Return to Harmony

by Janette Oke

  Jodie sat and listened, wondering at how calm and contained Bethan sounded. She had been through so much. There was a lot Jodie wanted to tell as well, but not yet. It would be so good to have someone to talk to, someone who would really understand, feel her feelings, take on her struggles, rise up with her joys. Even so, for the moment it was enough to listen and come to terms with this sudden change. One moment, one simple letter, and her entire world was altered.

  Finally Bethan stopped, and they spent a long moment rocking in silence, listening to the evening. “It must all sound so… so ordinary to you,” Bethan said eventually.

  That was not what Jodie had been thinking. She realized that Bethan had tasted more of life—the bitter and the sweet— in the intervening years than she could have dreamed of in her protected, isolated corner of academia, all wrapped in self and high ambitions.

  “The small-town life of a simple country girl,” Bethan finished with a rueful sigh.

  “You’re not simple,” Jodie said quietly, speaking for the first time in a long while. “And you’re not a girl. Not anymore.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Bethan continued rocking them steadily. “I guess I’ve had to grow up. Having Dylan’s children need me meant I couldn’t hold on to my silliness.”

  “It sounds like you’ve really been through the wringer.” The image of Netty’s wet sheets forced between the rollers, draining, crushing, came to Jodie’s mind. Was that what had happened to Bethan? Had all of her little-girl dreams, her childish sweetness, been wrung from her life? Jodie shivered in spite of the warmth of the night.

  “I don’t mind telling you, Jodie, life has been hard,” Bethan agreed quietly. “But I’ve had the Lord with me through the good times and the bad, and now I have Connor.”

  Yet there was no sign of crushing, breaking. Bethan spoke with a new sweetness, a new depth in her soul. It was a change brought about by yielding, growing. For one brief moment Jodie, with her aspirations of greatness, almost envied the woman beside her. Would her life have been different if she had handled the pain with less struggle?

  Jodie almost missed the swift little glance Bethan gave her under the porch light. “Do you remember Kirsten Sloane?”

  “How could I forget.” Jodie stirred herself back to the present and gave a short laugh at the memory of punching her into the middle of Harmony’s Main Street. “Big girl, not overbright, she used to like bullying you. I always thought she got away with murder because her mother was a teacher.”

  “Her mother passed on a while back. Kirsten began coming to church soon after. We’ve started a little Bible study.”

  Jodie could not help but gape. “You and Kirsten?”

  “There are more of us now, usually about a dozen. We meet either here or at Kirsten’s every Wednesday. You ought to come.”

  “Well, if that doesn’t beat all.” Jodie turned her head back to the night. “Bethan Keane and Kirsten Sloane becoming friends.”

  “Yes, friends in the Lord,” Bethan repeated quietly. “She is a very different person than she used to be—from the inside out. Anyway, she’s started coming by and helping me out at Dylan’s. The children love her.” There was another little pause, then, “Dylan is coming to think more and more of her too.”

  Jodie nodded, understanding where Bethan was headed, but not willing to discuss something like that. Not yet. She took a deep breath. “The air always smells sweeter out here.”

  “I suppose it does. The roses have lasted well this year too. It grew chilly early, but it hasn’t grown any colder. Just day after day of the same beautiful Indian summer.”

  How strange it seemed, Jodie reflected to herself, that the evening was so natural, their talk so easy. As though it had only been four days since the last time they chatted. Not close on four years. Jodie realized that Bethan’s silence was an invitation for her to tell about her own life, but for some reason she continued to hold back. As though she wanted to take a while, grow accustomed to being here, in Harmony, with Bethan. And somehow Bethan seemed to understand, not pushing with even the smallest of questions, comfortable to just sit and rock and wait. Jodie glanced over at Bethan’s calm, even features. She certainly had grown into a beautiful, serene young woman.

  Heavy footsteps down the walk signaled another’s approach. Then a cheerful voice said, “Well, would you just look at what we have here.”

  “Hello, Mr. Keane,” Jodie said, recognizing the voice before the man came into view.

  “Time’s come for you to be calling me Gavin,” he said, stepping forward with a broad grin and outstretched hands. He looked at her for a long time, seeming to size her up and liking what he found. “And I’ll be calling you girl no longer.”

  She accepted his hug, then let him hold her at arm’s length. The passage of time was clearly written upon his features. His hair had grayed, his eyes retreated a bit. His wife’s illness had etched its way deeply into his being. For some reason, Jodie found the tears coming then, the ones which had not been there when she had been reunited with Bethan two hours earlier. Here in Gavin Keane’s face was all the time lost, all the memories not shared, all the absence from friends so close she had come to think of them as family.

  “My, but if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” Gavin said softly. Then he turned aside and said to the figure who had approached without Jodie realizing, “Ain’t she turned into a beauty, Dylan?”

  “She surely has,” Dylan replied and stepped forward into the light. “Hello, Jodie. How’re you keeping?”

  “Fine, Dylan.” She had to stop and swallow hard. Even now the sight of him was unsettling—both for the memories and because even after all this time, despite all the sorrow which still weighed heavy upon him, he was such a handsome man. His smile was still there, just not as light as it had been, what with the shadow of pain still lingering. Somehow Jodie knew as soon as she took his hand, felt the strength and goodness course between them that he would soon be well again, deepened by the experiences but not broken. “Just fine.”

  Jodie’s attention was pulled away from Dylan’s face when Gavin spoke again. “Ain’t this something,” Bethan’s father said, “my little girl all grown up and getting married. You met the groom yet?”

  “Tomorrow,” Bethan replied for her. “First thing.”

  “He’s as fine a man as you’d ever care to meet,” Gavin said, then clapped his son on the shoulder. “Come on, boy, let’s leave these two to get on with their catching up.”

  He moved toward the kitchen door, turned, and called back over his shoulder, “Can’t tell you how nice it is to have you back with us, Jodie, especially for such a time as this.”

  Dylan followed his father, but before he left he spoke in a soft voice for only Jodie’s ears to hear. “Maybe you’d let me call on you?”

  “I’d like that,” she said as quietly as he.

  Then he was gone, but Jodie felt her heart racing. What was he asking? What had she answered? Was she setting herself up for another deep and painful situation?

  She pushed the thoughts from her mind and turned her attention back to Bethan. The night settled in closer around them on the swing, gracing them with an intimacy and peace that stretched out unbroken to the farthest horizon. Jodie sighed, feeling the calm work its way deep into her inner being. She reached down with a toe and gave a small push, assisting Bethan in keeping the swaying motion alive.

  They stayed like that, silent and listening to the swing’s gentle creak and the night’s even softer sounds, until Jodie realized, “I haven’t gotten a thing for you as a wedding present.”

  “Having you here to be my bridesmaid is the finest gift I could ever ask for,” Bethan replied, her tone underscoring the truth of the statement.

  “But I have to get you something,” Jodie protested.

  Bethan turned to her then, and it struck Jodie that her friend had been waiting for this moment, waiting ever since Jodie had called and said she was coming. Waiting and hoping. “The
re is only one gift I will accept from you, Jodie Harland,” she said. “Would you pray with me?”

  Jodie was surprised, yes. But not as much as she might have thought. Instead, there was a sense of epiphany to the moment. A sense of returning—but not to the past. Old tattered ends to woes and worries and unanswered questions weaved through her mind. And then the doubts and pressures settled and her mind stilled. With a strength of assurance so powerful, yet so gentle that it left no room for further question, Jodie knew this was the purpose of her coming home. She knew this.

  She took a breath. The night had become utterly still, or perhaps she had momentarily lost the ability to hear or see beyond the porch and the moment and Bethan’s request. Her mind settled further, as though the importance of this moment required her to focus as she had never done before, drawing not just her thoughts and her heart but her entire life down upon this instant. And this decision.

  “All right,” she whispered, and though the words were softly spoken and quickly released into the night, still their import left her shaking. It felt as though her entire being was resounding to a call of something unseen and unheard, yet so close that its power caused her to tremble from head to foot.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you. You don’t know what this means to me, how long I’ve dreamed of this moment.” Bethan reached over and took her hand. “Shall I start?”

  Jodie nodded and watched as Bethan lowered her head before bowing her own. The sense of presence enveloped her, so close she felt both surrounded and filled with its power. Gentle yet demanding. Urgently alive. Illuminating and joyous.

  “Dear precious Father in heaven, you know my heart better than I know it myself,” Bethan began, her voice full of emotion. You know I have prayed for this moment. You know how I love my sister Jodie, how I have missed her. How I have ached…”

  Bethan had to stop there. Jodie listened to the sound of quiet weeping and felt the tears of her friend begin to dissolve any remaining barriers of her own heart. She released her hand from Bethan’s, wiped her cheeks, then placed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. The act seemed to give Bethan the strength to regain control. She reached over and took Jodie’s other hand. Bethan managed a shaky breath, another, then continued, “I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life, Father. You have given me such a wonderful man, one who has asked me to be his bride, and now you have brought back to me my friend. I do not know anything else to say, Father, except thank you. Thank you for the blessings of this night. In Christ’s holy name I pray, amen.”

  Jodie knew what needed to be said, knew the words were there waiting for her to speak. Yet still she waited a moment longer. There was no hurry. Not tonight.

  “God, it has been so long since I have talked to you that I have forgotten how,” Jodie said softly. “So I am going to have to let you speak for me.”

  Bethan started crying anew, and Jodie stopped for a moment and held her close, waiting with the patience of the love-filled night. When Bethan was quiet, Jodie continued, “I don’t know what I have done to deserve a friend like this, but I thank you for her. I thank you for her prayers, and for her love, and for the fact that we are sitting here together again.”

  Jodie spent another long moment listening to the night and to her heart, gathering up all that needed to be said, before saying, ”I think you also for the power of your blessed forgiveness, which allows me to sit here and know that there is still a place in your family for me. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I am so sorry, Father, for turning away from you—from Bethan. I ask your forgiveness, and I thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Bethan echoed, clasping Jodie’s hand with both of hers. “Amen.”

  They stayed like that for a very long while, holding each other and listening to the night. And Jodie knew that here in this simple act of praying with her friend was the gift of finally returning home.

  TWENTY-ONE

  JODIE HUMMED AS SHE MOVED about the house. The housekeeper was not coming for the weekly cleaning, so Jodie tackled the job herself. She had never particularly enjoyed chores around the house, but today even scouring the stove and washing the floors could not dampen her spirits.

  She wasn’t sure where all this joy had come from, nor why it bubbled forth so exuberantly, lifting her spirits, making her feet light and her heart near to bursting. Her happiness seemed to brighten every dismal corner of the silent house. For that she was very thankful.

  During the week since her arrival, Dylan had called on her several times. Though nothing had yet been said, Jodie knew in her heart that all she needed to do was give him a nod of encouragement. If she did, they could take up where they had so painfully left off four long years before.

  Did she still love Dylan? She supposed there was something special about a first love. Something that was hard to let go.

  But was that enough? Would there be days when she might wonder what could have been given to the world if she had kept her heart and mind fixed on her work in the lab?

  As she dusted the front parlor, the thought came to her, an extension of the joy which filled her heart and mind to overflowing. She put down her cloth, straightened, and pondered the sudden mystery. She could pray for guidance. It seemed such a simple act, and yet so hard. It meant accepting the reality of what had been granted her ever since that evening on Bethan’s porch. Not only that, it meant accepting the reality of its source.

  She could pray for guidance. The wonder of those words filled her, melting away the barriers of pride and rejection. The answer would not come from her bright, reasoning mind, but rather from her awakening heart. God, the God she had rejected but to whom she had now returned, would show her what was right. Of that she felt confident.

  So Jodie hummed.

  “I’m going to miss you, daughter.”

  Moira’s words were almost gruff in her obvious attempt not to be maudlin. With a suddenness that surprised Bethan, she reached out swollen hands and pressed Bethan’s head close to her breast.

  “Oh, Momma,” Bethan managed when she could trust her voice. “I feel so… so selfish. Being so happy when—”

  Moira pushed her back so she could see her face and shook her shoulders gently. “Now is certainly not the time for nonsense, child. You don’t even know how to be selfish. The good parson needs you just as bad as I do, and well we both know it.”

  Bethan nodded, the tears fresh on her cheeks. She did honestly feel that she could be a support for Connor in his work. The thought both pleased and frightened her. There was so much responsibility in being a pastor’s wife. Bethan wiped her nose on her hankie and lifted her eyes to her mother. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Maudie Herman is a fine woman. Fine. And strong as one of her husband’s plowing horses,” she said with an air of finality. “If she can’t help me up and down the stairs and into my chair or bed on the bad days, nobody can, and that’s the plain truth of it.”

  Bethan was still reluctant to desert her post and leave her mother in the care of another woman. She sniffed again.

  “It won’t be the same as having you here,” Moira allowed. “But you can still stop by now and then, daughter. Pastor’s not going to keep you home with ball and chain.”

  Bethan smiled and pushed back a wayward tress. “He says I ought to make a point of dropping in every single day.”

  “The man’s generosity is touching,” Moira said. “Tell him I’m grateful for his concern.”

  “Oh, Momma,” Bethan said with the happiness shining from her eyes. “I can hardly believe the Lord has brought me such a good man.”

  Moira reached out and drew her daughter close once more, cradling the head against her shoulder, the swollen hands gently brushing back the strands of wisping hair. “Not one bit better than you be deserving,” she said with deep feeling. “Not one bit.”

  Twenty-Two

  EVERYONE AGREED IT WAS one of the finest weddings Harmony had ever known.

&n
bsp; The bride was truly radiant. Her long dress somehow seemed whiter than white, seen as it was through the long flowing veil. And it was the veil that had everyone talking. Even before the ceremony began, the secret was out. The church was full of talk about how Moira had worked on the veil all summer long. She had apparently realized long before anyone else that this was coming, and she had known she would only be able to work on the veil a little at a time. When the wedding party finally made it up the aisle, Jodie bent over to gather the veil and send it flowing out in every direction, so all could admire Moira’s handiwork. On a piece of almost transparent netting nine feet long, Moira had embroidered several hundred tiny pink rosebuds. Throughout the entire service, Jodie forced herself not to look in Moira’s direction a single time. One glance at those swollen fingers knotted in Moira’s lap, and Jodie knew she would not be able to stop herself from weeping.

  After the service, the two ladies were driven over to Dylan’s house to change, as Bethan’s house was full of preparations for the coming reception. It was a charming gingerbread house, with a broad roof sweeping down over a wraparound porch, and palest green shutters contrasting with the white wood. After she had helped Bethan out of her dress, Jodie went back downstairs. Kirsten was there to care for the children, and Jodie discovered she had grown into a wholesome, happy young woman, attractive in a fresh, country-girl fashion. There was now an aura of joy and peace along with a capable strength about her, enabling her to somehow be the same Kirsten grown older and someone else entirely, all at the same time.

  Jodie asked about Kirsten’s father since her mother’s death, about Kirsten’s work at the dry-goods store, and Jodie briefly mentioned her research work, to polite nods from Kirsten. They agreed that the wedding had been beautiful; Kirsten had stayed toward the back, watching over Dylan’s children while their father stood up as Connor’s best man. They then found themselves with nothing more to say.