Sarah's Promise (19 page)

Inside the station I tore off a layer of blanket and mitten, expecting the telephone to ring any second. But Dad informed me we had four whole minutes left. I sat down with a smile.
Thank you, Lord!

Frank was almost three minutes late. By that time I’d already started pacing in nervous anticipation. When the phone finally rang, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Hello?”

“Sarah. I’m glad you could come in again. I hated to trouble you.”

He had no idea, but I didn’t tell him about the sleigh. “It’s all right. I’m always glad to talk to you.”

“I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“That’s what Dad said. What’s happened?”

My insides were in knots. Surely he’d tell me about how the preaching went, about being asked back, about feeling the call on his life just like our pastor had predicted. But he said nothing of the kind. Instead he started in about some other store building and a beautiful house next door and how it was all just like he’d pictured it and he could start his business right away if the bank agreed. And if I agreed.

I was speechless. Absolutely bewildered. He’d told me he was ready to leave there. He hadn’t wanted even Sam’s offer of a house, which would have cost us less than what he was talking about now. Why was he doing this?

“Don’t you want to come home?” I asked, and I could hear his deep intake of breath.

“Sarah Jean, I’m tryin’ to explain that. Sure I want to, to be with you. But if we decide to do this, it’ll have to wait. The owner says I can start up the shop in just a few days so long as the bank’s in agreement. I could be in business here and get established before the wedding. And get the house fixed real nice for you ahead a’ time. It’s beautiful. I think you’ll love it, I really do. It’s a little like your mom and dad’s house, but a touch bigger, and the yard is big and nice. Plenty a’ room for a garden. And flowers—all the flowers you could want.”

“Frank, it’s two hundred miles away.”

“It’s right next door to the shop. Just the kind a’ building I need. With another big yard. A real nice storefront. And you should see the workshop. I’d have room, summer and winter, even if I had four or five projects goin’ at once. I could live in the place until I can get into the house.”

I bowed my head, hiding my eyes newly brimming with wetness so Dad wouldn’t see from across the room. Frank was talking about not coming home at all. Not until the wedding. And then? “Oh, Frank. I thought you were so sure it wasn’t right for you up there.”

“The other place wasn’t.”

He wasn’t listening to what I’d really meant, and I couldn’t say anything more. Our silence hung in the air. I’d promised to trust him. Straight out. No specifics or exceptions. But could I?

“Sarah, I love you,” he said real quiet. “I just want you to consider it, that’s all I’m askin’. I don’t have to tell ’em today. I’ll give you whatever time you want. And if you just can’t see clear to the idea of makin’ a life up here, then I . . . I can tell ’em no.”

I’d never heard his voice like this before. Bold and excited. Yet timid and uncertain at the same time. He really wanted this, I could tell.

“What does Sam think?”

“He don’t know nothin’ about it. And I ain’t tellin’ him, Sarah. He’d want to come to the bank with me and everything, and I’m not havin’ it. I gotta do this on my own. Do you understand?”

He had such a depth of emotion in his voice. It made me a little afraid. “You wouldn’t want me at the bank then, either, would you?”

He was quiet, but only for a second. “Sarah Jean, forgive me. I can’t do this without talkin’ to you. I can’t do it without your okay, ’cause it’s your life too. But no, I wouldn’t want you there. Not right now. I need to do this myself if I can. And if I can’t, then I need to find that out now and quit foolin’ myself. This is the only time, Sarah, for me to know for sure I won’t just be leanin’ on you—”

“Franky, you never lean on anybody! Except God! Don’t you realize how everybody’s leaned on
you
? Your whole family! They never would have made it through the war and losing your folks—not half so well. And me—I’d be a wreck without you! Don’t you know that?”

He was quiet, a much longer time. “No. I guess I don’t.”

I should have jumped in with more assurances, but I couldn’t find my tongue, and before I knew it he went on.

“You been readin’ for me. And seein’ to plenty a’ things to help me out. Your mother and Thelma too. Even Bert and the rest. I’m not sure anybody really thinks I can get anywhere without that. And maybe I can’t. But I wanna try. If I fall on my face and make a mess a’ everything, I could still come home and tell everybody they was right all along. Then maybe I’d pick up WH where I left off and live close by your folks if you’d still have me. I’d do the very best I could for you. Every day a’ my life.”

“Oh, Frank.”

“I love you so much, Sarah. I wanna be better than that for you. Do you understand? I’ll always need you. But I want you to be able to lean on me, not the other way around. I wanna work and make something for you that our families don’t have to fix for us. I love them too, but if I let them do any a’ this for me, I ain’t sure I’ll feel like I’m worth all a’ what you are to me.”

My heart was pounding in my throat and I could scarcely breathe. “Frank—you don’t have to prove your worth. I love you the way you are. I always have. If that’s what this is about—”

“It’s about what I think’s right for us,” he said then, still sounding timid. “If you’ll have it. I ain’t sure I ever felt like this about nothin’ before. Like I’ve been directed. Like circumstances brought me up here and led my heart ’round till I could find this place. I can picture us here.”

When I tried to speak again, my voice sounded quivery. “B-but the closest relatives’ll be more than fifty miles away.”

“I know. And I think that’s what I need. At least for a while.”

Again, there was silence between us. I thought of Kirk on the morning Frank left, nudging him, calling him a knucklehead, and telling me he’d be back. I thought of Rorey’s awful letter and Bert’s words about what was realistic. None of them believed he could do this. He hadn’t even told Sam, because Sam wouldn’t think he should even try. Not alone. Not the way he wanted it.

Oh, Lord, he really can’t read well enough yet! What will happen when they give him papers at the bank? What if they turn him down because he has trouble filling out what they need from him? He’d be absolutely deflated. Why is this so important? Why so far away? What should I tell him?

“I gotta leave it up to you, Sarah,” he said then. “It wouldn’t be right to do this if you’re against it. I want you to be happy.”

I closed my eyes against the tears in them.
Oh, Frank. How can you tell me all this and then say it’s up to me? How could I deny you for my own comfort’s sake?

Trust. That’s what I needed. I didn’t want to cry, not in a way that he’d hear me, but I couldn’t help it. I tried to stop. I tried to pull the receiver away just a little so he wouldn’t hear, but I didn’t want to miss a word that he might say to me.

“Sarah? Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lay all this on you. It’s just wrong. I know what you want—”

I took a deep breath, trying to shove my voice through the tears. “I-I want you satisfied.”

“I can come home,” he said quickly. “I can just forget all this. Please don’t cry. There’ll be something—something down there—”

His voice was shaky. And I couldn’t bear it anymore. “Frank! I want you satisfied! I want you to do what you know in your heart is best. You’re more important to me than the farm. I can’t keep the same life we had when we were kids. Do what you need to do! Please.”

He was quiet so long I thought we might have been disconnected. Finally, when he spoke, his voice sounded far away and yet still somehow strong. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. Trust. I’d promised.
Lord, help me be able.

“Are you really sure? I won’t get the terms Sam offered me. I won’t get Kirk nor your father to co-sign for me neither. Did you know they both offered to do that when we were lookin’ at houses down there?”

“No.”

“They did. Because Wilfred Patterson at the bank has a nephew that went to school with me, remember?”

“Yes.”

“So they all think I belong in a loony bin or in some government program to help the feeble-minded.”

“Oh, Frank. Not that bad.”

“You think not. He said plain out I’d need a co-signer or they wouldn’t have no confidence in me. Your father told me he said that. But I’m gonna go in the bank up here and be flat-out honest with ’em, and I’m gonna get me a loan if the good Lord wills.”

I felt a surge of something warm inside me. “I believe you will.”

“But only if that’s what
you
want. I mean, I know you wanted to live down there. But if you can see it clear . . . to give this a chance . . .”

For a fleeting second I wondered what a difference there would be to our future if I just told him no. It was just too far.
I
wanted to lean on family, even if he didn’t. That would be far easier, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t dash a hope like that. “Yes. Talk to the bank. Give it a chance. I love you.”

“Oh, lordy, Sarah. I love you too. You are the absolute best—”

“Tell me about the house some more.”

We talked on a very long time. And by the time we finished, I felt good about the choice I’d made, so long as I didn’t think too long and hard about the details. Debt. So far from home. So far from the safety net my parents had always been for both of us.

Seven thousand dollars was a lot of money to commit. But a very good deal for the property we’d be getting. If Frank could make the business work.
Lord, let him not be disappointed.

Dad found work to do at the station, since we’d be stuck here for several hours. I sat and prayed for a while because Frank was going to talk to the bank this very day if he could, and I had a strange mix of feelings about it. In a way I would still be relieved if nothing worked out up there, and yet I knew I would be saddened and disappointed for Frank now too.

As the time wore on, I got restless. If he had anything more to report, Frank would call before we expected to be leaving, but that could be hours away.

We’d been in such a rush to leave home that I hadn’t taken time to bring any needlework, and we had nothing with us for lunch either. So I decided to bundle up and walk a block down the street to Dearing’s little library for a book of poems, and on the way back stop and get us each a sandwich at the café halfway between. Dad was hesitant about me heading out in the steady snowfall, but it was such a short way. He had me call first to make sure the librarian was there. She was, because she lived only two blocks away and hated to close for anything.

Dad saw to it that I had my coat buttoned and my hat, scarf, and mittens in place, as though he had forgotten I was almost twenty-one. He gave me a big hug and added a blanket around my shoulders when I turned to leave. I wondered if he was already thinking about what it would be like with me gone away to Camp Point. I was.

The snow was noticeably deeper, and the air felt frigid. I was very glad there was no biting wind. In beautiful weather, the short jaunt from the Marathon station to the library would have been over in no time, but today time seemed to flow differently and the town hardly seemed real. Everything was pretty, like the inside of a Christmasy snow globe. But there was hardly anyone out, and I was glad to reach the library steps.

Mrs. Kittering was pleased to have the company. She asked questions about my family and chatted with me most of the time I was there. I looked at several poetry books before selecting one that featured Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I’d always loved her work, and it was small enough to fit in my coat pocket so I could keep it protected from the snow.

No vehicles were parked outside the café. I would have guessed there were no customers. But as I got close, the door opened and a lone young man stepped out to the porch. He turned and looked at me, and I froze in my tracks. Donald Mueller.

“Well, Sarah,” he said with a smile as he stepped from the café toward me.

“I thought you were with Orville on the mail route.”

“He dropped me off not five minutes after you.”

“I need to get some sandwiches. Get out of the way.” My words were abrupt, harsh. Quickly I added, “Please.”

He chuckled. “So did you hear from Frank?”

I nodded, not wanting to talk to him.

“Is he coming back? Rorey said he was due in last night but he hadn’t left yet. Is he having trouble with his truck?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Didn’t forget the way, did he? Boy, what would he do? Can he find Dearing on a map, do you think?”

“Shut up and let me by.”

Only one narrow path was shoveled on the sidewalk, and Donald was standing in it. I tried to go around him, even though it meant plodding through the deeper snow, but he sidestepped to stay in front of me.

“Is he gonna stay? What’d he say, Sarah? Did he leave you behind for whatever job it is he’s thinkin’ about up there?”

“No. Get out of my way. Please.”

“You seem upset about something. I can tell. Is everything okay?” He reached his hand toward my arm, and I pulled back.

“You’re what’s upsetting me! Leave me alone!”

He looked strangely sad. “Just think about it, Sarah. Do you really want to leave everything you know? And follow him willy-nilly who knows where?”

I stared at him. How could he seem to know the questions in my heart? It was as though his words were designed to shake away the certainty I’d felt over what I’d told Frank. Of course it was right that Frank should have this opportunity. How could I deny him something so important? And yet, here was the tempter, asking me again what
I
wanted, suggesting that I back out of a promise and follow my own will.

“Let me by,” I warned. “Or I’ll scream. And don’t think nobody would hear. I can be loud if I need to be.”

“I would never threaten you,” he said, the sadness even stronger in his eyes.