Broken Promises
From: Daphne

April 1790

Barnabas had just retired to his room for the evening when the first timid knock sounded at his door; it was so quiet that anyone else might not have noticed it, but Barnabas had been expecting his sister. Sarah always came to his room before she went to bed to ask him to read her a bedtime story. It was their special, private time and he had realized long ago that it made the twilight his favorite time of the day. What he didn't expect to see when he opened the door was Sarah standing there with tears streaming down her face, a teddy bear hanging limply from her tiny hand. She immediately reached out for him and he picked her up, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his shoulder.

"What's wrong, darling," he whispered, stroking her hair as she cried, trying to ease the fear that had taken such a strong hold of her.

"I heard Mama and Daddy fighting earlier, and when I went to tell Mama goodnight, she wouldn't wake up. Daddy says she's just sleeping, but I'm still scared."

"It's alright, little one. Your mother isn't feeling well right now, but she's going to be fine. She just needs to rest. Let me take you to your room." He picked her up and carried her down the long, dark hallway, amazed that it had been five years since Sarah had become such an important part of his life; it certainly didn't seem like it had been that long. It still felt like it was only yesterday that he and the rest of the family had eagerly awaited Sarah's arrival; they had all been amazed at the miracle of her birth, even his father, and Barnabas had known when he held her for the first time that she was the most perfect gift he'd ever been given. Eventually, though, the euphoria that all new babies bring into the world with them faded and his parents had begun to drift apart. His mother had retreated into her private world of pain and grief, destroying her life with alcohol, and his father had let his anger and frustration overwhelm him. The family had fallen apart, and everyone spent their time fighting and name-calling when they should have seen how it was affecting Sarah.

When Barnabas reached Sarah's room, he turned back the bed and gently nestled her into the warm blankets, only leaving her long enough to light several candles. Sitting beside her and holding her close, he hummed the tune of an almost-forgotten lullaby as he watched the pale candlelight cast flickering shadows on the wall. It seemed as though an eternity passed before Sarah stopped sobbing and she looked up at Barnabas, her luminous brown eyes reflecting her trust and love for her brother, and the unspoken questions no child should have to ask. He felt helpless when he considered what he should and shouldn't tell her; the family had denied that Naomi was sick from the beginning, as if not acknowledging her excessive drinking would somehow make her problems go away. That had made it easier to shield Sarah from the truth but she had witnessed their parents' arguments and had been the target of her father's anger one too many times to believe Barnabas when he told her everything was alright. But where did he draw the line between the truth and protecting her innocence? She was, after all, just a child...

"Barnabas," she whispered, her voice suddenly cutting through the oppressive silence surrounding them, "I know Mama is really sick, she's not...going to...die is she?" Her words broke his heart, but Barnabas was careful to keep his emotions under control to keep from frightening her any further.

"No, Sarah, I promise you your mother is going to be alright. She needs our love and support to help her get well, but I won't let her leave you."

"Really? You promise?"

"Now, Sarah, I've never let you down before have I?"

"No Barnabas, you haven't." She smiled up at him, a sweet smile which always made Barnabas feel at peace with his life, regardless of how hopeless things seemed for him; wiping away her tears, he wished that he could take away her pain and fear just as easily, but instead, all he could do was hold her hand as she said her prayers, and try to reassure her that once morning came, everything would be back to normal. She asked for her favorite story, one that he had made up her when she had been confined to her bed with a fever earlier that year, and as his words wove the story of Princess Sarah and her adventures in a faraway castle, he saw a faint glimmer of happiness in his sister's eyes. At least this moment could help her find peace in the realm of dreams...it wasn't much at all, merely a simple story, but Barnabas knew she needed his attention, and he was grateful that she didn't have to suffer alone. Before he finished the story, Sarah fell asleep--tucking her teddy bear in beside her and kissing her goodnight, Barnabas crossed the room and blew out the candles; he never realized that he had awakened her until her plaintive voice reached him through the darkness, asking the one question he knew he could answer with complete certainty.

"Barnabas, we'll be best friends forever and always won't we?"

"Of course we will Sarah, nobody will ever come between us. I promise you I'll always be here for you."

"I know you will. Goodnight Barnabas, I love you."

"Goodnight Sarah, I love you too."

As Barnabas left the room, he felt more at peace with himself than he had in months. For all the grief that came with being a Collins, Sarah's love was a gift from God, one that had a profound affect on him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to help his parents--they had rejected his love and sympathy--but he had been close to Sarah since the day she was born. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her, and he vowed that he would do his best to always protect and love her. Turning back one last time, Barnabas watched until Sarah had fallen asleep once more and was startled to find that, when he left, he had been so touched by her innocent words that he had begun to cry.

"I'll be here for you forever and always, my darling sister. I promise you that."