Sarah's Garden by Kelly Long Read Free Book Online

seal on a jar of spiced apples and syrup and held the glass to her lips.
    “Drink this, Miss King. It’s sweet and will revive you.”
    She obeyed, letting the thin syrup slide down her dry throat. He next offered a white handkerchief that she clutched, pressing it to her lips.
    “Now, no harm done—just a dreadful scare, right?”
    Her hazel eyes filled with tears, and she tried to focus on answering.
    The doctor straightened her head covering, waiting for her to speak.
    “If you hadn’t come along . . .”
    “You would have planted him a facer and he ’d have slunk off like the dog he obviously is.”
    She shook her head and swiped at the tears that fell now. “No, I probably wouldn’t have . . . I couldn’t think. It was Matthew Fisher . . . the Fishers, you know, from your farm.”
    She met his eyes and saw that his face appeared drawn and white, though his blue-gold eyes blazed with intensity.
    “I see. Obviously there are some mixed feelings there,” Dr. Williams said with a look of concern.
    “I don’t know what that boy with Matthew might have done . . .”
    Dr. Williams replaced the lid on the apples. “It won’t happen again, Miss King. They’re cowards and won’t be back around.”
    “When Father hears of this, he won’t let me work at the stand.”
    “Is that wishful thinking?” The doctor laughed. “I say your father has greater faith than that.”
    Sarah had to smile at his “wishful thinking” comment. Somehow this Englischer seemed to know her thoughts so well. She lifted her chin and drew a single sniff.
    “May I offer you some peanut brittle, Doctor?”
    “Only if you agree to join me.”
    And because he seemed so calm, she did.
    A bag and a half of peanut brittle later, Dr. Williams jumped to his feet. “Hey, I nearly forgot in all that ruckus—I brought you something.”
    Sarah concealed her surprise. She had never had a “something” from a man before, and certainly not from an Englisch man. She wondered what Mamm would say, then bit her lip as she realized the doctor was repeating himself.
    “I’m beginning to recognize that look. Are you permitted to receive something from an Englisch friend, Miss King?”
    “Ye–es,” she said, trying not to appear too excited by the wooden box he ’d produced from beside the steps of the stand.
    “Well, good then. I was cleaning out my office this morning and taking some things up to the attic. We ’ve got a colony of bats hanging up there, incidentally.” He went on while she wrinkled her small nose. “Anyway, I found this box up there and when I opened it, well, I just thought of you . . . Here.”
    He proffered the box and she took it onto her lap, letting it fill her arms. She hesitated in sliding the wooden lid open when she considered the visitors in his attic.
    “No bats, I promise.”
    She smiled and opened the box, then gasped in surprise and faint dismay. “They’re beautiful!” Her slender fingers pulled handfuls of colorful fabric squares into the light of day. There were cottons and silks, worsteds and flannels, layer after layer of unusual and pretty material of varying weights and colors.
    She fingered an iridescent green piece of cloth and considered his words. He thought about her when he saw the fabrics? She just didn’t feel like she matched up, especially because he probably assumed that she could quilt.
    “Did you know,” he queried, bending his long legs to hunch down beside her, “that the hummingbird is the tiniest bird in the world?”
    “Yes.” She nodded, confused as to where he was going with the conversation.
    He reached a long finger to stroke the iridescent fabric square she held. “And did you know that hummingbirds can flash their bright colors, as well as hide them when necessary?”
    “Yes, I knew that. I like birds, and hummingbirds often come to the garden,” she admitted.
    “Well . . .” His finger briefly whispered a touch against hers before he withdrew. “You’re like a