Sarah's Smile (The Daughters of Riverton Book 1) Page 17

  Sarah grabbed Mary’s hand and led her to dry land. “What’s wrong, Grace?” The child would hyperventilate if she didn’t slow her breathing down. “Calm down. Let me help you.”

  “Get it off me!” Grace, tears pooling in her eyes, pointed to the leech over an inch long and half an inch wide attached above her ankle.

  Bees, spiders, and mice she could handle. Leeches were entirely another thing. “Peter!” Sarah waved, trying to get his attention. “We need help!”

  He laid down a fishing pole, put his hand on each of the boy’s shoulders, and spoke to them.

  Tears streamed down Grace’s face. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

  “Peter, please hurry!” Sarah shuddered, and though she’d waded for less than a minute, she couldn’t help but check her own feet and legs—twice. She’d always detested the hideous things.

  He reached them in mere seconds. “Grace, are you hurt?”

  One finger pointed—the others remained clenched in a tight fist at Grace’s side.

  Peter knelt on the ground and smiled up at his niece. “You’ll be fine, but I need you to stand very still.” He studied the slimy creature on her leg.

  “Uncle Pete! Isaac got himself stuck on a hook!”

  Shielding his eyes with his hand, Peter gazed in the boy’s direction. “Those two got in trouble already?”

  John grabbed Ben’s pole in one hand, his brother’s hand in the other, and led him to their uncle. John’s face lit up. “Look at that. Grace got herself a bloodsucker.”

  Grace’s attention, diverted by the boys for a moment, refocused on the leech. The jumping began all over again, as though moving would force it to release.

  The younger boy’s lower lip quivered. “I’m stuck.” He fingered the fish hook caught in the fleshy area between his left thumb and finger.

  “Benjamin, I told you to wait.” Peter’s voice sounded a bit exasperated. “I can only deal with one emergency at a time.”

  “If you can handle the leech, I can manage the fish hook.” Sarah could stomach almost anything except bloodsuckers. “Stand still, Isaac. Peter, do you have a knife?”

  He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out a small jackknife, and handed it to her.

  “Sorry about this.” The knife cut through the line easy enough, and Sarah carefully pulled the hook out. “I’ll clean it with some water and then wrap it with a handkerchief until we get home.”

  “Boys, take a look.” Peter held Grace’s leg. “I want you to learn the right way to do this.” He glanced up, as though to make sure he had their full attention. “Don’t grab a leech by its fat end and pull. It holds on with rows of tiny teeth. Your job is to rip the teeth away from the skin.”

  Grace whimpered, and Mary clutched Sarah.

  “Peter...” Sarah knelt down and wrapped her arms around Mary. He should know better than to say something that would scare the children. However, the boys were clearly enthralled.

  Peter removed the leech and flung it into a grassy area. He stood, wiped both hands on his trousers, then rubbed his forearm across his forehead. Sweat dampened his shirt, and it clung to his sides and back. His face beamed with triumph. “See? Nothing to it.”

  “Our hero.” Sarah’s gaze held his.

  His eyes twinkled as a grin spread across his face. “Any time.”

  Something had changed. But what—how—why?

  chapteR TWENTY-SIX

  Goodnight, Mary. Try to get some sleep.” Pink calamine lotion dotted the poor girl’s face, but Sarah leaned over and kissed her forehead anyway. With one arm wrapped around a stuffed teddy bear, Grace lay curled up on the other side of the bed. “It looks like your cousin has already traveled to dreamland.”

  Despite her burned hand, mosquito bites, leeches, and a stuck fish hook, the afternoon had been fun. Much more than expected. For the first time since Peter’s return, she’d seen the carefree boy she remembered, if only for a few hours.

  After a hot, muggy day, the cheerful blue sky had turned gloomy gray, and the wind howled like a lonesome wolf calling for its pack. The second-story room felt stuffy, but ensuing rain would clear the air. Sarah closed the window, and the curtains settled down to rest, but the wind’s force swayed the trees outside. Lightning flashed, spreading fiery tentacles across the sky. A thunderous boom followed.

  “I’m scared,” Mary whimpered from the bed.

  “Don’t be frightened.” Sarah sat on the bed and brushed the child’s hair back from her forehead. “You’re safe. I promise.”

  “I wish you were my mommy,” Mary whispered.

  Sarah’s throat burned. Two years had passed since Lily’s death, and Mary had only been a toddler. Did she even remember her own mother? “Oh, honey...” What could she say? To confess she also wanted to take that place in Mary’s life would be unfair to the little girl—and Peter. Instead, she attempted a reassuring smile. “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll be able to have wonderful dreams.”

  With a twist, Sarah turned off the bedroom lamp, then left one more kiss on Mary’s cheek before closing the door behind her and venturing downstairs to the kitchen. She pushed open the screen door and joined Peter on the back porch, watching the sky.

  “They’re all tucked in and asleep.” She leaned against a post next to the steps. “You wore them out today.”

  Peter stood quietly, hands buried in his front pockets.

  Mere seconds may have passed, but Sarah couldn’t take the silence for even that long. “What’s on your mind, Peter?” She fidgeted with the handkerchief wrapped around her burned hand and waited.

  “I’m sorry for what I said that day at the party.” He could barely be heard above the whistling wind. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

  “Me, too,” she whispered. Sarah closed her eyes and turned toward the wind, relishing the coolness after a warm day. Wisps of hair blew across her forehead and eyes, and she brushed them aside. “Peter...” She stepped back against the post and faced him again. “Did you mention anything to Ellie about what happened at the Carters’?” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “This weekend feels like a setup.”

  “I didn’t say a word. But my sister has a God-given gift for knowing when things aren’t right between people, and when she does, she can’t leave things alone.” He rubbed his jaw. “When the kids fight, they’re put in the same room with the door closed, and they can’t come out until they’ve made up, so...”

  “In essence she did the same thing to us. That’s our Ellie—the peacemaker.” Thank you, God, for such a dear friend. Weeks could have passed before Peter and Sarah would have resolved the situation between them, but with just a few simple words, they’d put it behind them.

  Her heart lightened with their mutual apologies, but the swelling clouds darkened to a charcoal gray. “We’re in for a big one. If you don’t head back to town soon, you’ll get soaked.”

  “I’m staying. I don’t feel right leaving you out here alone with what’s brewing.”

  “We’ll be fine. It’s just rain. If things get rough, I can take the children to the cellar. Besides, you know I’ve always loved thunderstorms. The smell, the rain, the wind. It’s like watching God display his power—like he’s reminding us who’s in control.”

  He pressed his back against the other post. “Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

  “I’m being stubborn?”

  “Besides you and the kids, I’m also worried about the damage this storm could do. It’s coming in fast. Branches have already broken off trees down by the barn.”

  The rapid drop in air temperature sent shivers through her body. Another crack of lightning— then thunder—louder than the last boom. The thought of him protecting and keeping her company comforted, yet unsettled her.

  “Your parishioners might not like you out here with a single woman overnight.” The fierce wind freed Sarah’s hair from its remaining pins and blew the long tresses back. Her skirt whipped around her legs. “You ne
ed to think about your reputation.”

  “I need to think about you and the children. There’s no way I’m leaving. I’ll sleep in the barn.” He sounded angry—no—hurt.

  “Why are you being so—”

  His head jerked up.

  “Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry—your parents.” Her body slumped. She’d just apologized for an earlier blunder, and already she needed to ask forgiveness for another? “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” His eyes glistened. “Time has passed and people have forgotten, but that day is seared into my mind.”

  “I remember.” How could she have been so thoughtless? Storms didn’t conjure up the same excitement for him as they did her. “We didn’t want to waste one minute of summer because you were soon leaving for college. Neither of us expected...The tornado appeared so fast, we were all caught off guard.”

  “My parents were just minding their own business, on their way home from picking up supplies, and the wagon was blown to bits.” He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out. “I can still see them on the ground, clinging to each other, like they had their whole lives.”

  Fond of his parents, she missed them too. Ellie was so much like their mother...kind, welcoming, slow to anger.

  “I couldn’t have gotten through it without you, Sarah.” The intensity in his eyes deepened. “You know that, don’t you?”

  This was how it used to be—Sarah and Peter sharing their hopes, fears, heartaches. No barriers between them.

  “I’ve never confessed this to anyone, but I’m angry and hurt that Mary will never know her grandparents.” His tone was laden with pain and regret. “And they won’t get a chance to know her—at least not here on earth.”

  Sarah couldn’t just stand there—she reached for him. “God knows, Peter. He understands.”

  The impulsive hug was intended to comfort a friend—a brother. But Peter enclosed her within his arms and held her tight. His firm body felt at home against hers, and she laid her head on his chest as the rain drops plunked on the roof above them and the ground below. Within seconds, the heavy clouds released the bounty they’d stored. Water streamed from the heavens, pooling on the ground. The damp, chilled air blew around them, but Sarah felt warm, dry—protected and safe.

  A bucket the children had played with earlier flew across the yard and wacked against the large oak tree where the children’s swing flung toward the sky, airborne. The screen door behind them slammed. Sarah jumped, clinging to Peter even tighter.

  “Didn’t you say earlier that you loved storms?” He stroked her hair as if to comfort her, his voice drenched with teasing.

  Sarah tilted her head and peered into the smiling, deep blue eyes. “Storms? Yes. I can’t say the same thing about slamming doors.”

  Though the rain and thunder raged around them, she heard his quiet laughter. “You’re right.” Peter’s smile slipped away, and his eyes darkened like the sky. His warm thumb traced her lips, and her breath caught in her throat.

  Breathe. She needed to breathe. Her heart beat as though in competition with the storm’s driving force. Peter’s chest rose and fell. She couldn’t move—she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Nor did she want to. Sarah yearned for him to see the love she’d carried all these years.

  Her fingers caressed his temple and rough jaw, now covered with a day’s growth. A sigh slipped from his lips as he cradled the back of her neck and entwined his fingers in her hair. He lowered his head and then hesitated, but Sarah drew him in and closed her eyes.

  Were his lips on hers? So cool and light, the wind could be taunting her. They moved slowly across hers...gentle...tender. Something crashed against the house, but they were suspended in an untouchable space. Sarah pressed into Peter and his kiss deepened, his now- warm mouth covering hers, their arms locked around each other.

  Peter gently pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. “We should go inside before we get soaked or blown away.”

  “Peter, what’s going on between us?” Her words hung in the air as a mere whisper.

  “You don’t know?” His thick voice betrayed his desire.

  A gust of wind doused them with moisture—drops slid down her cheek. Peter tucked strands of Sarah’s damp hair behind her ear, sending warmth through her veins. He cupped her head with his hand and drew it to his shoulder, she nestled into him, and his fingers continued to lightly caress her arm. Peter’s chest rose in rhythm to her breathing—the two completely synchronized. Closing her eyes, she wanted to block out everything but his touch.

  He drew away—just enough to lift her chin, his gaze taking her in. “I love you, Sarah.” The words she’d waited so long to hear.

  “I’ve always loved you.” Her spirit sang at the freedom to finally say those words, and her vision blurred. “Ever since you knocked Charles Anderson down in the schoolyard for pulling my hair.”

  A slight chuckle escaped him, then his mouth covered hers with heat. No matter how tightly she clung to him, she couldn’t get close enough. His lips lightened their touch, brushed against hers—then again—as though he couldn’t bear to stop.

  Peter loosened his hold, both almost breathless. “We—we can’t.”

  Horror swept through Sarah that he might compare this to her kissing Will. What was wrong with her? She’d pressed into him, almost begging him to continue, when she never meant to tempt. “I didn’t mean—you must think—”

  “Only that I love you, and I want to protect that love for both of us.”

  “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

  He released a large sigh. She felt it more than heard it.

  “You’ve always supported my decisions. I want to do the same for you.”

  Sarah shifted her body so she could see his eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve thought this through, and I’ve struggled with telling you how I feel, knowing how much you’ve wanted to go to Africa. But, I’ve prayed, and I believe I got my answer. You’re the one, Sarah. You’re the one chosen for me.”

  Elation and confusion meshed, leaving Sarah speechless.

  “But it’s your turn.” He kissed her forehead. “When the letter comes from the missions society, you need to take the assignment. When you come home, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He’d just confessed his love for her, but he still wanted her to go away? For two years? For a long time, all she’d dreamed about was serving God in the mission field—having a purpose beyond clerking in a store. Being a missionary would honor God and her grandfather. And she believed it could help her make some things right, as well as give her an opportunity to start a new life.

  But her world had suddenly changed. The man she loved was here, and he loved her. Mary wanted and needed a mother. How could she put a child’s needs on hold? Sarah couldn’t deny her heart, even if it led her to give up everything else she’d strived for—that’s what love did. It gave you the strength to put the other person first, at all costs.

  Lightning sparked in the black sky, thunder rumbled, and the wood beneath their feet shook. More rain blew in, and Sarah’s saturated shirtwaist clung to her back.

  “Peter, I can’t leave you. Not now. It’s taken me so long—almost my whole life—to be truthful about my feelings for you.”

  “I want to be selfish and tell you to stay. I do. But I also know from experience that a hunger to follow a true calling will consume you until it’s fed.” He held her hand over his heart. “You don’t want to live with regrets for the rest of your life. Trust me. It’s a painful path.”

  “But if God has told you I’m the one, why would he ask me to do something that would take me away from you?”

  “He must have his reasons, and I think we should trust him. Unless he tells you something different, I believe you should see it through.” His thumb massaged the back of her hand. “We need to love God more than anything or anyone else, Sarah. And then put each other above ourselves. I can’t stand in the way of you doing his work,
or following your dream.”

  Could it be true? Could she have both—Peter and the mission field? Why did her heart feel weighted with doubt?

  “All right, Peter.” Rain dripped from her wet hair onto her lashes, and she wiped it away. “But you’ll write—often. And you won’t forget our pact to never keep secrets from each other.”

  “I promise.” A shadow crossed his face.

  Peter said the words, but something about the way he said them caused a knot in Sarah’s stomach. As if he already kept a secret...

  chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  The rays of sunlight bathing Peter’s den did nothing to dispel the less than cheery mood in the room. He dropped his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes.

  “That building can’t go another winter without repairs.” Worry added furrows deep enough for planting to the farmer’s already-wrinkled face. “I’d do ’em myself, if I could.”

  “I know, Ole.” It pleased Peter to see how much Ole cared about his church. It also hurt to see the man he’d known his whole life struggle with the challenges that came with it. “I just don’t see how I can possibly ask the farmers to give more—in the middle of July, when crops aren’t in yet.”

  The church budget didn’t cover impending needs. Attendance had grown, but offerings didn’t reflect the additional numbers sitting in pews every Sunday.

  “You mean well, Peter.” Ole fingered his weathered hat. “But if we don’t start preparing to fix the roof and our heating problem, the building won’t be functional once it starts snowing and temperatures drop below zero. We can’t worship in a church that leaks and is so cold, people won’t come. That don’t serve the Lord, and it’s not considering people’s spiritual needs.”

  Lord, thank you for this man of wisdom. “You’re right. I’ll go over the budget again and call a meeting to brainstorm some ideas. Maybe if everyone gave just a little bit extra between now and winter, we could save enough funds to buy the needed materials. We might find men in the congregation willing to provide labor.” Peter scanned the paper in front of him. As church council president, Ole might have some additional insight on a few things Peter questioned. “While you’re here—”