by Davis, Mary
It was a foregone conclusion—Uncle Barney was going to die. If she could only accept it, maybe it would make it easier.
She hoped and prayed for God to grant her this one miracle and spare her uncle’s life. If he would wake up so she could talk to him one last time, maybe she could will him to live.
Cinda clutched her uncle’s hand. Exhausted from her jarring trip, she laid her cheek on his hand and fell asleep.
Some time later, she was startled awake by her uncle’s moving hand. She lifted her head and looked into her uncle’s droopy eyes. His first look was one of recognition and joy, then he furrowed his brows and frowned.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He struggled with each word.
What! Of course she should. Did her uncle really not want to see her? Or was it delirium from the illness and medication?
“I couldn’t stay away when you were sick,” Cinda begged.
“I’ll live or die whether you are here or not.” He strained for breath. His energy sapped. “Go home, child. Go back to your hus—band.” With that he slipped back asleep.
“I am home,” she whispered. A tear rushed down her cheek.
❧
Her aunt looked tired and weary. Cinda wondered how much sleep she had gotten since her uncle fell ill. It didn’t look like much. With fretting over arriving in time and the arduous journey, Cinda hadn’t slept much either.
The house was as spotless as ever and the kitchen sparkled. Cinda finally figured out the eerie feeling in the house. There were no smells except the heat of the approaching summer and the ensuing death. No baking bread, no simmering stew, no pie cooling in the window with its scent drifting in on the afternoon breeze. Nothing. The air was stripped bare. If death itself had a smell, this was it.
Cinda’s tears came and left like waves. Aunt Ginny, on the other hand, hadn’t dropped a single tear; her eyes remained dry. She stayed close to her husband except to prepare simple meals.
❧
Cinda tossed and turned as sleep evaded her. She kept wondering if her uncle would still be with them in the morning or if their heavenly Father had called him home during the dark hours of the night. It was doing her no good lying there, flipping back and forth. She rose with a foreboding feeling and donned her robe. She crept down the hall, cracked open the other door, and peered in.
Aunt Ginny was seated in the chair alongside the bed. Her uncle was awake and Ginny was reading to him by lamplight. Her aunt quit reading and looked up at her, and her uncle’s gaze followed. He limply patted the bed next to him. He was glad to see her.
“Doesn’t my Ginny have a beautiful voice?” he strained to say. Cinda nodded. Virginia Crawford had a melodious tone in her voice when she spoke kindly, and her singing was the loveliest in church.
As Cinda sat down, she exchanged glances with her aunt across the bed. Aunt Ginny stood and crossed to the window. It was still black as midnight. Cinda wondered just what time it was. It had to be close to dawn.
Barney Crawford tried to speak. Cinda stopped him. “Don’t talk. Save your strength.”
He smiled knowingly. “I have no strength left. My time has come.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I have something important to say to you. You must listen.” He was insistent, a sense of urgency in his frail voice.
Cinda bit her quivering bottom lip and nodded.
“Forgive her.” He glanced over at his wife’s back.
Just what did her uncle expect her to forgive Aunt Ginny for? For being cold and indifferent? For making an orphaned twelve year old feel unwelcome? For treating her like an unwanted stray mutt? For squelching her dreams? If her aunt did ask for forgiveness, could she give it to her? She wasn’t sure.
He squeezed her hand. “If I can, so can you.” Barney Craw-ford drew in a final, labored breath and was gone.
“No,” Cinda sobbed. She looked up with tear-filled eyes at her stone-faced aunt.
Virginia Crawford never displayed excessive emotion in public. She left without a word or a tear.
Cinda looked sadly at the doorway through which her aunt had escaped. This isn’t public, Cinda wanted to shout after her. We can cry together. How could she not cry? Didn’t she love him? How could she be married to this sweet, caring man for all these years and not love him? Everyone loved Uncle Barney.
Maybe not everyone. Cinda shed a tear for her bitter aunt.
nineteen
Uncle Barney’s friends crowded the cemetery. Cinda cried because she would miss her uncle. She also cried because of the throng of good people who were touched by her uncle’s life. She never thought that so many people would attend. Allison had delivered her baby the morning Uncle Barney died and was unable to come, but David was there. Cinda told him she would come by next week to see Allison and David Junior.
After the funeral service, Cinda and her aunt accepted the condolences of friends and neighbors.
“For goodness sake, stop slouching. I would have thought you would have outgrown that by now.” Aunt Ginny handed her unused handkerchief to Cinda, who had long since soaked hers.
Next her aunt would be scolding her for crying in public. Cinda straightened her shoulders and held her chin up. It had been awhile since she felt so tall. She noticed it actually hurt to slouch.
During the somber ride home, Cinda could hear the echo of her uncle’s sweet voice in her ear. “Forgive her.” She looked over at her stoic aunt sitting stiff and proper, without so much as a moist eye.
“Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.” The words filled her soul.
No, she couldn’t forgive her, not this heartless woman. There had been too much hurt at her hand.
“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? till seven times?
“Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.
It was too much to ask of her. She couldn’t.
“And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father which is in heaven forgive your trespasses.”
She had done nothing wrong. She didn’t need forgiveness. She focused on something else so she wouldn’t have to listen to the little voice in her thoughts any more. Her heart hardened. The voice was silenced.
❧
That night a noise woke Cinda. She had a hard time waking herself enough to recognize the sound. Crying? More than crying, she realized, a heart-wrenching sob. One of the twins probably had a bad dream. She sat on the edge of her bed and pried open her eyes, shaking off the confusion.
Daniella and Daphne weren’t there. The only one in the house was her aunt. Cinda walked groggily to her aunt’s room and found her sitting in the middle of the empty bed she had shared with her husband for years. She was hunched over her bent knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Cinda wanted to wrap her arms around her aunt to comfort her, but she wasn’t sure her aunt would let her. She never had before. In fact, Cinda could not remember ever being hugged by her aunt. Cinda sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively put her arms around her aunt. Aunt Ginny didn’t resist and leaned into her niece’s embrace. In the lonesome darkness they mourned side by side, yet separately.
When the tears stopped, her aunt said through sniffles, “I did love him. I loved him so much.”
Really? What should Cinda say? What could she say? She had never heard her aunt say she loved her uncle before. She had never seen her show love to anyone. She had never witnessed her display this much emotion. This was not the heartless aunt she knew.
“I know you don’t believe me,” Aunt Ginny said, getting off the bed, drying her face with her hands. She crossed to the window and looked into the empty blackness that mirrored her heart. “I didn’t love him when I married him, of course. I was
in love with another man. . .or at least I thought I was at the time. Only he had married someone else. I convinced myself he did it just to hurt me. Two weeks later I married Barney to prove to him and myself he couldn’t hurt me.”
All these years her aunt had settled for second best. The other man must have been quite exceptional to be considered better than her uncle, who Cinda thought was the best. . .next to her own father of course.
She obviously needed to get this off her chest. Her aunt stared out the window. “I was hurt and could never quite let go of it. When his wife died, I left Barney and went to him. I was so sure he wanted me.” Her voice was far removed from this time and place. “It was all in my head, of course. He never said he wanted me. He never asked me to come. He never wanted me, even from the beginning. He couldn’t even see me through his grief. He wasn’t the man I thought he was, the man I thought I had fallen in love with. I realized Barney was the man I had thought the other was. I came back to Barney, begged for forgiveness and asked him to take me back.”
It was like the dam had broken and every pent-up emotion was freed to rush forward. “We were actually doing well for awhile. Now there is no time left to make it up to him.”
When did this all happen? While Cinda was in Montana? No, she spoke as if it all happened long ago.
“I don’t know why you are crying over him. You don’t have to worry, you’ll see him again.” The confidence in her aunt’s voice both comforted and confused her.
“What do you mean? You’ll see him in heaven, too.”
“God doesn’t let the wicked in heaven.”
“We are all sinners in God’s eyes.”
“I don’t think even God could forgive my wicked heart when my own husband couldn’t. Oh, he said he did. But in his heart,” she thumped on her chest, “where it counted, there was no forgiveness there.”
“But he did forgive you, from deep down in his heart. The last thing he said was ‘Forgive her. If I can, so can you.’ ” Her uncle had known his wife had a deep need to be forgiven. She didn’t know why her aunt needed her forgiveness, but Cinda felt she could finally forgive this hurting woman. “I forgive you too, Aunt Ginny.”
Aunt Ginny let out a shrewd, knowing laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re forgiving, do you? If you knew, you wouldn’t throw your forgiveness around so easily, you impudent child.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t forgive. I’m long past being a child, if you haven’t noticed.” Cinda was regretting coming in to comfort her grieving aunt.
“Easy for the ignorant to say, hard for the knowledgeable to do.” Her eyes narrowed and her expression hardened.
“Then enlighten me,” Cinda snapped back.
Her aunt turned fiery eyes on Cinda. “It was your fault he couldn’t forgive me. You were a constant reminder—of him.” Cinda looked at her curiously, shaking her head, confused. “Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out? I thought you had known since you were a child. Everett, your father, he was the one. Didn’t you ever wonder why Barney never visited your home? And when you visited here, you only came with your mother.”
Her father! Her aunt had been in love with her father? “My father would never—”
“You’re right. Everett never would, despite my efforts,” her aunt said cutting her off. “I accepted Barney’s proposal to have a reason to be near his brother-in-law. I tried my best to break your father and Olivia up. He was always a perfect gentleman—and an absolute sap over your mother.”
Her aunt was like an erupting volcano, spilling over, de-stroying everything in its path. Why was she saying these hurtful things now that they didn’t matter?
“I’m the reason they moved away from here.” She pointed to herself. “Then when Olivia died, I took advantage of it and tried to trick Everett into marrying me for your sake. ‘A girl needs a mother I told him.’ ”
“Stop it! Why are you doing this?”
“You’re just like Olivia, too caring and forgiving. Olivia and I were best friends until I ruined it. I was a fool for so many years. She should have hated me, but she didn’t. God sent you here to punish me and hate me for her.”
Is that how her aunt saw her, a constant thorn in her side? The poor woman was tormented by her own guilt. She couldn’t forgive herself or accept that others could. She was trying to finally make things right with her own husband. Then Cinda’s father died and she was thrust upon her aunt as a reminder of her evil deed. No wonder her aunt never made her feel welcome. With Cinda in her home, Ginny could never escape her past.
Cinda felt like she should hate her aunt for everything she tried to do and did. She always wanted to hate her aunt, but there was nothing to base it on. Now she had something to hate her for, but she found compassion instead. Anything her aunt might have done, she had long since punished herself for.
Her aunt stood there waiting for Cinda’s hatred. Cinda walked across the room and stood before her aunt.
Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.
Cinda’s heart softened toward her aunt and the bitterness melted away. “I don’t hate you, and I do forgive you.” Cinda couldn’t blame her for falling in love with the most wonderful man in the world. . .Everett Harrison, Cinda’s own father.
“How can you?” her aunt asked through tear-filled eyes.
“There is nothing for me to forgive.” Cinda found tenderness for her aunt. “Uncle Barney forgave you years ago. So did my father and my mother. God has forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself and accept our forgiveness.” She hadn’t realized until now that to her uncle she was always his little sister’s child, but to Aunt Ginny she was always Everett’s daughter.
Ginny buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for not treating you better.”
Cinda’s eyes teared up and she threw her arms around her aunt. They mourned together for an uncle and husband who would be dearly missed. They mourned for years of denied love. They mourned for a friendship long overdue.
twenty
“Allison, he’s beautiful. David must be so proud,” Cinda cooed over the newborn baby she cradled in her arms.
“David can’t stop talking about him. He’s a good papa.” Allison smiled broadly. She, too, was proud of her little bundle of joy. “David fusses over us something terrible. He won’t let me do a thing.” She leaned close to Cinda and whispered in a teasing tone, “You won’t tell him I’m out of bed, will you?”
The two laughed.
Allison grew serious and patted Cinda’s arm. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing fine. It is hard to believe Uncle Barney is really gone. I keep expecting to smell his pipe smoke filtering through the house.” Cinda got a mischievous look on her face. “I even lit it yesterday just to be able to smell it. I thought Aunt Ginny was going to faint when she came in and saw me. I think she actually expected to see him in his chair.”
Cinda went on to explain about Aunt Ginny having been in love with her father. She told Allison about them crying and talking together and how they were getting along wonderfully now. Her aunt’s guilt had been between them all those years. Now that it was confessed and forgiven, they could be friends.
Cinda fixed some tea and poured them each a cup.
“How long will you be staying?” Allison asked her.
Cinda sipped her tea, putting off the question. “I haven’t decided.” She couldn’t look at Allison.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Allison said, “You’re not planning on going back, are you?”
Cinda looked up. “I don’t know, Allison. What should I do?”
Her friend shook her head with a look of sympathy and understanding.
Cinda let out a heavy sigh. “I went into this thing in such a rush. I thought it was God’s will, but now I wonder. I don’t know that I made the right decision. Maybe God wasn’t calling me to marry Lucas. Maybe I was just trying to escape Aunt Ginny. . .and. . .being an old maid. I think I made
a terrible mistake.”
“Was he really awful?” Allison held compassion in her eyes. “He seemed nice enough.”
“Lucas? No, he’s not awful at all.” Cinda drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “Lucas is wonderful. He’s caring, tender, giving, and loving.”
“He sounds perfect,” Allison said, raising her eyebrows in question. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
“He has one major flaw,” Cinda said tight-lipped. “Travis, Trevor, Martha, Daniella, Daphne—and Dewight.”
Allison looked at her hands and moved her fingers. “I count six flaws.”
“I always wanted to have a big family—and I wouldn’t mind them so much, if they weren’t all so impossible.” Cinda huffed and closed her eyes for a moment, conjuring each one up in her mind. “Martha doesn’t even know she’s a girl. Excuse me, Marty. She calls me Cinderella. She knows I hate it. Then there is Dewight. He rambles and appears from nowhere.”
Allison shivered. “It gives me the creeps just thinking about him.”
“He’s not all that bad. I figured out that most of what he says actually makes sense if you have the time to figure out what it means. He really is harmless, unlike Travis and Trevor.”
“Those are Lucas’s twin brothers you can’t tell apart?”
Cinda nodded. “They fight each other over the most ridiculous things. They were actually fighting about their food. I ended up with a black eye and a split lip.”
“They hit you?”
“They didn’t mean to. I really shouldn’t have gotten so close.”
“Was Lucas mad?”
“Furious, but he didn’t lay a hand on them. Despite his size, he is really very gentle. You should see him with Daniella and Daphne. They can be quite a handful at times. He’s a good father to them.”
Cinda paused for a moment, then focused on her friend. “I feel really wicked for not wanting to go back. It would be so much easier if I stayed here.”
“Maybe. But you’ll never be at peace.”
