you and loved your kinner.”
“But he lied,” Sarah said, resting her chin on Mamm’s shoulder as she’d done as a little girl.
“There must’ve been a reason. I don’t want to believe the worst.”
Standing up tall, Sarah swiped her hand over her hot cheeks. “Neither do I, but the lies are here in the flesh of that man who looks like Peter and shares his mannerisms. How can I come to terms with that when it’s staring me in the face? And how do I know my whole marriage wasn’t a sham?”
Elizabeth took Sarah’s hands in hers. “I don’t have the answers, but I do know one thing for certain: Peter loved you. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at you, Sarah Rose. I don’t know why he would be dishonest with you, but I know his heart belonged to you and only you.” She nodded toward the sink. “I’ll finish the dishes. You go wash your face, then take Luke over to your house. Let him see where Peter lived and tell him about your life with him.”
Sarah heaved a deep breath and headed toward the bathroom.
6
W ith her heart pounding, Sarah gripped the knob to the front door of the house she and Peter had shared for three short years. For a split second, she wished she’d taken Timothy up on his offer to accompany her and Luke to the house. However, she couldn’t depend on her family to shield her from the pain for the rest of her life. She had to do this in order to start down the road to healing her shattered heart, for the sake of the twins.
Her soul swelled with grief when she pushed the door open and stared at the modest living room furniture on which she and her husband would sit and talk late into the evenings.
A husband who lied to me about his family!
Sarah closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with that now. She had to get through showing Luke the house. After a tour, she would retreat to her old room in her mother’s house and try to sort through the stress of the day caused by the mysterious visitor.
Luke stepped past her into the room and dropped his duffel bag onto the floor with a loud thud. “Your house is real nice,” he said, scanning the room. He sauntered to the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen and ran his long fingers over the molding. “Simple, but every piece fits perfectly. The moldings fit as if they were carved out of the wall. Peter’s work. I’d know it anywhere.”
Sarah rubbed her belly as Luke examined the baseboards. His mannerisms were so familiar. The way his hands swept lightly over the woodwork while he frowned, deep in thought, and how he rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes—it was so much like Peter that she almost felt her late husband’s presence.
Sarah cleared her throat and crossed the room. “The kitchen is small, but I liked it.” She gestured toward the oak cabinets. “He made them himself.”
“Wunderbaar.” Luke rubbed the cabinets as if they were velvety-soft kittens. “Nice craftsmanship. I always told him he could open his own cabinet shop, but he wanted to concentrate on furniture. An uncle taught him how to make tables, chairs, and bed frames. Peter was a master at it.”
“Uncle?” she asked, her voice small, weighed down with more hurt. “He had an uncle in Ohio too?”
He nodded. “Ya, he did.”
Pain shot through Sarah’s abdomen like fire, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“Sarah?” Luke rushed over to her. “Are you all right?”
Unable to speak, she held her breath, praying the cramping would subside.
“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair. He started to reach for her but instead pointed to the chair and she sat. He then knelt next to her, his eyes full of worry. “Should I run and get your mamm? Do we need to take you to a doctor?”
“No.” She swallowed deep breaths. The pain eased, and she leaned back in the chair. “It passed,” she whispered.
He nodded, concern still reflected in his face. “Want me to go get your mamm?”
She forced a smile and shook her head.
“But he lied,” Sarah said, resting her chin on Mamm’s shoulder as she’d done as a little girl.
“There must’ve been a reason. I don’t want to believe the worst.”
Standing up tall, Sarah swiped her hand over her hot cheeks. “Neither do I, but the lies are here in the flesh of that man who looks like Peter and shares his mannerisms. How can I come to terms with that when it’s staring me in the face? And how do I know my whole marriage wasn’t a sham?”
Elizabeth took Sarah’s hands in hers. “I don’t have the answers, but I do know one thing for certain: Peter loved you. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at you, Sarah Rose. I don’t know why he would be dishonest with you, but I know his heart belonged to you and only you.” She nodded toward the sink. “I’ll finish the dishes. You go wash your face, then take Luke over to your house. Let him see where Peter lived and tell him about your life with him.”
Sarah heaved a deep breath and headed toward the bathroom.
6
W ith her heart pounding, Sarah gripped the knob to the front door of the house she and Peter had shared for three short years. For a split second, she wished she’d taken Timothy up on his offer to accompany her and Luke to the house. However, she couldn’t depend on her family to shield her from the pain for the rest of her life. She had to do this in order to start down the road to healing her shattered heart, for the sake of the twins.
Her soul swelled with grief when she pushed the door open and stared at the modest living room furniture on which she and her husband would sit and talk late into the evenings.
A husband who lied to me about his family!
Sarah closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with that now. She had to get through showing Luke the house. After a tour, she would retreat to her old room in her mother’s house and try to sort through the stress of the day caused by the mysterious visitor.
Luke stepped past her into the room and dropped his duffel bag onto the floor with a loud thud. “Your house is real nice,” he said, scanning the room. He sauntered to the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen and ran his long fingers over the molding. “Simple, but every piece fits perfectly. The moldings fit as if they were carved out of the wall. Peter’s work. I’d know it anywhere.”
Sarah rubbed her belly as Luke examined the baseboards. His mannerisms were so familiar. The way his hands swept lightly over the woodwork while he frowned, deep in thought, and how he rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes—it was so much like Peter that she almost felt her late husband’s presence.
Sarah cleared her throat and crossed the room. “The kitchen is small, but I liked it.” She gestured toward the oak cabinets. “He made them himself.”
“Wunderbaar.” Luke rubbed the cabinets as if they were velvety-soft kittens. “Nice craftsmanship. I always told him he could open his own cabinet shop, but he wanted to concentrate on furniture. An uncle taught him how to make tables, chairs, and bed frames. Peter was a master at it.”
“Uncle?” she asked, her voice small, weighed down with more hurt. “He had an uncle in Ohio too?”
He nodded. “Ya, he did.”
Pain shot through Sarah’s abdomen like fire, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“Sarah?” Luke rushed over to her. “Are you all right?”
Unable to speak, she held her breath, praying the cramping would subside.
“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair. He started to reach for her but instead pointed to the chair and she sat. He then knelt next to her, his eyes full of worry. “Should I run and get your mamm? Do we need to take you to a doctor?”
“No.” She swallowed deep breaths. The pain eased, and she leaned back in the chair. “It passed,” she whispered.
He nodded, concern still reflected in his face. “Want me to go get your mamm?”
She forced a smile and shook her head.
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