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Sarah went directly to her room following dinner and locked herself in. No one at the table had asked her about the previous evening or mentioned where they had gone or what they had done while Rose and Pastor Carmichael waited for Sarah to come home.
Few of the household had spoken to her at all other than to say “hello” or “pass the potatoes, please.” But they had watched her when they thought she was not aware and had averted their eyes when she glanced their way.
Sensing that Rose may have already filled them in, Sarah blushed in hot shame.
Mr. Wheatley had not looked away; he had nodded encouragement in her direction. At the same time, he could not hide his sadness at the situation.
I have let them down, all of them. Me, who had the prideful audacity to think myself an example to the younger girls, a helper Miss Rose could lean on. Nothing could be further from the truth.
And Sarah’s difficulties were not at an end. Yes, she had obeyed the Lord and severed her association with Lola. She had seen that heartrending decision through—but this time tomorrow, following dinner, Rose would convene the house.
Sarah had agreed to confess her sins to her sisters and brothers in Christ and ask their forgiveness.
Sarah shuddered. How can I face them? How will I be able to tell them the truth? How will they react when I lay bare the vile state of my heart, the ugliness of my sins?
I said I would do it.
But I cannot.
Sarah wrestled all night with what was before her. Sleep was out of the question, so she paced, walking up and down her room, struggling with what was ahead, what she could neither elude nor circumvent.
In the earliest hours of morning, she stood at her window and, not unlike another night long ago, Sarah looked out into the shadows. Only a skiff of snow lay upon the ground here in Denver, this first week of December. No icicles hung from the eaves. Out beyond the gate to Palmer House, the streets were not heaped with ice and frozen, filthy slush—not as they had been on that night from her childhood.
Still, like that night so many years past, she thought, I shall run away. I shall leave—now, this morning, before the house awakes. I have a little money set by. I shall go some place where no one knows me.
Sarah packed quickly, taking only what she absolutely needed and what her bag would hold. Then she dressed herself for the cold, adding a woolen petticoat for warmth and putting extra socks on before she donned her boots.
She tiptoed down the wide staircase to the black, echoing foyer. By touch, she found her coat, hat, and scarf hanging on the hall tree. Making barely a sound, she put them on.
When she was ready, she took up her bag and approached the front door. She knew it well, even in the dark: It might stick a little, but it was not likely to make much of a noise. In any event, Mr. Wheatley was the only occupant of the first floor, and his hearing was not as keen as it once was.
Sarah turned the lock. She grasped the door’s handle and twisted it, pulling the heavy door toward her. As the door opened halfway, it encountered an object in the corner behind it, unseen in the darkness of the wide foyer.
Something startled and awoke, mumbling, “Huh? What? What’s that?”
When a quivering hand reached out and grasped her wrist, Sarah shrieked and dropped her bag.
“And where do you think you be going, this time of the night, Miss Sarah, hey?”
Holding on to Sarah’s wrist more to keep himself from falling over than to detain her, Mr. Wheatley slowly pulled himself up from the kitchen chair behind the door upon which he had been dozing. When he had his balance, he released her and fumbled on the wall until he found the switch and the foyer’s light bloomed.
He closed the front door and, tottering in front of Sarah, he said, “Figured when I saw that look in your eye at supper you might try a runner. So, I set myself up to sleep right here to find you out and talk some sense into you.”
Sarah’s heart was racing; she could not catch her breath to respond.
“Asked you a question, Miss Sarah. Where do you think you be going, sneaking off like this in the night, it being nearly winter and all? Out for a brisk pre-dawn constitutional, are you? Or something a tad more exotic, say, like running away?”
Sarah’s teeth chattered. “R-running away.”
“Don’ sound like the Sarah Ellinger I know.”
“Th-that is the problem. I am not who anyone here thinks I am.”
“Oh, psht! God himself knows you through and through. Knows your end from the beginning, he does. No, you told Miss Rose you were going to face us all t’night, and now you are scared and ashamed and want to run off instead.
“You are better than that, girlie, stronger than that. You need to ’fess up and put this thing behind you for good—but if you do not, you will run from it the rest of your days.”
“I-I cannot do it. Everyone will despise me.”
“If you think that, then you know less about God’s grace than I thought you did, Miss Sarah.”
“Please let me pass, Mr. Wheatley—just let me go!”
“Let you go? I love you, missy, and I hang on t’ those I love. No, now you listen to me: This is your home, and we are your family. You do not turn your back on the people who love you. So, you are a-going back up those stairs to your room. You should pray your way through your mess, not run from it.”
Sarah fidgeted; she flicked her eyes toward the kitchen, thinking to grab her bag and sprint for the back door.
Mr. Wheatley straightened his bowed back and shoulders as tall as he could and addressed her with a sternness she did not know her kindly old friend possessed. “I know what you are thinking. Sure enow, you can outrun these stiff old legs. But hear me first: If you run off alone, into the cold, you will break this old man’s heart.”
With a tear in his eye, he whispered, “Do you want to break my heart?”
Sarah’s mouth opened a little—and then she hung her head. “No. Never.”
***
SARAH DID NOT GO INTO work that morning.
She had prostrated herself before the Lord, face down on the floor of her room, for an hour after Mr. Wheatley convinced her not to leave. Then, while still praying, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep where she was.
When she did not appear at the breakfast table, Mr. Wheatley—looking rather worse for wear himself—drew Rose aside and conveyed what had taken place only hours before.
“We should let her sleep,” Rose decided. “I shall call Joy and let her determine how to handle Sarah’s hours at the shop today.”
It was near noon when Sarah, clad in her robe and nightgown, her hair a mess, raced downstairs. She was frantic.
“I overslept! I must call Joy.”
“It has been done already, Sarah. Joy opened the shop herself today and is working with Corrine.”
“But . . .”
“You required sleep, Sarah. And, perhaps, you need this afternoon to prepare yourself for this evening.”
Mute and resigned to her fate, Sarah climbed the stairs to her room to wash, dress, and prepare for what lay before her.
***
THAT EVENING, AT DINNER, Rose spoke to those gathered at the table. “Immediately following our meal, we shall hold a family meeting. I would ask that all of us pitch in to clear the table and clean the kitchen. As soon as those chores are finished, please assemble in the great room.”
While the girls glanced silent questions at each other, Sarah fixed her eyes on her plate. After much prayer and soul-baring before the Lord, she had found a small measure of strength. She prayed it would be enough for what was ahead. She held little hope for the outcome, but she was committed to making her confession.
Come what may, Lord, I shall be obedient to you in this.
Near seven o’clock, the after-dinner chores were complete. Rose, Sarah, Olive, the girls—Ruth, Pansy, Frances, Tilda, Naomi, and Dinah—Mr. Wheatley, and Billy were seated and waiting in the great room. Marit and Billy had agreed that the meeting would not be appropriate for their children, so Marit had taken them to their cottage.
Rose seated Sarah next to her. When the household quieted, Rose folded her hands in her lap and addressed them.
“This evening’s assembly is a solemn, serious affair. One of our own will speak to us directly. While she is speaking, please give her your complete attention. And I am asking that all of us listen well and heed what Scripture instructs us in Galatians 6:1:
“Brethren,
if a man be overtaken in a fault,
ye which are spiritual,
restore such an one in the spirit of meekness;
considering thyself,
lest thou also be tempted.”
Rose tipped her head toward Sarah. “Sarah, will you speak to us?”
Sarah swallowed. “Yes, Miss Rose. Thank you.”
For several minutes, in a calm, dispassionate tone, Sarah spoke of her relationship with Lola. Then the volume of her voice dropped and those listening had to strain to hear her.
“I transgressed, not only against God by this unholy intimacy,” Sarah whispered, “but against all of you. I . . . I lied. I deceived. I hid what I was doing while pretending I was right with the Lord. My behavior was terribly wrong, and I am sorry. I have asked the Lord for his forgiveness . . . and I humbly ask you for yours.”
Olive and a few of the older girls nodded, indicating to Sarah that they had suspected: for Sarah’s uncharacteristic behavior and the strain it placed on the house had given rise to speculation and concern. Then, the removal of everyone from the house Monday evening—with only the request that they pray for Sarah as explanation—had been unprecedented.
However, as Sarah disclosed her sins, the shock of the house’s two newest girls—Ruth and Pansy—showed Sarah the extent of the damage she had caused. Pansy, in particular, shed hot, angry tears of betrayal that tore at Sarah’s heart.
She had to look away. O God! Please do not allow my hypocrisy to cause any of these little ones to stumble!
With quaking voice, she continued, “My stepfather molested me as a child. When I was thirteen, he sold me to another man. That man sold me to the owner of the houses in Corinth. I spent nearly two years servicing every man who paid for me before Joy and Rose rescued us.
“I tell you these things only to say this: Although I surrendered to Jesus soon after arriving at Palmer House, my surrender to Christ was incomplete. You see, I never forgave any of those men—beginning with my stepfather. For ten years, I told myself a lie, that I had good reason not to forgive them, that what they had done was unforgiveable.
“What I did not understand is that, because I refused to forgive them, I began to hate them—and not only them but, eventually, all men. Recently, someone told me that I was attempting to make all men pay for the sins of a few. I think this is true.
“Rather than casting down those vain imaginations, those memories that opposed the knowledge of Christ, I rehearsed every abuse again and again, and my hatred grew. I was not only filled with hate, but with anger as well, so much anger! With little provocation, I-I often took my anger out on those I love. On you. I beg your pardon for this offense, too.”
Some of Sarah’s listeners looked up, acknowledging that they had seen—and even tasted—the lash of her anger. Pansy’s expression darkened further, and Sarah licked her dry lips.
“Pastor Carmichael and Minister Liáng have been preaching for months on ‘The Overcoming Christian Life.’ They have taught deep Scriptural lessons on the lordship of Jesus and the preeminence of his word and how, when we allow anything that opposes his word to remain in our lives, it is idolatry. On the heels of idolatry, we fall into self-deception and then delusion or error.
“I did that—all of it. I resisted the Lord. I excused my disobedience to God’s word. I created a snare of self-deception for myself and fell into it.
“My unforgiveness gave Satan a foothold in my life. My hatred—my judgments against men—became his stronghold. I was eaten up with the hatred of men, and yet my heart was lonely. I longed for love and affection—but not from any man. That was when Satan presented me with a different kind of snare: Lola.”
Sarah’s throat was so tight that she had to stop and drink some water before she could speak again. “Nothing that happened to me in my past excuses what I did, for Scripture in Matthew 6:14 and 15 is clear:
“For if ye forgive men their trespasses,
your heavenly Father will also forgive you:
But if ye forgive not men their trespasses,
neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
“Only by forgiving every man who had abused and trespassed against me have I been able to see clearly, to perceive the self-deception in my life. I have repented of my sin and received the Lord’s forgiveness. He gave me the strength to break free from my attachment to Lola. He gave me the strength, also, to confess my sins to you, my family. I am asking now if you will pardon my sins against you.”
Sarah waited, eyes downcast, but Palmer House’s great room was silent except for the sniffles of those who were crying. Sarah stared at the carpet, afraid to look into the faces of those she loved so dearly. She knew, in her head, that they would feel obligated to forgive her but, in her heart, she did not see how she could remain at Palmer House.
I was supposed to be an example to my little sisters, but my continued presence here may be a stumbling block that cannot be overcome.
The silence lingered until Rose stood and spoke. “If you forgive Sarah, fully and freely from your heart, and you release her from your debt, please come forward and tell her to her face.”
Rose turned to Sarah. “Sarah, will you stand?”
Sarah’s body was exhausted and weak. Somehow, she got to her feet.
“Sarah?” Rose asked.
Sarah looked into Rose’s solemn gray eyes. “Yes, Miss Rose?”
“I forgive you in Christ, my daughter. I forgive you fully and freely from my heart.”
Sarah’s eyes, brimming with tears, overflowed. “Thank you.”
Rose moved aside as Olive approached.
“Sarah?”
Sarah stared again at the carpet. “Yes, Olive?”
“I have been praying for you for months, and my heart is glad that you have repented. I rejoice that the Lord has freed you.”
Olive hesitated. “Do you recall months ago when I broke your confidence and shared a secret you had asked me to keep?”
Sarah nodded. “Yes.”
“You could have held my breach of trust against me, but you chose not to. You reminded me that mistakes and misunderstandings—even sins—are how our enemy divides and separates brothers and sisters.”
Sarah nodded a second time and cut a fleeting glance toward Pansy. The girl’s expression was unchanged, but she was listening.
“Sarah, you said that the fear of rejection after such a blunder can cause us to run away rather than face and confess our faults. You were very wise in that moment, Sarah, and I have often pondered your words. Do you remember telling me that?”
Sarah’s throat was too tight to speak; she could only, again, nod.
“I do not wish to lose you, Sarah. You are my beloved sister—and you always will be. I forgive you, just as you forgave me. With the Lord’s help, we shall work this out.”
As Olive embraced Sarah, the dam of guilt and hopelessness in Sarah’s heart gave way, and she wept. When Sarah at last lifted her head from Olive’s shoulder, Pansy stood close by. She stared into Sarah’s face, searching.
Fresh tears ran from Sarah’s eyes. “Oh, Pansy! I treated you with such contemptible disdain. I was horrid to you. Please, please forgive me.”
Pansy blinked and looked away, but she did not hide her own tears. “I do. I forgive you, Sarah.”
The remainder of the household followed Pansy’s example. No one withheld their forgiveness and restoring love.
***
FOLLOWING THE EVENING of Sarah’s confession to the household, Rose and Sarah began to meet daily to continue the cleansing work of the Holy Spirit in Sarah’s heart. They prayed together, Rose counseled and encouraged her, and she often held Sarah as she wept over her many regrets and her aching heart.
Rose also gently warned Sarah against complacency. “Be on your guard, dear one: You have broken Satan’s hold over your life, but that does not mean he will simply give up and leave you in peace. That is not his way. Jesus admonished Peter with these words, Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
“Because our enemy is crafty, you may find yourself waylaid or ‘ambushed’ in modes you did not foresee and by individuals you were unprepared to encounter—even, perhaps, by Lola herself. Because she has such strong feelings for you, our enemy may provoke her to attempt to renew her relationship with you. She may fight to convince you to return to her.
“Be forewarned, Sarah: Watch and pray that you do not enter into temptation.”
***
TWO WEEKS PASSED, AND the shortest day of the year was not far off. Evening was already darkening into night when the trolley dropped Sarah several blocks from Palmer House.
All was right in Sarah’s heart. The blessed season of Christmas was before them and she looked forward to those happy, hallowed days. Nonetheless, the past weeks had taken their toll on her. She was worn and, as she approached the house’s gate in the last of twilight, she was not as vigilant as she might normally have been.
The hand that shot out of the dark and gripped her shoulder shattered her inner reflections. She cried out and stumbled backward.
“Don’ be ’fraid, Miss Ellinger. It is only I, Blake Williams. I figured you had t’ come home sooner or later, an’ I would accost you when you did.”
Sarah heard a slur in his words. “Blake! You scared me! Wh-why are you here? What do you want with me?”
“What do I wan’ wi’ you? Should you not ask wha’ Lola wan’s? I heard wha’ happened: You ditched her, Miss Ellinger. Destroyed her. Should see wha’ you’ve done t’ her. I warned her, tol’ her she was foolish the nigh’ I met you, that you would break ’er t’ pieces. Congrachalations. You ha’ done quite th’ job.”
Sarah sent up a silent plea for help. O Lord, grant me your wisdom and counsel. Give me courage, my God!
“You have been drinking, Mr. Williams.”
“Tha’s right. I have. Does’t bother you? Li’l virginal Sarah—too good for Lola. Too good for us sinners. Pure as th’ driven snow.”
“Me? Pure? You mistake me for someone else, Mr. Williams.”
“Pretty certain Lola thin’s you an innocent.”
“Well, she is mistaken—as are you, Mr. Williams. I am as sinful as anyone at that party you escorted me to. By the way, where is your friend? Juan, I believe you called him?”
Blake’s mouth twisted in the deep twilight. “On t’ greener pastures—greener referring t’ th’ color an’ quantity of money. ’Parently, my money wasn’ green enough.”
He sneered. “Inconstancy in our circles is common, an’ heartbreak frequent.”
“But you thought to come all this way to chide me for discontinuing my friendship with Lola?”
Blake laughed under his breath. “Well, you ha’ me there, m’ dear. I salute you. Few in our circles stay togeth’. Always on th’ hunt, lookin’ for somethin’ better.”
“May I say something to you, Blake? Something personal?”
He slouched against the gate. “S’pose so.
“If you are longing for fidelity, for faithfulness, I have found such a one.”
“Yeah?”
“God, the Lord of all, is faithful. What he says he will do, he will not fail to do.”
“Shoulda known you’d throw religion a’ me.”
“Not religion, but intimate communion with the Lord God Almighty. He loves you, Blake. His love is finer and more constant than any man’s.”
“Don’ preach constancy t’ me, Sarah. Not after what you did t’ Lola.”
“You do not under—”
He held up a shaky hand. “Stop. Said m’ piece. You’re dead t’ me now. Like Juan.”
He staggered across the street where Sarah realized he had parked a motor car. She watched him drive away, weaving down the road, this way and that.
“Lord, he should not operate a motor car in his condition! Please do not allow him to harm himself or anyone else in his drunken state. And Lord? Will you quicken to his spirit the few words I was able to share with him? Burn them upon his heart, O God, so that he must ponder them.”
Sarah went through the gate and walked toward Palmer House’s front porch. Blake’s last words cut her deeply.
Don’ preach constancy t’ me, Sarah. Not after what you did t’ Lola.
“Please help me, Lord! Help me to not allow the whispers of the enemy’s condemnation to find soil in my heart in which to grow. My first duty is to obey you in all things. I am so sorrowful for the pain I caused Lola, but I must trust her to you.”
~~**~~
