Sarah My Beloved (Little Hickman Creek Series #2) (36 page)

Rocky eased the boy off his lap and stood. Sarah watched
his approach out of the corner of her eye. Parking his hands on
the back of a chair, he fixed his eyes on her. "Guess it doesn't
matter much where they come from. Seems a trifle imprudent
not to use them."

When their gazes met and held, he winked at her for the
second time that evening.

Rocky couldn't seem to wipe the grin off his face as he
finished the flooring in the addition. He rose to admire his
handiwork, thankful that he'd finally regained his physical
capabilities. The addition nearly complete, all it needed was
a fresh coat of paint on the plaster walls and ceiling and a few
scatter rugs for the hardwood floor. Standing back, he determined it was the nicest room in the house. If he'd been thinking, he might have designated the new room for Sarah and
him and given the older bedroom to Rachel. But what was he
thinking? He didn't share a bed with his wife now; what made
him think a new room would make any difference?

Stretching taut muscles, he thought about his next major
project rebuilding the barn. He'd paid a visit to Bill Whittaker, Hickman's bank president, to see about a loan. Thankfully, his
credit was good, although Bill had questioned why the loan
was necessary considering what he'd heard about Rocky's wife.
"What are you talking about?" Rocky had asked.

"Why, I heard tell she comes from money, son. Been waitin'
for her to make a hefty deposit." He'd lifted pointy brows, his
shifty eyes putting Rocky in mind of a predatory fox.

It annoyed him to no end that folks seemed to know
things concerning his wife about which even he had no real
details. Just how much money did she have? He'd be lying to
say he wasn't a bit curious. Apparently, it was at least enough
to rebuild his barn. Beyond that, he couldn't imagine she had
much more, and he wasn't about to drain her of all her funds.
Besides, he was the man of the house, meant to be the sole provider. He'd be hanged before he'd start relying on her money
for survival. He could provide just fine for this family, and he
would prove that fact after life returned to normal.

"Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination to
the Lord: though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished." The verse came from the sixteenth chapter of Proverbs; he'd read it just two days ago. It irked him now that the
verse slammed itself into his thoughts like an irate bull. Pride?
How did that play in?

Yes, he'd taken to reading his Bible again in privategoing out to the shed in the wee hours of the morning and
sitting on a stool. Some mornings he even saw his breath while
he sat there in the quiet, devouring the Word once more, looking for clues as to why God had chosen him to go through
hard times, wondering if he'd ever find the answers he sought.
Even though he felt closer to the Father during those times, he had yet to yield his life and heart completely. Something held
him back. Was pride indeed a factor?

"Sarah said I'd find you out here," interrupted a deep
voice from behind, familiar for its resonance.

An instant smile found its way to Rocky's lips as he whirled
around. "Well, if it isn't the Reverend Atkins." He extended a
hand. "How are you, Jon?"

"Never better, especially now that the diphtheria outbreak
seems to be moving on." His face darkened briefly. "You heard
about the James family?"

Rocky nodded. "Yeah, I understand they lost their youngest. A year old, was she?" The family had several other young
children who had suffered milder cases, but the infant hadn't
been strong enough to fight the disease. They lived on the
other side of the creek, a couple miles outside of town. Since
hearing about their loss, Rocky's heart had ached for them,
perhaps perceiving their pain better than anyone.

,Jon nodded, then said, "Little Molly Broughton came
through okay, as did the rest of Hickman's children, thank
the Lord. Glad to see Seth is growing stronger. He even had a
smile for me when I came through the door."

Rocky nodded, grateful that the ugly claws of disease had
not reached Rachel and that Seth had come through them
relatively unscathed. "He's a fighter, that boy."

"He's seen his share of grief for one so young," Jon said
with a thoughtful air. "These are tough times."

Rocky felt a sigh rise to the surface. "That he has, and I'm
afraid I haven't always been there for him-or Rachel, for that
matter."

"Don't beat yourself up, Rock. You and Sarah have done the best you could. Besides, there's always tomorrow. Look on
the bright side; Doc says the worst of the sickness is over. Only
a few new cases have popped up around Jessamine County in
the past week, and that's something to cheer about."

Rocky had to agree. "What brings you out here?" he asked,
feeling the need to change the subject.

"I had to see how my old pal was faring since the fire. Given
that the outbreak has slowed down, folks are moving about
more now. Church services will resume on Sunday. I wanted
to let you and Sarah know." Rocky's lifelong friend scanned
his surroundings. "Nice bedroom addition, Rock. You do fine
work. This to be for you and Sarah?"

Rocky felt unexpected heat creep up his neck. He gave a
quick turn of his body and bent to pick up his hammer and a
bag of nails. "It's for the girl. She's been sharing a room with
her brother."

"Mighty unselfish act, you giving her a brand-new room
and all."

"It's the least I can do."

Jon inclined his blond head. "You and Sarah make a fine
couple, Rocky. You two doing all right now that some time has
passed?"

"Sure," he replied in haste. As usual, Jon seemed to read
him like a book.

"Remember when you tried to convince Ben and me you'd
seen a bear out on Sunset Ridge? We were what, ten or eleven
maybe? You had Ben fooled, but not me. I saw right through
that red, lying face of yours." Jon's eyes twinkled.

It irked Rocky that he'd never been successful at fooling
Jon. Perhaps it was Jon's spiritual training or his fundamental capacity to read others' thoughts. "So what's your point?"

Jon shrugged. "You and Sarah started out on shaky
ground. Getting to know someone intimately doesn't happen
instantly, even while living under the same roof. Give it time."

Rocky laughed amiably. "And what makes you the expert
along those lines?"

Jon chuckled. "I suppose it did sound presumptuous
coming from a bachelor."

"Not that I think you're entirely innocent when it comes to
women, Atkins. I've seen you turn a few heads."

Jon gave an impatient wave. "Naw."

Rocky stepped forward and gave his friend a goodhumored smack in the arm. "Don't act so surprised. You've
been charming women all your life, and you know it."

Even though Jon was a man of the cloth, he had an amiable way about him that attracted most womenfolk. Even the
married ones ogled over his charismatic personality. It amazed
Rocky that no woman had managed to snag him in marriage.

Jon flicked his wrist. "Enough about that foolishness." He
rubbed a hand along his clean-shaven jaw as his brow line
pulled into a frown. "I drove out here to speak with you about
another matter altogether."

He'd suspected there might be something else. Rocky drew
up a couple of makeshift stools. "Have a seat," he ordered.

The two men situated themselves on the overturned crates.
"What's on your mind?" he asked, curious.

Jon took a moment to formulate his words before speaking. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about our Sunday morning
services. Since the schoolhouse burned, we've put a burden
on the Winthrops, I'm afraid. They're not complaining, mind you, but it's clear we can't continue expecting them to open
their home week after week."

Rocky nodded. "I imagine it's been a bit of a trial for the
old gal." Mrs. Winthrop was not an easy woman, and it seemed
the older she got, the more crotchety she became. "My guess is
Clyde's the more generous of the two."

Jon shook his head. "No matter. You have to give them
credit. Matter of fact, when this is over, the town ought to do
something nice for them."

"When it's over? Do you see an end in sight, Jon?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Rock. I've been
giving the matter serious thought and prayer." Jon swallowed
and snagged a deep breath. "I'm considering selling the family
farm and donating the funds to the building of a new church."

"What? You can't be serious." Rocky parted his lips in surprise. "How could you think about selling your own house?
Where would you live?"

"I'm thinking on that. I'm not a farmer, Rock. Of course,
Pa would beg a quarrel if he were still breathing." At that, a
half-hearted chuckle erupted. "Pa always had hopes for that
homestead, but as you know, he threw away his entire life on
drink and women."

Rocky nodded, remembering all too well. The fool had
even sent Jon's mother to an early grave. At least, that was how
most folks saw it. Sadly, Jon, then a young teenager, had discovered his mother in the barn one day after school hanging
from the end of a rope. She'd left a note in her dress pocket
saying she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm a pastor. I would rather devote my time and energy
to my parish. The farm and all that land is going to waste, and I sure don't need that big house. Maybe I'll stay at the boardinghouse until I can buy something more my size in town. It's
clear the town can't really afford to put me up in a parsonage.
They haven't even raised the money for a school yet. These are
hard times."

"Yes, but the boardinghouse? You're talking Emma Browning's place?" It was a known fact that Emma Browning would have
nothing to do with church. Although she was a lovely woman to
look at, she was hard to the bone. Chances were good she wouldn't
want the town's only minister staying under her roof

Jon grinned. "It's the only boardinghouse I know of in
Hickman."

"You should give this more thought, Jon," Rocky insisted.

"I've given it plenty of thought, but I wouldn't mind if
you'd join me in my prayer efforts. I don't want to miss God's
leading."

Rocky shifted uncomfortably. "It's been a while since
anyone's asked me to pray for him. I appreciate your confidence."

One of Jon's blond eyebrows tipped up a fraction. "You
went through a tough period, Rock, but lately I've spotted a
crack in your armor."

"That so?" Now it was Rocky's turn to throw his friend a
questioning glance.

Jon's smile lent a boyish look to his clean-shaven face, and
yet there was a strength of character about him that made up
for his youthful demeanor. Undoubtedly he was one of the
most respected men in all of Hickman, perhaps due to his
own example of suffering through adversity and coming out
the clear winner.

"I've always known deep down you weren't a quitter."

Rocky scoffed. "Thanks for your vote."

"I'm serious," Jon said, running his boot along the brandnew floor as if to test its smoothness. "The loss of a barn would
have been the last straw for most men, but I've seen a light in
your eye that tells me you're not ready to give up the fight."

Rocky bit his lip and thought about the preacher's words.
"I'll admit to being angry with God. The shock of it hit me
hard. But I quickly came to realize that people are more
important than things. The thought of losing Rachel in that
fire put everything into perspective. Then Seth getting sick..."
He swallowed down a hard lump.

"Kind of makes you realize what's truly important in life,"
Jon said.

Rocky nodded his agreement before casting his gaze
toward the ceiling. "I've taken to reading my Bible again." The
admission came surprisingly hard.

Jon patted Rocky on the shoulder. "That's where you'll
find your answers, my friend."

"I can't say I've found all the answers, but at least I'm willing to start looking."

"That's a good beginning-a willing heart. God will take
a willing heart."

Both men allowed a measure of silence to envelope them
while Rocky pondered his friend's words. Yes. Somewhere
along the line, despite his stubborn pride, his heart had grown
softer, and he suspected his wife had something to do with it.
Still, maybe more than anything, it was God Himself who'd
finally cracked through that outer shell, which Jon referred to
as his armor.

Both men pivoted when Sarah shuffled through the doorway, arms full with a tray containing cookies, linen napkins,
a tall crystal pitcher, and two matching glasses. Jon stepped
forward to assist her. "I thought you might enjoy some refreshment," she said, allowing Jon to take the tray from her and
place it atop a ramshackle workbench. Somehow, the finery
didn't quite fit the room, but Rocky wouldn't balk at a nice
cool drink and Sarah's thought to offer it. Time and again his
wife demonstrated her refined ways, and just as often he wondered what kept her in Little Hickman, Kentucky. The quiet,
unadorned little town had to be as different as night and day
from the commotion of Winchester's city life.