When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Mm-hm.” Linda took a sip, her eyebrows high. “You’re not fooling me. You don’t want her to go.”

  Suzanne reached for her cup again. The liquid had cooled, but she drank it anyway. It kept her mouth busy so she couldn’t voice the multiple concerns rolling through her mind.

  Linda shook her head. “Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. You always have been. But I suppose the Good Lord gave you that trait to keep you plowing forward during hard times. Which is why I know you’ll survive letting your girl go traipsing off in search of her past.”

  “And what if she finds it? What then?” The questions burst out, carried on a note of panic. Suzanne choked back a sob, unable to squelch the tidal wave of worries. “What if her birth mother decides to file kidnapping charges against me for taking Alexa away? I could go to prison!”

  Linda grabbed Suzanne’s hands and squeezed. “Tom researched it. He says there’s a five-year statute of limitations on kidnapping, so you don’t need to worry over that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure.”

  Suzanne clung hard to Linda. Her greatest fear found its way from the recesses of her heart. “But legally Alexa doesn’t belong to me. What if her birth parents decide they want her with them? I have no grounds to keep her.”

  Linda gave a yank that nearly popped Suzanne’s wrists. “Gracious sakes, Suzanne, what a thing to say. Alexa’s not a little girl who can be forced into something she doesn’t want to do. She’s a grown woman who can make up her own mind. Do you really believe after twenty years of you being that girl’s mama, she’s gonna turn her back on you? She loves you. You know that.”

  Then why couldn’t she leave well enough alone and be happy just being Alexa Zimmerman? Suzanne held the bitter query inside. Some things were better left unsaid. She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right. And you’ll figure it out, too, when she comes back here, ready to greet guests and bake rolls and call you Mom, just like always.”

  Suzanne managed a wobbly smile.

  “Now gimme another cup of coffee. And splash some cream in this cup. Heavens to Betsy, that stuff’s strong enough to choke a horse.”

  Laughing, Suzanne rose to do Linda’s bidding. As she lifted the percolator, the back porch door opened, and Alexa hurried in on a rush of cold air. She clicked the door closed, shivered, then aimed a bright smile across her mother and Linda. “Oh, you’re up, too, Linda! Happy New Year!”

  Linda rose and folded Alexa in a hug. “Brr, girl, get some coffee in you and warm up.”

  Alexa popped open the refrigerator door. “I’ll warm up soon enough when I get the stove cranked on. Who wants a mushroom, spinach, and feta omelet?”

  Linda took her coffee cup from Suzanne. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Alexa turned to Suzanne. “Mom?”

  Gazing into her daughter’s gold-flecked brown eyes, Suzanne battled tears. She’s my girl, Lord. Please don’t let some woman I don’t know take her away. She swallowed. “Sure, honey. Thanks.”

  “Comin’ right up! And then”—she flashed an impish grin—“I’ve got to pack.” A pinch of uncertainty trembled on her lips. “Will you…help me?”

  Suzanne

  Suzanne pulled in a breath and released it slowly, controlling the urge to cry. She offered a weak smile. “I’d be glad to.” Thankfully no lightning bolt came from the sky to strike her dead for lying, but another mighty blast of wind rattled the house. She flicked a wry glance toward the kitchen window. “Assuming of course the cottage doesn’t get blown away and all your clothes with it.”

  Should she hope for such an event? No, of course not. But she couldn’t help hoping something might change Alexa’s mind about traveling back to Indiana with Linda and Tom and searching for her birth mother.

  As Alexa began sautéing the mushrooms and spinach in butter, Tom entered the kitchen. A frown marred his normally placid face.

  Linda sent him a worried scowl. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

  The corners of his lips twitched. “How’d you know something’s wrong?”

  “When you ain’t smilin’ first thing, something’s wrong. What is it?”

  Instead of answering, Tom crossed to the stove and peeked in the pan. He gave Alexa a one-armed hug. “No mushrooms in mine, but some onions would be good if you’ve got ’em.”

  Alexa assured him she could modify his omelet, and he returned to the worktable and curled his big hands over Linda’s shoulders. “Don’t know that you’ll see all of it as bad news, but I got a text notice from the airport. All flights’ve been delayed because of a windstorm moving through. We’ve been bumped to tomorrow morning at eight.”

  Suzanne silently cheered—a reprieve, albeit a brief one.

  But Linda groaned. “Oh, that means we have to be at the airport by six thirty, so we’ll have to be up when even chickens have the good sense to sleep. I hate early morning flights. Call ’em and see if there’s an afternoon flight going out tomorrow, would you?”

  “Sure thing.” Tom planted a kiss on Linda’s mussy hair, then ambled out of the room.

  Alexa set the pan aside, pulled an onion from the bin next to the stove, and carried it to the chopping board. She applied the knife with gusto to the vegetable. Droplets of juice arced through the air and landed on Linda’s elbow.

  Linda pursed her lips and flicked the dots of moisture with her fingers. “Listen here, I’m not wanting to smell like onions all day. Take it easy with that knife.”

  Alexa grimaced. “Sorry, Linda.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, now, I was only teasing you. I haven’t had my morning shower yet, so no harm done.” Then she frowned. “But why’re you being so rough on that poor onion? You act like it’s an evil that needs to be conquered.”

  Alexa glanced in Suzanne’s direction before answering. “I’m just a little…well, frustrated I guess. And I took it out on the onion because there isn’t any other good target.”

  Linda took a sip of her coffee, watching Alexa over the rim of her cup. “You not keen on early morning flights, either?”

  Alexa shrugged, scooped the chopped onion into a small bowl, and carried it back to the stove without answering. Linda started to say something to Suzanne, but Mother called from her bedroom.

  Suzanne set her coffee aside and rose. “Coming, Mother!” She headed for the hallway.

  Alexa scurried over. “Let me get her up and dressed this morning, please?” Moisture glimmered briefly in her eyes. “It’ll be a while before I can help her again.”

  Suzanne nodded. “Want me to finish up the omelets?”

  “Absolutely not. You always forget the seasonings.” Alexa plopped a quick kiss on Suzanne’s cheek and then hurried out of the room, calling, “I’m coming, Grandmother.”

  The smell of sautéed vegetables was making her stomach roll in eagerness. Suzanne retrieved a bowl and began cracking eggs.

  “I thought Alexa said for you to leave that alone.”

  Suzanne’s defenses rose at Linda’s droll comment. “I’m not going to cook them, but I can’t exactly mess up getting the eggs ready.” She grimaced and reached into the gooey mass to pinch out a small triangle of tawny-brown shell.

  Linda’s rumbling chuckle rolled. “Maybe you better hire a cook while you’re in charge out here.”

  Suzanne scowled at her friend.

  Linda pushed to her feet and came at Suzanne with open arms. “C’mere, you.” She wrapped Suzanne in her embrace and rocked her from side to side. “No wonder there’s shell in that bowl the way you’re smacking the poor eggs against the rim. You and Alexa are both taking your frustrations out on innocent produce.”

  Suzanne couldn’t stifle a laugh. Linda always managed to cheer her. She savored the warm, tight hug, finding it as healing as she always had. Thank You, Lord, for gifting me with this precious friend.

  Linda gave one more extra-tight squeeze and then stepped back. She planted her fists on her hi
ps and pasted a mock scowl on her round face. “And I want you to stop this worrying over Alexa right now. There’s no way meeting a new person, even if that person is the one who gave birth to her, is going to erase the last twenty years of loving you’ve given that girl. You’ve got no reason to be doing all this stressing.”

  Suzanne returned to the bowl of eggs and picked one up. She held the cool orb in her hand and stared at the pair of darker speckles on the soft-tan shell. “I know what you’re saying is true. In my heart she’ll always be my daughter. It is hard to let her go seeking, not knowing what she might find out or what changes it might bring into my relationship with her. But…”

  Confusion thundered through her. She loved Alexa and didn’t want to share her with another mother. Yet at the same time, she longed to develop a relationship with her birth daughter. How selfish to hold Alexa back while still reaching to embrace Anna-Grace. She couldn’t make sense of her feelings, let alone find the words to explain them.

  The squeak of rubber on hardwood alerted her to Mother’s approach. Suzanne swished her hand over her eyes, and Alexa, pushing Mother’s wheelchair, entered the kitchen.

  “Mom, pour Grandmother some coffee, would you? And if you want, you can toast the bread. I’ll get those omelets going. Then let’s just eat here in the kitchen where it’s warm and cozy, okay?”

  Suzanne pushed away from the table as Alexa parked Mother’s chair next to Linda and then headed for the stove.

  Tom sauntered into the kitchen again. His sheepish expression spoke volumes.

  Linda sighed. “We hafta take that early morning flight, don’t we?”

  Tom sank into the chair Suzanne had vacated. “ ’Fraid so. There just aren’t lots of options for flights leaving Wichita.”

  “It’ll be all right, Linda.” Alexa spoke cheerfully. Too cheerfully—as if she was eager to make an escape. “You can borrow my earbuds to block out noise and sleep on the plane.”

  Linda harrumphed, but she didn’t decline the offer.

  Tom flipped the paper open and began to read while Mother and Linda chatted quietly. Suzanne and Alexa worked in silence, stepping around each other with ease. Suzanne’s arms ached to capture her daughter in a hug each time their paths crossed, but Alexa would recognize her desperation and no doubt experience a rush of guilt, so Suzanne stayed focused on preparing breakfast instead.

  Even though she was serving family rather than official guests, Alexa took the time to artfully arrange the triangles of toast on either side of the omelets and add a slice of orange, twisted to form a curl, as an embellishment to the plates. Suzanne memorized the appearance of the plate so she could emulate it when she took care of guests in Alexa’s absence.

  They each grabbed two plates and carried them to the worktable. Alexa gave Tom’s shoulder a playful nudge with her elbow. “All right now, put that paper down. It’s time to eat.”

  He aimed a mock scowl at Alexa. “Well, aren’t you the bossy one?” He flicked the sheets of newsprint, making them snap, before starting to fold them closed.

  Alexa jolted and released a squawk.

  Everyone jumped in surprise, and Suzanne nearly dropped the plate she was setting in front of Mother. “Alexa!”

  Seemingly unconcerned by the start she’d just given everyone, Alexa plopped the plates onto the table. A piece of toast slid off the edge, but Linda caught it and settled it back in place. She began to scold, but Alexa reached past Tom for the paper, her face alight, and spoke over Linda’s protest.

  “Grandmother, look!” She gave the pages a quick flip and thrust the folded square in her grandmother’s direction.

  Mother leaned back in her chair, clapped once, and let out a happy laugh. “Why, look at that! So she’s making a name for herself, just like she wanted.”

  Alexa nodded, her ponytail swishing. “And we’ll be able to say we knew her when.”

  Linda brushed crumbs onto the floor, her scowl deep. “Would you two stop talking in riddles and tell us what’s got you all worked up?”

  Alexa scurried around the table to Suzanne. “Mom, remember I told you about housing a family whose car broke down? It was last December, remember?” Suzanne recalled the conversation, but before she could answer, Alexa pointed to an article in the middle of the page. “This girl right here in the paper—her name is Nicole Kirkley, but she goes by Nicci K—is the girl who stayed with Grandmother and me! And now she’s listed as the opening band for the Winter Band Blast in Indianapolis.”

  Mother gestured for Alexa to give her the paper. “That agent of hers is sure doing his job, isn’t he?” She squinted and held the paper at an angle, scanning the print. Then she burst out laughing and smacked the paper against the edge of the table. “Alexa, guess who wrote this article about Nicci K!”

  Alexa laughed, too. “Betcha I know!”

  Linda waved both hands. “You’re leaving us out again…”

  Alexa leaned over and gave Linda a one-armed hug. “Sorry, we’re just excited.” She winked at her grandmother. “It’s Briley Forrester, isn’t it?”

  Mother nodded, her smile wide. “It sure is.”

  Suzanne had heard that name from both Alexa and Mother. “The Chicago reporter? Why is he writing for the Indianapolis Times?”

  “He’s shadowing Nicci K and chronicling her journey toward becoming a country-western star. I imagine several papers have picked up the serial.” Alexa took the paper again and gazed at the article, a sweet smile tipping up the corners of her lips. “That’s wonderful for him.”

  Suzanne sensed there was more to the story than Alexa had shared. She intended to ask her daughter for more details when they were alone, but for now they needed to eat before the food grew cold. She slid into a chair. “Tom, would you ask the blessing?”

  Tom gave a short but heartfelt prayer, and they ate with companionable conversation flowing around the table. Midway through the meal, Alexa tapped Linda on the wrist.

  “What would you think about going to Band Blast?”

  Linda’s thick eyebrows descended. “Isn’t that a concert for kids?”

  Alexa shrugged. “I’ve never been, but some of my friends went when we were in high school. They said people of all ages attend because the music is everything from country to pop to rock’n’roll.”

  Linda made a sour face. “Oh, honey, rock’n’roll? That stuff sets my teeth on edge.”

  “Unless it’s the nineteen fifties style.” Tom stabbed a chunk of omelet, then used his fork as a pointer. “If they did something from the fifties, I’d be willing to go with you, Alexa.”

  Alexa grinned. “That’d be fun, but I’m not sure if today’s bands play fifties tunes.”

  He shrugged and went on eating.

  Alexa looked down at her plate and toyed with her remaining piece of toast. “Concerts aren’t something you want to go to alone.”

  Her forlorn countenance pierced Suzanne’s heart. She wished she could go with Alexa. “Maybe one of your friends from school will want to go with you. You should give some of them a call when you’re back in Indiana.”

  Alexa offered Suzanne a weak smile. “That’d be a good idea if they weren’t all away. Most of my crowd went straight to college after high school. I was the lone weirdo.”

  Linda bopped Alexa on the arm. “You’re not a weirdo. You just found something else to do with your life besides going for more schooling. I can’t imagine any other nineteen-year-old—”

  “Twenty,” Alexa and Suzanne chorused.

  Linda scowled for a moment, then went on. “Twenty-year-old taking on the responsibility of operating a bed-and-breakfast all by herself. Not to mention all the other baking you do! So don’t be calling my favorite girl a weirdo, you hear me?”

  Alexa laughed lightly. “Okay, okay, so I’m not a weirdo. But…” She bit the corner of her lip. “Briley will probably be at the concert, since Nicci K is playing. It would be nice to see him. He got to be a pretty good friend when he was staying here.”r />
  “Oh, all right.” Linda pushed her empty plate aside and shook her head. “The things I do for you, girlie. Go ahead and get us a couple of tickets, and you an’ me will go jitterbug and she-bop with all the other young uns.”

  Alexa released a happy squeal and bounced up to give Linda a hug. She grabbed the paper. “I bet the ticket information is in here. They usually start selling seats four weeks in advance.”

  Suzanne dropped her fork and gawked at Alexa. “Four weeks? You mean you intend to be in Indiana for that long?”

  Alexa paused, her smile fading. “Um…maybe.”

  “If you’re arranging concert tickets, I’d say ‘certainly.’ ”

  Linda shot Suzanne a frown. “I don’t know that we put any time limit on things, but I imagine it’ll take a while for Alexa to find the people she’s searching for. Bound to be stressful. Planning something fun will be good for her—give her something to look forward to.”

  As usual, Linda provided the voice of reason. Suzanne reined in her frustration. She didn’t want her last day with Alexa to be filled with animosity. But neither did she want to think of a month-long separation. Not when they’d just begun living under the same roof again. “What about Anna-Grace’s wedding? Will you be back for that?”

  “When is it?”

  Mother answered. “The third Thursday in February.”

  Linda’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Thursday? Who gets married on a Thursday?”

  Suzanne smiled. “Old Order couples, that’s who. It’s tradition.”

  Alexa checked the calendar on her cell phone and gave a decisive nod. “I’ll be back before February eighteenth. Even if I haven’t located my”—she flicked an apologetic look at Suzanne—“birth mother, I don’t want to still be away when spring arrives. Business is bound to pick up then, and I need to be here.”

  “That’s good thinking”—humor glinted in Linda’s dark eyes—“ ’cause your mama just might run off any potential business with her so-so cookin’.”