Paper Roses by Amanda Cabot Page B

eyes. But that time had ended. The joy had evaporated the day she’d heard two churchwomen discussing her. It was God’s will, they had said, that Sarah would not walk again. How could that be? she had wanted to scream. How could a loving God want me to remain an invalid? There was no answer save one: he was not a loving God. If she had had any lingering doubts, they were destroyed the night he allowed gunshots to kill her parents. Nothing remained. Were it not for Thea and the need to create a normal life for her, Sarah would not be in church today. That was practicality, not hypocrisy, she told herself. She would not feel guilty.
    As the service continued, Sarah marveled at how well her sister behaved. Though she had expected her to be fussy, Thea seemed fascinated by the people around her, her head swiveling as she regarded the parishioners. The thought assailed Sarah that this might be the reason her sister was unhappy staying with Mary Bramble. Perhaps she missed the company of others. It was true that Thea’s short life had been spent surrounded by many people. At home, there had been numerous servants bustling around the house, always taking time to spend a moment with the youngest member of the family. The journey West had involved crowded trains and stagecoaches. Perhaps Thea longed for the company of more than one person.
    As if in response to Sarah’s thoughts, Thea’s eyes lit on a small girl two pews ahead of them. For the first time since the service began, the little girl turned and was staring toward the back of the church. Thea smiled, waved and gurgled, then started to talk. “Shush, sweetie.” Sarah laid a finger over Thea’s lips, admonishing her to be silent, and glanced around to see how many people her sister had disturbed. When she turned in her direction, Isabelle shook her head, as if to say no one minded. But surely that couldn’t be. Sarah continued to look around, anticipating the angry expressions, the lips pursed with disapproval that she would have encountered in Philadelphia. There were none. Instead, she saw indulgent smiles. This congregation, it appeared, did not subscribe to the belief that children should be seen and not heard.
    For the first time since she’d entered the sanctuary, Sarah began to relax. Perhaps Isabelle had not exaggerated when she’d said that Sarah and Thea would be welcome in either church.
    As Père Tellier climbed into the pulpit, the parishioners settled back into the pews, anticipating a long sermon. For Thea’s sake, Sarah hoped that was not the case. Her sister’s behavior had been amazingly good, but all good things ended. The black-robed pastor looked at his congregation, smiling as his eyes moved from one pew to the next. It was only when he’d silently greeted everyone that he spoke. “For today’s sermon, I have chosen one of the Ten Commandments: thou shalt not . . .”
    The blood drained from Sarah’s face as he pronounced the final word. Kill . How had he known? Instinctively, her arms tightened around Thea, squeezing her sister so tightly that she squirmed. Oh, Thea. I thought I could protect you. I was wrong. Somehow, the past she had believed they had escaped had followed them. Sarah closed her eyes, wishing she could simply disappear. But, of course, she could not, for nothing was simple. She took a deep breath, willing her hands to stop trembling. When at last she’d regained a modicum of composure and opened her eyes, Sarah darted surreptitious looks around her. She’d expected contempt, perhaps even condemnation. Instead she discovered no one was looking at her. Their attention was focused on the minister, who continued to expound on his chosen commandment. Sarah exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. How foolish could she be? It was her imagination that had caused those moments of panic. No one knew what had happened. No one would ever know.
    When the service ended, Isabelle touched Sarah’s arm as they