When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Suzanne smiled. “He’s fine, Paul. Earlier I was thinking he seems to be more relaxed and sunny again. I’m glad to see the change.”

  Paul laid his napkin on the table, then fiddled with the scalloped edge. “We still have our moments, but I’m trying, as you said, to be patient with him. I have managed to get him talking a little bit, and you were right about him missing his mom. I think he finds it especially upsetting that he can’t remember a great deal about her. He said it makes him feel like he never even had a mother. He’s been asking lots of questions, and I always answer, even when it’s hard. Hopefully, eventually, he’ll once again be okay with it being just him and me.”

  His final words stabbed, and she lowered her head.

  “Suzy? Are you all right?”

  He’d said he was patient with Danny and answered even his hard questions. Would he give her the same treatment if she asked a bold question? She met his gaze. “Karina’s been gone a long time now.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Coming up on four years.”

  She gathered her courage. “Don’t you ever want to marry again so it isn’t just you and Danny alone?”

  His fingers stilled on the napkin edge. He stared at her, his brown eyes registering surprise and something else she couldn’t quite interpret. He licked his lips, then drew a breath that expanded his chest. “Suzy, I—”

  “Here we are!” Mother’s cheerful voice intruded. She wheeled into the dining room with a plate of cookies balanced in her lap. Danny followed, carrying the milk pitcher with both hands. Mother put the cookies on the table, then reached for the milk. As she turned with the glass pitcher, her gaze drifted across the two of them, and her eyebrows crunched together. “What’s wrong?”

  Paul took the pitcher from her and set it gently on the tablecloth. He patted the chair Danny had vacated and waited until his son sat. Then he looked at Mother. A half smile curved his lips. “Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Zimmerman, but your daughter just asked me a question, and I intend to answer it. When I’m done, I’d really like to hear what you think.”

  Arborville

  Paul

  Paul sent up a quick, silent prayer for God to render him incapable of speech if he was rushing things. When he turned to Danny and spoke his son’s name, his voice came out strong and sure. Thank You, Lord.

  “What, Dad?” Danny’s expression held both curiosity and apprehension.

  “Son, I’m going to talk to Mrs. Zimmerman and Miss Zimmerman. I want you to listen, though, because what I say will affect you, too. When we go home, we’ll talk about it again, so right now you’re just to listen. Do you understand?”

  Danny nodded, solemn and wide eyed.

  Paul shifted his attention to the mother and daughter sitting side by side across the table. Two pairs of blue eyes peered back at him, and he saw the same emotions he’d glimpsed in Danny’s face. He hoped his answer to Suzy’s question wouldn’t increase their apprehension.

  “Mrs. Zimmerman, Suzy asked if I ever intended to marry again. I’ve been asked that a lot in the last couple of years. I suppose it’s to be expected, seeing how I have a son to raise and no wife to help me.” He angled his gaze to Suzy. “Truthfully, I’ve thought about it. I love my son, but I get lonely. I miss having someone to talk to and laugh with and share my concerns with. I’m sure you know what I mean. You raised a daughter all on your own.”

  Suzy nodded, the movement slight. The understanding glowing in her eyes encouraged him to continue.

  “Even though I’ve thought about marrying again, not until lately have I considered doing more than just think about it. Not until you came back to town.”

  She sucked in a little breath, but Mrs. Zimmerman didn’t give a start. In fact, a knowing smile creased her wrinkled cheeks. He resisted the urge to fidget and focused on Suzy.

  “There’s a whole lot standing in the way. There’s Anna-Grace.” Thank goodness she wasn’t at the table listening, too. Having his son’s unwavering gaze boring into the side of his face was enough. “There’s the fellowship. And there’s our…history.”

  “The history doesn’t matter.” Suzy almost blurted the statement. Her cheeks flooded with pink. She added, more hesitantly, “That is, we’ve forgiven each other. The…past…can remain in the past.”

  He read the meaning behind her words and gave a grateful nod. “Still, there’s Anna-Grace. And the fellowship. Even if we’ve let it go, the members will be concerned about our past.”

  “Yes…” Lines of concern marched across Suzy’s forehead. He longed to run his thumb along them, smooth them out, soothe her.

  Mrs. Zimmerman rested her arms on the table’s edge. “Paul, may I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Do you love my daughter?”

  He didn’t need to hesitate. “I’ve loved Suzy since she was a pigtailed ten-year-old running barefoot along the creek bank in pursuit of frogs.”

  “I mean today. Not from before, but now.”

  He looked at Suzy. At her golden hair combed neatly into a braided twist. At her modest blouse and sweater vest. Her Old Order trappings were gone, her youthful face replaced by a maturity that spoke of growth and change and strength. He smiled. “I love today’s Suzy.” Her face bloomed bold crimson, and tears winked in her eyes.

  Mrs. Zimmerman turned her pointed gaze on her daughter. “Suzy, what about you? Do you love Paul? Not the Paul who banged in and out of my back door but the one sitting across the table right now?”

  Suzy’s lips quavered, but when they parted, a simple answer wheezed out. “Yes.”

  Paul’s heart rolled over in his chest. If there hadn’t been a four-foot-wide table between them, he’d have her in his arms, and it wouldn’t matter one bit if they had witnesses.

  “Well then,” Mrs. Zimmerman said in her typical straightforward manner, “I don’t think you need to concern yourselves about Anna-Grace. That situation is part of the past you said you could leave behind. But the fellowship…” She shook her head. “I won’t sugarcoat things. Setting things to right with them will take some doing.” She looked from Paul to Suzy, her eyes glowing with confidence. “But if you really love each other, you’ll find a way.”

  Danny didn’t say a word all the way home, but Paul could tell by the way his son’s face remained pinched in a scowl of concentration, questions were rolling in his mind. They entered the house together, hung up their coats and hats, and kicked off their boots. And with the thud of their boots on the floor, Danny’s dam burst.

  “You really love Miss Zimmerman? The way you loved my mom? Are you gonna marry her? Why’s the fellowship a problem? And why’s Anna-Grace a problem? And what do you mean when you talk about ‘the past’?”

  “Whoa, Son, one subject at a time, okay?”

  Paul curved his hand around the back of Danny’s neck and guided him to their couch. They sat, angling themselves so their knees bumped. He looked into his son’s upturned face and a knot of love nearly choked him. These past weeks he’d felt less like Danny’s hero and more like his enemy. When he’d finished talking, he might have totally lost his hero status in his son’s eyes. If only the past had no effect on today.

  “First of all, ‘the past’ is the life I lived before you came along. In my past, as you already know, I loved Suzy Zimmerman and I wanted to marry her.”

  Danny crunched his face. “Then how come you didn’t?”

  This was the part of the past he wished he could erase. “Well, Son, I sinned. You know what sin is—breaking one of God’s laws. The Bible tells us that physical intimacy is meant to be between a husband and wife only. But Miss Zimmerman and I were intimate.” Would Danny understand? He was growing up, but he was still so young. “We came together in a way that created a baby.”

  His son’s mouth dropped open. “You did?”

  Paul nodded. He wanted to shift his gaze to the ceiling, the floor, the sofa—anywhere but into his son’s shocked face—but he made himself
maintain eye contact. “Yes. A baby girl. Having a baby when you aren’t married goes against the Bible, and it goes against the teachings in our fellowship. Miss Zimmerman’s mother was very upset, so she sent Miss Zimmerman away and I didn’t see her again. Not until she came back to Arborville.”

  Danny sat in stunned silence for several seconds, his jaw hanging slack. Then his face lit. “The baby you had…is it Alexa? Is she my sister, Dad? Huh?”

  The two of them could be related, given their mutual tendency to be, as Alexa termed it, gung-ho. Paul caught Danny by the shoulders. “No, Danny, Alexa is not your sister.”

  Confusion crinkled his brow again. “Then where is my sister?”

  Paul didn’t dare tell him. Not until Anna-Grace chose to know. His chest ached, and he searched for an answer that would protect Anna-Grace and still be truthful. “Another family adopted her.”

  “So she’s not my sister?”

  Paul shook his head, giving Danny’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “In the eyes of the law, no. She isn’t part of our family at all.”

  “So I don’t have a mom, and I don’t have a sister.” A hard edge crept into Danny’s voice. Disappointment flickered in his eyes.

  Paul thought his heart might break. Seeing his precious boy hurt by the consequences of his actions was worse than suffering them himself. He pushed an apology past his aching throat. “I’m sorry, Son.”

  “Me, too.” Danny sat with his head low, picking at a small tear in the knee of his school pants. “Sure would’ve been fun to have a sister.” Then he bounced his chin upward, his gaze colliding with Paul’s. “But I could get a mom again, right? You said you love Miss Zimmerman. If you marry her, then—”

  “Danny, Danny, please slow down. Listen to me.” He waited until Danny stopped his wriggling. “Yes, I love Miss Zimmerman. And if it were up to just me, I’d ask her to marry me. I think she’d be a good mom for you, and I know she’d be a good wife to me. But before I can marry anyone, before I can even court anyone, I have to ask the deacons for their approval.”

  Danny threw his hands wide. “So ask ’em.”

  Paul closed his eyes and stifled a groan. If only it were that simple. He looked at Danny again. “The deacons won’t say yes unless the woman I want to court is part of an Old Order fellowship.”

  Danny’s puzzled expression didn’t clear.

  “Miss Zimmerman goes to our fellowship, but she isn’t a member.”

  “Oh…” He chewed his lip for a moment. He shrugged. “Then she can join.”

  Paul laughed—one short, mirthless huff. “It’s not quite that easy, Danny. Before she could become a member of our fellowship, Miss Zimmerman would have to confess her sins to the Deacon Council.”

  “So she’d have to say that you and her had a baby girl together without being married?”

  Stated so baldly, it stung. Paul nodded.

  “And she doesn’t want to tell?”

  How could she tell? The deacons weren’t stupid. They might as well put up a billboard: Suzy and Paul begat Anna-Grace. “She isn’t ready,” he said gently.

  Danny bolted upright and blew out a mighty breath. “So I guess that means I’ll never get another mom.”

  Paul grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, and for once Danny didn’t pull away. He buried his head in the curve of Paul’s neck and let Paul hold tight. He whispered into his son’s ear, “Remember what the Bible says? ‘With God all things are possible.’ If I’m supposed to marry Miss Zimmerman, if she’s supposed to be your new mom, then it will happen. And if it doesn’t…” He kissed Danny’s temple. “Then we’ll know God has something else planned for us. Okay?”

  Danny didn’t answer.

  Indianapolis

  Cynthia

  Lindsey tossed her coat over the back of the sofa on her way through the little front room, bopping Cynthia in the back of the head with one of the coat’s toggle buttons. Her scarf dropped from her hand midway across the floor. “Hey, Cyn, what’re your plans for dinner?”

  Over the past week Cynthia had learned that Lindsey left a trail wherever she went. She’d also taken to shortening Cynthia’s name. Cynthia never minded when Glenn called her Cyn. It felt affectionate and intimate. But when Lindsey did it, it seemed like another way to be lazy—as if it took too much effort to say all three syllables. Maybe she’d start calling Lindsey “Lin” and see how she liked it. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. She couldn’t risk getting tossed out. Where would she go?

  She peered into the kitchen, where Lindsey was opening and closing cabinet doors. “I hadn’t given it much thought yet.” She hadn’t had an appetite in a week. “Did you have something in mind?”

  Lindsey banged another door closed and leaned on the counter, her arms folded over her chest. “Yeah. I met this guy named Zane a couple of weeks ago. He claimed he was a gourmet cook and offered to come over and cook a four-course candlelit dinner anytime I asked. Since there’s nothing here to fix, I was thinking about taking him up on it. But the point of a candlelit dinner is to be alone, if you catch my drift.”

  Cynthia caught the drift. She also couldn’t help being concerned. “Where did you say you met him?”

  Lindsey began investigating the contents of the refrigerator. “At Basker’s—you know, the bar.”

  Cynthia was blissfully ignorant of Basker’s and every other bar in town. But she feared Lindsey knew them all. She crossed to the kitchen. “Do you think it’s wise to invite some man you met in a bar to your apartment?”

  Lindsey gawked at Cynthia over the top of the refrigerator door. “What are you now, my mother?”

  “Of course not. I just think—”

  “Well, I hope you aren’t giving me relationship advice. That would be pretty ironic, considering your situation at the moment.”

  The sarcastic arrow found its mark. Cynthia backed up.

  Lindsey grinned. “Uh-huh. Thought so.” She gave the door a swat that closed it. “Look, I said you were welcome to stay for as long as you needed to, and I’m not going back on my word, but it’s been a full week already. Don’t you think it’s time to start searching for your own place?” She grimaced. “Not to be rude or anything, but I’m not used to answering to anybody. It’s a little…awkward.” Lindsey flounced past Cynthia, her short, dyed-red curls bouncing. “As for tonight, if you could just make yourself scarce for a couple of hours, maybe three, I’d really appreciate it. Zane is a real hottie, and I don’t much want to share him with you.” She disappeared into her bedroom.

  Cynthia wandered into the small second bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the movie poster hanging on the opposite wall. She could stay in the room all evening, out of Lindsey’s way, but the idea didn’t hold any appeal. The walls were paper thin, and she’d hear everything. She was already weary of Lindsey’s idea of a fun evening.

  Glenn and the kids were probably, right now, sitting down to eat the Crockpot meal she’d left for them. Her mouth watered as she thought about the tender pork chops cooked in cranberry sauce with slices of peppers and onions. Had Glenn remembered to make a batch of brown rice and maybe a vegetable to go with it? She hoped so. The kids needed a balanced meal.

  She stood and paced the small room, restlessness driving her around the space while images of her family paraded through her mind. When they finished eating, they’d load the dishwasher—Barrett putting things in the wrong places and Darcy fixing it—and then they’d grab their coats and drive to church for the Wednesday evening services.

  Her heart caught. They’d be out all evening. A perfect opportunity for her to go over, throw in a load of wash, and gather a few more things. No one would bother her over there, and she wouldn’t be intruding on Lindsey’s evening with Zane. She hesitated. It would be—she borrowed Lindsey’s word—awkward to be in her house when she no longer officially lived there. Then she squared her shoulders. It was still her house. Her name was on the mortgage alongside Glenn’s. Her childre
n were there. She had every right to go in and out as she pleased. And right now, she pleased to go in.

  She grabbed her coat from the closet, snatched up her purse, and headed out the door.

  Indianapolis

  Cynthia

  Cynthia waited at the end of the block until Glenn’s minivan pulled out of the driveway and rounded the corner. Then she pulled up to the curb and parked. For a moment she sat staring at the simple brick ranch-style house that had been her first real home. Only brick and mortar, but so much more to a girl whose childhood was spent moving from one seedy apartment or small rental house to another. This house had become her safe harbor. She missed her family, but she missed her home, too.

  She got out and pulled her bag of laundry from the backseat. Glenn had left the porch light on, the way he always did during the evening and nighttime hours, so she stepped into a warm yellow glow as she mounted the porch steps. Her key turned the lock and she entered the house. The smell of the pork chops still hung heavily in the room, adding to the sense of “home.” She stood on the tiny square of linoleum that served as their foyer and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma, and then gave herself a little push. She needed to wash her clothes and get out of there before Glenn and the kids returned. A little over two hours—that was all she’d have.

  After tossing her coat over the back of the couch the way Lindsey did, she headed for the small utility room behind the kitchen, her bag of clothes in hand. Normally she’d separate her clothes into three piles—whites, lights, and darks—but tonight she needed to hurry the process, so she tossed the whites and lights together. Once the washing machine was filling, she headed to Glenn’s and her bedroom to collect a few more clothes.

  She snapped on the hall light and moved to the first doorway on the right. The door stood open, giving her a glimpse of the dark room. She reached around and hit the light switch, then remained with her toes touching the 1970s army-green carpet and her heels planted on the hallway’s tan carpet. She examined the room by increments, noting the neatly made bed, the uncluttered floor and dresser top, and Glenn’s school shoes—lace-up brown oxfords—placed beside the chair in the corner. Everything looked exactly the way it had when she left. An odd feeling wiggled through her middle.