When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  She started to agree with him, but Shelley interrupted.

  “Suzy, pass the apple turnovers this way, would you? Mother wants another one.”

  Reluctantly Suzanne turned her attention from Paul to the half-empty platter.

  Mother grimaced. “I shouldn’t have more. I’ve already had two little pies and three turnovers, but something about the cold weather increases my appetite. I can’t seem to get enough.”

  “Please finish them off,” Sandra said. “If you don’t, I will, and I don’t need any more sweets.” She patted her stomach, twisting her lips into a scowl. “I can’t seem to lose my baby fat this time.” She looked forlornly at Derek. “It came off faster with Ian, didn’t it?”

  He shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know. You always look the same to me.”

  Sandra frowned.

  “Beautiful.” He delivered a quick peck on her lips that erased the scowl.

  Sandra laughed. “Well, I’d like my dresses to fit more comfortably. As soon as this cold weather clears, I’ll start walking. That should help.”

  Anna-Grace turned to Sandra. “Oh, Cousin Sandra, I wish Steven’s house—”

  “Our house,” he corrected.

  She giggled. “Our house was closer to town. I’d walk with you every day. I love getting out, and it would be so fun to walk with you, Isabella, and Ian. Little ones turn the simplest events into an adventure.” Her cheerful expression clouded. “I miss Mom and Dad, but I think I miss Sunny the most. Even though she’s fourteen years younger than me, we had so much fun together.”

  Shelley said, “Do your folks let her call you? As little as she is, she might forget you if she doesn’t stay in contact.”

  Suzanne swallowed a gasp. Did Shelley have any idea how tactless her statement was? And painful. Shelley and Sandra had been so young when she left home. How close might they be if she’d stayed in Arborville during her sisters’ growing-up years?

  Anna-Grace turned a wide-eyed look at Shelley. “Sunny won’t forget me! We talk on Saturday afternoons when Mom calls, and I write her letters twice a week. She sends me pictures in return, and across the bottom she always writes, ‘I love you, Sissy.’ ”

  Shelley’s husband, Harper, leaned forward, blocking Shelley from Suzanne’s view. “You and Sunny will stay close. You and your folks will make sure of it. Don’t worry.”

  Anna-Grace’s stiff shoulders relaxed. A weak smile curved her lips.

  Harper turned to Steven. “Just curious about something, if you don’t mind me asking. Since Sommerfeld is really home to both of you, do you think about going back there to live? There are two schools where Steven could teach if a position opened up.”

  Beside Suzanne, Paul pulled in a short breath. She understood. Her pulse sped. If she stayed in Arborville, would it make her life easier or harder if Anna-Grace moved back to Sommerfeld?

  Steven and Anna-Grace exchanged warm glances. Steven said, “We’ve talked about it some. Both of our families are there, and especially when we have kids—”

  Pain stabbed Suzanne’s heart while a pretty blush stole over Anna-Grace’s face.

  “—it’d be nice to be close to the grandparents.”

  Paul’s hand rested on the edge of the table. His fingers curled into a fist. Suzanne battled the temptation to place her hand over his, share the anguish she knew he was suffering. Our grandchildren, her heart cried.

  “But that’s a ways in the future. I haven’t even finished my first year of teaching here yet, and who knows if one of the Sommerfeld teachers plans to leave anytime soon. So we’ll just have to wait and see what the Lord has in store for us.”

  Steven’s answer seemed to satisfy everyone else around the table, but Suzanne couldn’t focus on the continued conversation. Her mind flooded with fuzzy images of Steven and Anna-Grace’s children. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, for sure, given the parents’ features. Little ones who would call Paul “Mr. Aldrich” and her “Cousin Suzy.” If the title stabbed each time Anna-Grace used it, how would her heart survive hearing her grandbabies refer to her that way?

  She leaped up, banging her chair’s legs against the floor. Everyone stopped talking and looked at her. Considering the racket in the next room, she couldn’t believe they’d heard the thud of the legs. Instead, her abrupt movement had probably captured their attention. It must have seemed as though she’d been fired from a cannon. She tamped down a hysterical giggle.

  “Sandra—” Her voice sounded shrill. Unnatural. She took a steadying breath. “Let me help you clear the table, and then I think I’ll head home. I’d like to give Alexa a call and see how…how she’s doing.”

  Shelley frowned at Suzanne. “When exactly is she coming back? I understand wanting a vacation. Gracious sakes, she worked so hard getting that farmhouse fixed up and then opening a business. But she’s been gone more than two weeks already. I can’t imagine being away from home for that long.”

  Suzanne forced a light laugh. “I’m sure Tom and Linda are having so much fun with her they aren’t ready to send her back yet. She’ll be here in time for Anna-Grace’s wedding, though.”

  Anna-Grace released a dramatic sigh. “That’s good. Because she promised to bake the cakes.” She grinned at Steven. “Carrot cake for you, and white cake with raspberry filling for me, right?”

  “Right.” The pair locked gazes, seeming to forget anyone else was in the room.

  Mother glanced at the two young people and cleared her throat, her lips twitching with a compressed smile. “Well, Suzy, if you’re leaving, I guess that means I have to go, too. So let’s get this mess cleared, and we’ll all scoot out of Sandra and Derek’s way. They’d probably like to get their little ones down for a nap soon anyway.”

  Suzanne hadn’t intended to break up the gathering, and she said so.

  Sandra offered her an impish grin. “It’s okay, Suzy. I’m about ready for a nap myself. For some reason Isabella woke up around two and wanted to play. She was so cute I couldn’t deny her, but it made for a short night.”

  The women collected the used items from the table and carried everything to the kitchen. With six of them helping, they brought it all in one trip, then bumped into each other trying to get it organized for washing.

  Sandra laughingly waved her hands at the crowd. “Everybody, go home! Derek and I will get this.”

  Anna-Grace gawked at Sandra. “Derek helps with dishes?”

  Sandra giggled. “Yep. He always has.” She glanced toward the kitchen doorway as if making sure nobody listened in, then lowered her voice to a raspy whisper. “He helps with laundry, sweeps the floors for me, and changes Isabella’s diapers, too. The only things he won’t do are cook and dust.”

  Shelley snorted, scraping food scraps into the trash bin. “Personally, I think it’s shameful. He has his job and you have yours. Do you go to the Feed and Seed and help him during the day? Of course not. So why do you expect him to take over your work at home?”

  Hurt flickered in Sandra’s eyes, but she answered kindly. “I don’t expect it of him, Shelley. He just does it.” Shelley rolled her eyes. Sandra turned to Anna-Grace. “We like doing dishes together because we talk while we work. Him helping with housework probably isn’t traditional, but who says everything has to be done the way it always has been? Not every new idea is bad.”

  Tanya nodded. “I agree. And why shouldn’t men know how to clean house and cook meals? Sometimes they end up alone. Like Paul Aldrich. I bet being a widower and having to take care of everything himself would have been a lot easier for him if he’d already spent some time helping Karina with household chores. Clete isn’t one to help me on a regular basis, but if something happened to me, I know he’d at least be able to keep the house clean, the kids fed, and laundry done. I’ve made sure of it.”

  Shelley clapped the last plate onto the counter. “Well, I haven’t asked Harper to lift one finger with either the housework or the children. He has his job and I have mine. If something happens to
me, Ruby and Pearl will see to the chores for their father. They’re learning to be wives and mothers from me.” She folded her arms over her chest and bounced an imperative smirk over the circle of women. “I happen to like the traditional way of doing things.”

  Mother muttered, “You just enjoy being able to complain about your heavy workload.”

  Shelley stomped out of the kitchen.

  Mother patted Sandra’s arm. “The Bible says woman is meant to be man’s helpmeet, but I don’t see anything barring a man from being the woman’s helpmeet, too. When your father and I were first married, he helped me with the dishes for the same reason you just said. It gave us a chance to talk and catch up on the day’s events. Of course, when Suzy got big enough to take on chores, she started doing the dishes. Then Clete helped her.”

  Tanya’s eyes widened. “My Clete did dishes?”

  Mother chuckled. “He sure did. And folded laundry and scrubbed baseboards.”

  Tanya’s jaw dropped, and she stared toward the dining room, where the rumble of men’s voices continued to roll. “That stinker! He always acts so helpless when it comes to housework.” Her gaze narrowed, a cunning look entering her eyes. “Well, he’s been exposed. Guess who’s going to dry dishes for me tomorrow?”

  The women all laughed. Suzanne joined in, but her laugh was more restrained than the others’. Sandra shooed them all from the kitchen, and as Suzanne passed through the dining room, she found herself focusing on Paul. He’d been alone for more than three years now, and clearly he and Danny had managed on their own. They were both well fed, clean, and well dressed. She’d never seen the inside of his house, but since he and Danny were so neat looking, it stood to reason the house was clean, too.

  Paul, do you no longer have the need for a helpmeet? Oh, how she wanted him to need someone. To need her. Pressure built in her chest, and she hurried back to the kitchen and pulled Sandra away from the stack of dirty dishes. “Sandra…”

  Her sister turned, and immediately concern etched lines in her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  How intuitive she was. Suzanne blinked several times to bring her tears under control and forced her lips into a quavering smile. “I need you to help me with something.”

  Sandra gripped Suzanne’s hands. “Anything.”

  “I need you to help distance me from Paul Aldrich.” She ignored Sandra’s startled intake of breath and hurried on, determined to say everything before she lost her nerve. “He and I…we agreed to be friends, but I fear Mother is right that friendship between a single man and a single lady doesn’t work very well. One person’s feelings will run deeper than the other, and someone…” She gulped. “Someone inevitably gets hurt. So, please, when our families are together, will you be the barrier between us?”

  “Oh, Suzy…” Sympathy laced Sandra’s tone, and fresh tears pricked Suzanne’s eyes. Her sister, her little sister—two inches shorter and a dozen years younger—pulled her into a snug embrace. Suzanne clung, absorbing the comfort Sandra offered. Sandra whispered against her cheek, “Your feelings are running deep, aren’t they?”

  Suzanne managed a brief nod. She whispered, her breath stirring the black ribbon on her sister’s cap, “But I can’t let them. I have to stop thinking of Paul as anything more than a friend. He doesn’t want more. I lost him once. I can’t go through that again.”

  Sandra squeezed tight, then released Suzanne. She peered into Suzanne’s face, her brow furrowed. “I’ll do what you’ve asked, but are you sure it will help? Once I started loving Derek, I don’t think anything could have changed my heart. You can’t turn love off like a faucet, Suzy.”

  “Well, I have to.” She drew in a determined breath. If she couldn’t stifle the flow of emotion coursing through her for Paul, she’d have to leave Arborville again. This time for good.

  Indianapolis

  Cynthia

  On Monday morning Cynthia pulled up in front of her house and beeped the horn. Glenn should already be gone. He liked to be in his classroom a good half hour before the buzzer rang. But just in case he’d changed his routine to accommodate the kids being home alone, she didn’t want to go up and ring the bell. Moments later the front door popped open, and Barrett and Darcy stepped out. Barrett remained on the stoop while Darcy secured the door, and then the two of them ambled across the dry grass together, their shoulders occasionally bumping.

  Watching their cheerless progress, Cynthia battled tears. What had happened to her boy who galloped to the car, her girl who disdained walking beside her little brother? The two of them had changed so much in the few days she’d been away from them. Lord, let Mr. Mallory find my baby girl so I can come home. The plea twisted her heart. Would Glenn and the kids get used to not having her around and decide it was okay to go on without her? It had never taken her mom long to get over one lost boyfriend and replace him with another.

  Darcy slid into the passenger seat and Barrett flopped into the back. They slammed the car doors in unison. Hard. Rocking the vehicle. Ordinarily Cynthia would caution them. Glenn said slamming car doors loosened the fittings. But instead of scolding she smiled. “Ready to go?”

  Neither smiled in reply, but Darcy said, “Yeah.”

  Cynthia waited until they snapped their seat belts into place, then she pulled into the street. She drove to the end of the block and turned onto Center Street. Other mothers were pulling out of driveways, making the morning run to school. Glances in those vehicles showed bouncing children, mothers’ mouths moving either in reprimand or instruction. Cynthia could imagine the racket within those interiors. But in her car, things were quiet. Deathly so. Unnerving. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and counted the seconds, waiting for one of the kids to say something. But they didn’t.

  She cleared her throat and forced a cheerful tone. “Did you guys have breakfast, or do we need to hit a drive-through?” She glanced at Barrett in the rearview mirror, anticipating his eager grin. Even if he’d already eaten, he wouldn’t turn down a sausage biscuit.

  Barrett stared out the side window. He acted as if he hadn’t heard the question.

  Darcy fiddled with her backpack straps. “We ate.”

  “What did you have?”

  “Cereal and toast.”

  Cynthia sneaked another peek at Barrett. “Are you sure you don’t want something more?”

  Her son didn’t respond.

  Still hopeful, she said, “We have time. We can stop.”

  Darcy angled a derisive look at her mother. “Give it up, Mom. We aren’t little kids. You can’t buy us off with Happy Meals.”

  Cynthia wanted to argue that wasn’t what she was trying to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. If only the kids would relax, laugh, talk the way they always had together on the drive to school. The cloying silence made her want to shriek in agony. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and gritted her teeth for a moment. Then she braved a question. “What’ll it take then?”

  Out of her peripheral vision, she watched Darcy pucker her lips in and out, her intense gaze fixed on Cynthia’s profile, as if plotting something wild and extravagant. Cynthia waited, anticipating an imaginative, clever, teasing response from her flamboyant daughter.

  “You already know.”

  The flat response deflated her. Yes, she supposed she did. Cynthia sighed. “Darcy, do you think I like being away from you and Barrett?”

  “And Daddy!” Barrett barked the words, suddenly coming to life.

  “And Daddy,” Cynthia echoed. She shook her head. “I hate it. It’s hard. Harder than anything, ever.” And she’d lived a hundred hard lives before she married Glenn.

  “Harder than giving away your baby?” How snide Darcy sounded.

  Cynthia swallowed. “Even harder than that. Because I gave her away to save her. It was the best thing to do at the time. But this…” Tears distorted her vision. She blinked rapidly. She needed to focus to drive.

  “But this isn’t for us. It’s for you. I
s that what you were going to say?”

  Cynthia couldn’t look at Darcy. Her daughter’s words—too true and too wise for her young years—pierced her.

  Darcy sighed and turned her gaze forward. “Can’t see how it’s so all-blamed hard to be selfish.”

  Cynthia should reprimand Darcy for her attitude and her choice of words. Glenn didn’t tolerate disrespectfulness, and he’d never allowed cursing, not even in mild forms. He said people who resorted to curse words were taking the lazy way out instead of expressing themselves in a civilized way. But she didn’t have the energy to argue. Especially because Darcy was right.

  She pulled up to the junior high, and Darcy unsnapped her seat belt. She threw the door open and shot a glance into the backseat. “Bye, Barrett. Have a good day.” Then she bounced out and gave the door a solid whack that slammed it into its casing.

  Cynthia hit the Down button on the passenger window and called, “Bye, Darcy!” Darcy, her sleek brown ponytail swishing wildly over her shoulders, didn’t even pause. With a sigh Cynthia raised the window and then aimed a sad smile at her son. “Okay, buckaroo, your turn.”

  Barrett scowled. “Dad calls us buckaroo.”

  Cynthia snapped, “Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize he held exclusive rights to the nickname.”

  Barrett hunkered low and stared out the window again.

  Cynthia eased back into traffic, inwardly berating herself. She might not like the kids’ attitudes, but she understood them. Their world had been turned upside down, and she was the one who’d flipped it. She’d never wanted to be like her mother, who constantly stole her children’s sense of security, but she’d ended up like Mom after all.

  The grade school was only three blocks from Darcy’s junior high, and they reached it within minutes. She pulled into line behind other cars waiting to unload students. Barrett reached for the door handle, and she said, “Wait. It’s cold. We’ll be at the door soon.” He slunk back against the seat with his arms folded over his chest.

  The tension in the car was awful. Cynthia found herself eager to let her son out so she could breathe again. Then she inwardly kicked herself for once again being selfish. They inched forward as other cars departed, and finally they were two car lengths from the school’s front doors. “Almost there,” she said, choosing a light tone that contrasted with the tightness in her chest.