A Promise of Grace

by Lynette Sowell

  She nodded, then swallowed. “I’m managing.”

  “Good.” He glanced at Rochelle, then back at the woman across from him. “You know, Rochelle and I are both here for you. And we’ll always be here for you.”

  “Right.” Rochelle found her voice again. “We’re here.”

  Belinda nodded slowly. “Thank you. Thank you both.” She scanned the room, her gaze falling on John’s parents. “John’s parents have been wonderful. But, it’s not like I was their daughter-in-law or anything. Not yet. I . . . I was hoping to be. One day.” Her face blushed.

  “Oh, Belinda.” Rochelle reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. A single tear slid down Belinda’s cheek. She pulled free of Rochelle’s hand and swept the tear away.

  The three of them took their time through the rest of the subdued meal.

  Heaven might be rejoicing at welcoming John Hershberger into the Kingdom, but here on earth, the rest of them ached with a pain that would be slow to heal.

  14

  Silas brewed himself a cup of decaf. He decided to spend a few minutes outside on the balcony. The last time he’d stayed here, it wasn’t in a room with a view like this. He might as well enjoy it for a few moments before turning in.

  He slid open the glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Steam rose from his cup of coffee and blew away.

  A figure stood nearly six feet away, beside the railing for the balcony next to his.

  “Rochelle.”

  “Oh, Silas. I thought I’d have a cup of tea. I don’t feel like I can sleep right now.”

  “Me, either.” He held up his cup of coffee. “Decaf here, though.”

  She faced the city lights. “Well, I’m glad we’re not camping out on chairs inside the airport.”

  “Same here. Anyway, the airport is closing soon. It’s not likely we could have stayed there.”

  Rochelle nodded slowly. Even after all these years, he could read her face. It shouldn’t surprise him. Although they had a lifetime of years between them, in some ways she still appeared to be the same vibrant young woman he’d once known.

  Despite her saying she wasn’t that person anymore.

  The same went for him.

  The more he’d seen Rochelle since living in Pinecraft, the more he remembered what it was like being with her.

  Seeing the admiration on her face made him want to go out and conquer the world, or at least share the gospel with it.

  Which was why, at the bitter end long ago, her disappointment in him hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt or imagined.

  His grandfather used to warn him, “Silas, beware the guise of pride in accomplishments. It’s not our accomplishments, nor praise from men, that give us our true meaning.”

  Oh, yes, as a pilot, he’d savored the knowledge he was at the controls of a machine carrying people hundreds of miles in the space of a few hours, soaring thousands of feet above the earth.

  Not many people could do so.

  Rochelle kept sipping her tea, watching the world below pass them by.

  He wanted to break the silence, but didn’t want to say anything that would create more awkwardness between them.

  “Rochelle, I know we’re not exactly the same people we were years ago. I was so full of myself.”

  “And I was so stubborn.” A smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “Okay, I may be still a little stubborn. And controlling. I like my schedule, you know.”

  He had to laugh. “Yes, stubborn and scheduling.”

  “But no, I don’t think you were full of yourself. Confident, enthusiastic. All the young men wanted to be like you, and all the young women wanted you to like them.”

  “And I chose you . . .”

  “Yes, you chose me . . .” Rochelle’s voice quavered a moment, and she cleared her throat. “And I tossed it aside. What was I thinking? I know what I was thinking. I was young. I just knew the world had to be a certain way. I just knew you would have known, or should have known, exactly what to do, when John—”

  “Stop.”

  “No, I won’t. We should have had this conversation a long time ago. Like, right after it all happened. I should have tried to talk to you . . .”

  “I didn’t make it easy on you, though. I was angry, myself. Angry you’d hold it against me.”

  “We were a couple of children.” She turned to face him. The lights from the parking lot below cast a glow on her face. “Looking back . . . well, maybe it’s not such a good idea to look back.”

  Silas nodded. “I have to say, I agree with you.”

  Her face bore a worried wrinkle on her forehead.

  “What is it? What else is wrong? Is it being stuck here?”

  “Yes and no. The room is beautiful and comfortable. I’m sure I’ll rest well, once I do rest. But Emma happened to tell Vera Byler you and I are staying in Atlanta tonight. In a hotel.”

  “Ah, I see.” It irked him someone might construe something more than was actually there. Yes, he felt . . . something . . . for Rochelle. But he wasn’t about to dishonor God or her by stepping into an area he oughtn’t.

  “I just don’t want there to be any, ah, repercussions over this. Sometimes, well, people have more time on their hands to criticize others or think the worst of them.” Rochelle shrugged. “But then, nothing may come of this.”

  “Well, we’ll have to pray so. Will speaking to the pastor help, to let him know, if he hears anything?”

  “I think so. I’ve attended there for almost twenty years. He and his wife are kind, caring people who try to believe the best of others.”

  “Just wait and see what happens after we get back to Sarasota. Not borrowing any trouble.”

  “No time to borrow trouble, I have enough to think of right now, with classes, running a business, not to mention two brides-to-be under one roof.”

  “Now, the last one, I can’t imagine.” He shook his head.

  Rochelle gave a soft chuckle. “It’s funny sometimes. Emma most of all. Having a spirited young adult around can be an up-and-down experience.”

  “I know what you mean. Lena has her mother’s fire and her d—” Silas stopped himself. “She’s compassionate. She’s a big champion of what they call the underdog.”

  “I . . . I missed Belinda. But, before I knew it, years had passed, and then, well . . .”

  “I understand you not writing. I know she missed you, too.” The memories tugged at Silas’s heart. Maybe getting stranded tonight, without the distractions of everyday life pulling at them, had been a blessing.

  “I never imagined life turning out like it did.”

  “Nor did I. I know she wrote you, at least once. Maybe the post office didn’t forward the mail for whatever reason or it got lost.”

  Rochelle faced him again. “She did? I . . . I wish I’d known.” He wasn’t certain if he glimpsed a brightness in her eyes. Or maybe it was just the lamplight.

  “No going back, is there?”

  “No. It’s just as well, though. I ought to take the advice I gave Betsy once, to take some time and see what God has in store for the future, and not give the past any more attention than it deserves.”

  Silas took another swallow of coffee before continuing. “Excellent advice.”

  Rochelle glanced at her cup. “Well, I think I’m going to turn in now.”

  “Be ready early. You know, you can call the front desk and tell them what time you’d like wake-up call, in case you sleep through the alarm.”

  “Good idea. Good night, Silas.”

  “Good night.” He watched her leave her side of the balcony.

  * * *

  Rochelle, 19

  She tried to speak to Belinda several times after John’s funeral, but Belinda retreated into a shell and wouldn’t come out.

  Belinda would leave the Sunday morning church service immediately, and she stopped going to the youth meetings. Rochelle made herself go anyway, but felt as if she were on the fringes of the group, espec
ially with Silas keeping a distance from her after the last rough conversation they’d had.

  No, it hadn’t been her fiancé who’d died. But she’d been there, seen and heard it all. Violence had touched their lives in a real way and had taken one of them.

  She didn’t know which was worse, losing her mother so painfully, so slowly, or losing John in the space of an evening. She did know they, the living, had the painful task of trying to put the pieces of life back together again.

  Again, today as with other Sundays, she found herself walking to Belinda’s house, over the back fields and through a small grove of resolute maple trees punctuating the spot between the properties.

  When she and Belinda were girls, this space had been their meeting spot. As family obligations and growing up brought more responsibilities, they hadn’t met here in years.

  Sometimes children had it best, living in worlds of blissful ignorance.

  She approached the Millers’ house. A pair of cars stood in the driveway. Company? Perhaps she was intruding. But the Millers had always welcomed her to their home without a phone call first.

  Rochelle took the simple wooden plank front steps, then marched up to the front door and rang the bell.

  Mrs. Miller opened the door. “Why Rochelle, it’s so good to see you. Please, come in.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped into the family’s parlor. “I’m just here to see Belinda, if it’s okay. I won’t stay long.”

  “You are welcome. We’ve already eaten and are only visiting now. But she’s up in her room.” Mrs. Miller took a step closer. “She needs a friend right now, no matter how much she says she doesn’t want anybody around.”

  “I know she does. It’s why I’m here.”

  “You’ve been through a lot, too, dear. How are you?”

  “I’m . . . I’m managing.” She forced a smile. Nobody asked her how she was handling this. “But then, I didn’t lose someone I loved. I can’t imagine . . .” Right now, the distance between her and Silas could have been a canyon.

  “I know, but you’ve still suffered a loss, too.” Mrs. Miller glanced at the stairs. “I don’t know what I can do. I’ve tried, but . . .”

  “I understand.”

  “Yes, you do.” The older woman smiled at her.

  Rochelle took the stairs and found her way to Belinda’s room. She knocked on the closed wooden door. “Belinda?”

  “Come on in.”

  She opened the door, found Belinda sitting on the wide ledge serving as a window seat. She still wore her church dress and had her knees tucked up to her chest. She wore her hair down, with her kapp and hair pins scattered on her bureau.

  “Hey,” Rochelle said. “I tried to catch you after church today, but I was busy talking to Naomi.”

  “I know. We . . . came straight home. Mother had a roast in the oven, and she didn’t want it to dry out. And company came.”

  Rochelle nodded, and took a seat on the bed. “The youth group is planning a Christmas party. We’re all supposed to bring a gag gift for the silly gift exchange.” They’d always looked forward to the fun tradition every year.

  “Right, not much longer now, and everyone will be celebrating.”

  Rochelle nodded. “My niece is practicing her one line for the Christmas pageant nonstop. Every time I see her, she tries her part out on me. I think I have it memorized, too.”

  Belinda gave a soft laugh. “Little ones are persistent at that age.”

  “For the silly gift exchange, I’m taking an umbrella I bought on sale at the dollar store. It’s black, covered with yellow duckies. I got another one, too. Blue, covered with pink elephants . . . if you wanted to use it for your gift. If you want to come, too.”

  She waited. They’d always done thoughtful things for each other. See a sale, buy two. It’s what they did.

  Belinda turned her face to the window. “I’m not going. I can’t. Everyone acts like things are all ‘normal’ again, and I should just carry on as usual. But I can’t. Even for an umbrella with pink elephants.”

  “No, Belinda, I know things aren’t normal again.”

  “I just. Can’t. Do it. My life isn’t ever going to be the same. I wish you, and my parents, and everyone else would just . . . leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry. My heart is broken, too. I want to help—”

  “Then let me be.” Belinda faced her again. Dashed fresh tears from her face. “Let me be. Your heart isn’t broken like mine is.”

  Rochelle leapt to her feet. “All right. I’m sorry. I’ll . . . I’ll leave you alone. I’ll always be your friend, Belinda. Friends to the end, remember?”

  Belinda said nothing.

  Her own tears pricking her eyes, Rochelle left her friend’s bedroom and closed the door behind her softly.

  Belinda didn’t want her help; didn’t want the comfort of friendship.

  Rochelle would listen to her friend, and let her be. When Belinda was ready, Rochelle would be there.

  * * *

  By the time Rochelle pulled into her driveway in Pinecraft at nearly one the following afternoon, her eyelids felt like sandpaper on her eyes. The nice hotel’s mattress had all the give of plywood and dreams plagued her sleep. All because of being in a strange bed in a strange city. She’d also conked out while gazing out the plane window at the world below.

  She yawned. A bright yellow bicycle stood chained at their bicycle rack at the corner of the garage. Lena’s bicycle. She owed the young woman a big thank-you for seeing to her client this morning.

  “I’m home, everyone,” Rochelle announced as she entered her home.

  “Aenti Chelle!” Emma called out. “We’re so glad you’re back.”

  When Rochelle stepped into the kitchen, she noticed brightly colored magazine pages covered the top of the kitchen table. Flower arrangements and cake designs, ripped from bridal magazines.

  “Oh, my,” was all she managed to say. “You bought bridal magazines?”

  “Why not? I might be Mennonite, but I like pretty things for weddings, especially flowers.”

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “I came home for lunch, and she had the whole table covered, so I sat at the breakfast bar. Emma’s—”

  “I’m picking out the flowers I want to have for the wedding tables.”

  “I thought you chose flowers, pink carnations.”

  “I changed my mind.” Emma’s face glowed as she scurried around the table. “Lena likes the flowers, too, don’t you, Lena?”

  “I like white lilies the best,” Lena said. “They were my mother’s favorite.”

  Rochelle studied the page. “Yes, it’s a beautiful arrangement.”

  “What kind is your favorite, Aenti Chelle?” Emma shone her brightness in Rochelle’s direction.

  She might have thought about flowers once upon a long, long time ago. But now?

  “I like these. Hibiscus, in orange, red, and pink.” The riot of color expressed what she loved best about Florida. “By the way, Lena, thank you so much for helping with the Baxters’ this morning. I wasn’t sure what I’d do.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a problem.” Lena and Emma exchanged glances. “I was wondering . . . I know you are still looking for someone to take Emma’s clients.”

  “I did get a few names, but I was thinking of splitting up the clients because none of the ladies interested in the cleaning job can be available for all the clients’ time.” The idea was a headache for her, because it meant more employees to track instead of just one.

  “Because I can take them all. Emma and I figured it out.”

  “Oh, you did?” Rochelle glanced at Emma. Yes, Steven would have his hands full with this one.

  “We did,” Emma announced. “She can visit each one of the clients, no problem.”

  “Ah, I see.” Rochelle set her tote bag on the counter. “I appreciate it, but I’ll have to let you know, Lena.”

  Emma’s lack of tact earned her a glare from her older sister.

  “Well, I
need to get back to the bakery.” Betsy stood, then tossed her paper plate in the trash. “Aenti Sarah has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, so I told her she could leave early.” Then she left and Rochelle stood, staring at the cluttered tabletop.

  “Emma, the time will come when you’ll have to make a decision once and for all.” She wanted to add it might be better to focus on the upcoming marriage instead of the wedding so much, but decided not to.

  “I know. I’m looking forward to the day. I want everyone to remember it, and I want to remember it as well.”

  Rochelle sank onto the nearest empty chair. “Of course you will, and everyone who attends will remember it. People who care the most about you and Steven will be there.”

  “But not everyone will be.” Emma spoke the words as if to the papers scattered on the table.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, a goodly part of the family won’t come to the wedding. Because I’m not Amish anymore. I’m Mennonite. For Steven.”

  “Dear, you shouldn’t have done it for him, but because you believed this is what Gotte has for you. This worries me a little. You went through your proving, and you knew what you were doing.” Rochelle glanced at Lena, who had concern etched on her face.

  “No, I don’t mean I did it just for him. But I stayed here; being Mennonite in Pinecraft makes more sense to me.”

  “Staying here didn’t mean you had to become Mennonite. Look at Betsy—she and Thaddeus are in the Old Order church here.”

  “Yah, and I don’t want to do everything Betsy does.”

  “Anyway, about those people who aren’t attending your wedding. You can’t . . . you can’t keep changing your mind to please everyone. If you believe, in the bottom of your heart, this is the path Gotte has for you, then follow it. All the pretty flowers in the world can’t help you convince yourself.”

  Emma’s shoulders sank. “Oh, Aenti Chelle.”

  “Perhaps you should call your mamm. I know she misses you and is looking forward to seeing you soon.”

  “I think I will.” She nodded and glanced at her friend. “I’m sorry, Lena.”