Returning Home

by Toni Shiloh

  Would people ever look at him as a man again and not just a burden? Sometimes he despised the wheeled contraption. Nonetheless, it was here to stay. Unless, you get a prosthetic.

  He groaned. He was half-tempted, but the thought of looking down and seeing metal where flesh and bone used to be nauseated him.

  His cell phone rang, startling him from his pity party. A Freedom Lake area code flashed on the caller id. He answered the phone, wondering who was calling him.

  “Hello, Evan.”

  He shook his head. Jo’s frosted tone carried across the wires. “Hello.”

  “I talked to my friend who said Mrs. Nelson might be willing to sell her place. Do you want me to talk to her or do you want to talk to her? Or better yet, do you want to get a realtor involved?”

  Evan paused. Mrs. Nelson had a huge place, but it was already built. Wouldn’t he run into the same problems as he did here? Or would it take less time than an open lot? He didn’t know what to think.

  “Hello? You still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Sorry, you threw a lot at me and I was digesting it all.”

  “Oh, well, do you want to call me back and let me know your next steps?”

  Evan winced. He was sure she didn’t even notice what she said. Then again, not being able to walk was his hang-up not hers. “Give me a minute, Jo.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was kind of hoping for a plot of land to buy. If I have to deal with renovations, shouldn’t I just stick to my parent’s place?”

  “Do you want to be that close to home?”

  Did he? Wasn’t freedom the whole point of having his own place? As long as it wasn’t on the B&B’s plot of land, wasn’t that a plus? “Not really.”

  “I didn’t think so. But the main reason I’m suggesting her place is because land is scarce. You’ll have to renovate a place or ask your parents for space on their plot.”

  Great.

  Jo continued talking, “If Mrs. Nelson’s home isn’t structurally sound, you could always have it torn down and have another structure built in its place. Or, if you like it you can renovate it.”

  Evan nodded, then realized Jo couldn’t see him. “Makes sense. Let me think about it and I’ll call you when I’ve made some decisions.”

  He hung up and resumed gazing at the lake. What was he going to do?

  The front door creaked and his mother leaned out. “Hey sweetie, are you hungry? I just made some chocolate chip cookies. I could bring you some.”

  His mother stared at him expectantly. He wanted to tell her to stop feeding him, it wouldn’t grow his leg back, but he knew she meant well. After all she’d done for him, he should figure out some way to bridge the gap. How could he stop the constant ache and bitterness from seeping into every aspect of his life?

  “Actually, Mom, I need your advice.” He took a deep breath, ready to extend an olive branch. “Jo just told me that Mrs. Nelson is selling her place, but I still want my own land. Should I lean toward renovation or a brand-new home?” Why did the idea of land pull at him so?

  “That’s a tough choice. Have you considered praying about it?”

  He scowled. As far as he was concerned, praying was a waste of time.

  “Now don’t make that face at me, Evan Carter. You seem to think that God put you in this chair, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. He wasn’t behind the wheel of that truck and He certainly didn’t cut off your leg. He has been here every step of the way, watching over you. How can you explain away the fact the doctor said you should have died from the impact?”

  He stared at his mother stoically. He didn’t want to answer her, but he felt a prick penetrate his conscience. At the last minute, the truck driver had tried to right himself at the same time Brenda had swerved left to get out of his way. The result, his side had been pulverized.

  She continued, as if he hadn’t given her the shut-up stare. “What about the fact that the driver willingly paid the settlement instead of hashing it out in court?”

  “What about the fact that now I’m girlfriendless?”

  “Oh please, Evan. Brenda was not the girl for you. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s a sweet woman, but she never challenged you. I’ve certainly never seen you go out of the way to become a better person because of her. You were happy being the same old Evan.”

  Evan turned away, hoping the gesture would end his mother’s preaching. He didn’t want to hear that. He belonged with Brenda but, thanks to a missing leg, she didn’t want anything to do with him. Then doesn’t that mean she’s not the woman for you?

  Evan shook away the thought. Who would want to deal with a man with a missing leg? No, he certainly didn’t blame her for that.

  “Evan, until you turn back to God, you’ll have no peace, and this bitterness will continue to take root and choke out every truth you know about God until you’re godless.”

  The closing door echoed his emotion. He felt shut off from the rest of the world. Shut off from all that mattered. All because he was missing a leg. A leg that God could have saved, but didn’t. A leg that caused the woman he loved to hit the road without a backward glance.

  Godless.

  He sighed. Had he become godless? Was life better without God? He struggled for breath as the enormity of his thoughts pressed against him.

  He needed an escape, but where could he go that would give him freedom? He rolled closer to the railing, deciding not to confront his feelings. Gazing at the lake, he tried to bring back the calm but the quiet had dissipated. Boaters had come out, and the noise of their engines canceled any thought of solitude.

  Chapter Five

  Humming to herself, Jo hammered the last nail into the deck. Her grandmother had called her a couple of nights ago to ask if Jo could fix her deck. It seemed some of the boards were rotted. Unfortunately the term rotten was an understatement. So Jo had torn up the old wood and created a new, more functional, deck. The sounds of Coltrane had kept her company via her iPhone. Sitting back, Jo perused her work and nodded with approval.

  Movement caught in her peripheral, drawing her gaze toward the sliding door. Her grandmother stood in the doorway with a plate of cookies. Although her Nana was petite and short, there was no mistaking the steel spine and quiet dignity emanating from her. Her salt-and-pepper pixie cut only accentuated her short frame. Some people made the mistake of thinking she was a pushover, but Nana Baker was a force to be reckoned with.

  Jo removed the headphones from her ears. “What do you think?” She gestured to the new deck.

  “Oh, JoJo, it’s even better than before. Thank you so much for taking the time out to do this for me. Plus, it gave me more time to see your smiling face.” Her grandmother reached up to pat her cheek.

  She grinned at her grandmother. “Nana, I think it’s all these cookies you keep feeding me that put the smile there.” The last plateful had quickly disappeared. She stood up and reached for an oatmeal cookie. “Mmm, these are fantastic. When are you going to give me the recipe?”

  “Humph. When are you going to give me great-grandchildren?”

  “Kind of have to get married to do that, Nana. Plus, Darius has already given you two.” Her brother was the only Baker sibling with kids. She figured her sister’s husband was too old to give Vanessa children.

  “Yes he has, and I already gave Darius’ wife the recipe. You and Vanessa seem to be in cahoots on making me wait.”

  Jo snorted. The thought of her and Vanessa sneaking off and conspiring with one another was laughable. They may be sisters but that’s as close as they got. Vanessa couldn’t stand Jo, and she returned the sentiment.

  “Now, Jo Ellen Baker, is that any way to think of your sister?”

  “What?” She gave her Nana a wide-eyed stare. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “No, but I saw that look on your face.” Nana shook a finger at her. “I know you don’t much care for one another, but eventually you’ll come to realize that she’s the only sister you have. Don
’t let resentment and bitterness take hold of you. That’s just what the devil wants.”

  Jo slowly nodded. For some reason, when Nana Baker talked about the battles of heaven and hell, she could almost believe it. Her Nana was like the Carters’ in that regard; she practiced what she preached. She never forced her beliefs on Jo, but she didn’t hide them either. If only Chloe would take a page from her book.

  “I wouldn’t mind burying the hatchet, but Vanessa is too happy wielding a sword. She constantly approaches me like an enemy. I don’t get it. It’s not like I ever stole a boyfriend or treated her unkindly.”

  She shrugged. Vanessa’s hatred eclipsed her understanding. You would think being married to a wealthy doctor would make her sister happy, but it had only increased her bitterness.

  “Well you can’t help how Vanessa behaves, just how you respond.” Nana patted her on the shoulder. “Now, you come inside and tell me how the business is doing.”

  Jo sat down on the barstool in front of the kitchen counter while her Nana began cleaning. She told her Nana about the job with Evan and how he was looking for land or another place to renovate. The other day, he called to inform her of his interest in Mrs. Nelson’s place. He was waiting for a call back to let him know if she wanted to sell. He was ready to get the process started and had even talked to their town realtor.

  “Oh, Mrs. Nelson’s place is kind of big. What’s a single man going to do with all that space? You should have told him about old man Joseph’s place. That seems more up his alley.”

  Jo looked at her in surprise. She didn’t know what caught her attention more: the fact that Nana called someone old or that Mr. Joseph was selling his property.

  “Mr. Joseph is moving? Why?”

  “He’s moving into the senior community home on First Street like Myrtle. Once you hit a certain age, not only is it lonely living on your own, but for some it’s not safe. I’m half-tempted to move there myself.”

  “Nana! You’re not that old.”

  Her grandmother gave her a no-nonsense look. “JoJo, I’m almost eighty. Sure, I get around just fine and have all my faculties, but it’s also quiet as a church mouse out here. I don’t have a house crawling with visitors every day. Most of my friends have died or moved to the home already. It only makes sense to consider the move as well.”

  All of a sudden, the atmosphere shifted. Jo could feel the gloom hovering in the air like a dying person’s last breath. She shuddered. A move to the old folks’ home was just a step away from . . . she didn’t want to think about that. What would she do without Nana Baker? She was the only family member who loved Jo the way she was. “I’ll do my best to come out and visit more often. Not sure why I don’t.”

  “Oh, hush now.” Nana said, waving off Jo’s comment. “I know you have your business to run and your own life. I don’t expect you to cater to my every mood. However, if you would visit because you love me and miss me, then I’ll welcome the company.”

  “Of course I love you.” Jo came around the counter and gave her a hug. “You love me and accept me just like daddy did, and for that I will always be grateful.”

  As Jo lingered in the embrace, she realized just how frail her grandmother had become. Age had taken its toll, though you wouldn’t know it by the strength of her voice. Jo hoped her Nana had a lot more years left. She wouldn’t mind having a child and sharing that moment with Nana, who was more of a mother to Jo than her own.

  A short while later, Jo drove away. Spending time with her grandmother reminded her how much she missed her dad. She was thankful for the time they’d had together. He had been the best parent she could ever hope for. He never tried to change her, but embraced all of her.

  If only mother could love me for who I am.

  She shook her head at the futility of the thought. Her mother would never change, that she was sure of.

  Jo left the forested section of Freedom Lake to make her way back to Prosperity Ridge. Her grandmother didn’t live around the lake, but in the wooded section of the town where the one-story cottages were located.

  The cottages had once belonged to African-Americans who had made Freedom Lake their vacation spot in the summer. It had been the only area opened to them. A place where they could relax and have fun like their white counterparts. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like to be segregated. Freedom Lake was now home to all races.

  She sat unmoving at the stop sign and looked around at the aging homes. Wasn’t Mr. Joseph’s place near here?

  Mr. Joseph lived on the east side of Freedom Lake and had a view of the lake. If she remembered correctly, the south side of his house should face the beginning of the wooded area of Freedom Lake. Evan would have the best of both worlds. He might even enjoy the country-style home.

  Making a right at the stop sign, Jo headed toward Mr. Joseph’s home. She didn’t know if Mrs. Nelson was going to sell to Evan, but it didn’t hurt to have more options.

  FIGHTING BACK DISAPPOINTMENT, Evan hung up the phone. After much consideration, Evan had contacted a realtor. His father had pointed out that he may need one to pave the way for the buying process and recommend a lawyer for when he entered a contract. His new realtor Mike had just called to inform him that he was too late.

  Mrs. Nelson was indeed in the market to sell her home; unfortunately, she had just entered into a contract to sell her home to another buyer. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but hopefully Mike would search for another place. Mike had informed him there was no land for sale in Freedom Lake, and buying a house was his only option.

  Guess I have no choice but to renovate.

  Evan leaned back against the wall. He really hated the butler’s pantry. The walls literally felt like they were closing in on him. Fortunately he had an appointment with his occupational therapist that afternoon. He’d be able to get out and feel the air.

  And have everyone stare at you too.

  He frowned. He hated how much attention he received. You’d think no one ever saw a man with a missing leg before.

  They haven’t.

  Evan shook his head. Deep down, he knew a man with one leg was an oddity, but it didn’t help with his coping skills. Or lack of. He hated the wide-eyed stares, the pity in people’s eyes and the remorse in their tone as they stammered to find some line of sympathy. It was pathetic. I’m pathetic.

  So get a prosthetic.

  His left eye twitched.

  Was he really considering it? It seemed traitorous, as if he was considering joining the dark side. After all, shouldn’t he just stand on the principle of not having a crutch? You can’t even stand for crying out loud. Lord, please, guide me. I need to—

  Evan stopped in the midst of his prayer. He was praying. Honest to goodness praying. He inhaled sharply, surprised by the ease in which he had slipped into it.

  Slipped. Why had he treated God and prayer as a place where he had to be cautious? His heart picked up speed and his chest began to burn with emotion. He’d been so tense and stressed because he’d been consciously trying to avoid prayer. A thing he used to love more than anything.

  More than your leg?

  Tears welled in his eyes. Had he valued his leg more than a relationship with God? He stared down at the limb in question. He wanted his leg back more than anything. It kept him awake at night. It caused an ache so wide he knew he’d never overcome it. Had the longing closed him off to God?

  But God did this to me.

  “For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone.” The words of James flooded his soul. Hadn’t his mother told him? He wasn’t behind the wheel of that truck.

  Her words echoed along with the Bible verse. God had tried to show Evan that he wasn’t alone, but he had been too stubborn to listen. He hung his head. Had he wrongly placed the blame at the feet of the only One who could comfort him?

  When was the last time he prayed unabashedly?

  Evan thought he was done with a God who would let bad things happen,
but apparently not. Suddenly he felt ashamed of the many nights and days he had blatantly ignored Him. Was it really worth it to ignore the only One who had always been there for him? The One who could give him the sweet peace he desired? As shame overtook him like a summer storm, Evan knew what he had to do to fix it. He bowed his head and clasped his hands before him.

  Lord, please forgive my silence. I was angry, and I knew I could take it out on You. I knew You would still love me. You’re the only one who loves me regardless of what I do or what I look like.

  Evan closed his eyes in wonderment. He didn’t know where the words came from, but they were there and flowing freely. Somehow his soul had known God could handle his anger.

  That shouldn’t be an excuse though, Lord. I am truly sorry for my behavior. Please take this hurt and anger from me. Please heal me, not just the pain of missing my leg but also the pain that Brenda caused. She hurt me deeply, Lord, and I’m not sure I can ever trust another woman again.

  Trust Me.

  Peace began to flood his soul at the still small voice. The words appeared in his mind as clear as day. Could he trust Him?

  How do I do that?

  “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”

  Matthew 6:34 was his mother’s favorite Scripture. She would recite it and then say, “One day at a time, Evan, one day at a time.”

  He would have to take this new change one day at a time. And, deep down, he knew God was the only One he could trust. God would make all things work together for his good.

  Okay, Lord. I trust You.

  Chapter Six

  Glancing at her watch for the fourth time, Jo wondered what was taking Evan so long. He said he’d be here at four, and fifteen minutes had already passed. Jo drummed her fingertips against the steering wheel. She hated waiting for people, especially when she had something worth sharing. She just knew he would love Mr. Joseph’s house.