Spring Comes To Barncastle Inn Read online

  Their conversation followed him into the evening, and through the night as he tossed and turned, begging sleep to come.

  He watched the clock’s numbers turn from four-fifty-nine to five. He sat up as the alarm sounded. Ha. If they left the house at five-forty they’d be just in time to park and make the hike to the pond, then watch the sun rise as they worshiped together.

  Peter passed Marin’s room, where her dress, tights, and new shoes waited for her to get ready. Their Saturday-night routine of her shower, getting ready for bed, and devotion time had kept them through many dark days.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he called to her.

  She grunted, then rolled to one side, nearly sliding off the bed. “Early. It’s dark out.”

  “Yes, get dressed, and I’ll get you a breakfast bar to hold you over until we eat.”

  Marin nodded and yawned.

  They arrived promptly at ten minutes before six, and a small group waited at the front entrance of the inn.

  “The Lord has risen,” Luke said, greeting him as he shut the Volvo door.

  “The Lord has risen, indeed,” Peter answered back. Then, he yawned. “Easter Sunday would have to be early, on the first day of the week, huh?”

  Luke chuckled. “Little did the writers of the Gospels know that they’d be taking sleep from us believers in centuries to come.”

  Their crowd numbered nearly twenty. Luke motioned for them to gather.

  “We’re ready to start our hike now.”

  Peter scanned the group for Sadie. There she stood, wearing a bluish cardigan, T-shirt, and jeans. She smiled at him, but looked away before he could return the smile.

  They started to walk the wooded trail, with Marin in step beside him. “Why are we going to the pond? Can’t we have a service in the barn like the other night?”

  “We could, but Mr. Luke built something special for Jayne, to honor her mother.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Jayne’s mother passed away three years ago, and she loved to garden. So Luke had a place made by the pond, where people can sit and pray as they look at the water.”

  “That’s nice. I bet Miss Jayne is happy about that.”

  “I’m sure she is.” They ambled through the woods, and the trail snaked along toward the pond. When the group arrived at the water’s edge, a few gasps came from the crowd, followed by some oohs from the ladies.

  A cross, made of twisted bands of wrought iron, rose a good eight feet near the water’s edge. Granite pavers made a circle in front of the cross. A quartet of stone benches flanked the cross, two on each side. Between the benches and immediately surrounding the cross, someone had planted petunias and more hardy perennial ground cover.

  “Jayne,” Luke said, taking his wife’s hand, “this is to remind us of your mother.” To the group assembled, he added, “If you’d all like to take seats, we can get started.”

  Sean and Marcella McSweeney led them in a hymn as Sean played guitar, their harmonies floating across the pond. Peter sometimes wished he could sing like that. He found the melody where he could. Marin, by his side, sang on pitch. She’d gotten that from her mother, for sure. The idea made him smile.

  After the hymn, Luke continued. “Thank you all for coming. We thought it fitting to officially begin our monthly holiday celebrations at Barncastle Inn with Easter. For us, it’s just as important as Christmas. Easter, Resurrection Sunday, whatever you call our celebration of the resurrection of Christ, means that we have hope. Our hope isn’t put in a dead person. Our hope is in someone who’s very much now alive, because we believe Christ’s words: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.’”

  Peter glanced at Marin; she didn’t blink as she listened to Luke’s words. She tugged on Peter’s sleeve. He leaned closer.

  “Mommy believed, didn’t she?” Marin whispered.

  He nodded. “Yes, she did.” Tears stung the backs of his eyelids. He knew, he believed, but Marin needed to believe for herself. Maybe this was one step.

  Sadie sat on one of the benches, across from him. She wore warm gloves and a scarf, her breath making puffs in the still-chilly air.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Marin whispered again. “I didn’t want to lose Mommy.”

  “You’ll never lose her, as long as you remember her, just like Miss Jayne remembers her mom.”

  Marin nodded, then leaned on his arm.

  The rest of the service unfolded as the sun rose, its first golden rays slanting across the pond and lighting up the little garden.

  The McSweeneys shared the final song. Sean strummed an old classic called “He’s Alive.” As the couple jubilantly sang the chorus of a song about the Apostle Peter’s denial of Christ, then Peter’s reunion with the risen Lord, joy bubbled up inside Peter. Not bubbled, but rushed like a roaring river, breaking free of the ice that once hindered it. Winter had gone; spring had come.

  Lord, You do make all things new.

  He joined in the chorus, even though he didn’t really know the song.

  Marin looked up at him and giggled.

  When Luke dismissed the service, he reminded everyone of the brunch that waited for all of them back at the inn.

  “Join us, Peter and Marin,” Jayne said. “We have a ton of food.” She glanced at Sadie, who stood near Marcella.

  “We will,” Peter replied. “Marin, you go with Miss Jayne and the family. I’ll be along in a few moments.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He turned and headed across the granite pavers in Sadie’s direction.

  **

  “That’s a beautiful song you sang at the end,” Sadie said to Marcella.

  “Thanks, it’s what my mother would call an oldie but a goodie.” Marcella smiled, then glanced across the small garden area. “Um, I think someone wants to talk to you.”

  Here came Peter, striding toward her. The rest of the group already started the short hike back to the castle.

  Sean had just finished packing his guitar into its case. “You ready, babe?”

  “Sure am.” Marcella gave Sadie a departing smile. Before she walked off, she whispered, “Barmcastle Inn is a special place. It changed my life, too.”

  The sun had crested the edge of the trees, and Sadie squinted at Peter. “Hey, good morning. Happy Easter.”

  “Same to you.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then glanced toward the pond. “No more skating on that.”

  “No. Definitely not.” Somewhere, a bird called. “So, you didn’t wait until everyone was gone to talk to me about skating on the pond, did you?”

  Peter shook his head. “I—Sadie, I don’t want you to leave.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, not at all.”

  She pondered his words. “What’s changed, Peter, from yesterday to today? I plan to stay, at least until summer. Jessica thinks an ideal position will open up for me at her company by then. They’re restructuring in a good way.”

  This was the closest she’d ever come to seeing him squirm, at least for the first time since childhood.

  “You’re not making this easy on me.” He stepped closer, reaching for her gloved hands.

  “Making what easy on you?” He’d begged her to stay.

  “I—I love you, Sadie Barncastle. I want you in my life. You can’t go.” He touched her face, his hand lending some warmth to her cool cheek.

  “But Marin?”

  “She might not think so now, but I know she’ll grow to love you.”

  Sadie nodded. No, she hadn’t expected Marin to embrace her, literally or figuratively, right away. This was a start.

  “I…” Could she say the words aloud? He’d already risked them.

  “You what?” Now he encircled her with his arms, his breath warming her now more than his hand did.

  “I love you, too. Probably ever since way back when. I loved Peter the boy, and now I love Peter t
he man.”

  Then he kissed her, and her heart sang. He loves me, and I love him…

  “Tell me you won’t leave.” He pulled her closer, and she leaned her head on his chest.

  “I won’t leave.”

  “And I’ll tell you this: I’m one hundred percent in favor of you and me, together.”

  “I like the sound of that, Applejacks.” With that, she kissed him back.

  Follow the continuing romance and celebrations at Barncastle Inn:

  April 2013 – Revolution At The Barncastle by Susan Page Davis

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