A Promise of Hope by Amy Clipston Page A

were his closest link to Peter.
    Luke met Sarah’s disapproving stare as he responded to her father. “Thank you for your hospitality, Eli, but I think it would be best if I stayed in a hotel.”
    Sarah’s gaze was unmoving, challenging him. She sure was a feisty one!
    “I won’t allow you to waste your money,” Elizabeth retorted. “You’ll stay here. Why doesn’t he stay at your house, Sarah Rose? It’s been empty for six months now, and I’m sure the walls would enjoy some company.”
    Gasping, Sarah turned to her Mamm. “My house?” she asked. “The house that Peter built for us?”
    “Ya,” Elizabeth said.
    The women exchanged expressions, a silent and private conversation, before Sarah faced him again. “I’d be happy to host you,” she deadpanned. “Please stay at my house.”
    “Are you certain?” Luke raised an eyebrow.
    Sarah nodded and returned her attention to her supper.
    “Where did you say you worked in Ohio?” Eli asked.
    “A cabinet shop near my home,” Luke said.
    “Tell us about it,” Eli said.
    Luke swallowed a piece of juicy meatloaf and then told the Kauffmans about his life back home.
    “How could you do that to me?” Sarah snapped while scrubbing a pot after supper. “How could you put me on the spot like that?”
    “Whatever are you going on about?” Mamm asked, wiping off the table.
    “What makes you think I want that man sleeping in my house?” Sarah shook her head and rinsed the detergent off the pot. “That was our house! The house I shared with my beloved Peter. I don’t need that stranger—”
    “He’s not a stranger.” Her mother’s voice was calm.
    “Yes, he is!” Sarah threw down the towel for emphasis. “I don’t need him coming in here and stirring things up while I’m trying to create a life for my zwillingbopplin.”
    “He was Peter’s family, so that makes him the zwillingbopplin’s family too.”
    “How do you really know that?” Sarah propped her hands on her hips. “What proof do you have?”
    A smile curved Mamm’s lips. “I know you saw it at supper. I witnessed the shock on your face.”
    Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sarah Rose, don’t lie to me.” Mamm wagged her slim finger. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Dat even asked you what was wrong. He asked you if you’d seen a ghost.”
    Sarah gulped, knowing she’d been caught in a fib. “I did see it,” she whispered. “He separated his food so it wouldn’t touch.”
    “Peter did that at every meal I shared with him.” Crossing the kitchen, Mamm pointed out the window. “Look at him, Sarah Rose. Tell me you don’t see similarities in the way he walks and holds himself.”
    Licking her dry lips, Sarah turned her attention to the field where Luke stood by the barn, chatting with Dat and Timothy. Luke held onto his suspenders as he listened to Dat. Before speaking, he lifted his hat and smoothed back his hair.
    “Peter always did that,” she whispered, her voice croaking with emotion and memories. “He’d hold onto his suspenders and then smooth his hair when he was trying to remember something.” Tears filled her eyes. “Dat was right when he asked me if I’d seen a ghost. I have seen one, and he’s standing right there with my brother and Dat.”
    Mamm rubbed her back. “Embrace him as a friend. He’s a connection to your Peter.”
    Sarah wiped her eyes. “But if I embrace him, then I embrace the knowledge that my marriage to Peter was a lie, Mamm,” she whispered. “Don’t you see how his presence here is breaking my heart? How do I know I married a man named Peter Troyer? His real name could’ve been something completely different.
    Maybe he was really an English man posing as an Amish man to run from indiscretions he committed in his former life.”
    Mamm pulled her into a hug. “Peter was a gut man with a gut heart. Hold onto the happy memories, Sarah Rose. He’s gone, but you know he loved