A Family for Easter

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Normally, yes,” he said, touching the small of her back to urge her toward his car. “But... Oh, man. Sam gave me the afternoon off so I could help Susan.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “They’re all in on it!” Heat rose in her face. “Eduardo, I’m really sorry they’re trying to push us together. Believe me, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Nor did I. We have some interfering friends, for sure.” He opened the car door for her. “Come on. Since they’ve gone to all this trouble, let’s have some fun. We can pick up with our at-home lives at midnight.”

  “Like Cinderella,” she said.

  “Like Cinderella.” He flashed her a smile as he closed the door, and all of a sudden, it felt like a real date.

  Don’t get carried away, Fiona.

  * * *

  They strolled the trail that looped around the historic cemetery, weaving through woods and low hills, and he regaled her with tales of life in the landscaping business. He’d had many funny customers and he was a good storyteller.

  “Are you going to tell stories about the job on my garden once it’s all over?” she asked. “About this crazy lady with four kids who couldn’t even understand the estimate you made?”

  He reached out and took her hand, squeezed it, his face going serious. “I would never make fun of you for a disability.”

  “Guess what!” She turned to him, excited to remember her news. “I made an appointment to get tested. I’m coming back to Cleveland next week to meet with the specialist.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I know, and I owe it to you for bringing it up to me. So thank you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  They were being polite and friendly with each other. It felt like they were on a first date. Not like they’d ever kissed...

  Fiona looked across the trees to Lake Erie in the distance, and she tried to keep hold of the strength she’d found in her talks with her girlfriends and in her prayers.

  I don’t have to be defined by a man’s views of how I should be. I’m strong in myself.

  But her heart and mind kept skittering back toward Eduardo.

  He was so very attractive. And kind and good-natured, getting into the spirit of a forced date planned not by him but by their friends. A lot of men would have been irritated at the unexpected change to their work schedule, but Eduardo cheerfully pointed out landscapes and held back branches and helped her over rough spots in the trail.

  It was almost hard to remember that he’d been clear about what he wanted, and it wasn’t her.

  She was going to enjoy this one night with him, though. It had been kind of their friends to set this up, even if it wasn’t going to go the way her heart wanted it to. She was going to live every day fully—that was one of the revelations she’d had in last night’s solitude.

  They came to a stretch of trail that ran through the woods, cool and refreshing. “I’ve been doing all the talking,” Eduardo said. “Tell me about the B and B. How was it, getting a night away from the kids?”

  “I miss them like crazy,” she admitted. “But I took advantage of the time. Brought my Bible and did a lot of thinking and praying.”

  He glanced over at her as they walked side by side on a wide stretch of the trail. “About what, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Fiona wasn’t one to talk a whole lot about her faith. She’d grown up in a family that was private and restrained. But what did she have to lose? If nothing else, Eduardo was a member of her faith community and she knew they shared the same basic values.

  “Death and resurrection,” she said. “Don’t laugh! I know it sounds super deep.”

  “I wouldn’t laugh at your faith! Why do you think I would?”

  Why did she think so? Immediately, the answer came to her: Reggie. “My husband was a churchgoer—liked to have me and all the kids dressed up nice and sitting in a row beside him—but when it came to talking about real faith, he brushed my ideas aside.”

  “That was wrong of him,” Eduardo said sharply. “What’s more, death and resurrection are the core of Christianity.”

  “True, but I didn’t come up with the concept on my own. I’ve been doing a Lenten devotional... Well, when I have time...and I caught up on it last night. And it’s one of those you apply to your own life, so...I did.”

  “Figure anything out?”

  She looked at him shyly. “A couple of things. You sure you want to hear this?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I want nothing more than to hear it,” he said. And the look in his warm brown eyes told her he was being truthful.

  What would it be like to be with a man who welcomed discussions that went beyond life’s surface?

  Be in the moment, Fiona. “Okay, here goes. Sometimes, I feel sorry for myself.”

  “You make that sound like such a bad thing. Who doesn’t?”

  “Well, you lost your wife...”

  “And you lost your husband.”

  “But you had a great marriage. That must make it harder.”

  “In some ways,” he said. “But your burden has been pretty heavy. You struggled through a tough marriage and then found out you’d been betrayed. You kept it together with four kids, and you’re a fantastic mother to them.”

  She started to protest and he touched a finger to her lips, just one tiny touch, but it stole her breath. “No. Uh-uh,” he said. “You’re a fantastic mother, and I know that doesn’t come easy. You end up sacrificing a lot of your own time and interests.”

  “Nothing could be more worth it.”

  “Agreed. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.” He dropped her hand and she felt bereft, but then he put an arm around her. “Is this okay?”

  Her heartbeat skittered, then settled into a faster-than-usual rhythm.

  Her cautious side told her to cool it. But this was just for one night. She could enjoy the dream for one night, right? She smiled up at him. “I like it.”

  He tightened his grip marginally, held her gaze for a moment and then smiled a little and looked away, shaking his head.

  What was he thinking?

  “I interrupted you,” he said after a moment. “You were starting to say you felt sorry for yourself. I had to argue, but I shouldn’t have cut off your story.”

  She had to pause a moment to even remember what they were talking about. “It’s fine. It’s just that I was reading the Easter story. I always avoid it, you know. I hate to hear about how horribly everyone treated Jesus. And it just hurts that He was scared, and His disciples wouldn’t stick by Him. But last night, I read it. I did what my devotional said and read it in all four gospels.”

  “Tough material.”

  “Yes, it was. But it brought something home to me. In addition to the fact that nothing I’ve suffered has any comparison to what He endured.”

  “That’s true,” he said quietly.

  “But I also really took it in, for the first time, that even though He suffered horribly, the outcome was greater. It was greater because of His pain. And then that led me to the book of Romans, and the part about how suffering produces endurance and... Well, anyway, I’m talking too much.”

  “Fiona.” His hand squeezed her shoulder. “I really want to hear it.”

  Around them, squirrels darted from branch to branch, and birds sang a quiet accompaniment. A rich pine scent rose from the forest floor. Now that they were deeper into the trees, there was a chill in the air, and Fiona was glad for Eduardo’s warm arm around her.

  Don’t focus on that. “It’s just... I realized that all my family went through, all the dark nights, all the tears...they’re for some kind of purpose. They’re a crucible, you know? They make us who we are. And they make us strong.”

  He tightened his arm around her shoulders, and this time, he didn’t loosen his gr
ip. “You’re a very insightful person,” he said.

  “I’m not.” She waved a hand and then looked up at him. “Do you think any of that applies to you?”

  “That suffering’s a crucible? I don’t know.” He frowned. “I spent a lot of time wondering why Elizabeth had to die. Listening to my daughter crying for her mama, knowing there was nothing I could do to help. It’s hard to maintain your faith in that situation.”

  “Did you lose it?”

  “For a time,” he said. “I was really angry at God. Elizabeth was so good. She didn’t deserve to suffer. But lately...” He trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Lately, I’ve been picturing her actually in heaven. She loved to sing, and so... Well, I’ve been imagining her singing in the heavenly choir. Is that weird?”

  “I think it’s beautiful.” And it actually choked her up a little. She cleared her throat. “Does it make you feel better?”

  He nodded. “My anger is really sort of selfish. It’s about me. Because she’s fine. She’s happier than ever, filled with joy.”

  She nodded, and just for a moment, she felt sad for Reggie. “I’m sorry to say I don’t have that confidence about my husband.” She took a breath. “But my pastor back in Illinois said to leave it in God’s hands, that maybe Reggie had turned it around in the last moments. I hope he did.”

  “That’s because you’re a good person.”

  She looked off into the trees and shook her head. “No. Not really. But I’m glad you’re figuring out how to deal with losing your wife. Did you share the choir image with Diego and Sofia?”

  “No, I didn’t. But maybe I will.”

  They’d come out of the park and into Little Italy, a colorful old street full of turreted brick buildings, restaurants, shops and a beautiful church as an anchor. The sun shone gold through a partly cloudy sky. Couples and clusters of young people, talking and laughing, gave the street a bustling air.

  It’s just for this one night, Cinderella, she reminded herself. Eduardo was honorable, trustworthy, able to talk about his feelings, a great father, a faithful Christian. He was still a man, though, and she couldn’t quite shake the notion that men weren’t to be trusted, that she wasn’t good enough for a man like Eduardo.

  Just for this one night, though, she’d enjoy the fairy tale.

  * * *

  As they walked into Bocca Felice, Eduardo had a moment of misgiving. This was the type of restaurant he’d been to maybe twice in his life—all white tablecloths, attentive waiters and well-dressed people talking quietly. He appreciated the seniors’ gesture, but he felt out of place.

  Fiona, on the other hand, lived in this world. She could probably write a check tonight to buy the whole building if she wanted to.

  Sure enough, she looked perfectly at ease as they waited to be seated. “The food smells fabulous. Let’s ask if we can sit by the window and watch the people.” Which they proceeded to do and discovered they both liked imagining the lives of the various groups, individuals and couples passing by. Fiona was friendly with the waiter, happy to try what he recommended, and she ate with gusto, which Eduardo found incredibly appealing.

  The whole thing was pleasing. He was out on a date with Fiona Farmingham. He’d somehow gotten up the courage to put his arm around her, and she’d let him! The feel of her shoulders beneath his hand and arm seemed burned in his memory.

  His usual warning to himself—that he shouldn’t get close, that he was a bad risk—nudged at him. But suddenly, now, he questioned the concept.

  If Elizabeth’s death hadn’t been his fault...and if, as Dion had said, they were saved and forgiven by Christ, which was what the cross was all about...then he was free.

  Free to live without the horrible weight that had been pressing down on him for so many years.

  Free to look at his kids without feeling responsible for the death of their mother.

  Free to court Fiona, if she’d have him.

  But why would she have him? He was still just a landscaper. He was in awe of a restaurant this expensive. He lived in the little carriage house behind her big house, which seemed to symbolize their relationship.

  Except...she never ever made him feel like he was less than her. She was a good person and didn’t put so much stock in material things.

  If she wasn’t putting up barriers, then why should he?

  After dinner, they strolled slowly through Little Italy. Streetlights and colorful signs lit up as the sun glowed red gold on its way into night. Almost the color of Fiona’s hair, Eduardo thought and then half smiled to himself. He’d never been much of a romantic, but maybe, just maybe, that was changing.

  “Why did you let me order the tiramisu?” Fiona groaned. She was holding his arm with one hand and her stomach with the other.

  “Wasn’t it delicious?” he asked. “Mine was.”

  “Yes, it was fantastic, but I overdid it.”

  “You didn’t finish your lasagna,” he said, holding up their doggie bag as evidence. “Besides, I like a woman who enjoys her food.”

  She glanced over at him, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t have to say that.”

  He didn’t look away. “Why shouldn’t I say the truth?”

  Color rose in her cheeks and she laughed a little. “Come on, let’s walk.”

  Ahead of them, on the steps of the stately Holy Rosary Church, at least ten white-gowned brides stood around while two more posed on the steps. Photographers called out orders and assistants scurried about.

  “We have twenty minutes of decent light, max!” yelled a man in a suit. “I want everyone in position.”

  Fiona and Eduardo looked at each other, nodded agreement and joined the small crowd of onlookers.

  “What’s going on?” Fiona asked a woman next to her. “Not a group wedding, surely.”

  “Photo shoot for some bridal website,” another man informed them. “They’ve been here for an hour and everyone’s getting cranky.”

  One of the brides, along with a photographer, came to a railing in front of the small crowd.

  “Folks, I’ll need you to move away, please,” an assistant said, tossing a cigarette butt to the ground.

  In a jostling, unorganized way, the little crowd moved to get out of the camera’s line of sight.

  “Could ya hurry, Theo?” the bride said. “I’m starving and this dress is squeezing me like a sausage!”

  Fiona laughed, along with several of the women. “I wouldn’t wear such a tight dress if you paid me,” a twentysomething woman said. “I want to enjoy my own wedding.”

  “When I got married,” said a white-haired woman, “poufs and ruffles were the style. They covered a multitude of sins.”

  “High-waisted prairie style for me,” said a fiftysomething woman with long hair and a lot of turquoise jewelry. “Much more comfortable.”

  “You guys are killing me,” the model called over. “Just whatever you do, don’t start talking about food.”

  “Best ravioli in the world just up the street!” called a man with an Italian accent. “DeNunzio’s Family Restaurant. You should come on up after.”

  “DeNunzio’s is good,” the white-haired woman agreed. “Served with that wonderful bread, isn’t it?”

  “You bet.” The round balding man who’d brought up the restaurant was out of the crowd now, edging closer to the model. “Dripping with butter. All you can eat.”

  “You’re cruel!” the model cried.

  “And...shoot,” the photographer said. “Turn. Chin up. Smile!”

  “I’m there for you afterward,” the balding man said.

  “You’re old enough to be her father!” someone catcalled.

  The model laughed and pointed at the Italian man. “Just wait for me to change into sweats, and I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

 
The man pumped his fist in the air and the crowd laughed.

  Fiona was laughing along with everybody else and Eduardo loved watching her, so he was sorry when she turned to him with an expression of regret. “We should go, I guess,” she said. “Though the romantic in me would love to stay and see whether they end up together.”

  “What was your wedding dress like?” he asked as they strolled on toward the car. Then, because he was feeling brave, he took her hand. He held his breath as he did it, but she gave his hand an answering squeeze and smiled over at him.

  “I could identify with that model,” she said. “I was a lot thinner then, but my mom still talked me into a dress that was a half size too small. Let’s just say, there wasn’t room for wedding cake.”

  “But you love dessert. Right?”

  “Yep. And it shows.” She glanced down at herself.

  “You know what?” he said. “Men don’t like women who are the size of those models, not really. Most of us like normal women who enjoy food. And life.”

  “You didn’t see any plus-size models at that photo shoot, did you?”

  “Those magazines and websites are for women, not men. Women are the ones who focus on the skinny. It’s not an issue for men.” He smiled at her. “Not for me. Believe me. And besides,” he said, “you talk like you’re overweight, but you must be comparing yourself to a time when you were thin as a rail. You look wonderful now.”

  Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. She looked at him and then away. “Thanks for saying that.”

  He pulled her to face him. “I’m not just saying it. It’s true.”

  For a minute, he wanted to kiss her right there on the street, but she gave a tiny smile and tugged him to start walking again. “It’s late. We should be getting home.”

  Their drive back to Rescue River was quiet. When they got to Fiona’s property, he pulled into the parking space by the carriage house. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “That would be nice,” she said. “It’s a lovely night.”

  And it was. Moonlight shone silver over the stone path that wound from the carriage house to the walkway of the big house. Apple blossoms and spring flowers released their scent to the warm night air. “Let’s stop by the garden,” he suggested. “I want to show you something.”