Releasing Yesterday
by N.M. Johnson

© April 2003; All Rights Reserved

(sequel to Searching for Sara)

One

Adjusting his hold on the leather sketchbook, Christopher Lake’s hazel eyes glowed with the smile that lightened his features as he intensely focused on the scene sketched from a different memory. It was this memory alone that held his attention, even when the blues and lavenders of the morning offered a bright “Hello.” Dressed in a robe of dark blue over a matching sleeper-set with a monogram of C.A.L. on the right shirt-front pocket, he chuckled and mumbled under his breath, apparently having a conversation with an occasionally mentioned “Lady.”

This Lady soon began to appear within the landscape currently in process. First, she consisted of nothing save a rough silhouette standing by a tree on the bank of a stream. Then, steadily, a lithe form came to be, with flowing hair falling in waves past her waist, her face turned slightly toward him with her chin tipped a whisper downward in entrancing timidity.

Christopher’s expression altered at her full revelation, and he lowered his charcoal to take up the sketchbook and whisper, “Good morning, sweet Sara Ann,” while altering his tender hold. “Do you realize today is a full three months since you came to us, my Gwin and me? Today, March 31st, 1894, it is exactly 12 weeks since I saw you at the station.”

He could still remember how Sara’s beautiful blue eyes had glimmered with curiosity when she had looked up. Remembered it with a smile and a breath of amazement that such a blessing had happened to him. Each day after that meeting, he had ushered her a little deeper into his grieving heart, first as a friend, then a much needed support, and finally a woman with whom he would gladly share his life.

Then, on the evening of his surprise 30th-birthday celebration – on the fourth day of the tenth week since her journey from England – he had confessed to her just how much she had come to mean to him. How much he was willing to give to her to make her happy, she who had so bravely taken a journey to find a new way of life. Remembering it now, he could again hear the gentle lilt of her English accent as she had confessed how her time with them had seemed more a pleasant lifetime than the short while it had been.

“It does seem a lifetime, doesn’t it?” he whispered now.

Each day he had seen her with Gwin he had remembered his previous years of family, before the death of his wife. Each day he and Sara had worked together to plot and plan a future display of her art, he had remembered his past happiness. Recalling even the safety in sharing a passion with a woman of intensity and intelligence. Something he hadn’t had in more than a year.

“Sara…” He caressed the line of her jaw with the charcoal. “Sara, do you have any idea how much I love you?”

With her presence in his life day after day, he had felt himself returning from the void. Back to the daily press of inspiration. Back to the passion for art and artist that he had thought lost forever.

“Your friendship and understanding have been a blessing,” he admitted to the Lady’s image, his voice slightly gruff. “For Gwin, who needed your motherly compassion. For the gallery, which needed your inspiration.… For… myself.”

He tightened his hold, remembering how she had accepted his proposal to wed with such intense emotion. To be honest, a part of him had expected her to say, “But I don’t love you.” Instead, Sara had laughed – Oh what a joyous sound it had been! – and drawn him close, happily agreeing, “Yes, Christopher. Yes, yes, yes. Forever and ever yes.…”

Releasing a slow and deep breath at the memories, he voiced, “I love you, Sara Ann Lyttle.” His Lady of Charcoal who had helped him live again. The leading hand and gentle voice that had taught him to once more see art and beauty, as if through new eyes. The soft touch that had offered him an escape from the gray of grief to the color of living.

Christopher let his head fall back against the plushness of the chair, again remembering the softness of her cheek against his lips. As Christopher had welcomed the warmth of her into his arms, he would never forget those broken words she had whispered into his ear. “I won’t leave you alone,” she had promised. “Not ever, my dearest Christopher.”

Later, while walking within the flowers and beauty of the conservatory, Sara had confessed to loving him since before he had retreated to Richmond College, when he had discovered her to be the Lady within the drawings done throughout his life. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he had asked. But Sara had been right not to confess. “Dear Christopher, your heart wasn’t ready to be loved as I loved you. I could see it in your eyes, and I was willing enough to wait.”

Wait she had. Patiently. Silently. Much as Carla had waited, patient in their friendship while giving the time he needed to explore the same.

Lifting his head, Christopher focused again on the Lady within the charcoal sketch, hesitating only a moment before drawing a flower within her hair and then a child at her feet. The past ten days he had been overcome by a growing desire to pray for her future and how her past would affect it. Being raised as a servant in England had given Sara a harsh history. One filled with the unwanted attentions from men who had taken advantage of her timidity to try and coax an immoral relationship. While he didn’t doubt her affection for him, he didn’t want her to feel rushed.

Encouraging a friendship the last three months had been a step into trust that she had never taken before, and he had noticed a hesitation. An uncertainty even at times. Their engagement would be another challenging step. One toward a much more intense commitment. Christopher wanted to make sure she had been given the opportunity to safely trust him in this second step before asking her to take a harder one.

He had been alone this long, and now that there was a glimpse of her in his future as well as in his present, he would wait a little longer.

“Papa?” came a whisper from the far side of his room.

Christopher looked up, smiling and setting aside the sketchbook when his five-year-old daughter Gwin peeked her head of blonde ringlets around the door adjoining their rooms. He motioned her in, to which she responded with a bright smile that twinkled in her green eyes. A quick scurry of pitter-patting feet, and then she scrambled up into his lap and settled into his embrace, releasing a deep breath that sounded almost a coo.

“Good morning, Angel Girl. Did you sleep all right?”

She nodded against him.

“No bad dreams?”

Gwin shook her head, growing so comfortable against him that she began absently sucking her thumb, a habit he noticed since her mother’s death. So, he gently pulled her thumb from her mouth, holding her hand in his while he kissed her forehead.

“You’re excited for Nana and Pop-Pop coming today, aren’t you?” he posed. His mother and father had been unable to attend his surprise birthday celebration, but when Christopher had forwarded them the news of his upcoming engagement announcement, they had rearranged their schedule for an extended visit.

Especially since Paul and Dixon were to leave for New York City, and then England, the following weekend.

Gwin nodded, sounding another happy coo as she adjusted herself against him. “Is Sara ready to be my new mamma yet?” she asked, her voice hushed and somewhat sleepy. “I’m tryin’ to be patient, but I want us to be happy again.”

Smiling, Christopher gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You love Sara very much, don’t you?”

“And I been prayin’ for you and Sara for a long time. Ever since Mamma said Sara was to be my new mamma. But Mamma and Sara both told me you wasn’t ready. They said as how you was missin’ Mamma too much to even want to fall in love with someones else.”

The statement reminded him again of the insight Sara had continued to show regarding his suffering and struggles, deepening his love for her.

“And Sara said as how you wouldn’t want to fall in love with anyone ’cause of how it might make you think you didn’t love Mamma no more,” Gwin continued.

Yet Sara had never made him face anything until he had been ready, only offering wisdom to his daughter and allowing God to choose the time for him to hear the same.

“But you can love lots of people without stopping lovin’ others,” Gwin was saying. “God fills us up with lots of love to give to other people. Right?”

And the love he held for Sara.… What other woman had ever continued to be such a support and encouragement? So much so that he felt as if he could trust her with each and every aspect of himself, yet while still loving Carla.

He brushed the curls back from Gwin’s face. “You would be happy if Sara were your new mamma, wouldn’t you?” Gwin nodded again, and he remembered how happy he had once been. With family. How happy he had begun to be again, watching Sara and Gwin play and draw and laugh together. Making him laugh.

Christopher leaned down to kiss Gwin on the forehead once more, whispering, “I asked Sara to be your mamma at my birthday party, Gwin, and she said ‘yes’.”

Sounding a joyful squeal, Gwin threw her arms around Christopher’s neck. “Oh goodie, goodie!” Then she pulled back and rushed on with questions like, “When can she come and stay with us again, Papa? Will she wear a pretty dress of white? Will you be going on a long honeymoon like Mamma told me you did afore? Can I stay with Auntie Dix and Unca Paul while you’re gone? Can I call her ‘mamma’ right now or do I hafta wait until yoos is married?”

Chuckling, Christopher held her face in his hands. “There are rules people have to follow, Gwin, so she won’t come and stay with us for a bit. And yes, I do believe we will go on a long honeymoon like your mamma and I did before. Of course you can stay with Dix and Paul, unless you’d rather stay with Rob and Rachel to play with Hank, and you should probably wait to call her ‘Mamma’ until after we’ve married, Angel Girl. I’ve only just proposed.”

The smile on Gwin’s face faded to a pout. “I don’t wanna wait! I wanna have Sara right now!”

Christopher tousled her hair. “I know you do, Sweetness, but time will go by fast. I promise.”

“All right,” she said, her lower lip still slightly protruding.

Chuckling, Christopher kissed her cheek. “Cheer up, Angel Girl. If you can’t wait the months for the ‘engagement’ to be finished, how in the world will you stand it when we’ve gone on our wedding holiday?”

“Months?” she whined, “but, Papa, I want us to be a family now.”

“Gwin.…” He sighed. “All right. How’s this? While we’re waiting for the engagement to be over, you can ask Sara if you may act as if she’s already your mamma. Would that be all right?”

Gwin looked adorable as she considered the question, twirling a blonde ringlet and worrying her lower lip. Then she brightly smiled and nodded, her curls dancing around her neck. “That’s all right, Papa. I can do that.”

“You won’t whine and fuss if she says you had better wait?” Christopher pressed.

Gwin giggled and shook her head, but she still confessed “I’ll try, Papa, but I might on axdent.”

Christopher laughed and then held his daughter close. “As long as it’s an accident, I can’t blame you too much. It’s exciting to finally have a Mamma again, isn’t it?” For he knew how eager he was at finally having the “finish”.

Sighing, Gwin nodded, her arms tightening around him. “I hope Nana and Pop-Pop love Sara as much as m–” Gwin suddenly straightened, looking into Christopher’s face with wide eyes. “You love Sara, Papa? Like you loved Mamma?”

Christopher softly pinched her nose. “Like I loved Mamma.” But it was different. As he had told Paul, what he felt for Sara was so much... more and… easier to admit. Almost easier to understand. With Carla, it had been a constant struggle of learning. Communication. Tenderness. All was new and different. With Sara the newness was the fact that everything was seemingly… less complicated.

A fact he wasn’t certain he understood.

Gwin smiled and then kissed Christopher’s cheek while wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m happy for you, Papa. You been sad a long time, and I was sad to see you sad. Now Sara can make you happy like you was afore, and that makes me much more happy than when Sara first come.”

Closing his eyes, Christopher released a soft breath as his arms held Gwin close against him. “And I’ll fight dragons to hold onto this happiness, Angel Girl.” For both of them.

Gwin cooed another sigh, snuggling into her father’s arms as she whispered, “You said your prayers yet, Papa?”

“Not yet.”

“Can I say them with you?”

“Of course, Gwin,” he said softly, smoothing her curls. “Why don’t you go first?”

She gave a small nod, her breathing softening to silent retrospection that so reminded him of Carla. Especially when he remembered how he and Carla would begin their days together in prayer.

“Our Father in heaven,” Gwin began quietly, voice hushed. “Hallow’d be thy name.”

“Thy kingdom come; thy will be done,” Christopher continued.

“On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.”

“And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation.…”

“But deliver us from evil.”

“For thine is the kingdom, and the power.”

“And the glory, forever. Amen.” Gwin remained silent for a moment, but then she adjusted her arms around him and whispered, “Papa?”

“Yes, Angel Girl?”

“Is God still listening?”

Christopher smiled. “Yes.”

“Could I tell Him sumthin’?”

“Of course, Gwin.”

Beginning an almost nervous fidget of picking at the lapel of his robe, Gwin worried her lower lip. “God, can you tell Mamma that I will try to ’member her, but... but I don’t want to be sad no more. I don’t want Papa to be sad no more, neither. So we’re gonna fall in love with Sara lots and lots. So that we can be a family. And so that we can laugh and play like we used to. So that we can forget that we were sad, and so Mamma can be in yesterday and Sara can be in today.…” Gwin sniffed.

Christopher adjusted his arms around her, kissing her forehead and brushing a few tears from her cheeks. “You see our tomorrows, our todays, and our yesterdays, Lord, and now that’s all we have. The bigger picture You have waiting. A bigger picture we’re ready to see for ourselves. A bigger picture that… that is happier than the one we thought we saw before. One of color. One of family. One of… wholeness with smiles amidst the tears.”

Swallowing hard, Christopher moved his focus to the final oranges and yellows of the rising sun, whispering, “A happy ending that is only just beginning,” and dedicated himself to the journey to have it.

« § »

March 31st, 1894,

I have never been in a position such as this before, Lord. I have never had a man look at me as he does and not feel fear. Affection glows in his eyes, but all I feel is warmth. Trust. Safety. I

Sara lowered the pencil, not noticing the absent worry of her lip as she stared at the words within her journal. Again hearing a quiet confession in the soft lights and scents of Lake Manor’s conservatory. Again hearing her own broken admittance of love and the rush of freedom at finally having the courage to make it, but…

Cheeks flushed, she lowered her gaze to her fingers as they fiddled with the edges of her journal. She would forever remember the soft sound of Christopher’s voice. The surrounding welcome of his friends and family, all gathered there to celebrate. Everything together had made the evening surreal. Then, when he had escorted her home via carriage, a silence intense yet simple had settled around them, pulling at her heart and soul.

Sitting beside her, Christopher’s caress of her knuckles had deepened the feeling of wonder at how much she cared for him, but then the action had stopped and a different type of intensity had settled. Almost a prelude to him lifting each of her hands tenderly to his lips, longer than he ever had before, and then slowly turning them to kiss each palm, eyes closed as he whispered, “I love you,” in a voice she hadn’t heard before. Ever.

When he had opened his eyes to meet hers, Sara could only stare at him in dazed silence, absorbing the warmth within and without at his secondary confession of affection. Had she ever wanted to love someone as much as she loved him? Hers had been a confession based on the determination to be different than before. His had been one of fairy tales...

Yet Dix and Paul seemed to share a similar intensity. Even Amy and Thomas. It all went to prove that love beyond friendship was possible. That it had always been waiting for her heart to be ready. Then, when he had pleaded with her to look away, his voice so very odd, it had proved he felt a love as intense as she.

Her cheeks flushed darker now as she looked down to her hands. “I’m sorry, Christopher,” she whispered. “It’s that I’m so happy.”

Christopher had given her hands a collection of tender squeezes when she had confessed the same to him then. “I know. That’s what is so hard. It’s been a long time since I made a woman happy. A long time since I’ve wanted to.” Again he had kissed her hand, immediately clearing his throat as the action of softly stroking her knuckles began once more. “If I continue to do that, slap my face,” he had directed in a somewhat amused tone.

Sara could only stare up at him, softly smiling as he had sent her the occasional glance. Then she had freed her right hand and lifted it to hold his cheek, smoothing the skin with gentle strokes of her thumb as he finally met her gaze.

“Slap him?” she whispered now, remembering the feeling of the warmth of his skin against her fingers. Sara knew he must have slapped himself down for months, grieving and aching alone so that his sweet daughter wouldn’t suffer more. Sara shook her head. Slapping him would have been like punishing an already broken man.

Instead, she had allowed an impish smile and pushed his cheek, causing his head to turn slightly the other direction. Then she had lowered her hand while pulling the other from his grasp, feigning a softly insulted expression. “Sir. Remember yourself,” she had said.

Christopher’s expression had relaxed into his laugh before he had struggled away the smile. “My sincerest apologies, my lady. The intoxication of your beauty overwhelmed my senses.”

Sara giggled now, remembering how he had so tenderly steadied her descent from the carriage, as well as her ascent to the Donovans’ front door. Remembering also how he had regarded her with the same soft smile she had come to adore. Then he had reached over to touch her tenderly under the chin, whispering “Yes. Courting you has been much more fun.” The admittance had deepened her feelings of safety with him.

Then he had once more taken her hands into his and pressed his lips tenderly upon her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Sara-Ann.”

Sara hid her burning face in her hands. The overwhelming acceptance and happiness that filled her heart felt so wonderfully unreal.

The lavenders and blues of the rising sun drew her dark blue eyes, mahogany-brown waves tumbling down her back and around her slim shoulders as she sighed deep, slender form trembling slightly as she sat upon the steamer trunk positioned by the window in her room at the home of Christopher’s elder sister Dixon Donovan.

But there was a cold whisper, deep down, each time she remembered the confession. Each time she heard the relief in his gruff and soft “Sweet, sweet Sara.” A tremble of something that made her slightly… afraid.

Sighing deep, Sara once more lowered her gaze to the journal. Lord, I’m not afraid of him. Or of what I feel, but… But I know I’m afraid of something. I… I but don’t understand what it is. I’ve never been here before, and I’m… I… Sara sighed again, bringing a trembling hand to rub at her forehead before tucking the pencil into the journal pages, closing the book, and setting it upon the sill.

Then she wrapped her arms about her legs within the floor-length sleeper and rested her cheek against her knees. One day and one day is how I’ve lived to this wonderful morning, Sweet Jesus. Trusting each new sunrise to Your plan for it. Some days I thought You weren’t acting at all toward what I needed, but each new morning I was proved wrong. I had but to look for the lace in the rags…

Sara swallowed down the tightness of her throat, blinking the glimmer from her eyes as she adjusted her cheek upon her knees. Now… Now I don’t know what to pray for. I’ve the workings of a family, with a never before had sister and brother in Dix and Paul. Friends in Amy and Teddy. Sara’s smile softened her entire face, heightening the beauty that had always brought seemingly more pain than joy. Now a new beginning with a hero of a man and his angel of a daughter… What else waits, Lord? What other challenge is biding its time, waiting to test my faith and teach me another bit about myself?

Releasing a quiet sigh, Sara straightened and retrieved again her journal and pencil, carefully tearing a blank piece from the back where several missing pages already showed. The smile on her expression altered slightly as her cheeks flushed crimson when she began writing.

Dearest Christopher,

I wanted to write you a short note of ‘good morning’

And though she wanted to write of her excitement at his parents impending visit that morning, a reiteration of her feelings, a hope that he was sleeping better than he had – upon Gwin’s confession – she couldn’t. She only stared at the salutation, ‘Dearest Christopher,’ while again feeling a cold whisper so very deep. A whisper that had her once more lowering her pencil and worrying her lower lip. A whisper that had her, again, balling up the paper and setting it next to its brothers and sisters on the sill.

So many notes never finished or delivered. Those many ‘Dearest’s and ‘My Christopher’s never read and enjoyed...

Sara lowered her focus to her journal, her grip tightening on the pencil before she closed the book and again stared out at the lavenders and oranges. Wondering if he watched the same sunrise. If he also prayed in the morning. If he thought of her as she thought of him. If she would ever be a part of his morning…

The door to her room opened and closed, the pretty lady’s maid with the bright brown eyes and lovely face coming to stand beside her. “You look happy,” the younger girl observed.

“I’m so happy, Amy,” Sara whispered to the young woman, feeling that Amy was more a friend than a servant.

“I can tell. You’re fairly glowing. I don’t think we need the candles or the lanterns, it’s so bright in here.”

Sara laughed, her eyes twinkling as her cheeks flushed crimson.

“Oh.” Amy pulled a letter from the front pocket of her apron. “I received this in the post yesterday.”

Sara’s eyes widened as she accepted the letter and looked to the return address. “It’s from Mr. Conklin!”

“I’ll leave you to your reading while I get your bath ready.”

Sara tore open the letter as Amy left the room. The letter was dated almost two weeks previous.

My dear Miss Kreyssler,

I hope this letter finds you happy and in good health.

If you’ve attempted to contact me for an invitation to tea, as was previously promised, I’m sorry to disappoint. I’ve had to travel to England. Please forgive me for not immediately taking you up on your charming offer. I will eagerly do so as soon as I return. The opportunity to chat will give the two of us time to reminisce our years in England, as I’m certain you’re homesick.

In the meantime, I thought I should let you know that I contacted the ‘Chronicle’ regarding their articles and impressed upon them the importance of printing a retraction. I also wrote several of my friends and partners and asked them to do the same. Mr. Lake deserves praise for his extreme care of you and your reputation, not slander and harmful suppositions (for which I have no tolerance). If the retraction isn’t posted within the next week or so, my lawyers will be contacting Mr. Lake with ideas for further action. Though I pray it doesn’t come to this.

My business in England shouldn’t require too much of my time, and I plan to return to New York - and later Richmond - in time for late spring or early summer.

My sincerest well-wishing,

Joseph Conklin

Sara smiled. “What a dear.” Then she set the letter aside and headed for the bath. Sara did miss the sights and sounds of her old home, but there were so many new things to see and experience in America that the excitement of being surrounded by a new environment hadn’t left room for more than snatches of homesickness. Then, with the excitement of having her artwork on display, the newness of learning a new media, and the welcome brightness of falling in love, all had left Sara with barely a moment to think of her previous home or the happy memories that lingered there.

Amy chuckled as she returned from the bath room and helped Sara from her nightgown and into her robe. “Goodness gracious me, you’re a sight when you’re happy.”

Sara giggled and tightened the robe belt around her slim waist. “I haven’t pinched myself once, either.”

Amy chuckled and fell into step beside her as they made their way to the connecting bath. “The mister and missus will be getting up soon enough for the jaunt to the station, so let’s get you dollified and downstairs for a bit of a meeting with your mister before breakfast.”

Amy steadied Sara up and into the sunken tub and then moved back behind to measure out a portion of shampoo. “I can hardly believe Mister and Missus Lake be leaving for England this next week. And to be helping find your father, too!”

“They’re such dolls,” Sara said, eyes twinkling.

“And they think the world of you.”

The expression on Sara’s face softened as she allowed herself to remember the images and realities for her future that she had previously kept safely distant and guarded. Being inducted into the Lake family had never even been a remote dream, and now she had the possibility of not only being a friend but a daughter. She only had to pray and trust God to lead her through the next challenge. I love him, Lord, and I’ll do whatever is best. Christopher had already come so far, confessing his own love for her, and Sara didn’t want to risk the possibility of pushing him away by asking for too much too soon. So, she continued to guard her heart and her words so that he wouldn’t struggle. Just give me what to say, Lord.

A tear dripped down her cheek unnoticed, enraptured instead with a day’s beginning and wondering if hers was soon to come.