When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and listened as Glenn prayed aloud. “God, Cyn’s little girl is out there somewhere. All these years that she’s been missing her baby, You’ve kept Your watchful eye on her. Thank You for caring for Cyn, for me, for all our children.”

  Her heart caught at his choice of the word our.

  “If it’s Your will for Cyn and her baby to be together again, please lead us to her.”

  Cynthia scrunched her eyes so tight that pinpoints of light exploded behind her closed lids. Her heart begged, Please, please, please let it be Your will for me to find her. Oh, God, please.

  “If finding her would be too hurtful for the girl, then I ask You to comfort and strengthen Cyn. Either way, we trust You to do what is best for both Cyn and her daughter.” Glenn paused, as if giving Cynthia an opportunity to add her petitions, and after a few silent seconds finished with “Amen.”

  Cynthia echoed, “Amen.”

  Over the next few days, Cynthia nearly chewed her fingernails to the quick—an old nervous habit she thought she’d abandoned—waiting for the telephone to ring. Mr. Mallory had instructed her to wait for his call rather than to try to contact him. He’d promised to let her know when he had something of value to share. But why was it taking so long?

  Impatience made her snappish with Darcy and Barrett, and when Glenn gently reprimanded her, she informed him, in a tone much like the one her mother had often used, that she had every right to be on edge and maybe he should try being a little more understanding.

  Immediately after her harsh retort, she apologized, and Glenn said he forgave her, but he kept his distance for a few hours, reigniting her frustration. Why couldn’t he realize how hard this was and cut her some slack?

  Friday morning after dropping the kids off at school with a distracted farewell, she drove to the library and parked in the small lot for employees. With the car idling, she pulled out her cell phone and scrolled to Mr. Mallory’s number. She’d waited long enough for him to contact her. She needed to know what he’d been doing all week, or she might climb out of her skin.

  She jabbed her finger against his number and then pressed the phone to her ear. It went straight to voice mail. Gritting her teeth against a groan, she disconnected the call and tossed her phone into her purse. Over the course of the day, she called him five times, each time getting his voice mail instead of the investigator himself. The last time she left a curt message. “This is Cynthia Allgood. Call me.”

  But he didn’t call on Friday. Or on Saturday morning. Saturday noon, after several hours of tension, Glenn followed her into the kitchen and suggested they grab hamburgers at a fast-food restaurant. “Afterward we can take in a matinee at the multiplex. They have eight different theaters. I’m sure we’ll find something good.”

  Cynthia turned from the refrigerator. “You and me?”

  “All of us.” He offered a wide grin. “We’ll make it a family event.”

  His words stabbed like a knife. The hole carved in her heart the moment she had abandoned her baby girl had grown larger and larger over these past days, the longing to reconnect becoming more and more intense. In her mind “family” included her first child, and if she couldn’t have time with all of them, she didn’t want time with any of them. She recognized the ridiculousness of her feelings, yet her emotions raged unrestrained.

  She grabbed a package of slivered ham and the mayonnaise jar and gave the fridge door a shove. “No, thank you.”

  He trailed her to the counter. “Why not? The kids would love it.”

  She frowned at him over her shoulder. “I’m not in the mood. Besides, I’d have to leave my cell phone off in the theater. Mr. Mallory might call, and—” Glenn blew out a huff and muttered, “Mallory again.”

  She leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m tired of that man controlling our household.” He flicked a frown toward the living room, where Darcy and Barrett played a board game, their voices rising in a playful squabble. “Settle down out there!”

  The noise immediately ceased.

  Cynthia hissed, “Don’t take your frustration with me out on them.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You mean the way you haven’t been doing all week?”

  She yanked the loaf of bread from the cupboard and plopped it onto the countertop. When she opened the drawer for a butter knife, Glenn caught her wrist. She glared up at him, but he didn’t let go.

  “I’ve had it, Cyn. All week the three of us have tiptoed around, trying our best to stay out of your way.” He spoke quietly, almost kindly, but his blue eyes glinted with irritation. “I know you’re uptight, and I get the reason why. But we can’t all just put our lives on hold while we’re waiting to see if you’re going to meet your daughter.”

  She wrenched her hand free. “So don’t. Go do what you want to do. I’m not holding you back.”

  He stared at her for several seconds, his mouth set in an unsmiling line and indecision playing in his expression.

  Her heart pounded as she waited for him to reach for her, pull her close, whisper sweetly that he was wrong to expect her to leave the house when she was waiting for such an important call, that of course he’d stay here with her.

  “All right then.” He turned and strode through the living room to the front entry closet. “Hey, buckaroos, grab your coats.”

  Cynthia hurried to the wide doorway as the pair jolted to their feet. Barrett said, “Where are we going?”

  “To get some burgers and then go see a movie.”

  Barrett released a whoop and galloped to his dad.

  Darcy sent a puzzled look from Glenn to Cynthia. “Aren’t you coming, Mom?”

  Glenn tossed Darcy her coat. “She doesn’t want to go. So it’s just you guys and your old dad. C’mon.”

  Very slowly Darcy pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Her gaze on Cynthia, she inched toward Barrett and Glenn. For a moment it seemed Darcy would refuse to go, but then she said, “Bye, Mom.”

  Barrett waved at Cynthia, almost dancing in place. “Bye, Mom! Dad, what movie are we gonna see?”

  “I don’t know yet, buck—” The door closed on the last of Glenn’s reply. Cynthia stood in the doorway and stared at the front door. Sadness and hurt and anger swirled through her, stealing her appetite. She returned to the kitchen and put away the food, then slid onto one of the kitchen stools and lowered her head to her hand. She’d always believed reconnecting with her baby girl would complete her family. Instead, would seeking her daughter tear her family apart?

  Arborville

  Paul

  Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Paul gripped the truck’s steering wheel with both hands and glanced past Danny’s head to Suzy. She gazed out the window, seeming to examine the snow-dusted fields where winter wheat lay dormant.

  He gritted his teeth. All week he’d anticipated driving to Wichita to eat at Danny’s favorite fast-food chicken restaurant. Each day while on break from working in the Zimmermans’ basement, he’d caught a few minutes with Suzy to tell her more about Danny. She listened intently, seeming to memorize the details. His chest pinched in an odd way. Those short conversations had made him feel more and more at ease with her. He’d been sure this evening would be relaxing, would be beneficial to his relationship with his son.

  But tension filled the truck’s cab. They’d just turned onto the highway, and Suzy sat quiet on the opposite side of the seat, apparently having already given up on trying to coax the boy into talking to her. Although the temptation to give Danny a solid jab with his elbow played through his mind, he stiffened his muscles and resisted. But the minute they arrived at the restaurant, he planned to haul his son into the men’s room for a stern talking-to about being rude to a friend.

  A friend…He glanced again at Suzy. With her hair swept back into a bun and her face angled away, he was able to admire her pleasing profile. Back in
the days when they ran barefooted along the creek, she’d had long yellow braids that flopped against her shoulder blades. No matter how tightly Abigail Zimmerman wove those braids, a few tendrils of hair always worked loose to form little squiggles at her temples and at the nape of her neck. A smile tugged his lips as he took note of a wavy strand tucked behind her ear. Some things didn’t change.

  He jerked his gaze forward. And other things changed a lot. Like being able to have a friendship with Suzy. They weren’t ten years old anymore. And she wasn’t a part of their fellowship any longer. She attended worship services with her mother every Sunday, but she hadn’t approached the deacons to renew her membership. She still wore English clothing, although modest, and her head was uncovered.

  An uncomfortable feeling wiggled through his gut. He hadn’t asked the deacons about spending the evening with Suzy away from Arborville. Would he be reprimanded? The silence in the cab combined with his concerns. Almost reflexively, he applied the brakes, signaled, and pulled onto the shoulder.

  Both Danny and Suzy turned puzzled faces in his direction. Suzy said, “Is there something wrong with your truck?”

  Paul hit the emergency flashers, then sent her a look he hoped would communicate his confusion. “No, the truck’s fine.” He pulled in a big breath and let it out with a whoosh. “But I wonder if we should go back.”

  “Why?” Danny blasted the question.

  “Because neither of you is talking. It doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun.” Although he answered Danny, he kept his gaze fixed on Suzy.

  Pink stained her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was kind of…lost in thought.”

  Paul wished Danny wasn’t sitting between them so he could ask her what she’d been thinking about. Was she worried about the deacons’ reaction to their excursion, too? Why hadn’t he considered the ramifications of taking Suzy Zimmerman on what the community would surely consider an act of courting?

  Danny folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to go back. Auntie Ann’s Chicken is my favorite place to eat. I want chicken fingers for supper.”

  Paul finally met his son’s gaze. He tempered his tone, but he let his expression speak to his disappointment in Danny’s behavior. “And I want you to answer Miss Zimmerman with more than a yes or no when she asks you questions, because it’s the polite thing to do. Right now neither of us is getting what we want, are we?”

  Danny scowled and ducked low. “I didn’t know what to say.”

  A silly excuse. Danny had never been short on words.

  Suzy touched Danny’s arm. “Maybe it’s hard to answer questions when you don’t know the person who’s doing the asking.”

  Paul almost snorted. Until now, Danny had never met a stranger. And he couldn’t call Suzy a stranger after being in and out of the farmhouse dozens of times since she returned. The boy was just being obstinate, and he started to say so. But Suzy went on.

  “What if for the next ten miles you ask me questions? Then you might feel as if you know me a little better, and it will be easier to talk to me.”

  To Paul’s surprise, Danny sat upright so quickly it seemed someone had caught him by the collar and given a yank. “Okay.”

  Suzy sent Paul a hesitant smile. “Is that all right with you?”

  She was asking a little too late since she’d already gained Danny’s cooperation. Still worrying about the deacons’ reaction to their trip to Wichita, he said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather…go back?” Go back to Arborville? Go back to when you were a part of the fellowship? Go back to before we climbed into the barn loft and made the biggest mistake of our lives?

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  For a moment her reply seemed to apply to the questions rolling in his mind, and he gave a start. Then he gathered his senses and nodded. He turned off the emergency flashers and glanced in the rearview mirror. “Okay then. We’ll go on.” And hopefully there wouldn’t be a big uproar when the fellowship got wind of what they’d done. Now or back then.

  —

  Suzanne

  As soon as Paul pulled onto the highway, Suzanne offered Danny an encouraging smile. “All right. You can ask me anything except my age or my weight.” She stifled a laugh when Paul chuckled.

  Danny pursed his face, seemingly deep in thought. Suzanne glimpsed so much of Paul in him, despite his sullen behavior. Warm affection trickled through her chest. Looking at Danny sent her backward in time to happy, carefree days. Kind of a nice distraction, considering the places her thoughts had been carrying her only a few minutes ago.

  “You used to live in Arborville, right?” Danny’s boyish voice carried above the engine’s growl and the grating of rubber tires on wet pavement. “How come you moved away?”

  Paul jerked a warning frown in her direction. She nodded, hoping he would read assurance in the gesture, and formed a careful reply. “Well, at first it was my mother’s idea for me to visit Indiana. But once I got there, I met some nice people who helped me finish high school and then train to be a nurse. I started working at a hospital, and I liked it so much I decided to make Indiana my home.”

  Paul’s shoulders appeared to wilt a bit with her honest, albeit incomplete, answer.

  “My friend Jay—you know, your nephew—says you and my dad courted a long time ago.”

  Paul stiffened again, and Suzanne wished she’d placed a few more restrictions on Danny’s line of questioning. She managed to smile. “That’s true. Your dad and I were very good friends for a long time.” The warmth of affection that had begun to flicker when she gazed at Danny increased as she lifted her attention to Paul. “I think we’re still friends.”

  He aimed a quick, lopsided grin at her before returning his attention to the road.

  “But you’re not courting?”

  Suzanne shook her head, shifting her full attention to Danny. “No, Danny. We’re not courting.”

  The boy lapsed into silence, staring ahead.

  Suzanne waited a bit before giving him a light poke with her elbow. “Hey. You’ve got some more miles of question time waiting. Don’t waste it.”

  Danny sat frozen for a few more seconds and then tipped his face to her. “What’s your favorite color? Do you like chicken fingers? How come you don’t wear a cap like the other ladies in Arborville? Do you know how to hit a baseball? When is Alexa coming back?”

  Suzanne pursed her lips and pretended to give his questions great consideration. Then she answered in a rush. “Purple. Yes. Because the church I attended in Indiana didn’t require me to. Yes, I do. And I’m not sure.”

  Danny’s eyes widened. “You know how to hit a baseball?”

  She swallowed a laugh. Of course he would focus on that topic, given his love for the sport. “Mm-hm. I actually was a pretty good batter when I was a girl. I was a decent pitcher, too.”

  If his eyes grew any bigger, they’d pop from his skull.

  She added, “But that was a long time ago. I’m not sure I’d be very good at it today.”

  Danny spun to face his father. “Is that true, Dad? Was she good at baseball?”

  A grin teased at the corners of Paul’s lips. “Miss Zimmerman wouldn’t lie about such a serious thing. One time, when we were your age, she threw three strikes in a row and got me out.”

  “You let a girl throw you out?”

  Suzanne burst out laughing at the derision in Danny’s tone, and Paul joined her. Paul said, “Hey now, don’t hold it against me. Back then she was known as Sizzlin’ Suzy on the playground, so we’re not talking just any girl. Suzy was special.”

  Something changed in his voice. Something indiscernible, yet she experienced a shiver of awareness. She needed to change the subject. Quickly. She nudged Danny. “What position do you play?”

  For the next several miles Danny regaled Suzanne with story after story about his favorite plays. Then he moved from playing baseball to fishing, and Paul once again chimed in about how good Miss Zimmerman was at baiting a hook and snagging fish
. His compliments were probably meant to build her up in Danny’s eyes, to make the boy willing to open up to her, but the words had a deeper effect. When Paul spoke glowingly of her, something in her chest seemed to expand and tingle. A feeling she hadn’t experienced since she was seventeen years old and recklessly in love with eighteen-year-old Paul Aldrich.

  She should have told Paul to turn around when she had the chance.

  They eased into the town of Goddard, which melded into Wichita with nothing more than a sign to alert people they were leaving one city for another. Things had changed so much since Suzanne lived in Arborville and visited Wichita for occasional shopping expeditions. Although she’d driven Mother to doctor appointments since her return, she hadn’t been everywhere in the city, and she examined the businesses as Paul drove them to the strip mall that housed Danny’s favorite eatery.

  Paul parked as close to the restaurant’s door as possible. “Button up, Danny, and put your hood on, too.”

  A hint of belligerence appeared in the set of Danny’s mouth, but he yanked the hood into place and even jammed on his mittens without being told. Suzanne followed the boy’s example. Even on a short walk, the January wind could cut through a person.

  Paul trotted around to her side of the pickup and opened the door for her. She hadn’t expected the gentlemanly gesture, and her movements turned clumsy as she slid out. Cold air smacked her, and she angled her face to the wind in the hope Paul would blame her flushed cheeks on something other than embarrassment.

  Danny dashed ahead and held the door for them. Suzanne thanked him. He shrugged. Paul poked him on the shoulder, and the boy said, “You’re welcome.” He pushed his hood back, leaving his hair standing on end, and without conscious thought Suzanne reached out and smoothed her hand over the thick brown strands. Danny jolted as if she’d scorched him with her touch.