by JoAnn Durgin
“Agreed. But how about Charlotte? She must not share that opinion or else we wouldn’t be having this discussion now, would we?”
“Thornton, please understand this has nothing to do with Vara’s professional abilities.”
“Then promise me that neither one of you will do anything rash. I can’t have Charlotte fire Vara or do anything to harm her reputation at the hospital. If it comes to that, let me handle it. I need your word, Rose.”
“Do not worry, child. You have my word. Charlotte believes you are far too enamored with her.”
“Forgive me, but I fail to see the problem.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Nana’s making improvements in her speech. That’s the goal of her therapy, isn’t it?”
“Charlotte is indeed making progress, but she feels it’s not enough.”
“Her recovery’s not quick enough for her? Vara said there’s no predictability in how quickly she’ll make progress. Every patient’s recovery is different, and there are many factors involved. That doesn’t justify her questioning Vara’s effectiveness.” Shaking his head, Thornton couldn’t believe this conversation. “You know what I think? I think Charlotte doesn’t like it that my attention to Vara is taking my attention from her.”
So much for being sensitive and compassionate. “Come on, Rose. Level with me. At its core, isn’t that what this is all about?”
Her dark eyes met his. To his knowledge, she’d never told him an untruth. She was always straight with him and told it like it is. “Charlotte knows the attraction between you and Miss Vara is strong and undeniable. She’s not the only one who’s noticed. I dare say half the townspeople have noted your mutual attraction. Those who have yet to witness it firsthand have certainly been informed. However, when she’s here to work with Charlotte, it might be wise if you’d…stay out of sight.”
She lifted one hand to stem his protest. “I’m not suggesting you leave the house entirely, child. I’m saying it might be best if you stay behind closed doors during the therapy sessions. You realize the distraction works both ways.”
Be reasonable and work with her. Above all, Thornton needed to make sure Charlotte received the best possible care. Perhaps he was allowing his growing feelings for Vara to cloud his judgment.
“I can accept that as long as I’m allowed to speak to Vara or spend some time with her before or after the sessions. She usually stops by Andrea’s on her way into town. Without officially saying anything beforehand, we’ve met there.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan.” Rose sounded satisfied. “Or you could perhaps spend time with Miss Vara after the sessions are completed.”
“Vara normally has to return to the hospital not long after she’s done here. She does have a full-time job, something I think Charlotte might conveniently forget.”
“Thornton, please understand she doesn’t want to keep you away from Vara, but she also knows you. Soon enough, you will get another assignment and be off on a plane, gone for six weeks or six months. Only God knows for how long. Perhaps there is a bit of a selfish component to this situation in that Charlotte desires your attention and time as much as possible. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
His good friend lowered her gaze from his, something she rarely did. Something else was going on, something he hadn’t been privy to, and he wanted to know what it was.
“What is it, Rose? Tell me. If she’s afraid I will hurt Vara, or that she will hurt me, I can’t see that happening. We’re…navigating the waters.” Thornton rubbed his hand over his brow. “I appreciate your and my grandmother’s protective instincts, but sometimes people need to figure things out for themselves.”
With a deep sigh, Rose twisted her hands together on her lap. “The stroke happened. It was no one’s fault, but—”
“Do you think she needs psychiatric or psychological help? I can arrange for those services if needed. I’ll get her the best care in the country.”
“Perhaps that’s something best discussed with her doctors at the hospital. In spite of being somewhat down in the mouth at times, I believe Charlotte’s difficulty is more a matter of the heart.” Rose was silent a moment before continuing. “I am thankful she’s not resistant to God, but I pray she will come to recognize her need for the Savior as a presence in her life. Most importantly, she needs to understand that the stroke wasn’t then, and isn’t now, the result of God raining down judgment upon her soul. That is not the God that you and I know, and that’s not the way He works in the lives of His people.”
“He’s capable of correcting us if we’re wrong and when we sin,” Thornton said. “He’s God. He can accomplish His will in any number of ways.”
“I’m not denying that. But the God we know is also a loving Father.”
“Agreed. Rose, I’ve known you since I was old enough to remember anything. You’ve always been here for me, and in many ways, you’ve helped to raise me. I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done. You must know that. I also know you well enough to know you wouldn’t remain in this house all these years if my grandmother had done something so heinous or despicable that she felt God couldn’t forgive. Unless you felt that, by staying with her, you could be a witness to her of His grace and mercy.”
The older woman blinked hard, and Thornton thought she might shed tears. Brave Rose. He’d seen her stand up to Nana and not flinch when others of weaker disposition would have crumbled and fled. His grandmother wasn’t cruel, but she was exacting and precise. Charlotte spoke her mind and didn’t mince words. She expected the best from others and let them know when she was disappointed. The Lord knew he’d faced her wrath enough times in his life. Admittedly, he’d deserved her anger a majority of the time.
“I love you, too, dear boy. You have grown to be a wise and principled man. You make your grandmother more proud than you will most likely ever hear from her lips. Each of us has our own sins to bear, and it is our place to confess and ask forgiveness from the Lord. It is not something another person can do for us, and our confession needs to come from a truly repentant heart.”
She blew out a heavy sigh. “I have prayed for my friend Charlotte for many years. I will continue to pray for her until I no longer have breath in me. I can only hope she will come to know the Lord in the meantime. Your grandfather was a good man, but from what I know, he died knowing his wife did not share his faith. I’m sure that was a grievous burden to him. Your father and mother also had the hope of an eternal destiny in heaven, but Charlotte—in all of her stubbornness—will not or cannot believe.”
“I’ve talked with Nana on numerous occasions,” Thornton said. “Seeing her come to know Christ is at the top of my prayer list. She listens, but she says nothing. She hears with her ears but not her heart. Charlotte doesn’t seem to understand the basic concept of forgiveness. In her mind, forgiveness is something she needs to earn, and sin is something she can atone for in a tangible way—through works or gifts, perhaps.”
He lowered his head on his hands. “As much as it pains me to admit it, and as harsh as this might sound, I think she’d buy her way into heaven if she only thought she could.” One of the reasons he liked to travel was to distance himself from the oppressiveness of his grandmother’s refusal to accept Jesus as the risen Savior. As her Savior. But that was something he’d never admit to anyone.
Moving to the end of the bed, he reached for Rose’s hand. “I hate like anything that she’s suffered. If I could take her hurt on myself, I would.”
“I know, child.” Rose’s eyes filled with her tears. “She has loved you like a mother all these years, and you have loved her like a faithful son.”
He nodded. “Like you, I’ve prayed that somehow the stroke might be a vehicle for God to speak directly to her heart. Instead, I believe Charlotte feels as though God has robbed her of something precious, and it has instead hardened her heart.”
“Give her time, child. Miss Vara is correct in that speech and language issues affect all of our senses. C
harlotte lost her ability to speak, and her anger over that loss has unfortunately shuttered her eyes and heart to the truth. As long as she continues to believe in such a way, she will be unable to find the blessing in her infirmity.”
“But she didn’t lose her speech altogether. It’s just hidden somewhere inside her.” Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Thornton ran both hands through his hair. “I don’t know the answer, Rose.” He shook his head. “Lord, help me, I wish I did.”
A soft, brown hand slipped into his. “Yes, you do, child.”
She was right. God would make a way, and in His timing. Holding on tight to Rose’s hand, Thornton bowed his head and began to pray, lifting Charlotte to the Lord—for healing in her speech, for a spiritual awakening, and for healing in her heart. In closing he said, “We pray Charlotte will recognize her need for you, Father, and come to understand your great love for her is unconditional and immeasurably more than she can ever imagine.”
When Thornton finished his prayer, Rose’s tender gaze met his. “Thank you. One of the greatest blessings from Charlotte’s stroke comes to our home twice a week. And you are falling in love with her.” She touched his cheek in a loving manner. “She is a worthy woman, a woman who loves God. Hold onto her. Don’t let her go.”
“I won’t,” he promised. Thornton squeezed the soft hand he still held. “Rose, I have to ask you something else. I know you will be honest with me.”
She nodded slowly. “What is it, child?”
“You are one of the most perceptive women I’ve ever known. You also know my grandmother better than anyone, including me. Do you know of anything in Charlotte’s past she feels that God cannot forgive? If you do, please tell me.”
Rose released a sigh seemingly from the depths of her soul. “I do not, child.” She closed her eyes for a few brief seconds. “The good Lord willing, I wish I knew. But I know there is something, and there has been for a very long time. I have prayed for Charlotte to share what burdens her heart.”
Thornton sat back on the bed, stunned. “You really have no idea what it might be?”
She shook her head slowly. “Nothing other than I believe it has something to do with the time period after your grandfather’s passing and before you were born.”
He swallowed, trying to absorb her words. “What makes you think that?”
Rose met his gaze. “My heart tells me it is so. Perhaps it is my imagination, but I do not believe that is the case. I feel it is the soft whisper of truth from the Lord above. Through the years, I have learned to trust those whispers.”
He nodded. “I know.”
Rising from the chair, Rose’s smile was tender. “The best we can do is continue to pray, child. I believe the truth will be revealed in God’s timing. And when Charlotte can finally share her burden, no matter what it is, I pray that we can receive her words with the grace and mercy I know our gracious God has given to us both.”
Rose lightly squeezed his arm and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. And then she left his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. He heard her soft footsteps as she made her way down the hallway.
Thornton collapsed flat on the bed, his feet dangling over the edge. He slapped a palm on his forehead. “What just happened?”
Chapter Twenty
The Next Day
Monday Morning
Vara spied Thornton as soon as she walked into the small market. Not only did he stand taller than most of the other customers in sight—his head visible above the shelves—but she could hear him talking to himself.
Rounding the corner of the aisle, she halted. With a box of pasta in his hand, glasses in place, he was reading the back. An empty grocery basket sat on the floor beside him. Vara watched him for a few seconds before making her approach.
“Hi there. Need some help?”
Thornton glanced at her over the top rim of his glasses. “Morning. Thanks for answering my call and meeting me here. I’m cooking lunch for you ladies today.”
“How fun! What’s on the menu?” Vara’s traitorous pulse took off. In his jeans and down jacket, Thornton was one handsome man. The rugged look suited him incredibly well. She smiled when she spied his thermal gloves and knit hat stuffed in his back pocket.
He tugged a piece of paper from his jacket. Unfolding it, he handed it over. “Check it out. It seems easy enough. Anything’s better than the foul-smelling lutefisk Rose fixed last night.”
“What’s lutefisk?”
“Fish made from aged, dried whitefish prepared with lye. It’s very popular around here.”
Vara wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass. No, thank you.”
“My thoughts exactly, but Charlotte’s always been fond of it. Rose humors her by making it a few times a year. You’ll probably smell the lingering effects when you get to the house today, unfortunately. I opted to eat at The Cherish Diner instead, but I still swiped some lefse when I got home last night. Ever had lefse?”
“Can’t say that I have. What is it?”
“Traditional Norwegian flatbread, and Rose serves it with cinnamon sugar or lingonberry jam. I’ll ask her to make some for you. You need to eat them fresh. They’re best that way.”
She grinned. “Trying to sweeten me up again?”
“Never hurts. You’ve been a bit surly lately.”
Funny man. Vara shook her head as she skimmed the shrimp, leek, and spinach pasta recipe. “Well, it definitely sounds hearty and healthy. Vegetables and protein. Good. And one of the best things is that you can make it in 20 minutes. Great choice. My mouth is watering already. Did you pick out this recipe by yourself?”
“Try not to be too shocked, but I did, actually. And you can probably make it in 20 minutes. Remember, I’m not your average cook. I figure with me it’s a safe bet to double that time.” His gaze swept over her. “I hope you can stay and have lunch with us. I promise not to poison you. Not on purpose, anyway.”
“I’d love to since I don’t have another appointment until later this afternoon.” When she tried to hand the recipe back to him, Thornton shook his head. “Keep it. You can read the next ingredients to me. If I ever find the first thing.”
“Are Charlotte and Rose here in the store?”
“Nope. With the new coating of snow and ice overnight, I couldn’t risk bringing them.”
“Wise decision. I admire your protectiveness.”
Thornton replaced the box on the shelf and blew out a breath. “I’ll be glad when winter is over so we can get Charlotte out on a regular basis. Fair warning—being cooped up is making her crankier than usual.”
“Rose warned me, but I thought she was in fairly good humor at the library on Saturday.”
He laughed without any real humor. “Mainly because she was preoccupied with the food.”
“If you want, we can incorporate her therapy with your cooking. Charlotte could read the directions to you.”
Thornton seemed distracted as he moved farther down the aisle. “I remember you suggesting something like that at the first session.”
“It’s always beneficial to work her therapy into normal, everyday activities. Besides, it looks good on my post-session reports.”
“The truth comes out.” He glanced over at her. “How’d you couch that first session in palatable terms for the hospital? Did you call it The One with All the Dancing?”
Vara smiled. “Oh, no. That would have definitely raised red flags. I wrote that I’d spent time getting to know and educating a family member who would serve as her secondary caregiver.”
“That’s a creative way to put it. And true.” Thornton released a sigh. “I don’t think I’d work well in the kitchen with my every move being scrutinized or criticized. Go ahead and do whatever you’d planned for this morning. But I’d like it if you were close by in case I need rescuing.”
“Who’d scrutinize or criticize you? I’d only be there to cheer you on.”
“Who’d do that?” He turned back to his perusal of the g
rocery aisle. “Put it this way—I begged Charlotte to send Rose somewhere, anywhere, on an errand to get her out of my way this morning. I love that woman like a favorite aunt, but she gets on my case sometimes. Let it be known now that she’s a saint except when it comes to her kitchen. That’s her territory, and she doesn’t let you forget it.”
“Only because she loves you. I might be new in town, but that much is obvious.”
“Yeah, I know.” His hands traveled to his hips. With his feet planted apart, Thornton appeared ready to do battle. “Okay. I’m looking for a type of pasta called gemelli. It’s curly, I think. I’ve been standing here staring at pasta boxes for ten minutes, and I still can’t see any rhyme or reason to their filing system.”
Vara ducked to hide her smile. “First of all, it’s not a filing system. It’s shelving. They might be stacked alphabetically by pasta name.” A quick glance at the shelves proved that theory wrong. “Hmm. I guess not.”
“Thornton Fielding! Mercy me! What on Earth are you doing in my grocery store?”
Thornton spun around with a box of pasta in his hand to face the heavyset woman ambling toward them. “Why, Gertie Lisowski! It’s great to see you, too. I’ve come to see my favorite grocer because I need some stuff…supplies, ingredients, or whatever.”
“This is a market, and they’re called groceries.” She enveloped Thornton in a huge bear hug, almost dislodging his glasses.
“The groceries thing is a long-standing joke,” Thornton said to Vara over Gertie’s shoulder.
Gertie stepped back and surveyed him. “I do believe you get more handsome every time I see you, and that’s not often enough. Land sakes, I think it’s been six months. Where in the world have you been making your little models lately?”
