Alexa touched the spot on her lip. “Then this woman…this Cynthia…must be my mother.”
“It sure seems likely, doesn’t it?” Tom slipped the letter back into its envelope and slid it across the table to Alexa.
Linda kept her arm around Alexa, her brown eyes wide. “What’re you gonna do?”
Alexa placed her hands lightly over the envelope, her mother’s story playing through her mind. “I don’t know, Linda. I really don’t know.”
Arborville
Paul
Even though the morning sky was cloudless and only a gentle breeze blew—a mild day for late January—Paul drove Danny to school. The few minutes hardly added up to much when he considered the whole of the day, but they were minutes of solitude with no distractions, minutes that belonged only to them. When he married Suzy, these morning minutes might be the only ones he had one-on-one with his son, so he intended to keep driving Danny the short distance for as long as the boy didn’t resist him.
Danny shoved his lunchbox into the belly of his backpack. “Dad, what did you put in my lunchbox today?”
Paul chuckled. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty enough in there to fill your stomach and even your left leg. You won’t go hungry.”
Danny crinkled his nose. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, is there anything really good?”
“Well, I wrapped up a piece of peach pie.” He’d bought some slices at the café yesterday afternoon—half price since they were the morning’s leftovers.
“Did Miss Zimmerman bake it?”
Paul smiled, envisioning Suzy in his kitchen, rolling piecrusts, a smudge of flour on her cheek. “Either her or Anna-Grace Braun. They’re the ones baking pies these days.”
“Yeah, I know.” Danny wriggled as if some inner excitement was trying to break free. “When you and Miss Zimmerman get married, will she bake stuff just for us?”
“I’m sure she will.” Paul silently marveled at the miracle that had taken place last Sunday. Suzy overwhelmingly welcomed back into the fellowship, and the deacons giving their blessing on a courtship. He felt like a teenager again—a giddy, head-over-heels teenager. But he’d do things right this time. He slanted a look at his son. “Are you settling in with the idea of adding a mom to our family? I know it’s coming a little faster than I’d expected.”
“It’s okay with me. But I guess it means some things will be different, huh?”
Paul pulled up to the schoolyard and put the truck in Park. “Yeah. They will.” He’d have someone to talk to late at night, someone to share in Danny’s upbringing, someone to pray with and laugh with and, God willing, grow old with.
“Yep.” The boy sighed. “No more running from my bedroom to the bathroom in my underwear. I’ll have to put my pants on first.”
Paul burst out laughing.
Danny gawked at him. “It’s not funny, Dad. I don’t want her seeing me in my underwear.”
Paul snagged his son in a hug and planted a quick kiss on his head. “We’ll worry about things like that after the wedding, okay? Have a good day at school.”
Danny hopped out, and Paul sat in his idling vehicle, watching him gallop across the yard while swinging his backpack in a circle. He rolled down his window and called, “Danny, quit that! You’re going to scramble your pie!”
Danny stopped the backpack’s flight and aimed a sheepish grin at Paul.
Paul waved and rolled up the window again. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Danny’s idea of change was sure different from his. Suzy would get a kick out of the comment, too. He glanced at his wristwatch. He was due to arrive at the Goertzens’ by ten to finish the addition Daniel Goertzen had started but decided was too much for him to complete. Plenty of time remained for him to drive out to the Zimmerman farm, spend a half hour or so sipping coffee with Suzy. And with Abigail, as the woman now insisted he call her.
Decision made, he angled the truck into a U and headed out of town.
Suzanne
Suzanne stood on the piano bench in the middle of the living room, shivering. “Are you about done? My toes are freezing.” She bent over slightly and watched her mother place another pin along the hemline of her dress.
Mother whisked an impatient look upward, two stickpins poking out of the corner of her mouth. She spoke around the pins. “I’m going as fast as I can, Suzy, but you have to stand up straight and stop wiggling. Do you want this hem to be longer on one side than the other?”
Suzanne sighed and straightened her spine. One of the pins holding the dress’s placket together pricked her. “Of course not. I just wish I’d—” The doorbell interrupted. Mother looked at Suzanne, and Suzanne gawked back. “Are you expecting someone?”
Mother pulled the pins from her mouth and offered a mild frown. “Now, who would I be expecting at eight thirty on a Wednesday morning?”
Anna-Grace bustled into the room with a dish towel flapping over her shoulder. “Just stay up there, Cousin Suzy. I’ll get it.”
Suzanne’s stomach leaped. Have some visitor witness her on display with a half-pinned hem sagging above her bare calves and feet? “Oh, but—”
Too late. Anna-Grace had opened the door. A familiar male voice drifted from the little foyer and sent her heart into a series of cartwheels. “Good morning, Anna-Grace. Mmm, it smells good in here. More pies?” A slight pause, Anna-Grace’s subdued mumble, and then Paul again. “I forgot all about your morning baking spree. Is Suzy too busy to talk?”
Mother called, “Suzy’s right here, Paul. Come on in.”
Suzanne hissed, “Mother!”
Mother just grinned.
If her dress was buttoned instead of pinned, and if she were half her age and twice as limber, she’d leap from the bench and run out the back door to the cottage, even if the ground was frozen and her feet were bare. But all she could do was cover her left foot with her right, fold her arms across her stomach, and pray Paul wouldn’t burst into laughter when he spotted her.
Anna-Grace hurried around the corner and Paul sauntered in behind her. Anna-Grace went on to the kitchen, but Paul came to a halt and his gaze locked on Suzanne’s as if some inner radar had directed him. His jaw dropped.
Suzanne’s face filled with heat. “H-hi, Paul.”
Very slowly his brown-eyed gaze traveled down the length of her frame to her toes and up again, his mouth still slightly ajar. He reached her eyes, and he gulped, finally closing his mouth. Then he shook his head, an expression of wonder on his face. “Suzy, you’re…”
She cringed.
“…beautiful.”
Mother snickered. Suzanne almost nudged her with her foot, but fear of toppling from the bench kept her still. She flapped both hands at him. “Paul, honestly, I must look a sight. No socks or shoes, my dress half-done, and—”
“You are a sight. A sight to behold.”
She swallowed. Warmth flooded her, even taking the chill from her toes.
He took a step toward her, a smile blooming across his cold-reddened face. “Where did you get the cap? And the dress? I didn’t expect…” He shook his head again and his breath wheezed out. “Wow.”
Mother said, “We’ve ordered her some caps, but Anna-Grace loaned her one until the order arrives. As for the dress, Shelley’s been at her machine night and day since Monday morning.” She released a light snort. “That girl claims she’s sewn so many dresses she can put them together in her sleep, so she insisted on making Suzy a new wardrobe. She brought over three unfinished dresses last night with instructions to get them fitted so she could finish them today. Suzy’s supposed to drop them by Shelley’s this morning when she goes in to deliver the pies. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to pinning. Suzy, shift.” Suzanne made a quarter turn on the creaky bench. Mother grabbed her hem and folded the fabric into place.
Paul moved in front of Suzanne and smiled up at her. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t have come without calling, but I wanted to tell you what Danny said this morning. He said thi
ngs would be different at our house when you move in, and then he said”—he lowered his voice—“he wouldn’t be able to run from his room to the bathroom in his underwear anymore.”
Both Mother and Suzanne burst out laughing. Mother dropped two pins in her lap and fished for them, still chuckling. “Oh, my, the ideas young ones get. I’ll enjoy adding him to my quiver of grandchildren.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And maybe even another one or two…someday.”
Paul’s cheeks blazed, and Suzanne experienced a rush of heat. Paul cleared his throat. “Danny seems to be okay with the idea of adding someone to our family. How’s Alexa with it? Have you talked to her?”
Mother bumped Suzanne’s leg, and Suzanne automatically turned some more. Paul moved with her, keeping himself directly in her line of vision. Suzanne nodded. “She’s happy for me, and she asked me to tell you congratulations. But she’ll be able to tell you herself soon. She’s flying home Sunday afternoon.”
“We’ll go pick her up together. Danny, too.”
Suzanne wished she could leap off the bench into his arms and give him a thank-you kiss. But she had to be satisfied with giving him a big smile. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
“Okay. Done.” Mother pushed her chair away from the bench and blew out a breath of relief. “Go get changed.”
Paul helped her down, his hands lingering at her waist for a moment. Only a moment but long enough to make her pulse pound. He gave her a little nudge and impishly stuck his finger in his mouth. “I just got poked. Go put something less dangerous on. I’ll wait for you.”
With a giggle she hurried off. With Mother’s help she wriggled out of the dress, then quickly scrambled into her customary skirt, blouse, and cardigan over thick cable tights. She’d left her shoes beside Mother’s bathroom door, and as she moved to pick them up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror. She froze, staring at her face framed by a white mesh cap with trailing white ribbons. White, the color of purity. Incongruous. Incongruous with her secular outfit. Incongruous with her past.
“Oh, Mother…” The words emerged on a strangled sob.
Mother rolled her chair close, worry pinching her face. “What is it?”
Suzanne touched one of the ribbons. A tear slid down her cheek. “I wish I could meet my groom with a pure soul.”
Mother grabbed her hands and forced her around. “Suzanne Abigail Zimmerman, you listen to me. Do you believe that when God forgives, He also forgets?”
Suzanne gulped, shocked by the vehemence in her mother’s tone. She considered Mother’s question. People sometimes didn’t forget, but God wasn’t people. She nodded.
“Then what you did with Paul, in God’s eyes, no longer exists. That sin is washed clean. Washed clean, Suzy! When Paul sees you coming down that aisle toward him, he will see a pure soul.” She gave Suzanne’s hands a firm yank. “And I won’t let you see yourself any other way.”
Suzanne’s lips trembled into a grateful smile. She bent over and embraced her mother. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now get your shoes on and get out there. Poor Anna-Grace has been baking by herself all morning.”
While she and Mother were in the bedroom, Paul had gone to the kitchen. She found him sitting at the worktable with a cup of coffee, watching Anna-Grace flute the edge of the last piecrust. He bobbed his head in her direction and smiled at Suzanne.
“She’s finishing up. I told her she should consider joining Alexa in her baking business.”
An embarrassed flush stole across Anna-Grace’s cheeks. She tucked the pie in the oven, set the timer, then turned a shy look on Paul. “I don’t think I’d want to bake so many pies every day the way Alexa does. I’d rather just bake for Steven.”
Paul took a sip of his coffee. “It won’t be long now, will it? You’re getting married next month?”
Anna-Grace nodded and toyed with her apron. “Yes. The eighteenth. Three weeks from today.” A dreamy look flitted across her face, and then she gave a little jolt. Her lips twitched into the nervous semblance of a smile. She glanced back and forth between Suzanne and Paul. “H-have you thought about a date yet?”
Paul turned to Suzanne. The tenderness in his gaze melted her, as always. She slid into the chair across the table from him. “We haven’t discussed it, but I suppose we should. Arborville weddings are always scheduled when the farmers aren’t working their fields, and spring will be here soon.” She tipped her head, one ribbon slipping along her neck with a peculiar yet strangely familiar tickle. “Maybe late fall, next year?”
Mother yanked up the cleaning rag and scraped crumbs into her palm. “Seems to me you two have waited long enough. Do you really want a lengthy courtship? After all, you’re not seventeen and eighteen anymore.”
They should not be having this conversation in front of Anna-Grace. Suzanne released a self-conscious laugh. “I’m sure Paul and I will find a date that suits us.” She rose, reaching for the coffeepot. “Would you like a refill?”
“Cousin Suzy?” Anna-Grace took a hesitant step toward the table. Bright red splotches stained her cheeks and throat. She wadded the skirt of her apron into a tangle. “I have an idea. Well, actually, Steven first suggested it, but…”
Mother’s face pinched into a worried frown. “What is it, Anna-Grace?”
She flicked a glance at Mother and then faced Suzanne again. “Steven wondered if, maybe, you and Mr. Aldrich—Paul—would like to get married the same day we do.”
Paul and Suzanne spoke at once.
“That’s kind of you, Anna-Grace, but—”
“But that’s your day with Steven!”
They both stopped and looked at each other.
“Cousin Shelley could probably get you a dress done in time,” Anna-Grace said as if they hadn’t interrupted.
In unison they shifted to face Anna-Grace.
“And, Cousin Suzy, you told me you liked the colors I chose. So I know you’d be happy with the decorations. The people coming to my wedding are the same ones you’d probably invite to yours. If you get married the same day as us, you won’t have to wait until next year. Like Aunt Abigail said, you’ve already waited long enough.”
Suzanne smiled at the girl, battling tears. “Anna-Grace, that’s so sweet and unselfish of you to offer to share your special day with us. But this is meant to be your day with Steven.”
“I know, but…” The girl inched closer, her Zimmerman blue eyes beseeching. “Steven said, if…if I hadn’t been given up for adoption, he never would have met me. We wouldn’t have fallen in love with each other. We wouldn’t be getting married. Steven said…and I think he’s right…that we should be grateful. To you.”
Awareness rolled through Suzanne with such force, dizziness struck. She stretched out her hand toward Paul and he caught it. His strong grasp told her he’d understood the unspoken meaning behind Anna-Grace’s words.
One more step brought their daughter to the table. She curled her fingers over their joined hands. She smiled shyly at Paul, then locked her teary gaze on Suzanne. “It would be an honor for me to share my wedding day with you. It’s kind of like coming full circle, isn’t it?”
Indianapolis
Cynthia
Saturday evening Cynthia waited by the front door. She checked the time on her cell phone. Six fifteen already. If Darcy didn’t hurry, they’d be late for the preconcert backstage gathering. Besides, she was starting to sweat, all bundled up in her coat, scarf, and gloves.
She untied her scarf and unbuttoned the top button. Glenn glanced at her. He smiled, shaking his head. “Wonder if anybody plans to sing ‘Waitin’ on a Woman’?”
Cynthia blasted a short laugh. “Apropos, for sure.” Looking toward the hallway, she called, “Darcy, come on! We’re going to be late!”
Darcy dashed into the living room, her meticulously curled ponytail cascading from the top of her head and her eyes wide and frantic. “I can’t find the backstage passes!” She began rifling t
hrough desk drawers, muttering under her breath.
Cynthia walked over and tapped her daughter’s shoulder with two slips of tan cardstock. “You gave them to me for safekeeping, remember?”
Darcy sagged and grabbed the tickets. She pressed them to her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been tearing my room apart trying to find them.”
Barrett rested his chin on the back of the sofa and grinned at them. “Uh-oh. Mom, better tell her to clean her room before she can go do fun stuff.”
Darcy growled. “Batwit, I—”
Cynthia caught her daughter’s shoulders and steered her to the closet. “Get your coat and whatever else you need. We’ll worry about your room later.” They waved good-bye to Glenn and Barrett and dashed across the evening shadows to the car. Darcy bounced in the seat. If the seat belt wasn’t holding her in place, she might go through the roof. “Settle down. All your wiggling won’t make the car go any faster.”
Darcy pressed her folded hands beneath her chin and stared out the window as if wishing could make them magically land in the coliseum parking lot. “I know, but that new singer, the one who’s my age—Nicci K—is only going to be at the backstage party for fifteen minutes ’cause she has to get ready to open the show. I really want her autograph. Everybody says she’s gonna be a big star someday.”
“Only twenty people got backstage passes, honey. She can sign that many autographs in fifteen minutes, so don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay.” But she didn’t cease her restless bouncing.
Cynthia swallowed a chuckle. Darcy’s enthusiasm tickled her. She also couldn’t squelch her joy at spending the evening with her daughter. She’d been afraid Darcy would ask Glenn to go with her instead, but yesterday at supper she’d asked what Cynthia planned to wear to the concert. When Cynthia said, “Whatever,” Darcy rolled her eyes and then rummaged through Cynthia’s closet for an outfit. They’d had fun doing a style show for Glenn, and she had to admit she felt young and trendy in her boots, straight-legged jeans, tunic sweater, and scarf. Darcy had good taste.
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