“They’ll be small servings. There’s only enough for one glass.”
Oops. Rochelle knew she probably ought to have started another pot brewing, but figured the girls would each be off to visit with friends or others. Without guilt, she took another sip of her tea. Let someone else take care of little details like keeping them all supplied with iced tea. She smiled.
“Never mind, then.”
“Isn’t Steven stopping by soon?”
“Yes, he’s going to walk me to the singing.”
And so went the exchange between the sisters, much as it did each Sunday afternoon. The subject of their late December wedding day didn’t come up, for once. Rochelle exhaled softly. No controversy. Not today. Her likely not-so-hidden reaction to seeing Silas again, up close, and speaking to him, might have given them something else to consider besides the wedding.
Sweet girls, even Emma with her spirited demeanor. One day, her young enthusiasm would be more of an asset to her than now. So much about Emma reminded her of Belinda. Her personality claimed hold of a room, and you couldn’t help but notice her.
The sound of footsteps grew louder. Rochelle glanced toward the doorway. Betsy stepped onto the tile floor. She held a glass of iced tea, half-full.
“So,” Betsy said as she sank onto the closest cushioned chaise lounge. She tugged her hem into submission with her free hand before settling back on the chair.
“So.”
“You. And Silas Fry. You knew each other. Or know each other.”
“Knew. A long time ago. We were just kids. Young adults. A little younger than you are now. We, ah, grew up together in the church.”
“I see. You told us as much at church today. But you’ve never mentioned him or his wife, Belinda, in all the time I’ve been here. And it sounds as though you were such good friends, too.”
“Were is the correct word. And I don’t know Silas Fry anymore, either. I haven’t seen him since, well . . . before his daughter was born.”
Betsy said nothing, but took a long sip of her tea. The ice clinked in the glass.
“So.”
“You like that word today.” Rochelle had to smile at Betsy.
“So this was before you moved here to Pinecraft then.”
“Yes, it was.” Rochelle swallowed more of her iced tea. She loved it, year-round. And the amount in her glass now dwindled. Betsy’s quiet persistence should be rewarded. Of course, she wanted to know what had happened, not out of mere curiosity, but from loving concern. “Belinda was my best friend. Much like you and Miriam are close.”
“When she died, last year, it must have been hard for you.”
“It was. I never had the chance to make things right between us, at least on my part. I figured . . . Oh, I don’t know why either of us never tried. Life happened, I suppose. It was easier to say nothing.”
“I’m . . . I’m sorry. I can’t imagine Miriam and I never keeping touch again.”
“I thought I was going to marry Silas Fry one day, and Belinda marry someone else.” The words ripped open a long-covered scab of memory. Surprisingly, though, Rochelle didn’t feel anything. This should come as a relief to her. It was something she hadn’t spoken of since leaving Ohio, and ever since she and Silas and Belinda had gone their separate ways.
Good. She watched surprise flicker across Betsy’s face.
“Oh, Aenti Chelle, what happened?”
Rochelle took a deep breath.
“A lot. Like often happens in life. Yet, God took care of all of us. Silas, Belinda, me, too. Nothing that happened was anything we imagined. But I’ve realized everything has turned out all right. If things hadn’t gone the way they did, I wouldn’t have ended up here.” She surveyed the lanai, the section of green yard outside, the palm trees lining the inlet of Phillippi Creek running mere yards from the edge of her lawn.
Yes, her life hadn’t turned out as she’d imagined. Today, though, she finally felt a peace about the twists and turns. Even after her reaction to seeing Silas again.
But why, then, didn’t her tone sound as convincing to her own ears?
* * *
Silas, 21
Silas finally understood what the word smitten truly meant. Thinking of all the things that had happened after the grandmother’s birthday party—several walks over the last few weeks, one night talking for hours on Rochelle’s front porch with two kisses, plus one goodnight kiss following—he soared on the clouds higher than the small Cessna he was soon to fly solo.
Today, he could hardly concentrate at work. He’d caught himself staring vacantly at the computer monitor several times as the figures on the spreasheet ran together.
“I think I’m finally going to ask Belinda to marry me,” John announced.
“You think?” Silas chuckled. “Are you sure?”
John’s face flushed red. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve prayed about it, and I know she’s been praying, too.”
“No worries. No need to get defensive. I’m glad you’re sure.” Silas held up his hands in surrender. “You just don’t use words like think and finally when making one of the biggest decisions of your life. It’s not like you think you’re going to get around to cleaning out the shed or finally trimming the tree branches in the backyard.”
“I love Belinda. I do. She’s . . . amazing . . .” John’s voice trailed off, and he looked out across the workshop.
Silas turned his focus back to the computer in front of him. He needed to finish entering the stack of invoices by the end of the day, so the accounts payable department could write checks to the suppliers.
“Now, this is more like it, friend. More enthusiasm.” Now it was his turn to stare off into space and think once more of Rochelle. John’s recent lack of exuberance where Belinda was concerned worried him a bit. John and Belinda had been courting each other for several months, and lately Silas had agreed to accompany them with Rochelle rounding out the group.
“So, you seem enthusiastic about Rochelle Keim,” John said.
“Yes, yes I am.” Silas wasn’t embarrassed to admit it, not a bit. No one had captured his attention like she did, and the more he learned about her, the more he loved.
“What does she think about your idea of becoming a pilot?”
“She’s excited about my solo flight. In fact, she’s going to ride with my family to the airport and watch.”
“Well, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, John. It seems like things are looking bright for all four of us.”
“Yes, thanks to God. I’m grateful for His provision, of sending me such a special woman, and sending a special woman to you, too.”
Silas nodded. “You’re right.” He’d better get back to work, especially if he wanted to continue to have a job to help pay for more flying lessons.
* * *
Sunday supper at his aunt and uncle’s house, and it was only the five of them. Were it Christmas time, the number would likely be tripled or even four times that number. Today, though, Silas thanked God it was only him and the children, along with Aunt Frances and Uncle Tobias.
He sat on his uncle’s front porch, watching the palm trees across the street sway in the breeze. Everyone in the village had probably settled down for an afternoon nap. He yawned. A nap sounded like a good idea to him, just as soon as Aunt Fran made sure the enchiladas were heated all the way through.
Thankfully, both he and Rochelle had managed to extricate themselves from Lena and Emma’s finagling to share a Sunday meal together after church.
Rochelle’s discomfort was as obvious as her attempts to keep a distance between them. Some might say the years between them were plenty distance enough. Until now, they had been.
He’d had his own reaction to seeing her again, up close.
The years had been kind to her, leaving only the faintest of lines around her eyes. Her skin, still smooth with a hint of color on her cheeks; her hair the same rich color he remembered with the first
few strands of silver. As her expressive eyes took in her surroundings, their expression had softened for a millisecond when she’d seen him, then something had overcome the softness. A wariness.
But she’d made herself clear years ago. The memory still made him feel like a failure. The old argument still wanted to spring to his lips, but it served no purpose now.
“Dad? You coming?” Matthew tugged on his sleeve. “Uncle Tobias wants to show us his shop.”
“Sure, yes.” He shifted to a standing position and stretched, thumped his stomach, and yawned again. “My meal is still settling, I think.”
Matthew had developed an instant fascination with the bicycles of Pinecraft. Instead of the buggies used in other parts of the country by the Amish, most everyone here, Plain or otherwise, used this method to get around the village.
“Uncle Toby said I can get my own bicycle.”
“Oh, he did?” Matthew’s enthusiasm made Silas smile. Gone were the boy’s earlier stormy frowns about missing Africa. Referring to Silas’s aging uncle as Uncle “Toby” made him chuckle.
“What’s so funny, Dad?” Matthew asked as they crossed the lawn, then rounded the corner to Uncle Tobias’s wide expanse of driveway sloping down toward the large, covered workshop where a veritable stable of bicycles and tricycles sat, waiting to be rented.
“I’ve never heard anyone refer to Uncle Tobias as Uncle ‘Toby’ before.”
“Well, he’s not old. And Tobias sounds like an old name.”
“There you are,” Uncle Tobias stood at the door to a large shed. He worked a key inside a padlock. “You ready to see the beauties inside?”
“Yes, sir.” Matthew craned his neck to look past his great-uncle. “Do I get to pick mine out today?”
Tobias glanced at Silas. “As long as it’s okay with your father.”
“Well, Uncle Tobias, I think it’s a good idea, but—”
“I won’t take a penny for it. I know you, Matthew, and Lena are getting up on your feet again.” Tobias flipped on a light switch, revealing rows of bicycles and tricycles. The scent of oil filled the air. “However, I’m going to need help the rest of this summer and into the winter snowbird season, especially. I was thinking we could set a price for a bicycle, and Matthew here can work for it.”
“Like a real job?” The eagerness in Matthew’s voice raised its pitch ever so slightly.
“Like a real job. And once you’ve worked off the cost of the bicycle, I’ll pay you a wage.” Uncle Tobias led the way to a large worktable, covered with bicycle parts. Wheels, gearshifts, brakes, all jumbled together in an order only Tobias probably knew. “You look around, ask me whatever you’d like to know.”
Matthew strode up and down the rows of bicycles, hopping astride one then another, stopping to look at one with a large basket on the back and some sort of a motor as well.
“Thanks, Uncle Tobias,” Silas said. “This means a lot.”
“Aw, it’s nothing. Young Matthew’s growing up, and I’m glad to get to know him. And you again. I’m glad you’re here.” Tobias moved from the work table to a desk, stacked with papers and an adding machine. “There are times I’ve been looking for an extra pair of hands around here. So you and the kids being here is an answer to a prayer.”
“Good. Matthew can be a bit, ah, rough and tumble. He likes all kinds of gadgets and figuring out how things work. Pretty handy as a construction helper, too.”
“I imagine you’re pretty handy, too, being overseas for so many years.”
“I can swing a hammer and use power tools, but I’m nowhere near being a craftsman. Small engine repair is more my thing. You get pretty adept at learning how to fix an engine or otherwise stay somewhere remote overnight.”
“How about this one?” Matthew called out across the workshop. He beamed from his perch on a three-wheeled cycle with candy apple red paint and gleaming chrome handlebars.
“That’s an excellent choice,” Tobias said. “Retail cost, with all the features, right around three hundred dollars.”
“Are you sure?” Silas tried to keep his voice low.
“Of course it’s okay.” Tobias took a tag from a stack on the desk and scribbled on it with a pen. “Here, Matthew. Peel the backing off this tag and stick it to the handlebar somewhere. Then we’ll know which one is yours.”
Matthew trotted across the workshop. His face bore Belinda’s smile, his chin mirroring hers as he stuck it out in determination. “Thanks, Uncle Toby.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nice of you to help an old man with his business.”
“It’s going to be fun.” Matthew accepted the tag from Uncle Tobias and lost no time in affixing it to his bicycle. Matthew beamed.
Uncle Tobias joined Matthew among the bicycle rows, answering questions about this bike and another, and telling him about one of the greatly prized models of cycles, motor-operated contraptions.
Silas’s gut reminded him tomorrow was Monday. First day of work. The small municipal airport was perhaps five miles or so away from Pinecraft, a comfortable distance. He would report there after dropping off Lena at Sarasota State College where she had appointments with Admissions and Financial Aid departments. He’d wanted to be there with her, but she insisted on handling it herself.
“Hey, Dad.” Lena appeared in the doorway of the workshop. “Aunt Fran said everything’s ready now.”
“Good. I’m ready to eat.” He glanced toward Tobias and Matthew. “You two ready?”
“Yes, sir!” Matthew grinned. “I don’t think I’ve had enchiladas before.”
“You have.” Lena shot him an elder-sister look. “Lots of times.”
“Well, I haven’t had Aunt Fran’s.”
Tobias locked up the workshop, and the four of them strode across the lawn to the house.
Lena stepped beside Silas along the way.
“Oh, I don’t need a ride to the college tomorrow,” Lena announced. “I found a ride.”
“Who?” Silas asked. This independence of Lena’s was scaring him. Where did the little girl go who used to hang back beside her mother’s skirt when thrust into unfamiliar situations?
“Emma’s Aunt Rochelle is picking me up in the morning around nine. She’s going to the college to register for classes, too.”
No, he couldn’t object. No need. But somehow, Rochelle had been convinced to give Lena a ride. However, Rochelle probably needed little convincing. Always ready to help someone if she could.
“All right, as long as she doesn’t mind.”
“No, Emma said her aunt didn’t mind, especially since she’s going anyway. I think I’m going to talk to her about a job, too, for after classes start.”
“Good. Just don’t bite off more than you can chew. I’ve heard college studies can be quite rigorous.” Silas wanted to add, “Are you sure you don’t need me there, too?” but didn’t. He’d studied flying, but had never enrolled in a degree plan through a college.
Uncharted territory, for all of them.
Lord, help us.
He kicked his thoughts to the side. All Rochelle was doing was giving Lena a ride to the college. No big deal. People helped each other in the village, he’d been told. At the least, maybe he and Rochelle could be friends. It was a place to start.
5
Promptly at nine a.m., Rochelle pulled up in front of the Frys’ rental home and waited. Yes, Emma had talked her into giving Lena a ride. The two had chatted for a while on Sunday afternoon. However, it didn’t take any convincing for Rochelle to agree to give Lena a ride to the campus. It made perfectly good sense since Rochelle had business at the college anyway.
Forget butterflies in her stomach; she had a flock of seagulls beating their wings. Back to her studies, at last. With her sealed transcripts from Ohio in the portfolio beside her, she knew she was well armed.
Here came Lena, wearing a cape dress a shade of robin’s egg blue, her head covering crisp and white in the morning sun. Her cheeks glowed.
; “Good morning,” Lena said as she hopped into the passenger seat. She clutched a manila folder. “Thanks for taking me to the college, too. Dad starts his job this morning, so he gets to go straight there.”
“Not a problem.” Rochelle put the van into gear and pulled away from the side of the street. “So, this is your first time attending college?”
“Yes, I was hoping to when . . . when we returned to Ohio from Africa. Before the accident.” Lena fell silent. Rochelle glanced her way. The young woman stared out the window at the passing traffic.
“Ah, I see. Well, I’m glad you now have this chance. I’m new at Sarasota State also. I did tour the campus when I was making my final decision about returning to college.” She stopped for a red light ahead. Sarasota bustled with its stop-and-go traffic.
“It’s busy here. I like the city, a lot.” Lena shifted positions on the seat. “So, you said you are returning to college. How long have you been gone?”
“Ah, about nineteen years or so.”
“Wow, it’s a long time.”
“Yes, it is. It is . . .” Rochelle’s seagulls began their incessant flapping again. “But, I’m going to finish. The advisor told me my credits are still good, but I have a few refresher courses to take, based on my unofficial transcripts. Today I’m bringing the official copies and planning my schedule.”
“So why’d you stop going to college?”
“My mother passed away when I was about your age. It was . . . a hard time for me. Then, I decided to move to Florida. I ended up starting my business. And, so, here I am.”
“Why didn’t you go back to college?”
Rochelle shrugged. “I’m not sure, exactly.”
Why hadn’t she gone ahead and finished her education? Instead, she’d buried herself in building a business—and a successful one. But still . . .
“I’m glad for you, Miss Keim. I’m glad for both of us.” Lena smiled. Her smile was so much like Belinda’s it made Rochelle’s heart hurt.
“Thank you. I’m glad, too.”
They passed the rest of the trip in silence. All the while, thoughts swirled. Belinda’s daughter. Yes, she could see her former best friend. The likeness was unmistakable.
A Promise of Grace Page 4
