Ten

The Admission

HE TALKED ABOUT you.

It was almost miraculous how those four words could bring forth a whole new wave of pain and humiliation.

As Sarah stared at the man she’d thought she knew but was now a stranger, her head began to pound. Suddenly, it was all too much. The harsh memories of her life with Daniel, the grief of realizing she would be alone for the rest of her life, the shock of his return.

And then, most recently, the thin, beautiful ray of hope she’d begun to allow herself to feel. Now, she felt completely devastated.

Staring at Jonathan Scott, realizing how completely he’d fooled her, the pounding in her head grew louder. Soon, it was all she could hear. Her world began to spin as flecks of light and darkness swam before her eyes.

In a vague, hazy way, it occurred to her that she was about to faint. Then she realized that the pressure she’d felt in her lungs wasn’t from suppressed emotions.

She’d merely forgotten to breathe. In a rush, she inhaled quickly, before exhaling and taking yet another fortifying breath.

And was finally able to focus again.

Just a few feet away, John stood up, concern etched in his features. “Sarah? Sarah, are you all right?”

When she didn’t answer, he stepped forward, obviously ready to come to her aid. “Sarah, what may I get you?”

“Nothing. I mean . . . I am fine.”

His expression shuttered as he sat down again. While she got her bearings, he stayed silent. Infinitely patient.

His patience gave her courage to speak. “You said Daniel spoke of me?”

Looking as if his story pained him, John nodded. “You were a source of great pride to him. He, ah, said you were perfect. Perfection.” Obviously uncomfortable, he looked as if he were about to say more but pressed his lips together instead.

Somehow, knowing that he, too, found disgrace in Daniel’s words made it almost easier to bear. “If I was perfect, it was because he forced perfection from me. It was hard-­fought and slowly learned.” She closed her eyes, choosing to keep the vivid memories of those lessons to herself. No good would come from John hearing how much pain Daniel’s hands had brought to her body. Or the shame his derisive comments had inflicted on her soul.

She couldn’t bear for anyone to know just how bad her life with him had been. Especially not this man.

As if he could no longer bear to watch her struggle, John stood up again. Eyeing her with trepidation, he backed up. Truly, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go, the room was so small. But still, she could see that he was doing his best to give her a little bit of space. “The picture he painted of you in his words was like no woman I had ever imagined, Sarah. He said you were beautiful. Sweet and devout.”

“Daniel had wanted me to be that way.” She still wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded in tamping out every last bit of spunk inside her. For most of their marriage, it seemed that Daniel hadn’t believed he’d succeeded, either. He’d married her because she had been the means to gain a parcel of land, to have one more thing to boast about. But when she’d failed to give him a child, she’d become little more than a reminder of things he wanted but couldn’t have.

“All I know was that when I walked onto your land, my only concern was to find the money and leave.”

“Money? What money?”

“Daniel told me he’d hidden a large amount on your property. That is the whole reason I came here.” He paused, backed up against her kitchen counter. As if giving her a little more space before continuing. “But I would be a liar if I said I came here hoping to never see the woman Daniel had told me so much about. In truth, I yearned to catch a glimpse of you.”

“Stop.” For reasons she would never know, Daniel had spun quite a tale to John. She had no desire to hear another minute.

He ignored her. “And that first night, when you caught me in the barn, I drank in the sight of you like a man parched in the desert. And then I knew something else, too.”

She glanced up at him, her cheeks warming from his frank words. “And what was that?”

“You were far more than Daniel had described. I was mesmerized.”

She yearned to cover her burning face with her hands. To run to the safety of her bedroom. To go anywhere but meet his gaze. His words embarrassed her. Puzzled her.

And, if she were completely honest, his short speech made her desire something she hadn’t even realized was vacant from her life until that very moment. “I don’t understand why you are telling me about such things,” she said. “There is no need.”

“There is every need.” Pushing back from the counter, he stepped closer. Then, to her further discomfort, he knelt at her feet.

He continued talking, his voice low and rough. Thick with emotion. “I am going to be real honest with you. I didn’t care for your husband. I didn’t care for his satisfaction in your conduct. I didn’t enjoy hearing about the lessons he’d devised to make you bend to his will. Though he was married and a landowner and had a family and the respect of his community, and I had none of that, I knew I would never want to be the man he was.”

She felt dizzy. Hated the idea that the memories she’d pushed so far away were threatening to surge forward. Never had she imagined that the things Daniel had forced her to do would be spoken aloud.

But far worse than that was the knowledge that John knew, too. He knew what her life had been like. “Don’t speak of it.”

But instead of heeding her wishes, he grasped her hands. Linked his fingers through hers and held on tight. “You are more than he ever deserved, Sarah.”

Hearing such words was almost irresistible. She fought back the impulse to step closer, to hold him to her. She knew she needed to be stronger. Because though his hands felt almost like a lifeline, one fact remained: He’d lied to her.

In his own way, this man had been just as cruel as Daniel ever was.

With effort, she pulled her fingers from his. “Don’t touch me.”

“I beg your pardon.” Immediately, he released his hold. In a clumsy fashion, he got to his feet and stepped back. “I don’t want to hurt you further, Sarah. Though you have no reason to trust me, I promise that I never meant to hurt you. I only came here for Daniel’s money.”

Her control snapped. “But there is no money. There’s nothing! Daniel must have lied to you.”

“Daniel told me too much for it all to be lies. I’m sure of that.”

“He was good at spinning a tale. He was good at doing whatever it took to make others believe in him.”

A line formed between his brows. “I know all about lies and empty promises, Sarah. However, Daniel’s story rang true. He told me all about how he collected funds from the sales of crops to the army. At first they paid him in silver dollars.”

“If they did pay him, it wasn’t much.”

John stepped closer. “He did this for years,” he replied, talking over her. “And later, when all landowners were required to give everything over to the Union, he saved and scrimped and hoarded his pennies.”

She shook her head.

“Sarah, he boasted about it continuously.”

“But we had nothing. We went hungry.”

“Before he left, he hid it all in or near your barn.”

“That canna be true.”

“He swore it to be true.”

“I still don’t understand why you are here.”

He averted his eyes, as if he was too embarrassed to confess. “I spent the last ­couple of months in a series of hospital encampments, struggling for my life. Struggling to overcome the pain.” His voice lowered to a mere whisper. “Struggling to resign myself to looking like this. To losing most of the feeling in my cheek, on the left side of my body. Of being scarred. Damaged. Ruined.”

“You are not ruined, John,” she blurted, unable to help herself. After all, she knew what it felt like to be damaged.

He ignored her. “When I was discharged, I walked out of the base realizing that I had nothing. No money, no family. I was disfigured and in pain. All I had was a uniform marked with lieutenant’s bars—­but I wasn’t even fit to serve. Sarah, I had nothing.”

Sarah tried to imagine such a thing but she couldn’t. Couldn’t imagine any friend of his not offering him shelter during his time of need. After all, he’d already lost so much fighting for his country.

“I am sorry for that.”

He shook his head. “Don’t pity me. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, except that I yearn for you to understand what led me here.” He sat down in the chair across from her. “I felt adrift and alone. I needed something to believe in, something to give me hope. And as sad and terrible as it sounds, the only thing I had was the idea of finding Daniel’s money. Soon, it seemed it was all I thought about.”

“So you came here to live his life?”

“Not at all. It was as I told you. I came here to take your money. To steal from you.” He looked down at his feet, as if he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “I came here to take what was rightfully yours. I was going to take it and go out West. Thinking that maybe somewhere in Texas or the Oklahoma Territory, they would have me. But then?”

“But then I found you.”

“You did. On only my third night.” He shook his head in dismay. Looking rueful. “See, I made a terrible mistake, Sarah. I never asked enough questions. When the explosion hit our encampment and your husband died and I became like . . . like this, I only had the barest information about the money. And a whole lot of information about you and his Amish way of life.”

She was starting to understand. “You remembered it all because he had so much . . .”

“Yes. Because he had so much and I had nothing.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw you, that first night.” She swallowed. “I . . . I did believe you were my husband.”

“Men had told Daniel and me that we looked eerily alike. Our eyes were almost the same color, our builds much the same. You may not ever believe me, but I promise you this, I never, ever thought that you would find me. I never intended to move in here. But when you called me Daniel and then fainted, I knew I couldn’t simply leave you. Not when I felt like I knew you.”

“But when I woke up?”

“I didn’t think. I acted like a fool. At first it was mere preservation. I knew if I told you the truth I would have to leave and I would have nothing. And I didn’t want ‘nothing’ any longer. So I told myself I’d pretend to be your husband for just a while.”

“Until you found the money,” she murmured.

“Yes. But I justified it, too.” Shaking his head slightly, he said, “I knew how he treated you. I knew how he’d thought of you. It pained me. I saw the distrust in your eyes. I saw fear and hurt and exhaustion etched in your beautiful face and I wanted to erase it. And so I made a vow to myself. I decided to do what I could to try to make up his treatment of you. I thought I would help you. Treat you kindly. Help you get back on your feet. Then I would leave, and you would be at least a little better off than before.”

“How am I better off?” she asked. “All this time, I’ve been so confused. I felt hurt. I didn’t understand how the war could have changed you so much. Not just your looks, but your whole personality.

“John, I don’t think you have any idea about how I’ve felt. When Daniel left, I didn’t miss him, I felt relief. And then, hearing that he’d died—­all while I’d been secretly glad he was gone? The guilt I felt . . . well, it was extraordinary.”

When he tried to interrupt, she held up a hand. She wasn’t sure why she needed to share so much but she did. For some reason, divulging her secrets felt cleansing.

But she wasn’t done.

“When I first saw you? Thinking you were Daniel, back from the dead? I felt like the Lord was punishing me. But then, as we spent more time together, I began to thank the Lord for bringing you back.” She shook her head. “So, your plot and schemes were not so good after all, Jonathan Scott. See, instead of making my life better, you have made it so much worse.”

At his harsh intake of breath, she forced herself to look directly in his eyes. “See, when I began to trust you, I felt that God had granted me redemption. He’d forgiven me for not mourning Daniel like I should have. He’d given me a second chance to be a better person.”

“Being relieved your husband wasn’t hurting you is not wrong, Sarah. Neither is being grateful for being treated kindly. You have done nothing wrong.”

“I did everything wrong. I’ve become a person I don’t recognize.” She left it at that, and hoped he wouldn’t ask what she meant. She couldn’t bear to admit just how deep her feelings ran for him. She couldn’t bear to admit that she’d been sure she was falling in love with him.

The pain in his eyes showed that he wasn’t having an easier time with their conversation. “Sarah, I don’t know how to leave you without causing you more problems.”

Suddenly, she was exhausted. She turned to go to sleep. “I suppose we’ll solve that problem verra soon. But for now? For now I am going to sleep.”

“You don’t want me to leave right now?”

“The room? Jah.”

“The house? The farm?”

“In the middle of the night?” She shook her head. “We have too much to discuss. Things better left for the new day.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. Because everything is sure to look different in a few hours.”

She turned away, not wanting him to see that she completely agreed with his derisive comment. It was going to take far more than a new day to finish their discussion. To figure out what to do next.

It was going to take even longer to wrap her mind around the fact that not only had John been lying to her about pretty much everything . . . but that she had eagerly believed his lies. She’d been so ready to have the life she’d fantasized about. A life with someone who treated her with respect and dignity.

And because of that, she’d accepted his kindness. Dared to believe his compliments.

But worst of all, she’d allowed herself to hope. To be happy.

Now? Now, she had nothing, all over again.