Sarah's Sin

there.

Julia shook her head and heaved a sigh, her anger showing through her normally placid manner. “Will you look at what you're doing here?”

“I'm recuperating.”

“You're hiding. You're retreating—not only from the city but from this century! Matt, you're too good a doctor to just burn out and fade away!”

He couldn't think of anything worth saying. Propping his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and rubbed the back of his neck. Julia slumped back against the bench, spearing her fingers into her thick hair and smoothing it back from her face.

“Want to take a drive into town?” Matt asked. “They have a real old-fashioned soda fountain at the drugstore.”

“No, thanks.” Julia shook her head wearily and checked the man's watch she wore on her wrist. “I should head back. I told Devers I'd work her shift.”

Matt pushed himself up from the swing and followed her to the porch steps, catching her by the sleeve of her bomber jacket when she was two steps below him. “You can't bury yourself in work forever”

She pressed her lips into a long thin line as she avoided his gaze. “I guess we all have our ways of compensating, don't we?”

Matt took the hint. He thought she was hiding; she thought he was hiding. He wasn't going to let her in on all of his feelings; she wasn't going to let him in on hers. Standoff. “Ill walk you to your car.”

At the door of her Firebird she turned around and hugged him fiercely, then pulled back and swiped her hair out of her eyes. “Look, I know you're going through a rough spot right now. Just do me a favor and hang on, will you?”

He nodded, his gaze holding hers. “You too.”

She managed a tired smile that didn't get anywhere near her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Matt leaned against Lisbeth Parker's white Cadillac and watched Julia drive off, his mind resolutely shutting out the things she had said. As the Firebird disappeared down the road, he redirected his attention, catching Sarah looking at him.

Sarah dodged his gaze, focusing on her raking. She scraped the bamboo tines of the broad rake against the ground with more zeal than was required, sweeping the fallen maple leaves into an ankle-deep pile. It didn't matter to her that Matt had old girlfriends calling on him. Scrape, scrape, scrape. It didn't matter to her that Julia McCaiver was beautiful. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Trying to rake your way to China?”

She stopped just short of raking over the sneakers that had come into her limited field of vision. “Any job worth doing is worth doing well.”

She started to turn away from him, but he caught her by the shoulders. Still, she refused to look up at him. Tears had gathered behind her eyes and were pressing for release.

“Julia is an old friend of mine,” Matt said sofdy. “There's nothing romantic between us. There hasn't been for a long time. She came to prod me about going back to work.”

“It is no concern of mine,” Sarah said primly.

“I'd like to think it is. Come on, Sarah,” he said in his soft, cajoling tone. “Look at me. Please.”

The please did her in. He sounded so sincere. She was being silly anyway, wasting what time they had together on pointless jealousy. She gave him a weak version of her crooked smile.

“That's better,” he said, tracing his thumb over the line of her mouth. A chuckle worked its way up out of his chest. “My little pacifist. You looked ready to tear Julia s hair out by the roots when she kissed me!”

“Make jokes,” Sarah said, trying to look stern. “You bring out the dickens in me, Matt Thome. You should be ashamed.”

“Should I?” he asked softly. Suddenly the fresh fall air was charged with energy humming tight around them. Matt brought his hands up to frame her face, his thumbs brushing under the loose ties of her kapp. “I think I make you feel alive. I know that's how you make me feel. I think I bring that fire you keep buried inside you a little closer to the surface.”

“Matt …” She breathed his name like a sigh, invoked it like a prayer. She tilted her chin up, offering her mouth to him, and her whole body jolted as he kissed her, as if he'd infused her with a sudden burst of electricity. Alive. That was exactly what he made her feel, beautifully, achingly alive.

When he lifted his head, he had that look of wonder in his eyes again and he smiled. “I never would have believed love could happen so fast,” he murmured.

He slid his hands back from her face, tugging her kapp off and loosing the moorings of her bun all in one motion. Hairpins scattered, and her long chestnut tresses tumbled free, the wind catching at strands and fluttering them like ribbons. It felt wonderful and free—like her spirit.

She made a face at him. “Now, look what you've done. I'll have to put it all back up again. You're worse than a little boy tugging braids.”

Matt laughed, unrepentant. He felt, if not like a little boy, certainly younger than he had in a long time. “Oh, yeah?” he said, rising to the bait. “In that case, I belt you can't get this away from me.” He extended his arm above his head with Sarah's fine white kapp perched on the ends of his fingers.

Sarah made a jump for it. Matt snatched it back and twisted away from her. They played a laughing game of keep-away, eyes dancing, bodies dodging and feinting, leaves crunching beneath their feet. Matt was able to move at only about half speed. To compensate, Sarah didn't try as hard as she might have to win. The object wasn't in getting her kapp back, but in prolonging the game. They laughed and chased each other, touching and tickling. And as always, they became so absorbed in each other, the rest of the world faded into the far background. They scarcely noticed the sun that warmed them or the breeze or the dog that came to bark at their foolishness or the Amish farm wagon that rumbled past.

Matt tired first and gave up, sinking down into the pile of orange leaves, breathing heavily and grinning hugely. Sarah followed him without hesitation, her plain skirt billowing around her in a puddle of blue as she settled beside him. They sat facing each other, hip-to-hip. Sarah reached up and brushed at errant strands of black hair that had tumbled across Matt's forehead. He lifted a dried leaf and tickled the end of her nose with it. They both leaned toward each other simultaneously for a kiss, and Sarah thought her heart would burst with happiness. She was in love, and all was right with the world … at least for a little while.

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker,' Sarah said, tucking the credit card slip into a desk drawer. “I hope you enjoyed your stay with us.”

“It was just lovely, honey,' Lisbeth Parker gushed. She tossed the end of her fox stole over her shoulder and glanced around for any sign of Blossom. “We had the nicest time, and you were just a doll! I sure wish we had some Amish people back home.”

Matt rubbed his jaw, fighting the urge to say something nasty. Sarah just smiled her little Mona Lisa smile, unaffected by the comment. She knew people generally meant no harm when they said things like that, and taking remarks in stride was simply part of being Amish.

“You don't want to forget this,” Matt said, holding out Mrs. Parkers pearl-handled pistol and ammunition.

“Oh, heavens no! I couldn't leave Li'l Ab-ner!” She smiled at the gun as if it were a favorite pet and tucked it into the depths of her handbag. “Tim gave him to me our first Christmas together.”

Matt stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Isn't that sweet.”

Lisbeth waved a hand and gave them a coy look. “He's like that, the big ol' darlin'. I'd best get on out to the car now before he loses his patience and starts in on that horn. It plays the Texas Aggie fight song. Drives me right out of my mind.”

“Really?” Matt said, eyes alight. He winced as Sarah gave his arm a sharp pinch.

Lisbeth bid them farewell again as she turned and pranced out the front door, fox tails swinging. Matt rubbed his palms together and started after her. “Come on. Well finally get to see if there really is a Tim.”

Sarah grabbed his arm and held him back. “No! It's more fun not knowing.”