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

By Dawn Kinzer

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Chapter One

Riverton, Wisconsin
May 1902

The doors to the blacksmith shop up ahead were flung wide open. The bellows’ clicking and the forge’s gentle roaring alternated with a hammer’s ring on an anvil. The scent of hot iron wafted in the breeze. A tall, familiar figure emerged from the smoky darkness—a silhouette in the bright, early morning sunlight. Sarah McCall, scurrying to the Home Store, halted, as though she’d run into an invisible wall.

Her rapid heartbeat throbbed in her ears, and her breath caught, but neither related to running several blocks. He looked her way and cocked his head. Recognized. Trapped. Fleeing was not an option.

Dressed in a dark gray suit fitting for a man of the cloth, Peter Caswell stepped toward her, like someone dead to her brought back to life. Her own Lazarus. His shoulders had broadened since she’d last seen him, and his face had thinned, but his confident stride remained.

The physical distance between them these past ten years had been a blessing—a way to bury the heartache and give herself time to heal. But with his return, she had no choice but to see him. If Sarah didn’t know better, she’d think God was playing a cruel joke. The man she loved had finally returned . . . but not for her.

“What are you doing here?” Her face warmed. “I—I mean, what brings you to the blacksmith?” She’d known this moment would come, and she’d prepared a series of clever things to say. Not one came to mind.

“This is how you greet an old friend?” Peter’s dark hair dropped over his forehead like it had when they chased through the woods as children.
She mustered a smile. “I’m sorry, but you appearing in a puff of smoke startled me.”

The man standing there remained the person she’d loved—yet different. His smile was still charming, but his indigo eyes sparkled less, as though dimmed by experiences that came with life and responsibility. A yearning to comfort stirred within, but it was no longer her place.

“Are you a genie come to grant me three wishes?”
Peter must have heard the attempted humor in her voice, because the corners of his mouth twitched. He shoved his loose locks back into place and his eyes peered deep into hers. “If I could make dreams come true, I’d make sure you were at the head of the line.”

“Only because yours have already come true,” she teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Well said. I deserve that. I was a bit prideful when it came to being first. After all, I couldn’t let a girl best me.”
Wisps of hair blew across her face, tickling her cheek and eye. “Those boyish days are over. Now you’re a man, and a minister with your own congregation. Just like we planned when—” Sarah captured the rebel strands with a hair pin.
“—when we were much younger. All those talks up on the bluff.” He sobered. “Sarah . . . I know some of my decisions cost both of us.”

No. They were not going to have this conversation now. Not when she needed to be elsewhere, and especially not in the middle of town. “I’m looking forward to meeting your little girl.”

His eyes lit up at her mentioning his young daughter. “You’re going to love Mary. She’s a lot like you—spirited.”

By his cheerful tone, he meant it as a compliment, but the comparison stung. Sarah had once believed they’d have children together—little ones who would grow up with her spunk and his strength. “I’m happy for you. I truly am.”
“Thanks, Sarah.” He glanced behind him. “You . . . uh . . . asked what brought me to the shop.”

“Hmmm . . .”

“Ellie came into town this morning to help me unpack. Thomas had a few tools he wanted sharpened, so I brought them over for her.”
“That was kind of you.” He and his sister had always looked out for each other, even when they were at odds.

“The least I can do.” Peter rubbed his jaw. “Would you like to come over to the parsonage? Ellie made a fresh pot of coffee. She probably needs a friend’s empathy after seeing the number of boxes I expect her to unpack.”

Sarah took several steps backward. “I’m sorry—I can’t. I’m late.”

There wasn’t time that morning to sit and enjoy coffee with anyone, and she certainly wasn’t ready to spend even a few minutes talking about old times with Peter. She’d vowed to guard her heart. He’d never hurt her again.

“Ellie mentioned you have a position at the Home Store.” He thrust both hands into the front pockets of his trousers. “Another time—soon.”

“We can’t help but run into each other in this small town. I’m still attending the church where you’ll be preaching.” She turned and kept moving toward the store where she could focus on something other than Reverend Caswell.

“Sarah! Maybe one day we can challenge each other to a fishing contest—like old times,” he yelled.

“I gave up fishing a long time ago,” she called over her shoulder. A grown woman earning a livelihood didn’t have much time for leisure, and even if she did, her heart didn’t need to share a beautiful, lazy afternoon with him on the river.

From what she’d just witnessed in his eyes, she could only assume that after two years he was still grieving his late wife. Peter’s decision to marry another woman had brought heartache for Sarah, but she’d made plans for her own future. She’d leave the past behind—even if it took leaving the country to do it.

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