what sounded like an exasperated sigh. “Boys!”

  Just like many little girls, Mary had figured out how to manipulate her father. Even though Sarah didn’t quite approve, she still felt a hint of admiration for the child.

  The boys trudged from the water, their shoulders sagging.

  “Awww, come on, Uncle Pete.” J
ohn frowned. “We were just having some fun. Like you said.”

  Sarah shed her stockings and boots. “C’mon, girls. We can’t let the boys get away with this.” She picked up her skirt and ran into the water. The girls looked at each other, then followed. “Water fight!”

  “You heard her, boys!” Peter started rolling up his pants. The boys whooped and ran into the water with Peter close behind.

  A frenzy ensued with water flying in all directions. Sarah hadn’t belly-laughed like that in a long time. After several minutes, her stomach ached, and her arms were so tired, she could barely lift them. “Enough. Let’s call a truce.” Drenched, the rest seemed ready to halt too.

  Ben marched up to the beach and grabbed a pole. “Let’s go fishing!”

  “Can it wait—for just a few minutes, men?” Peter glanced from one to the other.

  A sly grin grew on John’s face. “I suppose me and Isaac could have another water fight.”

  Peter massaged the back of his neck. “All right, boys. Get your poles.”

  The boys scrambled to pick up their fishing gear, then headed a short distance up the river with Peter behind them.

  Sarah stepped closer to the river’s edge and dug both feet into the sand. What she wouldn’t give to strip down to her underthings and dive beneath the rolling river. While the girls splashed nearby, Sarah drew imaginary pictures with her big toe. A heavy cloud moved across the sun—the momentary shade a respite from the water’s bright glare.

  Since Peter had walked into the kitchen that morning, he’d acted more like the old Peter. Not distant or careful. He’d even tried to tease about her biscuits. What did he want from her? Why spend the afternoon with her when he had a perfectly good excuse to drive back into town?

  “Ahh—ahh!” Grace raced from the water, then vigorously marched in place on the bank, her eyes large as she gasped for air.