Sarah's Smile (The Daughters of Riverton Book 1) Page 13

  Tension released in her shoulders. “I promise that I kept my eye on her every minute, except for the short time I was helping Gram clean up the kitchen after supper.”

  “I’m sure you did, but she’s only four. What if she’d wandered off and gotten hurt? What if that coyote had attacked her when we weren’t there to help?” Even though his voice held no anger, his words said she’d failed him.

  “But he didn’t.” Sarah’s renewed frustration begged freedom, and she untied the rope. “Have you forgotten that as a boy, you were ten times as mischievous? Mary may look like her mother, but it’s apparent she takes after her father. An apple off the same tree.”

  By appearances, Peter had to fight a smile at the last remark. “You’re right.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “It’s just that nothing—or no one—is more precious to me than my daughter. It’s my job to protect her.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to her,” Sarah whispered.

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Maybe now they could move on and forget the frightening experience. “Until that scary incident, Mary and I had a wonderful time together. Mrs. Jorgenson told us stories while we worked in the gardens. Mary loved the idea of having containers to plant her own. We picnicked under a shade tree. Gram even helped us bake gingersnaps before supper. Oh—Mary wrapped some up for you. She knew they’re your favorite, but I forgot to bring them.”

  “I’m glad you two had a good time.” He quirked a smile. “You’ll be a wonderful mother someday.”

  “Thank you.” A flutter of possibility rose in her chest. “It means a lot that you have confidence in me, because the children at the mission are orphans. I know how it feels to not have parents, and I’ll do everything I can to help those children believe they’re wanted and loved.”

  That was all entirely true and honorable. But she was also running away from Peter and Riverton, and that truth was like grease on white linen—ugly and impossible to ignore.

  chapteR TWENTY

  By the look on your face, you’ve talked to your brother.” Sarah removed a silver hand mirror from a box and placed it next to several others less ornate in the display case beneath the store counter.

  “It must have been terrifying. A rabid coyote in your backyard, and so close to Mary.” Ellie’s sympathetic eyes moistened. “I almost cried when Peter told me, even though I knew everyone was safe.”

  “I shudder every time I think about it.” Sarah brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Peter may never trust me with Mary again.”

  Ellie dropped her handbag on the counter. “If he knew how many times that little one has slipped away from me—Mary is just like him. Peter used to run off and make our parents crazy with worry. My mother always said she prayed he’d have a child as mischievous so he’d understand what he put them through. God must have been listening.”

  “Well, apparently he’s found someone competent enough to care for his daughter.” Sarah opened a box containing a brush and comb set that matched the silver mirror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but I wouldn’t be so frustrated if he’d chosen anyone but Rebecca Hoyt.”

  Ellie picked up the mirror and peeked at her reflection. “Rebecca isn’t on my favorite people list either, but she does have a gift for working with children. Mary will be fine.” She laid the mirror on the counter. “But it has to be obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain that Rebecca is looking for a husband, and I don’t want my brother manipulated into marrying her.” Ellie grabbed her handbag. “I was going to do a bit of shopping this morning, but I’ve lost my enthusiasm. I think I’ll just go back to the parsonage and get Mary, then head back out to the farm. By the way, I won’t bother driving into town tomorrow. Rebecca will be taking care of my niece.”

  The morning moved by without Sarah feeling much involved. With her mind elsewhere, she waited on customers, stocked shelves, and did general clean-up. Before she knew it, the clock on the wall read 1:25. She’d forgotten to take her lunch break and daily stroll to the post office.

  Will leaned against the counter where Sarah was rearranging silverware in the glass-fronted case below. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?”

  “Have I been too slow in my work?” She thought she’d kept up, even with her mind in a fog.

  “Not at all. You just look—worn out.” He gave a slight smile, but his eyes revealed concern.

  “I’m sorry.” Sarah glanced around the store. “I hope customers didn’t feel unattended.”

  “No complaints. I just couldn’t help but noticing. In case you weren’t aware, I notice you all day long.”

  A warm blush filled Sarah’s cheeks.

  Will stroked his jaw, and a teasing smile grew on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, but it’s no secret that I like you.”

  She’d never led him on, but still...it was flattering to know that someone was attracted to her that way.

  “Well, anyway, I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  It was nice to know he cared. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

  “I have a brilliant idea.” He flashed a familiar grin. “Join me for supper at the Sherlock Hotel after we close up shop. Mrs. Sherlock is a great cook, and I promise I won’t force conversation if you’re not up to it.”

  “Thanks for the invitation, Will, but I wouldn’t be good company. I need to go home, have an early supper, and get some sleep so I can come back to work tomorrow more rested.”

  “Then, would you consider joining me on Friday night?”

  Sarah could decline, but there was no reason not to dine with the handsome gentleman. She had no attachments to anyone. Peter had certainly shown no interest in pursuing a serious relationship, and she’d already been forthright with Will about her intentions to leave town. “I’d love to.”

  ***

  Per Will’s request, they were seated next to a window in the restaurant. Across the street, the barber’s children played outside in front of their small home. The two boys chased each other while the little girl pumped her legs, making the swing hanging from the oak tree go higher. Several large trees grew behind the parsonage. Had Peter thought of putting up a swing for Mary? It would only take a small board and strong rope. Four days had passed since Sarah had seen the child. She missed Mary—and Peter.

  Sarah had made the right decision in accepting Will’s invitation to dinner at the Sherlock Hotel. She needed to focus on something besides Peter and her disappointment with still not hearing from the missions society. Not only entertaining, Will challenged her to stretch her brain and think.

  Her grandmother couldn’t have been happier that Sarah was spending time with Mr. Carter’s godson. Gram had hinted more than once that Sarah should rethink her decision to travel to Africa and risk losing such a fine prospective husband.

  “Thank you, Will. I don’t often dine anywhere except at home. This is just what I needed after a long day.”

  Will leaned back in his chair. “You’ve seemed distracted all week. Changing your mind about leaving?”

  “What? No, of course not. Plans just haven’t been moving as quickly as I’d hoped.” During the day, her thoughts had been plagued with possible reasons as to why she hadn’t heard from the missions society. She hadn’t slept well either, and the last few mornings, her grandmother had noticed dark circles under Sarah’s eyes.

  “I can’t say I’m disappointed.” Will reached over and covered Sarah’s hand with his. “The longer you stay, the better as far as I’m concerned. I like seeing your smile every day.”

  Sarah slipped her hand from beneath his and attempted a scolding look. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re quite a flatterer, William Reed?”

  “A few times. But in your case, every word is true.” His eyes locked on hers. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, and kind woman.”

  Heat rushed up Sarah’s neck and radiated through her face. “You embarrass me, Will.” He
r hands went to her cheeks. “I’m sure I’m as red as one of Gram’s ripe tomatoes.”

  “No, not at all.” Will’s eyes twinkled, and his lips eased into a friendly smile. “Just pink, like those flowers you brought into the store the other day.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I meant what I said before. I’m going to do everything I can to convince you to stay. I believe that’s a cause worth fighting for.”

  If only Peter believed the same as Will. Ever since Peter’s return, she’d felt so confused about what she wanted. For several years, she’d convinced herself that finding peace from the past, and purpose for the future, meant moving on. And she believed that also required traveling as far away as she could. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  She glanced at Will, encouraging her to stay. Was it an option? Could she find a way to be truly content—even fulfilled—living in the same small town the rest of her days? Whether Peter was a part of that life or not?

  “What would I do without your company?” Will flipped his palms up. “I was used to living in a city, surrounded by culture. Art exhibits, concerts, the theater—numerous options for entertainment. I haven’t found much to occupy my time here, so I either work late at the store or retire to my room and read countless books.”

  “Poor, poor man.” Sarah feigned sympathy, then offered a generous smile. “Culture can be found here. Just last April, community actors performed The Little Brown Jug at the opera house. If you’d moved here sooner, you could have attended the play.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.” Will winked. “It may not have compared with Shakespeare, but I’m sure it was entertaining.”

  “Are you a fan of Shakespeare?” Sarah had never witnessed a professional performance of any play and could only imagine how gripping it would be to sit in an audience watching Macbeth or A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  “No. Without all the sword play and killing that goes on, his plays would put me to sleep. Too many thees and thous.”

  Sarah laughed at Will brandishing his fork like a weapon. “If you really tried, you’d see there are many things to enjoy here. Besides dances and plays, the opera house is also used for community and church suppers. They’re always well-attended. In the summer you can explore the woods, swim in the river—do you like to fish?”

  “Never tried.”

  “I enjoy fishing, even though I haven’t been for some time.” Sarah searched her mind. “In the fall, we enjoy hay rides. There’s nothing like star-gazing and drinking hot apple cider on a brisk October night.” A flicker of sadness sparked inside her—she might not be around for the fall activities this year. “In the winter, when the river freezes over, we clear off a large area of snow and make our own skating rink.”

  One year, the river had frozen solid before any snow had fallen and roughened the ice. Peter had permission to stay in town for a while after school before going home to his usual farm chores. Magical—skating on ice that mirrored the gold, pink, and lavender colors of the setting sun. Hand in hand, they glided for hours up and down the river, sharing stories until the sky turned gray and the cold winter air chilled their bones.

  “Never been on ice skates, so I’m afraid I lack any skill there. But you’d probably enjoy watching me land on my backside.”

  The image of his arms flailing as he tried to keep balance brought a smile. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that at all.”

  ***

  Peter opened the door to the Sherlock Hotel and stood to the side so Rebecca could enter the building first. Mary stayed close and waited for him before bouncing through the doorway.

  “Come along, Mary. The dining room is this way.” Rebecca offered Peter and Mary a bright smile.

  He had no control over the impromptu visit made at the end of the day by a church board member. His concern needed attention, and it forced Peter to ask Rebecca to stay an hour later than arranged. But this was a mistake. He should have thought of another way to thank her other than asking if she’d join him and Mary for supper. Yes, his cooking lacked, and asking her to stay at his home into the evening for a meal felt too intimate, so the hotel had seemed the best solution. But he should have taken more time to think it through. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Familiar laughter floated through the air from a table next to a window. Sarah, sitting across from William Reed. She appeared—happy. It should be Peter enjoying her company, but he was trying to do the honorable thing by keeping some distance and not asking her to choose between him and mission work. Did William understand how important it was to Sarah to have that kind of opportunity to serve God, or was he interested in winning her affection for himself?

  “Sarah!” Mary skipped between chairs and headed straight toward her friend.

  Sarah’s face lit up at seeing his daughter, and the two shared a few words. The glare that followed pierced his heart. Peter knew Sarah well enough. From the daggers her eyes threw, she felt both disappointed and shocked to see him there with Rebecca. If only he had sent her home at the end of the day.

  Rebecca put her hand on Peter’s arm. “We must teach her to not continually run off. The child needs more discipline.”

  “She’s only four, Rebecca.” Peter stepped away from her touch. “Any little girl would be excited to see a friend, especially when it’s unexpected.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize.” Rebecca sounded hurt.

  “And I apologize. I didn’t mean to reprimand. You have far more experience with children than I do, but I want my daughter to grow up feeling free to follow her heart.” He’d allowed Lily to dictate his path, and he’d been miserable. It would be different for Mary.

  ***

  The backs of Sarah’s eyes prickled and burned, but she feigned a smile for Mary’s sake. Why would Peter ask Rebecca to dinner in a public place if he wasn’t interested in her? But then, Peter might claim the same thing about her being at the restaurant with Will.

  “I wanna stay with you when Daddy is working.” Mary glanced back at her father and Rebecca, both searching the room for an open table. “Miss Hoyt is fun to play with, but I like you better.”

  “I wish it were possible for us to spend every day together.” It would be wonderful to share picnics with Mary, hike through the woods, search for wildflowers. “But I have my job at the store. You’re lucky to have Rebecca. She’s a teacher, so she’s used to doing all kinds of interesting things with children.”

  Mary gave an exaggerated sigh. “She makes me learn letters.”

  “Letters are very important. Once you know the alphabet, you can learn to read.”

  Mary perked up. “Miss Hoyt promised I could read by myself someday.”

  Sarah nodded. “And I would love for you to read your favorite books to me.” Peter and Rebecca approached the table—his smile seemed forced, but hers screamed triumph.

  Rebecca’s pink-and-white-striped wash suit seemed fitting for the warm, summer evening. White lace trimmed her cotton shirtwaist’s sleeves, high collar, and waist. The skirt that flattered the woman’s curves flowed down to a graduated flounce at the bottom. Pretty and fresh, like a new rose after a spring rain. In the white shirtwaist and gray skirt she’d worn to work that day, Sarah felt wilted and plain, like a dandelion gone to seed under the hot sun.

  “Hi, Sarah. William.” Peter placed his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “I apologize for Mary’s interruption.”

  “Not necessary.” Will winked at Mary. “She’s charming and quite entertaining.”

  “You know how much I love seeing her.” Sarah didn’t allow herself to hold Peter’s gaze.

  Rebecca slipped her left arm through Peter’s. “You probably know I’m staying with Mary for the summer while Peter tends to his ministerial duties.”

  Mary wore a gingham dress—also pink and white—with a yoke trimmed with a ruffle around the front and back. A white ribbon decorated the waist. This wasn’t her play dress. Rebecca had dressed the child to match her own attire. Could she be more obvious? P
eter was probably oblivious—men didn’t notice such things.

  “Yes, Peter told me.” Sarah faked a warm smile. “It’s a wonderful idea.”

  “We’re already working on the alphabet.”

  “So she said.” It would help if Peter ended the conversation. Or was he going to just stand there and watch the two of them share niceties?

  “Poor Peter. I don’t think he knows a thing about keeping a house. But then, does any man?” Her coy smile didn’t go unnoticed. “Regardless, someone with his responsibilities shouldn’t have to think about dusting or laundry. As a Christian woman, I’m happy to help where I can.”

  “I’m sure you are.” With great effort, Sarah had managed to keep sarcasm out of her voice.

  “We had such a wonderful day. Peter wanted to top it off with the three of us having supper together.” Rebecca laid her right hand on Peter’s arm above the spot where her other arm held on.

  He stiffened and his face turned as red as a freshly washed radish. Sarah had never seen Peter so embarrassed. A wave of satisfaction rushed over Sarah. Either he didn’t agree with Rebecca’s assessment, or he wasn’t comfortable with her cozying up to him. Maybe both.

  Rebecca beamed up at him. “We should find our table and let these two have some time alone.” She stepped back as though signaling him to follow, and bumped into the waitress right behind her.

  Crash! The tray the waitress carried toppled over onto Rebecca.

  A squeal escaped Rebecca’s lips as she surveyed the damage. Dark brown gravy and Hires Root Beer were sprayed across her shoulder, right arm, chest, and down the front of her skirt. Clumps of mashed potatoes clung to her shirtwaist. Her eyes flashed, and her cheeks looked hot enough to burn anyone who touched them. “I—I’m a mess!”

  Mary clung to Sarah.

  The waitress grabbed a napkin from a nearby table. “I’m so sorry. Let me help.” She dabbed at the gravy coating the right side of the skirt.