Blessings

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  He was still mad.

  She slid onto the bench next to Mama and blinked rapidly to control the sting of tears. She missed Graham. She missed his laughter, his teasing, the way he could make her tummy tremble with a simple look. How it hurt that he now held himself aloof. She had hoped better of him.

  Her gaze drifted to Andrew, sitting stoic and serious two benches ahead of Graham. She had expected more from her favorite cousin, too. Fulfilling her heart’s desire meant so much to her, but everywhere she turned she met resistance. Why had so many people let her down lately?

  Trina had no time to process that question. The deacons and minister marched in, and the congregation knelt for the opening prayer. Head bowed and eyes closed, Trina added her own prayer to that of the minister—Please, Lord, bring our hearts together so I can walk where You lead.

  After the service, as people mingled in front of the simple clapboard building before going to homes for meals, Trina moved to the center of the grassy yard and waited. Graham came out the front doors with Walt. The two slapped their black hats on their heads in unison then paused at the foot of the steps to chat. She watched, waiting, hoping, her hands clasped at the waist of her purple dress and her breath coming in short spurts of anticipation.

  Look at me, Graham. Look at me. If he would only look—just once— then she could send him a silent message. I still care. I still love you. Please, we can work this out.

  Someone touched her arm, and she jumped. She turned to find Michelle Lapp. “He won’t be coming over here anytime soon.”

  Trina frowned. Was she that transparent? Denying she was waiting for Graham would be pointless as well as untruthful. “Why not?”

  “Walt is talking to him about. . .” Michelle glanced around, her lips pursed tightly. Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Our plans to be published. He talked to my folks last night after the shucking.” Michelle’s eyes danced with excitement.

  Trina squeezed her friend’s hands. “Oh, Michelle, how wonderful for you.” She tried to truly mean it, but she recognized a wave of jealousy underscoring her words.

  “Yes.” Michelle smoothed her hair beneath her pristine cap then ran her fingers along the white ribbons. “All along I thought you and Graham would beat us to it, but we’ll be first, after all.”

  Trina’s brows pulled down. Did Michelle see marriage as a competition to be won?

  Apparently reading Trina’s mind, Michelle laughed and threw her arm across Trina’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t be silly. I know we aren’t in a footrace. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Graham’s had eyes for no one but you for over a year now, and we all finally saw you looking back with the same interest. Graham’s a year older than Walt, so we just figured. . .”

  Trina didn’t care for the use of the word we, implying others had been talking about her behind her back. She also wondered what else had been discussed. As Andrew had often joked, there were no secrets in Sommerfeld. Did they know the deepest secret in her heart, too? While she sought a way to ask without giving herself away, her mother’s voice carried across the yard.

  “Trina! It’s time to go—come along.”

  With a sigh, Trina sent one more look toward the men’s doors. To her surprise, Graham was no longer there. She spun around, seeking his car. It was gone. Her heart fell. He’d left without saying a word to her.

  “Trina!”

  Michelle gave her arm a little nudge. “I think your mother is getting impatient. I’ll see you later, Trina. Don’t tell anybody about me getting published yet, okay?”

  Trina looked directly into Michelle’s eyes. “I don’t tell secrets.”

  Michelle’s blush let Trina know she understood the hidden meaning. Of all their friends, Michelle had the biggest tendency to talk too much. “Bye.” She scurried away.

  “Trina, are you coming?”

  The irritated note in Mama’s voice set Trina’s feet in motion. “Yes, Mama, I’m coming.”

  TWELVE

  Tuesday after work, Tony dropped Trina off at the stained-glass art studio. Before she closed the door of the truck, he said, “Be sure to be at the café by six thirty to eat supper.”

  Trina caught the warning note. Mama’s disgruntlement at the amount of time Trina had spent with Beth McCauley—and the number of times she’d missed the supper hour since she’d started working with Dr. Groening—made everyone walk on eggshells. Trina felt bad that Tony sometimes got caught in the crossfire of Mama’s ill temper when he’d done nothing to deserve it. The family’s caution around Mama reminded Trina of a comical plaque she’d seen in a discount store that read IF MAMA AIN’T HAPPY, AIN’T NOBODY HAPPY. At the time, she’d laughed. It wasn’t funny, however, when it proved true.

  “I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll stick around and help with cleanup, too.”

  Tony nodded in approval. “Good idea.” He glanced at the clock in the truck’s dash. “It’s almost five thirty already—you’d better hurry.”

  Trina gave the door a slam and scurried up the short sidewalk to the front door of the studio. Stepping inside, she called, “I came to use the Internet, if that’s okay.” Too late she noticed Beth seated at the computer. She moved past the workstations to the desk and looked at the screen. The complex design, half colored, let Trina know Beth was in the middle of planning a new stained-glass art window.

  Beth offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Trina. I know I told you the computer was available to you anytime, but I’ve got to have this preliminary window ready for Sean to show to a committee tomorrow. I really need to work.”

  Trina backed up, aware of Andrew at the worktable behind her. “That’s okay.”

  “You wanted to go back to that math site, didn’t you?”

  Beth had located a tutorial site with basic math plus algebra, geometry, and trigonometry. Trina had spent at least an hour each evening on it for the past week. She nodded. “Yes. But I can wait—it’ll keep.” However, she knew what she needed to do wouldn’t keep for long. In just two weeks, Beth would drive her to McPherson to get her Kansas ID, then to Hutchinson to take the GED test.

  Beth dug in her pocket and withdrew a key ring. She held it out to Trina. “Here. I’ll work on this at home this evening, which will free up the studio’s computer. You can let yourself in the back door after supper and go online.”

  Trina pressed her hands to her dirty apron. “Are you sure? I don’t want to infringe.”

  “It’s fine.” Beth pressed the key into Trina’s hands. “No one will be here to distract you. Just leave the key on the desk and remember to lock up when you’re done.”

  “Thank you, Beth.” Trina’s heart swelled with gratitude. Aware of Andrew’s silence behind her, she appreciated more fully the support she had from one person in town. “I guess I’ll go over to the café and give Mama a hand with the supper rush.”

  “Good idea,” Andrew said. Trina turned to face him as he continued in a mild tone that still sounded accusatory to Trina. “I’m sure your mother will appreciate your company. She told my folks Sunday she feels like you’re a stranger.”

  Trina felt sometimes like a stranger to herself, so far removed from the girl she’d been before the desire to become a veterinarian took control of her thoughts. In the past, she would have shared these odd feelings with her favorite cousin, but given the distant way he’d treated her of late, she shrugged and said, “Some unplanned time with her should cure that. I’ll see you later. Thank you again, Beth.”

  Back in the sunshine of the sidewalk, she felt a chill. Once again the question Beth had asked her—“Is it worth it?”—winged through her mind. She nearly stomped her foot. Yes, it was worth it! Being a veterinarian was her dream, and dreams were worth sacrifice!

  But the sacrifice of family and friends? Is it truly worth that? With a grunt of frustration, Trina pushed the question aside. Of course she wasn’t sacrificing her family and friends. Not permanently, anyway. They would come around eventually. Andrew’s family ca
me to accept his desire to work as an artist. Aunt Marie, the prodigal daughter, had been accepted into the community after a twenty-year absence. It just took time, and Trina had time.

  Turning toward the café, she forced the troublesome thoughts out of her head. It all depended on whether or not she passed the GED in two weeks. If she didn’t have a high school diploma, she couldn’t enroll in the community college. So why worry about losing her family and Graham until she knew for sure what would happen? The decision made to put worry on hold, Trina marched through the busy dining room to the kitchen and gave her mother a huge smile.

  “Hi, Mama. I’m here to help.”

  Graham hung his canvas work apron on a nail, plopped his cap on his head, and waved good-bye to his boss. Stepping from the lumberyard’s dim storage barn onto the sunny sidewalk, he squinted and tugged the hat brim a little lower.

  He heaved a tired sigh and turned toward home, but a smell wafting from down the block brought him to a halt. Cabbage, onions, and bread. If his nose was correct—and he had no reason to doubt it—Deborah Muller had prepared bierocks at the café today. His mouth watered as he considered biting into one of the beef-and-vegetable-filled bread pockets. She probably had pie, too. If he was lucky, lemon with meringue inches high. Nothing in his cupboards at home would compete with home-baked bierocks and lemon meringue pie.

  He changed direction and entered the café. The overhead fans whirled, providing a stir of air that felt good after he’d been in the heat all day. A quick glance at plates in front of other diners confirmed he had gotten a whiff of bierocks. He licked his lips in anticipation, slid into an open booth, and inhaled deeply, enjoying the mingle of mouth-watering aromas. Two bierocks, he decided, a wedge of pie, and a tall glass of milk.

  Tapping his fingers on the tabletop, his gaze on the doorway that led to the kitchen, he waited eagerly for someone to come take his order. Someone zipped through the opening, hands filled with plates of bierocks and thick french fries, and he blinked twice, rearing back in surprise. Trina! His heart leaped with hope—she was working at the café again! She must have quit her job with Dr. Groening.

  She buzzed by his booth, glancing sideways as she went. “I’ll be with you in—” Her steps slowed, her eyes widening as recognition dawned. She gulped. “In a minute,” she finished in a hoarse whisper then hurried off with the plates.

  Graham resisted craning his neck around to watch for her return. Before she made it back, Kelly Dick trotted to his booth. She offered a big smile. “Hi, Graham. Mrs. Muller made bierocks, so that’s the special. Want some?”

  “That’s what I came in for. I could smell them clear down the block,” he said, resisting the urge to send her away so Trina would take his order. “I’d like two, with fries. And is there any lemon meringue pie?”

  Kelly pulled her lips to the side. “Um. . .there was a little bit ago. Let me go check.” She zinged off toward the kitchen.

  As soon as Kelly left, Trina stopped beside the table. “Did Kelly get your order?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.”

  Graham caught her arm before she could escape. “Wait a minute.”

  Trina shot him an impatient look. “Graham, I can’t stop to chat right now. We’re bringing in the highway traffic from the softball tournament in McPherson—we probably won’t even get our own supper break. Mama needs me to get a load of dishes run so we’ll have silverware for the next customers. I’m sorry. I don’t have a minute.”

  He released her arm. “Okay. But when you’re done, can we talk?”

  For a moment he held his breath, certain she’d refuse. But she gave a quick nod. “Later.” She hurried off as Kelly returned, carrying a plate heaped with two bierocks bigger than his fist and a pile of french fries.

  Kelly placed the plate in front of Graham. “There was one piece of lemon meringue pie left, so I set it aside for you.”

  Graham sighed, smiling. “You’re a sweetie.”

  Kelly blushed crimson and fled. Graham ate slowly, savoring every bite. While he ate, he watched other diners come and go; watched Trina, Kelly, and another teenage girl, Janina Ensz, scurry around meeting needs; and watched the hands on his wristwatch. Eight o’clock—closing time for the café—couldn’t come quickly enough to suit him.

  He knew from past experience that Trina would be busy an hour past closing, and he hoped Mrs. Muller wouldn’t mind his sticking around and waiting until she was free to go. Or maybe she’d let Trina leave early since both Kelly and Janina were working, too. Curiosity burned in his full belly. Had his final comment to her the night of shucking awakened her to her need to let go of the foolish notion about going to college? Was she back in the café? Was she back to normal?

  At a little after eight, the last diners left and Mrs. Muller turned over the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. Then she turned and put her hands on her hips, glaring at Graham. “I suppose you’re waiting for Trina.”

  Graham remained in the booth and offered a grin. “Is that all right?”

  The older woman sighed. She ran the back of her hand over her forehead, removing a sheen of perspiration. “I suppose, as long as you leave her alone while she cleans up.”

  “Or I can help.”

  Mrs. Muller’s scowl deepened at Graham’s hesitant suggestion. “Just stay out of the way.” She charged back into the kitchen and began issuing orders.

  Graham remained in the booth and watched the workers restore neatness to the café. Time crept slowly, and he wished he had something to read besides the menu. Twice he almost nodded off, but he straightened in the seat and forced himself to stay awake. His heart pounded in anticipation of asking Trina the question that filled him with hope: Had she returned to the café for good?

  Trina put the mop in the closet, wiped her forehead with her apron, and turned in a slow circle. Dishes on the shelves, tomorrow’s breakfast items stacked and waiting on the back of the stove, floor clean and shiny, condiment bottles refilled, and dispensers plump with brown paper napkins. Everything was done.

  With a sigh, she removed her apron and dropped it in the wash basket beside the back door. As she did so, she glanced through the doorway to the dining room where Graham sat in a booth, his gaze straight ahead, his hands clasped on the clean tabletop. Another sigh escaped. She hated the dread that filled her when considering talking to Graham. How she longed for the days when uncontrolled eagerness carried her to his side at every opportunity for a moment of time with him.

  Kelly and Janina tossed their soiled aprons into the basket. The two teenagers looked first at Trina then at Graham, and giggles erupted. Without a word, they each sent smirking grins in Trina’s direction before slipping out the back door, their high-pitched laughter following them as they left the café.

  Trina shook her head. Although only three years older than the other two girls, she felt decades older. When was the last time she had giggled with such carefree abandon? She blew out a breath, squared her shoulders, and crossed the floor to Mama, who sat at the desk in the corner, counting the evening’s receipts.

  “Mama? Do you mind if Graham and I take a walk?”

  Mama’s gaze jerked upward, her brows low. “A walk? Where to?”

  Trina shrugged. “I don’t know—just around town. Maybe the park.”

  Mama glanced at the wall clock. “Be home by ten.” She turned her attention back to the tabs on the desk.

  Trina turned and headed for the dining room. She jumped when she discovered Graham standing right inside the door that led to the kitchen. Hands clasped against her ribs, she said, “I have to be home by ten.”

  Graham nodded, his blue eyes solemn yet holding a hopeful spark Trina didn’t understand. “I heard. Let’s hurry, then, huh?” Cupping her elbow, he guided her to the front door, pushed it open, and ushered her through.

  Once on the sidewalk, his fingers slipped away. Despite the balmy evening, a shiver shook Trina’s frame. The release of her arm seemed indicative of all the pullin
g away people had been doing for the past several weeks. She hung her head, staring at the brick sidewalk beneath her feet.

  “Trina?”

  She looked up, meeting Graham’s gaze. That same odd emotion in his eyes set her heart to pattering. “Yes?”

  “We don’t have much time. Let’s walk. And talk. Okay?”

  His hand returned to her elbow, and another slight shiver struck. “Okay.”

  Still loosely holding her arm, he set his feet in motion, and she followed suit. Yet he didn’t speak until they reached the corner on the opposite end of the block from the café. Then his fingers tightened, he drew her to a halt, and he angled his body to face her. His warm hand framed her cheek, and he leaned forward slightly. She feared he might kiss her, and her gaze darted back and forth in search of prying eyes, but instead he whispered, his breath touching her forehead.

  “You were in the café tonight, working. Does that mean you’re back?”

  She read the multitude of meanings in the simple question. And the answer to every meaning was no. Taking a step away from his fingers, she shook her head. “I was just helping out. Mama was very busy tonight.”

  Graham seemed to deflate before her eyes. “Oh.” The single word was uttered in a low, flat tone that spoke volumes.

  Although she had distanced herself from him only seconds ago, she now found the need to connect with him. Her hand shot out to grasp his wrist. “Graham, please. Can’t you try to understand how important this is to me?”

  Graham twisted his wrist free and clamped his hands over her shoulders. His fingers didn’t bite into her skin, but she sensed the anger coursing from his fingertips. “And can’t you understand how wrong you are being?”

  Trina blinked rapidly. “Why is it wrong to want something more than what other women in the community have? It takes nothing from you, Graham, for me to become a veterinarian. I can still be a wife. I can still be a mother someday. It will be a challenge, yes, but why is it wrong?”