It also gave her family time to plan the wedding she’d always dreamed of, and, of course, it gave her time to get used to the big changes that were happening in her life. In just a few short months, she, too, would be traveling to another country. This time, as a missionary’s wife. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking, too.
Moving far away from her whole family scared her. And, in the middle of the night, when she rolled over in bed and spied her twin sister Elsie across the room on her own bed, Viola wasn’t even sure if her heart would be able to stand living so far away from her sister. They were closer than close, and added to that was how much Viola worried about Elsie’s illness. Elsie’s sight was steadily becoming worse, and Viola knew it was just a matter of time before Elsie was going to be blind.
Sometimes Viola doubted every decision she’d recently made. She wondered how she was ever going to be able to leave her family for the brand-new love of a man who she’d really only spent a few weeks with.
But then she’d get a phone call or a letter from Ed and all her worries would fade away and she’d realize that what was happening was meant to happen. She and Edward were meant to be together, and she couldn’t prioritize everyone else’s happiness above her own.
Satisfied that she was completely alone, she opened the envelope and carefully unfolded the letter.
Dear Viola,
Have I told you about the pretty sunsets over the ocean?
She’d just begun to smile when Gretta, Ed’s little dachshund that was now the retirement home’s unofficial mascot, trotted over. As if she read Viola’s mind, she curled around Viola’s feet . . . just like she, too, was anxious to hear more about her former owner.
Happy to have Gretta’s quiet comfort, Viola scooped up the dog and set her next to her on the couch.
Gretta wagged her tail, obviously pleased with the special treatment.
“Just imagine, Gretta. In a week, I’ll be going to visit Ed and we’ll be watching the sunsets over the ocean together. Won’t that be something?”
With a dreamy sigh, she continued to read.
I’ve begun walking to the beach on Friday nights with two other men from the mission. We rush to make it there just before the sun begins its descent. Once there, we take off our work boots and roll up our pant legs and walk on the sand, letting the warm grains underfoot ease our tired, sore feet. Then, we step into the warm, salty water and enjoy the sensation of complete relaxation.
When the sun starts to set, we sit on an old cement embankment. It’s cracked and worn, but makes a perfect perch to watch the sun slowly glide into the sea, marking the end of another day. And another week.
Viola grinned and rubbed the dog behind her ears before continuing to read.
It’s moments like that when I miss you the most, Viola. When I have time to breathe deep and count my blessings. It’s then that I realize that having you here will only help me—and the people we serve, too. You’ve become a part of me that I miss when I’m without you.
Once the sun sets and the orange and red waves turn dark again, we hike back to the mission’s compound, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever comes our way again. I know when you are here, too, I’ll even be feeling more at ease. I feel certain that we’ll have a wonderful life here together, V. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it so.
Viola felt her eyes become damp with unshed tears as she once again contemplated what her life would have been like if she’d never given him a chance. If she’d never given herself the opportunity to learn and grow and change. If she’d only let her common sense guide her . . . instead of her heart.
But, of course, it was no secret what would have happened. She would have continued to be alone and self-centered. But most of all, she would have been fighting off the feeling that there was something more for her out there . . . if she wasn’t afraid to go out and look.
“I’m so lucky and blessed, Gretta. So lucky, so blessed.”
And with that, Gretta snuggled closer and closed her eyes, reminding Viola that the little dog had been abandoned and was living alone outside in the elements before Edward had brought her into his life.
Funny, though Viola had been living with her family, she too, felt as if her life had become better under Edward’s care. He’d become her comfort, her own particularly vibrant ray of light.
Regina had fallen asleep while playing with her stuffed animals on the floor. Amanda lightly covered her with a thin blanket, then quietly tiptoed outside, leaving the glass sliding door ajar in case Regina woke with a start and needed her.
As was her habit, she brought out her crochet hook, intending to work on her latest project—a shawl for Wesley’s grandmother’s birthday. But she couldn’t seem to persuade herself to pull out the yarn.
No, all she seemed to want to do was sit in the sun and spend a few moments enjoying the solitude.
“Which is what a vacation is for, you goose,” she murmured to herself. “You’re supposed to read and relax. Not work on your to-do list.”
Hearing her own voice, Amanda winced. When had she begun to talk to herself, anyway? When she got engaged? Pregnant with Regina?
It had been when she’d been sitting by Wesley’s bedside in the hospital, of course.
When he’d fallen into an uneasy slumber—on account of the many medicines he’d been given to combat the pain of the disease—she’d begun talking to him. Telling him about her day. About every little thing that Regina did.
Then, just to have something to talk about, she’d start telling him stories about her childhood. Over time, she’d begun to talk aloud just to help herself deal with all the sadness that had welled up inside her. She’d felt like she had to talk about everything; otherwise, it would get stuck inside and make her sick, too.
And she’d already been so very tired and heartsick.
Wesley’s decline had lasted for months. Long enough for her chatty vigils to become a habit. After his death, she’d taken to talking to herself when she’d known she was alone. The habit felt comforting to her in a strange way. It was now something she was used to.
But living without Wesley? That was something she wasn’t used to at all.
Now, she realized with a start, things had changed again. After two years, the daily emptiness that had been her constant companion had slowly abated. Oh, the pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp or obtrusive as it used to be.
Now, missing Wesley wasn’t the first thing she experienced in the morning, or the last thing she thought of before she went to sleep. She no longer thought about him every waking moment, instead thinking of him at odd times. His memory no longer brought her to tears, and she’d begun to remember their life together in a distant, almost melancholy way.
Though this transition wasn’t something she was altogether comfortable with, Amanda certainly welcomed the relief. For so long she’d felt like a woman twice her age.
“Being a widow isn’t for the faint of heart,” she told herself. On the heels of that, she remembered an old saying of her aunt’s: There is no strength where there is no struggle.
That saying had a lot of truth to it.
But sometimes, even the truth didn’t bring the sort of comfort she craved.
Oh, but she hated these bouts of depression! What she needed to do was think of her blessings.
“You have Regina,” she said out loud. She had Wesley’s family, too. And even though Marlene was determined to keep Amanda wrapped in grief, she’d always been there for her, and that was a blessing.
Her own family was still back in Pennsylvania. And though she loved them, they’d been distant witnesses to everything she’d gone through with her husband. Never had she considered moving near them.
But now, for the first time, she wondered what she was giving up by embracing only her past with Wesley.
“You should call and write your family more often. And while you’re at it, pray about your fear of moving on, Amanda,” she told herself st
ernly. “Every time you try to give up another part of your life with Wesley, it’s brought you to tears. Why, it took you six months to even take his clothes out of the house.”
The memory of boxing his clothes still made her cringe. It had taken her almost three hours to pack one large box, and almost another one to carefully seal the box with packing tape.
Just when she was about to scold herself a little more, she noticed Roman walking on the beach with a dog, of all things. The shaggy yellow dog was darting along the shoreline, sniffing the sand, scampering into the water, then rushing out with surprising speed.
Intrigued, she walked to the white picket fence and leaned her elbows along the top of it.
Roman held the dog’s leash with one hand, but gave the animal enough leeway so that he could race around exuberantly. He’d run to the waves, then dart back out and shake vigorously, spraying water everywhere, like a wayward sprinkler.
Then, next thing she knew, the dog was back in the waves, dipping its nose in, darting here and there, barking happily.
He was a furry, soggy, noisy mess.
And Roman looked as if he was enjoying every minute of its company.
She was mesmerized by the dog playing in the water and by Roman’s lack of concern about getting wet or sandy. Suddenly, she ached to be so carefree, so unbound by rules of propriety, or by responsibility. She yearned to be completely happy—exuberant. If only for a moment.
She realized with a start that it didn’t matter if her conscience told her to be more careful with her heart—she simply wanted to be happy.
As Roman stopped almost directly in front of her, Amanda also realized she’d become attracted to Roman Keim. Why else would her heart have started beating a little bit faster . . . just because he was around?
In fact, she was so mesmerized . . . she was struck silent. Fancy that.
When the dog barked again, then darted after a crab, Roman laughed. Standing there watching, Amanda chuckled, too.
Roman looked her way, paused, and raised a hand.
Without thinking, she called out, “You’ve got yourself quite a dog there!”
“You don’t know the half of it!” he called back with a grin, then got yanked as the shaggy dog practically galloped into an approaching wave.
“Watch out!” Amanda cried out with a laugh.
And managed to wake Regina up from her nap.
“Momma?” she asked as she sleepily sat up. “Who are you yelling at? And is that a dog barking?”
“I was yelling at Roman. He’s walking a dog. Well, it’s kind of walking him.”
Scrambling to her feet, Regina walked to the open door and peered out to where Amanda was looking, then gazed at the pair in wonder.
“Momma, how did he get a dog? Where did it come from?”
“I have no idea.” As the dog scampered back into the water, then shook himself, making the coarse-looking golden fur stand on end, Amanda said, “But it sure looks like a happy dog, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” With wide eyes, she added, “Mamm, do you think we could go see it?”
“If you want.”
Her hand on the gate, Regina asked, “Do you think Roman will let me pet it?”
“It’s all wet. Do you want to?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask if we can,” Amanda said as she smoothed back her hair and shook out her teal dress. “Are you ready to go see them now? Would you rather have a snack first?”
But that was a silly question, of course. Because no sooner had she half offered the invitation than had Regina clicked open the gate and trotted toward Roman, her bright pink dress flying up around her ankles. “Roman! Roman, hi! It’s me, Regina!”
Amanda was so shocked, she almost called out to Regina to come right back. But the scene that unfolded before her rendered her almost speechless.
There was her quiet Regina running to Roman, a big, bright smile on her face.
And there was Roman turning to her and greeting her with a broad grin.
And then, to Amanda’s surprise, Regina held out her hand for Roman to take. Roman took it easily, then looked for Amanda. When he spied her, that warm gaze was like something out of a silly daydream. It was heated and earnest, sweet and sincere.
All directed at her.
It took everything Amanda had not to sigh. Instead, she forced herself to walk toward Roman and Regina and that rambunctious golden dog as sedately as she could.
After all, it wasn’t as if anything could ever happen between the two of them. He was a farmer from Ohio. And she?
She was Wesley’s widow.
Chapter Seven
For two days Marie had stewed about her conversation with Lovina. For two days, she’d contemplated keeping quiet. To allow her in-laws to keep the story about Aaron’s first wife and son to themselves.
But then she realized that they could never go back to how things used to be. The proverbial cat was out of the bag and it certainly wasn’t about to sneak back in.
Which was why she found herself standing outside the barn, working hard to gather her courage before confronting her father-in-law. Even though things were going to be mighty uncomfortable, it was time to really talk.
With a new resolve, she entered the barn, where Aaron was currying Chester.
“I wondered when you were going to come inside,” he said over his shoulder. “What have you been stewing about out there?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your first wife and son.”
After a brief pause, he set down the curry brush and turned to her. “Marie, it’s really none of your concern.”
“I think it is. Aaron, I‘ve been a part of this family for over twenty years.”
“Yes, but—”
“Aaron, you foisted this news on my family, then left, like we deserved no explanations.”
“And you think you do deserve one?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze directly. “Jah.”
After guiding Chester back into his stall, he walked over to where she stood and sat down on a hay bale. “What is it you want to know?”
“I just want you to talk to me. Just tell me a little of the story.” She was so tired of the way they’d been communicating lately, as if every little bit of information was something to be stingy with, and whoever revealed the most would be the loser.
His eyes narrowed, then he brushed his hands over his eyes. “I met Laura Beth when I was fourteen. She and her family had recently moved to our church district. Almost immediately, I knew she was the girl for me.” He paused, then finished simply. “We married at eighteen.”
“That was young.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “Perhaps it was. It didn’t feel that way at the time, though. You know how it is . . . when you’re that age.”
She nodded. “When you’re eighteen, you don’t feel young. You feel ready for anything.” Smiling slightly, she added, “And now that I’m in my forties? Some days I feel like I don’t know anything.”
“The Lord gives us pride instead of experience when we’re teenagers.” He met her smile, then looked beyond her, as if he were peering into another time. “A year after Laura Beth and I married, we had Ben. I thought my life was perfect . . . and that it would always be that way.”
“Then they died?”
He nodded. After a pause, he said haltingly, “Laura Beth was driving in the buggy in some sleet. Something happened, no one knows what. Maybe she lost control, maybe the horse got spooked? But she lost control and was hit by an oncoming car.” He swallowed hard. “The doctors said she and Ben died instantly.”
Marie felt tears prick her eyes. It was such a sad story, such a waste. “Aaron, why all the secrecy? It was a heartbreaking accident, for sure, and I would think you would want your new family to honor your past and your first family.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek as he visibly reined in his emotions. “Not everyone thought it was an accident.”
“What do you mean?” She hated to press, but Marie instinctively knew that if she didn’t get the full story now, it would be a long time before Aaron would ever talk about Laura Beth and Ben again.
“Some folks thought it was my fault,” he said.
“Yours?”
Abruptly, he stood up, turning his back to her. “Laura Beth was in that buggy because of me. We’d had words. I’d said some foolish things. I . . . I let my temper get the best of me.”
She couldn’t imagine such a thing. “Aaron, I’ve never seen you lose your temper.”
He gazed at her, his expression soft with regret. “I was different back then, Marie. I used to be something of a loose cannon.”
“Who blamed you? Her family?”
“But of course. Her brother promised he’d never forget her death . . . and that he would make sure I never forgot it, either.”
“What did he mean by that?”
He blinked. And just like that, Marie knew their discussion had drawn to a close. He’d told her as much as he wanted to. “I’ll see you at supper, Marie. I have a lot to do since Peter and Roman ain’t here. You understand, I am sure.”
She nodded as she watched him retreat from the barn, headed toward the fields. Well, she’d gotten the answers to her questions. But instead of relieving her mind, it had only served to spark more questions and worry.
Lost in thought, she walked back to the house, and wondered if she was going to be able to ever let this new development go.
The moment Goldie spied the crab in the water, the shelter dog seemed determined to make it her own. Though Roman had tried to warn her about making friends with the creature, the dog refused to heed him.
“Have it your way, Goldie,” he said. “But if your nose gets pinched, don’t come crying to me.”
Over and over, she’d spy the small critter, dig furiously for it, then jump away the moment she came face-to-face with an angry claw. She’d look at Roman in wonder, he’d shrug and tell her he told her so . . . then it would begin again.
Ray of Light: The Days of Redemption Series, Book Two Page 5
