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  Sarah’s Promise

  Country Road Chronicles

  Rorey’s Secret

  Rachel’s Prayer

  Sarah’s Promise

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  Julia’s Hope

  Emma’s Gift

  Katie’s Dream

  Sarah’s Promise

  A Novel

  Leisha Kelly

  © 2008 by Leisha Kelly

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kelly, Leisha.

  Sarah’s promise : a novel / Leisha Kelly.

  p. cm. — (Country road chronicles ; bk. 3)

  ISBN 978-0-8007-5987-2 (pbk.)

  1. World War, 1939–1945—United States—Fiction. 2. Domestic fiction. I. Title.

  PS3611.E45S27 2008

  813.6—dc22

  2008014933

  Contents

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  31

  1

  Sarah

  January 3, 1946

  From a kitchen window I watched Frank load a box of tools into his truck. His breath hung in the air like a cloud as the early morning sun glinted against one of the truck windows. His limp seemed more pronounced than usual as he turned around to the workshop for a load of something else, but maybe I was just noticing it more. I let the curtain drop back to its place and went on measuring flour for pancakes, but I couldn’t turn my mind from Frank so easily.

  He was planning to drive his truck all the way to Camp Point, Illinois, to help his oldest brother’s family move to Jacksonville. Sam and Thelma would be taking their six kids home from our house on the train, but Frank was going to drive more than 200 miles alone over roads he’d never seen before. In the winter. And he was happy about the adventure, I could tell.

  Sam was putting on his coat to go see if Frank could use a hand. I tried to keep my attention on the pancakes, knowing that Sam and Thelma’s children, along with everybody else, would be bustling around ready to eat before long. But I forgot how much flour I’d already put in the bowl and had to guess, and then after Sam went outside I dropped an egg on the floor. Thelma was busy with the baby, Mom was getting little Pearl dressed, and Katie was folding the last of Thelma’s laundry yet to be packed. Thank goodness none of them were close enough to notice what a hard time I was having.

  Everybody else seemed confident that Frank would be fine. I was too, or at least I tried to be. I’d always been confident in him. He could do almost anything he set his mind to. But he’d never set his mind on something like this before. And he couldn’t read the road signs. What if the weather got bad and he lost his way? I tried not to think like that, but even though I’d heard him before sunup reciting his route for my father, the butterflies still raced around inside me.

  “Stop and ask somebody if you need help with directions,” Dad had told him. And I wondered how my sensible father could be so relaxed about this. Or Mom. Why were they treating such a trip like little more than a jaunt into Belle Rive?

  With her new Christmas rag doll in her arms, three-year-old Pearl came running into the kitchen singing “Jingle Bells.”

  “Ssh,” I told her. “Not everybody’s awake yet.”

  “Your daddy sleepin’?”

  “No. He’s out milking, and your daddy’s gone outside too. But your Uncle Bert and all your brothers and sisters are still asleep, except baby Sammy.”

  “Where Unca Harry?”

  “Gone with Kirk last night to see to things on their own farm, remember?”

  I didn’t know why I was talking to her like she was old enough to know. She didn’t even understand that I wouldn’t really be related to her until the wedding in June. We were all one family as far as any of Sam’s kids were concerned. The youngest of Frank’s brothers and sisters were practically the same way. They didn’t remember a time when Worthams and Hammonds weren’t doing things together. Instead of neighboring farms, this place was like one big farm to them, with two houses set almost a mile apart and a stretch of timber in between.

  Mom came into the kitchen, followed by Thelma holding the baby.

  “I’m glad for that new job Sam found,” my mother was telling Thelma. “It’ll be so much easier for you to be right in Jacksonville, close to Albert’s school.”

  Thelma sat in the nearest chair and stretched the baby out on his belly across her lap. “Oh, I know. I might a’ been pitiful nervous otherwise, but we’ll only be ’bout a mile and a half from the deaf school now. I wish to goodness you could see the place! It’s so big I worry he’ll be scared, but the teacher we talked to says he oughta fit right in. She thinks they can teach him to talk an’ read lips an’ get along jus’ fine.”

  Mom poured Thelma a cup of coffee, then took a look in the top of the coffeepot and set our second pot on the stove right away. I should have thought of that. With so many here, we’d need both pots for sure. Especially when Kirk and Harry came from the other farm.

  “I expect Albert will enjoy the opportunity to learn,” Mom was saying. “And you’re bound to find it quite a blessing when he can tell you what’s going on in that bright mind of his.”

  Stirring the batter, I glanced out the window again. Frank and Sam were loading a cedar chest into the back of Frank’s truck. It was one of the nicest Frank had ever made, and he’d told me he was going to put a toddler chair, a wall plaque, and an eagle carving inside it to take with him—all samples of his woodwork.

  And that meant his long drive was not the only problem. Just as bad was the notion that he might choose to stay so far away. He’d told me there was a good chance he could get the job in Camp Point that Sam was leaving behind. Thelma’s uncle wanted someone to run his store for him, and Sam had put in a good word for Frank.

  I’d been as glad as anybody to see Sam and his family for the Christmas holidays, but it was tough not being angry with him now for coming down here with his bright ideas and turning Frank’s whole thinking around like this. We were going to be married. Frank had been looking at houses close to Dearing or Mcleansboro, thinking to move his shop to town and make a life around here where we grew up. But now? More than two hundred miles away?

  Frank’s youngest sister, Emmie, interrupted my thoughts by bursting into the kitchen like she always did, eager to lend a hand.

  “You need me to go out and get the eggs?”

  I turned away from the window again. “I did that, but thanks.”

  “Anything else I can do to help?” She was looking at me instead of Mom, her usually bright eyes shadowed somehow. She hadn’t been happy four years ago when her oldest brother moved his family so far away. And she didn’t look very happy with the thought of Frank going now.
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  “I’ve got pancakes ready to cook,” I said. “You can fix eggs if anybody wants any.”

  “Georgie will when he’s up,” Thelma told us. “Scrambled. Just like every morning.”

  “We should pack some of the Christmas cookies,” Mom suddenly said. “I’m sure the children would enjoy a treat on the train. And Frank could use a taste of home along the way too.”

  Her simple suggestion made me feel like crying. I poured batter on the hot griddle with my back to everybody else. Mom took the cookie jar out of the cupboard and got a couple of sacks out of a drawer. My hand was suddenly shaking. I hoped she couldn’t tell. I hadn’t told anybody how I felt about Frank going away. Not Mom or even Frank. What could I say, when he seemed so completely happy and sure of himself? Would he think I was just being a big baby and trying to baby him?

  Lord, help me understand why he would want to do this. Help me not to worry so. And, oh, God, keep him safe.

  “You’re being mighty brave about everything, Sarah,” Thelma said then. “I’m not sure what I’d a’ thought if Sam had took off like this when we were engaged.”

  I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to take the chance of betraying my shaky feelings. How could she tell me that and not speak to her husband against Frank driving so far to help them? She ought to know that Frank wasn’t like Sam. Frank wasn’t like anybody. He was amazingly smart, enough to make me shake my head and wonder sometimes. But I couldn’t manage to shove from my mind the problems he’d always had with reading. So the map Sam had so carefully marked for him would be almost useless. Didn’t any of them stop and think what kind of trouble that could be?

  “We sure are glad for the help,” Thelma went on. “And Uncle Milty’s looking forward to talking things over with Frank. He don’t wanna have to close down and have the store sitting there empty.”

  I grabbed for a spatula, wondering why Thelma’s “Uncle Milty” couldn’t find somebody closer to buy his business. Or just run it himself.

  Albert wandered into the room, holding the sturdy little truck Frank had made him for Christmas. Quiet as always, he sat in a chair beside his mother and looked around at all of us. I knew Sam and Thelma were making the right decision, getting him into the School for the Deaf as young as they could, and moving to be close to him there. But why did they have to draw Frank up that way? I tried turning a pancake, and it flopped on the edge of the griddle and made a mess.

  “Sarah,” Mom said gently. “I can do that if there’s something you need to see to.”

  I couldn’t look at her because I was afraid I might cry. She must’ve understood, at least a little. “I think I’ll go outside a minute.”

  “That’s fine, honey,” Mom said in the same soft voice. “Bundle up.”

  I set the batter bowl and spatula down and went for my coat on the hook by the back door. I was wishing Sam would come back in so Frank and I could be alone when suddenly the door opened and there he was.

  “Franky says he’s almost done,” Sam told us. “Said I might as well come an’ have my coffee.”

  I darted out the door before I got my coat buttoned. Dad would be back from the barn before long. Kirk and Harry would show up soon too. Probably in time for breakfast. And Frank was surely getting hungry. But I wanted another chance to talk to him. Just for a minute. While we could.

  He turned his head when I stepped out to the porch. He’d been part of our lives since we came to Illinois when I was about six, and even more a part of us after his mother died. It had been that way with all of the Hammonds, but Frank especially. He was so familiar, and I liked it that way. I liked seeing him almost daily, knowing that he’d be working in the woodshop or in the field, alongside my dad often enough. How could he stand rushing off into the unfamiliar this way? I could hardly stand it, I knew that for sure. This place wouldn’t be the same while he was gone.

  Frank set a bag of something in the truck and smiled big in my direction. His smooth dark hair rustled a little in the cold breeze and his eyes shone. “Almost wish I could take you along,” he called.

  I couldn’t answer him. I felt as if there was a huge hole in me already. And I wished he’d take somebody with him. Anybody. But he’d even said he liked the idea of going alone.

  Maybe he knew how I was feeling about it. He didn’t wait for me to cross the frosty yard to him. He met me by the porch steps faster than I expected. I’d wanted to talk, but now I didn’t know what to say. And he pulled me into his strong arms and kissed my forehead.

  “You’re not gonna worry too much, are you, Sarah Jean? I’ve drove a long way before.”

  “Not this long! Only to Carbondale to make deliveries. And Dad was with you the first time. You were back the same day. It wasn’t the same at all. It wasn’t even winter!”

  “I’ll have tools for the truck and plenty to keep me warm an’ fed,” he assured me. “Two spare tires, plus chains an’ shovels an’ sand. An’ I ain’t no kid. I’ll be fine.”

  His silvery eyes were so earnest that I couldn’t argue. I knew this was important to him in ways I didn’t understand. He felt he needed this, but I didn’t know why. I buried my face in the coolness of his coat.

  “I’ll miss you,” he said softly. “But I sure wish you wouldn’t worry.”

  “Do you really think—” I struggled with the words. “Are you really sure you can find the place all right?”

  “Of course I can find it. Sam gives good directions.” I saw the tiny spark of sadness in him. He wanted me to believe in him, to be as confident as he was. “I’m looking forward to this. Don’t you know I can manage all right?”

  I couldn’t say another word about it. There was no way I could have told him no. But I couldn’t quite bear to encourage him either.

  “I hope you understand,” he went on. “Sam needs the help. An’ about that store, I just thought it’d be worth it to us, you know, to find out more. Don’t be upset with me.”

  “Do you really think you might like the place?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifted my face a little so he could look in my eyes. “I just need to go find out. But if you hate the thought of bein’ that far away, I can come back after Sam’s settled in his new house. I can leave the whole idea alone.”

  I could see his eyes pleading with me for a chance to follow his heart in this unhindered. I could read his hope so plain that it scared me all the more. He wanted to like that store up there. He was hoping it would all work out. But why?

  “Oh, Franky.” I sighed, calling him the name everybody else used but I hardly ever said. “Don’t you like Dearing or Mcleansboro anymore? This is home.”

  He nodded. “Always will be. I know. But home’s where you make it too. And I want us to have something that’s our own.”

  “We will! We do.”

  “The trip’ll go fine. Just let me look at the place. Please? Don’t be scared. I won’t do nothin’ till I talk to you first. I promise.”

  Frank hardly ever asked for anything. He rarely did anything at all for himself. I couldn’t refuse him. I couldn’t dampen the spark in those eyes any further with my fears.

  “All right,” I managed to say, my heart doing flip-flops I hoped he couldn’t feel.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  I heard a car, and we both turned our heads. Harry and Kirk were driving up the lane in the old car they’d bought together from Mr. Post. Kirk liked horses better, just like their father had, but he’d come back from the service knowing the practicality of having a vehicle too. He was the one running the Hammond farm since he’d gotten home. Both of the Hammond parents were dead, and Frank had kept the farm going and most of the family together while Kirk was gone away in the war. They’d lost a brother in the fighting, and another brother, Willy, was still in the service.

  For a while I’d been sure that Kirk would need Frank to stay on the farm with him, or at least close by. But the two younger brothers, Harry and Bert, were mostly grown now and good farm help.
And it seemed that Frank was itching to get out on his own.

  I sighed, thinking about WH Hardwoods, the woodworking business Frank had shared with my father since we were children. Frank’s talent with wood had shown itself young, and he’d made some money with it. He and my father had grown to be close friends besides business partners. Why wasn’t that good enough? Especially since Dad had gotten too busy with our farm and his work at Charlie Hunter’s service station in town to keep up WH anymore. It was all Frank’s now. If he went away, it would just shut down. Dad didn’t seem to mind, but to me it was like part of our lives dying away. How could I know what to expect next?

  Harry and Kirk parked close beside the truck, and Frank took my hand and gave it a little squeeze.

  “’Bout ready to go?” Kirk asked first thing.

  “I better,” Frank told him. “Earlier start, the sooner I get there.”

  “Think you’ll beat the train?”

  “Not much chance a’ that.”

  “Remember to hole up if the weather turns bad.”

  I tensed, thinking of how Mr. Hammond, their father, had died one wintry night when the truck he’d been driving had run off the road and overturned. But that situation was nothing at all like this one. And Frank was nothing like his father, except for the tiniest bit of family resemblance.

  “I’ve been knowing for a long time what to do with a storm,” Frank assured his older brother. “Besides, the forecast’s all right. Don’t be worryin’ Sarah with talk like that.”

  Kirk looked at me and gave Frank a playful nudge. “Don’t be missin’ this knucklehead too awful bad,” Kirk told me. “He’ll be back.”

  There was nothing especially bad in the way he said that. Surely he was only meaning to set my mind to ease, but I could see something strange working in Frank’s eyes. The words troubled him far more than I could have expected, but Kirk didn’t seem to notice and Frank didn’t say anything in reply.

  “Got anything else to load?” Harry asked.

  “Nope.” Frank looked toward the house. “Just got my good-byes to be sayin’.”