On A Cold Winter's Night

by Leanne Burroughs

  "He won't talk to me at all,” Maddy said. “I thought we . . . well never mind. That doesn't matter now. What matters is we have to find a way to help him."

  "It's hard to help him when we're all still hurting so much. I'm not sure how I'm going to get through Thanksgiving, let alone help him. It feels like . . . I don't know. I never thought anything could hurt more than Daddy dying, but this feels like a part of my heart went with her. I just . . .” she stopped and dropped onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “Oh! Here I am ranting on and both you and Johnny lost your mother a few years ago. Come to think of it, he was quiet for a long time after that, too. Maybe it's why he keeps telling me to leave Mark be. That he'll come around in his own time."

  The next day, the Thanksgiving table laden with food, they joined hands and bowed their heads. John prayed, “Lord, we thank You for the bounty of this food and bless it to our bodies.” Maddy peeked. Well, correction. Everyone prayed except Mark. His head wasn't even bowed. He sat with back straight and stared ahead, a blank look in his eyes. She doubted he saw a thing. She closed her eyes as John continued.

  "We thank You for allowing our entire family to be together on this fine day and for bringing Mark home to us. We ask that You protect and guide all those in the country affected by this great depression. Lay Your hand on President Hoover to help him see his current ‘alphabet programs’ aren't really helping, and that he'll seek Your will to pull this country out of the depths of despair. And last, but definitely not least, Lord, we thank You for all the blessings You have given us this last year. We wouldn't be where we are without You."

  Everyone looked up when Mark pulled his hands away and pushed his chair back. “Blessings? What blessings do we have? God took Ma from us. He ignored our pleas and prayers and took away the most precious thing in our lives. So tell me, what good were those prayers when they fell on deaf ears?"

  He balled his hands into fists as he paced the kitchen floor. “You sit here praying to a God who has done nothing for you. He didn't listen to our pleas. I begged Him. He certainly didn't answer them. Where was God when Ma was dying? Where was He when she was lying sick in her bed all that time? God forgot about Ma. He abandoned her. Well, I want nothing to do with Him. I have no intention of ever talking to Him again. As far as I'm concerned, God is as dead as Ma."

  The children gasped.

  "Mama,” Kathie squeaked. “What he said!"

  Susie rushed to soothe the children, her eyes wide with shock. “Shhh, children. It's all right. Uncle Mark didn't mean what he said."

  Mark spun to face them, his face contorted in pain. “Uncle Mark meant exactly what he said. I have no place in my life for a God that tears out people's hearts.” Ranting, he paced the floor.

  John rose from the table and moved to Mark. A look of determination crossed his face as he wrapped his arms around Mark the same way he would have hugged his wife. No manly pat on the back.

  Mark tried to shrug the arms off, but John held firm.

  "Let go of me,” Mark growled. He tried to pull away, but John wouldn't let go. “John, if you don't—"

  "If I don't what? Let go? What are you going to do? Hit me? Go ahead and try."

  Mark jerked and tried to escape John's hold.

  The man refused to budge, but tears streamed down his face. “I loved her too, man. I know you're hurting, but don't you think we are, too? That woman lived in the house with us every day since Susie and I got married. She helped raise me as a son as much as my folks did since I was over here all the time growing up. She was just like a mother to me. After Mama and Daddy died, Mama Caroline was the only parent I had left. Do you think you're the only one who feels pain?” His lips quivered before he continued. “Maddy and I both felt like our hearts had been ripped out of our chests when our mama died. So don't think I don't know exactly what you're feeling."

  Mark looked as if he would protest, but John shot him a glare and kept talking. “The only difference is that we didn't blame ourselves. And we aren't blaming ourselves now. But you are. You're wallowing in self-pity. Poor Mark. He lost his millions in the stock market crash. Well, be glad you even got to know what a million dollars was. The rest of us will never see the likes of it."

  Mark couldn't wiggle out of John's arms, so he kicked him in the shins.

  Not for one second did John loosen his arms. “Life didn't turn out like you wanted, so you had to come home. What a hardship that must have been to return to the people who love you most in the world. Life didn't turn out like you wanted and Mama died. You're blaming yourself for that when you had absolutely nothing to do with it."

  Again Mark struggled to free himself, but John held on firm. Mark's face revealed all his pain, torment, and pent-up anger. He pulled his foot back and kicked John in the shins again. John grimaced, but didn't let go.

  "Don't you know how much your mother loved you? She was proud of you and was glad you were home. You didn't hear her talking to people when they came to visit or at church. ‘My Mark did this,’ or ‘My Mark did that.’ Kill her? That's exactly what you're thinking. But my God, man, you had nothing to do with that. If anything, I'd wager your coming home extended her life. Your living in Chicago didn't hasten her death anymore than your coming home did. She was so proud of you. Was so happy when you returned. Not that she took the rest of us for granted, but you'd gone away, sown your oats and came home—broke and bewildered just like the prodigal son in the Bible.

  "Did you see how happy she was over a Saturday Evening Post? It didn't matter one whit that it was just a magazine. You bought it for her and that made it worth more than a million dollars."

  Some of the anger left Mark's face, leaving nothing but raw pain as tears streamed down his cheeks. At least Maddy thought the tears were his. It was kind of hard seeing with tears streaming down her face as well.

  John finally released Mark and crossed the room to put his hands on his wife's shoulders. “Because of your pain, you can't imagine how much I miss your mother. How much we all miss her. Not only the adults, but my dear children as well. They loved her. Do you really think they don't have a hole in their hearts? God gave your mother to me when I married this beautiful woman.” He squeezed Susie's shoulder and locked eyes with Mark.

  "So grieve for the beautiful woman we all lost, but don't blame yourself. Nothing you did or didn't do caused her death. It was merely her time, and God called her home. She's with your dad and Maddy's and my folks now. As much as I'll miss her being here with us, she's in a much better place. She's home, Mark. She's in her heavenly home for eternity."

  John stopped for a minute and swallowed. No longer moving around the kitchen in agitation, Mark stood stock still. “Don't you realize how much pain she was in these last years? At times it was debilitating. You saw her limping around the house. Saw how much it hurt her to even climb the three steps to reach the porch leading into the house, or the staircase up to her room. She refused to let me build any sort of ramp to help make her steps more bearable. Your mother was a very proud woman, and didn't want to be a bother to anyone. At times I see too much of that same pride in you.” He inhaled a deep breath to rein in his emotions. “Sometimes she got so tired going upstairs she'd have to sit on one of the steps before she could start again to reach the top. I offered to build her a bedroom on the first floor when she started hurting so bad, but she refused. Said the room upstairs was the one she shared with your daddy and she wasn't about to leave it.” He drew in a deep breath as first one, then another, tear streamed down his face.

  "Didn't you see how much it hurt her just to try and stand in church when we sang the hymns? Or were you too busy looking at my sister? Get angry with me if you want, but don't be mad at God. He didn't take your mama from us, Mark. He took her home to a much better place. I think the preacher once likened it to a garden, and Mama was the beautiful flower God was still missing. He needed her there to complete the perfection.” His voice broke. “She's walking the streets of gold with you
r father right now and she's not in any more pain. She's standing straight and tall. And if I know Mama, she's staring down at us with a sad smile telling us not to cry. That she's happy and is right where she needs to be. She's sitting beside our Lord and Savior.

  "But you have to have faith in God to believe that. You can't keep trying to do things on your own. It's your life, but God's in charge of it. You turned your back on Him for too many years. It's time to come home. Trust Him again like you did all those years ago when you accepted Him into your life. You remember Him, don't you, Mark? I was with you the year you accepted Christ as your savior at summer church camp. Fifteen years ago. I'll never forget the date. Have you? Your eyes gleamed with joy as you walked the aisle just as mine had the year before. That's not something you forget. Oh, you might set that aside for a while and try to lean on your own strengths, but deep down you're not leaning on yourself at all. Right now you're not in control of your own life. You're not even walking.

  "In your pain, God is carrying you. God promised you a future with Him, and He's never gone back on a promise. Might not always be in the timing you want, or answered exactly the way you asked Him, but He always gives you the best of what you really need. He understands so many things we don't. Sometimes we want things that aren't good for us, so God says no. You just have to remind yourself of the joy you had when you really worshipped him. When you reconnect with God, you'll start to feel peace about Mama. The pain will never go away, I'm not saying that, but God will help you get through it—and so will we if you'll let us. It's what Mama would have wanted for you. As much as she loved your daddy and all of us, she loved her Lord beyond all else."

  Tears flooded Mark's cheeks as he spun and stormed out the door into the cold winter air. Soon, the creak of the barn door echoed in the air.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Maddy opened the barn door. She stood inside a minute to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Then she saw Mark sitting at the back of the barn on a pile of hay. Tears still filled his eyes, but the shuddering of his shoulders had lessened.

  She crossed the barn and handed him a plate stacked high with mashed potatoes and gravy, slices of turkey, herb stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce—thanks to Ocean Spray— and sweet potatoes covered with pecans and brown sugar. Maddy had been glad for the topping Mama Caroline had learned from a woman she'd met who had moved to Wisconsin after having lived in the South. Maddy hated sweet potato by itself, but she loved it when made like this. “I thought you might be hungry by now."

  Mark didn't say anything.

  When he made no move to take the plate, she set it beside her on the hay. She turned and embraced him. He didn't try to pull away from her as he had John. “Mark, come back inside. It's too cold out here. You'll catch your death."

  He shook his head. “John was right about some of the things he said. He certainly nailed me leaning on myself and not God.” Mark didn't look at her. “Why would I need Him when I was doing so well by myself making money? To go to Him now asking for help seems sacrilegious. But John was wrong about it not being my fault."

  She put her hand lightly on his long sleeved, red-checkered shirt. “No, he was right about that. Your being home is the best thing that happened to Mama Caroline. You brought such joy to her in her last days."

  "But—"

  "No buts. What are you planning to do now? We miss you, Mark. When we lost Mama Caroline, we lost you, too. You've been nothing but an empty shell since she died. You go through the motions, but you're not inside anymore. We want you back. All of us. But especially me. I miss . . ."

  Dare she say the words? Would he rebuff her?

  "I miss being with you. Walking hand in hand down the trails. Watching the leaves turn gold and rust together. Repairing things at our house. Sitting next to you in church. Even eating a sundae together in the city—although I don't care where we are, as long as we're together."

  He finally faced her. “Forget about me, Maddy. I'm no good for you. Go find one of those young bucks that asked you to dance at the Fall Festival. The ones I wanted to strangle at the time. They're decent upstanding men. They don't carry a pile of garbage around with them. Any one of them would be better for you than me."

  "But I don't want . . .” Had she been wrong about his feelings for her? She'd fallen in love with him while she'd tagged behind him and John as a child. When she was eight, she'd even told her mother, “I'm going to marry Mark Donovan when I grow up. And we're going to have the most beautiful babies in the world.” Thinking back on that now, her mother hadn't laughed at the notion. Had she seen something of a future for them? Or was that just Maddy's own hopes?

  "But I don't want to marry someone just because he doesn't come with a bag of garbage. Was I wrong about your intentions while we spent so much time together?” No response. “Was I wrong about your kisses? The kisses that rocked me to the core of my soul? You're my soulmate, Mark Donovan, whether you want to believe it or not. Your mama taught me all about Irish wee people, pots of gold at the end of rainbows. Most of all, both of our mothers taught me about love.” Nothing. He stared straight ahead. “You're trying to pretend you don't love me, but that isn't true—no matter how much you try to fight it. You love me. You showed me the depth of your love every time you worked on our house. Are you really trying to convince yourself none of that meant anything to you?"

  He sat upright. “Our house?"

  "Isn't it ours? Didn't you feel it when we were together? Making decisions on how to fix it? Slowly watching that beautiful old homestead come to life? It's not just mine anymore. I saw the look in your eyes every time you thought about it, every time you worked on it. You love that house.” In a very soft voice she said, “And I thought you loved me."

  Pain filled his eyes. “I'm no good for you. I'm no good for anyone. I'm not right for you. I knew that when I gave everything up and came home. Forget about me, Maddy.” His lips quivered. “I think I started preparing to lose you from the first moment I saw you again."

  "You didn't come home because you wanted to, Mark. You came because you had to. I hoped after the months you'd spent here with us you'd stay here because you wanted to."

  "Maddy, I . . .” He stopped. Seemingly searching for the right word. “Oh, Maddy, if only things had been different. If only I were different."

  He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers before she could say another word. Her heart soared as he rolled her beneath atop the hay. His kisses weren't soft. Weren't gentle. They claimed her mouth, as if branding her. Making her his.

  Oh, Mark. Life is full of if onlys. But, oh, please, God. Let him come home to us. You did it once before. Please let it happen again. To stay this time—body, heart, and soul.

  Soon his kisses gentled. He stroked her arms. Nibbled on her neck. Always going back and claiming her mouth. As if he couldn't get enough of it. Enough of her.

  The food she'd brought remained completely forgotten.

  * * * *

  The next morning Mark was gone.

  Day after day, after classes, Maddy drove to her brother's house to see if Mark had returned. Day after day she prayed with them. “Lord, please keep Mark in your loving care. Wrap Your arms around him and keep him safe. Heal him, Lord. Make him see how much he really loves You, needs You. For some reason he's running from it. In Jesus’ name we pray.” Maddy silently added, And Lord, if it's Your will, please bring him back to me.

  Days turned to a week. One week to two.

  When the door opened to reveal a filthy, dirty, snow covered man, you could have heard a pin drop. Until the children started yelling. “Uncle Mark, you're home.” And, “Uncle Mark, where have you been?"

  Clearly too stunned to speak—since she was rarely without words—Susie rose and took the dark blue scarf Mark unwrapped from his neck and hung it on a wall peg. Then she took his heavy coat and placed it beside the scarf. When he removed his soaked shoes, she edged them toward the wall with her toe.

 
John entered the room and went straight to Mark. He clasped his hand and patted him on the back with his other hand. A perfectly manly hug this time. No need for too much mushiness, Maddy thought.

  "Good to have you home.” John turned to watch Susie, who looked as if she might faint. He quickly moved to her and helped her into a nearby seat, then motioned Mark into the one beside it.

  Susie grabbed Mark's hand. Rubbed it between both of hers to warm it. Finally she spoke. “How did you get here? I didn't hear a truck."

  "I walked,” he said.

  "You walked? Alone from town in this weather?” Her face was incredulous. “No wonder you look like a frozen snowman. Even your beard was covered with the white stuff.” She arched a brow. “Seems you haven't shaved the entire time you've been gone."

  "I didn't.” He glanced toward Maddy, a deprecating smile on his face. “No one I needed to appear good for."

  Maddy stood against the wall, afraid to move. Afraid to say a word for fear this was a dream and he would disappear.

  "Why didn't you send word? We would have fetched you.” Susie looked aghast at the thought of him walking.

  "I wasn't sure you'd want me. My behavior wasn't exactly admirable before I left."

  Maddy's heart broke for the man she loved with all her heart. The uncertainty in his eyes made him look like a small, lost boy.

  John met and held Mark's gaze. “You're always welcome here. This was your home before it was mine."

  "Where'd you go, Uncle Mark?” Tommy asked, tugging on his arm.

  "Chicago."

  Tommy's lip quivered. “Are you going to move there?"

  Kathie piped up, “You can't go, Uncle Mark. You just can't. We want you to stay here."

  Mark pulled Tommy beside him and gave him a side hug. He pulled Kathie into his lap and kissed her cheek. He looked over their heads at John. “No, I'm not going to move back."

  Maddy released a long, pent-up breath.