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Sarah's Choice: with a little help from Tuscany (A Plane Tree in Provence) (Volume 3)

By Arlene Rains Graber

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Chapter 1
Sarah thumbed through the mail. She pulled out a letter addressed to her, and checked the return address. The all-too familiar name sent a blitz of terror through her heart. She dropped it on the kitchen counter like it was on fire and paced back and forth in an effort to calm the fear racing through her mind.
Raoul.
It had been several weeks since the affair and each time Sarah thought she had come to terms with what happened—a new letter arrived, allowing the entire sordid mess to resurface. This was the sixth letter from him. She shuddered. Even though she’d never responded, in fact never read them, Raoul kept writing. Crazy. It was unnerving. Must she always pay for that little misstep with guilt mounting into torment? Gingerly, she picked up the envelope turning it over and over. The reason why she ever gave into the lustful chemistry between them was still a mystery. The affair had lasted only two weeks while she was on holiday in France, but just the same it was sordid, shameful and sinful. She slammed the letter on the table and resisted the urge to scream.
Sarah covered her face with trembling hands. She must get a grip. Her hands gently rubbed over her temples. The letter must be hidden. Sarah picked it up again, rushed upstairs to her bedroom closet, and reached on the top shelf for a decorative tin. She slipped the letter in with all the rest. Given her feelings of anguish, it was a mystery why she kept them. Perhaps one day she would read the letters, but not until the guilt was gone. She checked the clock and headed toward the stairs leading to her studio. Grabbing paints, easel, and a new canvas, she rushed back downstairs.
The beach was a ten minute walk over rugged terrain from her home in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, but Sarah always walked instead of settling for the comfort of her car. The hike was invigorating and gave the colors of the day a chance to penetrate her mind. Sarah set up her easel
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in her favorite spot, and began to block in a new painting. Her brush glided with expert ease across the canvas leaving a stream of colors behind. A palate knife loaded with paint created texture, separating restless ocean waves from clouds drifting lazily across the sky. A good start perhaps, but nothing was coming together. The waves splashed on the rocks, giving way to an intermittent roar. Her canvas mimicked the scene, but thoughts of what happened in France interrupted its final execution.
She finally laid the knife down and stared at the Atlantic coastline, brow narrowed and a frown formed across her face. The complexity of Raoul, her husband, and life shoved creativity aside. She pondered her options even though they were the same today as they were yesterday; risk telling her husband about the indiscretion, or keep it hidden and live with guilt. It seemed less of a gamble never ever telling him. If Clay knew about Raoul, chances were her marriage would be over, whereas if she kept it secret, the shame might pass and she would still have her husband. The shuffle of footsteps in the sand caused her to look up.
“Good Morning, Sarah. Today going any better?”
It was Mrs. Reed, who walked her dog daily on the beach, and who had become a trusted confident. Sarah looked forward each day for Mrs. Reed’s visit. They talked about all sorts of things—even Raoul.
Sarah managed a smile but couldn’t look her friend in the eye. “No.” Her voice was flat, without feeling. She didn’t mean to be abrupt, but at the same time knew the woman was counting on her to do what she’d told her she would.
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t told your husband yet.”
Sarah shifted in the chair, laid her brush down, and folded her arms across her chest. Mrs. Reed asked the same question day after day ever since Sarah had told her about the emotional suffering she was going through. “Right. Oh, Mrs. Reed, I want to, but when I think about how it could destroy my marriage, I pull back.”
“Well, I don’t mean to pry, but I’m worried about you. I see torment in your eyes. These types of decisions are difficult.” She patted Sarah’s shoulder, then leaned down to hug her. “Give it more time. Best not to proceed until you have no doubts.”
Sarah stiffened digging her nails into clenched fists. “I feel so weak and I vacillate from one decision to the opposite. Every time I get close
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to a confession, the words won’t come and I panic. So here I am today leaning toward not telling him.”
“I feel for you dear. It’s a difficult choice. Only you can make that decision. I have to say though, from what I know about you, I fear peace won’t come until you’ve told him. You’re a sweet compassionate woman with a huge conscience. I can see that if you told him, your happiness might go right out the front door, but at the same time, so would all that pent up guilt.” She paused and laid a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “You have to ask yourself if you’re ready to assume the consequences, whatever they are. You didn’t ask for my advice, but here’s something to think about. Honesty is a strong character trait and no matter the risk—is always worth peace of mind. I may be old and talking out of turn, but I believe in true love, and you and Clay have that. It will withstand any crisis, you’ll see.”
She leaned down and gave Sarah another gentle hug. “Don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll get there. Now let me get a better look at your new canvas.” She leaned in to get a better look, then stepped back to examine it again. “Lovely. It’s coming along fine.”
“Oh, Mrs. Reed, you know better. Look how rough it is. There are no shadows or depth, and I’m not too fond of the colors.”
Mrs. Reed placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “My dear, even though you’ve just started, I can see it will be a masterpiece just like all your work. You’re a gifted artist.
“Thanks, but today I’m struggling.”
“Perhaps you need a walk. Get away from it a bit and come back refreshed.” The woman glanced at her watch. “Honey, I’d walk with you but need to hurry to the market. My grandson is coming for dinner, and I’m making bouillabaisse. You take care. I’ll look for you tomorrow.”
After her beach buddy left, Sarah sat for hours sorting through her life, past and present. She shuddered, rubbing her temples. Raoul. The old question lurked unanswered. Keeping secrets was not how she wanted to live in marriage. But fearful reasoning always took over. What good would it do? Her friend Rose had mentioned God was in charge of all life on earth and loved each one the same as the other. “Faith,” she said “overcomes doubts of any kind. It eliminates fear and gives joy and peace.”
But could God forgive infidelity? She’d come to really love Rose on the trip to France. She was such a level grounded person, who never
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judged anyone until she had all the facts. Sarah buried her head into her hands. Oh, how she wished she’d never met Raoul. She shook her head vigorously, knowing down deep it wasn’t only Raoul.
Years, living like a single person in her marriage now seemed deplorable. Clay had been both breadwinner and house keeper for more years than she wanted to count, while she had withdrawn into a shallow, self-centered woman. When she thought about all those years of painting all day, running on the beach, visiting spas, and hibernating in her studio while Clay worked full-time and then came home to work some more, she wondered why Clay hadn’t left her long ago. It wasn’t until the France trip that Sarah began to think about just how unhealthy the life she led was.
In France, during the long evenings spent under the plane tree in Provence, she listened to her friends describe how they ran their households. It jolted her into realizing that although marriage was intended to be a partnership, not one-sided, hers was completely different. When it came her turn to share, she was embarrassed to explain about her marriage. It became clear. Her life at home was empty. How or when had she let herself become so selfish? This Sarah, was not a person she liked very well.
Before the trip ended, Sarah made a decision. The urge to transform her home life became stronger and determination began to take over. She wanted to be a better wife and mother. It wasn’t because she wanted to be like her friends, but more like she’d been shocked into seeing her life as it was. She could change that, and feel good about it. The result would be good for the entire family..
It hadn’t come easy. In fact, weeks and months later, her routine hadn’t changed.
Baby steps. That’s what Rose had said. “Begin with one thing at a time, and don’t take on a new chore until you’ve mastered the last one.”
But once home, Sarah’s determination had dimmed. Facing sure reactions from her family destroyed the courage. It would be humiliating to answer their questions about the change. How would she answer? Tell them their mother was in a mid-life crisis for the better?
Down deep, she really wanted to change. Not only did her family deserve it, but she did too. Her successful painting career helped her self-esteem, but there was still something lacking. She heaved a huge sigh. If things kept on this way, change would never—could never happen. She lifted her arms over her head and stretched long and hard.
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To heck with it. Today would be the day. She would start with making dinner tonight.
Sliding the canvas into a frame to keep it from smearing, she packed up. It was almost four and the boys would be home soon. Cooking. That would be a new adventure. Visualizing Clay’s reaction when he returned to an aroma-filled kitchen brought a smile. Probably think he was in the wrong house.
Loud laughter directed her attention to a young family playing Frisbee. Such happiness. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Clay had played a game of any kind with the boys. He wasn’t at fault. It was her, and she knew it. She watched as the man playfully patted his wife on the buttocks, and she in turn, twisted toward him and planted a kiss on his cheek. In seconds, they turned back to the game.
“I want that kind of camaraderie—that kind of togetherness and unity,” she said aloud. Well it wasn’t going to happen overnight, but now was time to set things in motion. Her steps were slow heading toward home. What are earth would she prepare for dinner?
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Sarah might try Sloppy Joes as a first effort. But would she?
Sloppy Joes
1 tablespoon olive oil
1¼ pound ground chuck
¼ cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons seasoned salt
1 small onion chopped
1 red pepper chopped
1 clove garlic minced
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 cups tomato sauce
Dill pickles to garnish
Method:
Sauté onions and meat until the meat is browned. Add the brown sugar, spices and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the tomato sauce and simmer for 20 minutes. (Add water if it gets too thick) Scoop onto toasted buttered buns and pass the pickles. Serve with potato chips and plenty of iced tea.

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