by Dawn Kinzer
“No.” Mary blinked several times.
“I’ll see if I can fix Amy so she looks good as new.”
Mary perked up. “You can fix her?”
“I’ll try.” Peter rubbed his daughter’s back. “It was an accident, Mary. It wasn’t your fault. What’s important is that you told me the truth.”
“I’m a good girl?” Mary yawned and rubbed her eyes.
“A good girl who needs some sleep.” He laid her back on the bed and pulled the covers over her small body. Mary’s eyes closed, and Peter leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Good night, honey.”
The door closed behind him. One problem solved for the day.
Poor Mary. She seemed broken over making a mistake. Peter slumped down on the top step and buried his head in his hands. It was one thing to have a conscience and know the difference between right and wrong. But it was another for a four-year-old to be burdened with guilt. Once the incident no longer remained hidden, Mary would feel better, and a valuable lesson would be learned.
His daughter wasn’t the only one who needed to make a confession. Peter loved Sarah, and he wasn’t willing to throw away what they had together. Tomorrow, he’d find her and tell her the truth.
***
“Good morning.” Peter, dressed in his best suit worn only on Sundays, leaned next to the store counter. Sarah stood across from him, her head tilted down as she wrote, her dark lashes hiding deep blue eyes. He didn’t need to see her lips to know the shape and soft pink color, or how they tasted like peppermint.
“How nice to see you, Reverend Caswell.” Mrs. Jorgenson, taking a package wrapped in brown paper from the counter, raised her eyebrows at Sarah.
Her cheeks flushed, Sarah enclosed a payment in a container and sent it scooting on a wire across the store to the office on the mezzanine floor. “It will just take a moment to get your change and receipt, Mrs. Jorgenson.” She busied herself, rearranging painted thimbles in a counter display.
“I’d love to have Mary come over for an afternoon, Reverend. I don’t have any grandchildren of my own, and it would be a delight to read stories to a little one again.” Mrs. Jorgenson laid a wrinkled hand on his arm. “Where is she, by the way?”
“Mary is spending the day at the farm with Ellie’s family, but I’m sure she’d enjoy time with you. Thank you for the invitation.” Maybe Sarah thought if she ignored him, he’d wander off and bother some of his parishioners in the store. There were certainly plenty to pick from. The container slid back, and she emptied the change into her customer’s hand.
“I’m canning applesauce, Reverend.” Mrs. Jorgenson slipped her pocketbook inside her handbag. “I’ll bring some by for you and Mary,” she said as she stepped away.
“That would be much appreciated.” Peter spoke over his shoulder to the older woman and kept his focus on Sarah. She, on the other hand, avoided eye contact.
“Sarah, please look at me.” Peter, trying not to plead, spoke low.
“I’m working.” Sarah glanced around the room. “Besides, you have your reputation and congregation back. I won’t be causing you any more embarrassment.” With pain-filled eyes, she stared into his. “What more do you want?”
“I want you to give me another chance. Meet me later this evening. Hear me out,” he whispered. “Mary is staying with Ellie. We can take as much time as we need.”
“I don’t know...”
Several people glanced in their direction but kept their distance.
“Sarah, I should have defended our relationship when those rumors started. If I hadn’t married Lily—”
“Go away, Peter.” She turned away. “Do you really think I want to hear how I compare to your dead wife?”
“No.” He spoke with force, but still kept his voice down. “You don’t understand. That’s not what I meant.”
“I need to get back to work.”
“Please, Sarah. Ellie told me about the job offer in Milwaukee. Please don’t leave without letting me explain.”
“Good-bye, Peter.”
chapteR FORTY-FOUR
Sarah faced toward the sun, soaking up the warmth. Wispy white clouds drifted in the blue sky—one resembled an eagle in flight. The river flowed past her like a living thing moving on to a new destination. A red maple leaf floated by. Tomorrow morning, she’d also be on her way. She’d finally get what she wanted—a new life—a chance to start over. Why didn’t she feel more excited?
She’d disappointed Gram by not going to church with her that morning, but Sarah didn’t have enough strength to sit through a service without crying. So many wonderful memories—and at the same time, so much pain.
Lunch became another letdown for Gram. She’d wanted to invite a few friends over after church as a farewell celebration for Sarah. Gram meant well. She attempted to support Sarah’s decision, even if she didn’t agree with it. But, it didn’t feel right to have a party. Once her grandmother went to her room for a nap, Sarah had slipped out for a stroll through town. The river, a peaceful constant in her life, beckoned her.
Sarah had settled on the bank, hoping the water’s calming movement would put her at rest. With eyes closed, she tuned in to the sounds around her—tree branches rustling in the breeze, robins singing, and water lapping against the rocks. She opened her heart and prayed, not focusing so much on what she wanted, but more on what God might desire for her. Then she listened, hoping he’d provide clear direction.
Minutes passed before he answered. God didn’t give Sarah a map or a detailed plan of her life going forward, but her spirit heard his voice as though he whispered in her ear.
She could barely breathe. Lord, it’s too much to ask. Or was it?
Before she could change her mind, Sarah stood and headed back toward the main part of town. Nerves on edge, she marched down one street and up another. Her heart beat against her chest and her palms dampened, despite October’s cool temperature.
At her destination, she stopped before ascending the porch steps. No one would know if she turned around and went home, but she’d never been a coward, and now wasn’t the time to let fear take control. Four steps and she stood at the front door. Before she could change her mind, Sarah took a deep breath and rang the bell.
The door swung open. “What do you want?” Kathryn Hoyt’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I came to see Rebecca.” Sarah’s throat felt as parched as a dried up leaf tossed in the wind.
“Why? Did you come to gloat?” Mrs. Hoyt glared at Sarah. “My daughter’s character is now sullied because she tried to protect the morals in our church and community.”
“If Rebecca had searched for the truth before—” No. She couldn’t let the woman goad her into an argument. Sarah calmed both heart and voice. “Please. I have something to tell her.”
“You have two minutes.” Rebecca, carrying a novel, stepped in front of the older woman.
“In private.” This needed to be kept between them, and Sarah wouldn’t waver.
Rebecca scowled, but complied and shut the door, leaving them alone on the porch. She crossed her arms and cradled the book close to her chest. “I’m listening. What do you have to say?”
“That I’m sorry.” Relief flowed through Sarah’s veins because she’d spoken the truth.
“So, you admit that you were wrong to come between me and Peter?” Rebecca spat out her words. “And you confess that you did whatever it took to discredit me in this community?”
Sarah sighed. Unbelievable. Rebecca had returned Sarah’s humble apology with ridiculous accusations. “No. I’m sorry that we only saw each other as competition. We wasted so much time disliking each other when we could have been friends. And I’m sorry you were hurt because you cared for a man who couldn’t return your affections. I came to ask for your forgiveness for any part I had in making your life difficult.”
Rebecca stiffened, and her face turned crimson.
“I also came to offer my forgiveness.” A peace that passed
all understanding covered Sarah like a soft, summer blanket.
Veins bulged in Rebecca’s swan-like neck. “For what?”
“For all the times you bullied me when we were children.” Sarah kept her voice composed. “For damaging my reputation with slander, and for trying to destroy my relationship with Peter.” No reason to list detailed accounts. That pretty much covered it.
“You have a lot of nerve.” Eyes blazing, Rebecca perched one hand on her hip. “You’ve been a constant irritation in my life. You’re like a mosquito bite that refuses to heal. And I sure don’t need or want anything from you.” She spun around and grabbed the doorknob.
“Rebecca—”
She paused, but kept her back toward Sarah.
“It doesn’t matter whether you accept my forgiveness or not,” Sarah said with conviction. “I’m still giving it.”
The door slammed behind Rebecca.
I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.
Sarah headed for home, her responsibility completed. Rebecca would need to find her own peace. Bitterness had oozed from her. Sarah didn’t want to be filled with anger and resentment—always blaming others for the wrongs in her life. Memories of things said and done tumbled through her mind. The air rushed from her lungs. In some ways, she and Rebecca weren’t so different.
The day wasn’t over—not even close. Sarah picked up her skirt and ran. She had one more thing to do before leaving town.
***
A chipmunk scurried along the ground, its tail up. The small creature approached with caution, but Peter had come prepared. After Sunday dinner with Ellie and the family, Peter had hiked through the woods and down to the river where he and Sarah had taken the children fishing. He pulled several peanuts from his pocket and held them out in his hand. With sprints to the left, then to the right, the chipmunk scampered toward Peter. A quick steal, then the chipmunk sat up, clutching the peanut between its two front paws, gnawing through the outer shell.
Any other time he would have gone to the bluff to think, but he wouldn’t be returning there. It didn’t feel right going without Sarah, and Peter would never bring anyone else to their retreat. The boulder with the view of the river and town, the place where they’d shared their inner thoughts, had become almost sacred ground for them both.
If he’d done things differently, she might have been sitting with him there now. Sarah’s absence in church that morning—her last chance to attend before leaving for Milwaukee—had confirmed it. She couldn’t forgive him. Perhaps someday that would change. Regardless, he wouldn’t keep secrets from her. Never again.
The heat from the afternoon sun warmed the back of his exposed neck. A fly buzzed near his ear, and he brushed it away with his upper arm. Something light and feathery tickled the back of his neck. Probably that pesky fly again. A large shrug sent it away, but the pest returned. He reached up and swatted at the insect with his hand.
“Still out of practice? There was a time when I couldn’t sneak up on you, even while you slept.”
“You.” Peter jumped up. Before him stood the Sarah he remembered from their childhood—the one who teased him without mercy. “So you’re the annoying little insect disturbing my prayers.”
She lifted her skirt and settled on the grass. “Prayers? Ha! More like your nap.” Her eyes twinkled.
Thank you, God. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Ellie told me.” She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun.
“I’m glad you found me.” Peter sat near Sarah, but not as close as he wanted. He couldn’t take anything for granted. She seemed so...peaceful. What had caused this change in her? “Why did you come?” Hopeful, he barely whispered the words.
Sarah turned to him, gathering pools shimmering in her eyes. “We’ve been friends far too long to leave things the way they are, Peter. I don’t want to carry hurt and anger around like a ball and chain weighing me down. I don’t want that for you either. We both deserve better.”
He reached for her hand, and although her eyes widened, she didn’t pull away. “Sarah, I’m so sorry for hurting you.” He caressed her palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us.”
“I couldn’t understand why you were so willing to set our relationship aside. I still don’t.” She slipped her hand from his grasp.
“I do love you.” The initial hope he’d embraced at seeing her plummeted. How could he get her to understand and believe in him again?
“Then please tell me why.”
“It’s not that easy.” To tell her the truth would be the hardest thing he’d done in his life.
“I’ve suspected that you were keeping something hidden with the illusion that you were protecting me. But you don’t need to keep it from me any longer.”
Peter’s chest ached. “I wish I could trust that, but I’m afraid if I tell you you’ll never come near me again.” He couldn’t take her despising him.
“Maybe it will help if I make a confession first.” Sarah took several short breaths. “I struggled—still struggle—with believing that I could never live up to Lily’s memory. After all, you fell in love, married her, and she had your child. For a while, I thought I’d gotten past that, but when those horrible rumors made me look like...” A single tear trailed down her cheek. “I was so jealous of Lily and how much you loved her. I worried that I was a poor substitute, and that was the reason you gave up on us so easily.”
“Oh, sweet Sarah, you couldn’t be more wrong.” She’d opened her heart up to him, and now he needed to do likewise. Sarah needed to know the truth. “There are so many things I should have told you.”
“If what happened between us wasn’t because of your feelings for Lily, then what? What have you kept from me?” Her face paled, even under the warm sun. “Remember—no secrets. Please keep that promise.”
No turning back. “I thought I loved Lily. At first. I don’t know if she truly cared for me or not.”
Sarah’s brow furrowed. “But, you married her.”
“A big mistake.” Forge ahead, man. “Lily was the kind of woman...Men tripped over each other to get close to her. I was an inexperienced small-town boy, so her flirtations at a party inflated my ego.” Gullible, he’d played the fool.
“Go on...” she whispered.
“After that, we spent a lot of time together. Other men were envious, and it felt good to be with her. She could make any person feel important—special. I witnessed kindness in her, especially toward her invalid mother, so I knew she had the capacity to genuinely care about people. At first, I believed she sheltered a soft heart.
“But, I promise you, Sarah, whatever we had, love didn’t come close. I was just a new toy, something to play with until she got bored.” Memories of horrible fights and unfounded accusations stole his thoughts. Sarah’s hand on his arm drew him back to the present.
“What happened?”
“I tried to convince myself that we were happy.” There were moments that came close. Enough to give some hope. “After we were married, I accepted a position at her father’s bank to satisfy Lily and the family. But I hated that job, and I grew resentful for being pushed into a role that wasn’t right for me. So, in an effort to be honest and save the marriage, I told her that I wanted to follow my heart and enter the ministry. She and her father were furious. I was expected to provide the life she’d grown accustomed to.” A lavish lifestyle that didn’t include living in a parsonage. “You and I know that ministers lead simple lives.”
“But you still left the job at the bank.”
“Not until after Lily’s death. By then, Mary was almost two.” Peter’s stomach soured. He had no choice but to finish—even if Sarah turned her back on him. “Lily never wanted children. Something she didn’t tell me until after we were married.”
He steeled himself for what came next. “Mary had a nanny. Lily rarely spent time with our daughter, and she threatened to do away with any future pregnancies.”
Sarah
grabbed his arm. “How could she?”
Peter couldn’t comprehend Lily’s feelings either. “The night she died, I told her I wanted our marriage to work, but I couldn’t stay at the bank—I was miserable there. I tried to get her to understand. I hoped she could find it in her heart to support my decision. Instead, we got into a terrible argument. She said things in anger. So did I.”
“Peter, I had no idea.” Sarah’s compassionate eyes gave him courage.
“Later that night, Lily started packing her things, and the fighting started all over again.” How could he tell Sarah? He’d risk everything. But he’d lose her for sure if he wasn’t honest. There was no going back now.
“After taking her bag downstairs, Lily ran into Mary’s room and grabbed her from her bed. Like a crazy woman, Lily said she was taking Mary with her—to hurt me. I’d never see my daughter again.” Peter stopped to take a deep breath. Through sharing those memories, he was living that horrible night all over again. “Mary was crying for me, but Lily wouldn’t let me take her. It was cold outside, so I begged Lily to take Mary’s coat, which she’d left in our bedroom. I went to get it, and by the time I returned, Lily and Mary were headed down the hallway.”
“But you must have stopped her.”
“I caught up to her at the top of the stairs. Lily slapped me across the face so hard my face burned, and I exploded from pent-up rage. You’d think I was an angry bull set free. Mary cried out for me, and I tugged her from Lily’s arms. As I pulled away, Lily lost her balance. She teetered at the edge of the stair, her arms flaying. I reached for her and managed to grab her clothing, but the material was thin. She slipped from my grasp.
“I watched in horror as she tumbled down the stairs. I raced to the bottom, almost tripping myself, but there wasn’t anything I could do. She was gone.” Sweat trickled from Pete’s forehead and down across his temple.
Sarah held his hand between her own and cradled it against her.