The Days of Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  The women on his street had been terribly amused by his labors. More than one had come on the pretext of seeing if he wanted any help, but more likely to see what he was up to. Luckily, they’d brought gifts of pies and bread and a casserole, too. He’d spent several nights with a full stomach, being thankful for nosy neighbors.

  Though everyone seemed to take his domestic endeavors in stride, a few of the ladies looked a bit shocked, he supposed. They weren’t used to seeing a man so at home with a box of laundry detergent.

  He had learned to let go of the idea that there were chores for only men or women. His time in Nicaragua had proven to him that the Lord needed everyone to do all chores, not only the things they were comfortable with.

  Now, though, he had a nice fire in the fireplace, was sipping hot tea in his father’s old easy chair, and reading an old mystery novel of his father’s. Gretta was snug in her bed by his feet, her head under the covers, back legs and tail slanting slightly off to one side. He felt comfortable and warm. Secure, too.

  Which was an unusual thing, he realized. For the first time, he didn’t ache for the way things used to be. For once, he felt like there was a chance that he could move forward in his life instead of wishing for the past.

  His mission work had done far more for him than he’d ever expected. He’d gained strength and knowledge from the men and women he’d tried to help in Nicaragua. They’d reminded him about what was important. And doing without so much had taught him to adapt.

  And while his time away had done so much good, he was beginning to wonder if he’d left for the right reasons. Had he only been trying to run from home when he’d told Mr. Cross and the rest of the folks at CAMA that he yearned to be sent somewhere far away for mission work? When he’d said he’d wanted to minister to the needy in other areas of the world, had that only been a part of his goals?

  Instead, had he been eager to go to another country for selfish reasons? And had he returned for selfish reasons? Of course he’d wanted to see his father. But maybe he’d wanted to ease his guilt, too.

  And maybe, just maybe, he’d been eager to hear praise from his father and neighbors and friends? If he was honest, he had to admit that there had been a part of him that wanted to feel special, because he’d been brave enough, tough enough, to travel far to do good works.

  Instead of concentrating on the people he’d served, and how everything he’d done was God’s will, he’d donned a cloak of pride and insecurity, too.

  Which wasn’t a good thing. Not at all.

  If that was the case, Ed realized he had a lot more growing up to do. He was going to need to find a way to come to terms with the fact that Viola was right. He was completely, selfishly focused only on himself. Under the guise of helping others.

  He closed the book and closed his eyes. And did something he realized he needed to do a whole lot more often. He prayed.

  And then he breathed deep, let his body relax.

  And prayed some more.

  Viola couldn’t believe what she’d just agreed to. When she’d arrived at Daybreak, she’d practically run into Edward as he was exiting the building. She was so surprised to see the man who had dominated her thoughts all weekend, she’d somehow agreed to have lunch with him today. But how could she? Besides the fact it would cause speculation among the residents, she didn’t want to get to know him any better. He was only here for a short time, and . . .

  The loud knock of knuckles on the cheery table next to her jarred her out of her musings. “Girly, what am I going to do with you?”

  She started at the sharp rap. “Mr. Swartz, you’re going to get in trouble if you keep doing that.”

  “Sometimes, a man has no choice in the matter.”

  Fidgeting under his accusing gaze, she tried to make amends. “I’m sorry, Mr. Swartz. What have I done wrong?”

  “You’re ignoring me.”

  “Truly?” She’d brought him coffee. Had listened to all the latest gossip about the other residents.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me all about Saturday’s trip to the cheese shop. But instead of thinking about me, you’re looking out into the distance like a spaniel on the hunt.”

  “Spaniel?”

  “She’s a bit different from a good hunting dog, Atle,” Mr. Showalter commented with a grin. “Plus, you’re out of practice talking to womenfolk. They don’t like men comparing them to animals.”

  “Jacob, you’ve been a widower longer than me. Maybe you’ve forgotten what women want to hear.”

  “I don’t think so. At least, I might have forgotten what they want, but I definitely haven’t forgotten what they don’t want to hear. My wife made sure of that.”

  “My frau was a good woman. She never had any complaints.”

  “That may be true. But perhaps I was a better husband.”

  “He’s got you there, Atle!” a lady sitting on the other side of the fireplace said.

  Viola hid a smile as Mr. Swartz shifted, looking embarrassed. Around them, the other men and women in the room began to discuss all the lessons they’d learned over their years of marriage.

  Fortified with coffee, a cozy fire, and no place to go, the conversation grew louder and more ribald, with the men easily offering one another a variety of well-placed put-downs.

  Usually, such talk would burn her ears, but Viola couldn’t help but chuckle at the audacity of the conversation. Her home had been closely monitored at all times for inappropriate talk and behavior. It was refreshing to be around so many people who weren’t used to so many restrictions.

  But that didn’t mean she felt able to join in, of course. She kept her hands busy with some place cards she was organizing for a future dinner. But she listened attentively with her bright red ears.

  “Daed!” Ed chided as he walked into the room. “You shouldn’t be talking like that. There are ladies present.”

  Viola popped her head up as the rest of the room went silent. What was he doing here? There were still a couple hours before it would be even close to lunchtime.

  Instead of looking cowed by his son’s comment, Mr. Swartz merely brushed off the scolding with a careless wave of his hand. “There’s nothing we’re saying that they haven’t heard before.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Are you offended and upset, Viola?”

  “Nee, Mr. Swartz. I think I’m used to your way of speaking by now.”

  Almost comically, Atle raised his eyebrows. “See? Everything is gut here. Don’t tell me that mission work has stunted your sense of humor, son.”

  Edward looked a bit affronted. “My sense of humor hasn’t gone walking, Daed. It’s more like your manners have.”

  “Some would say talking back to your poor father who’s stuck in a wheelchair ain’t good manners, either, Edward.”

  His son opened his mouth, then shut it slowly as his lips, too, curved up a bit. “You’re right, Father.”

  Mr. Showalter chuckled, and several others suddenly became busy with their coffee and snacks.

  And Viola smiled. She was torn between being embarrassed that he’d pointed out her presence, and a little miffed that he’d spoiled his father’s harmless chatter.

  But then Edward glanced her way. And those blue eyes froze everything that had been on the tip of her tongue.

  “Viola, what time would you like to go to lunch today?”

  All at once, she felt everyone’s gaze fasten on her with the tenacity of a creeping vine on an ash tree.

  “What’s this?” Mr. Swartz asked. “I didn’t know you two were courting.”

  “I merely asked Viola here if she’d like to share a meal with me,” Ed said patiently.

  “Ah,” Mr. Showalter said. “A romance.”

  Others in the suddenly crowded-feeling room mumbled in agreement. And with each comment, it felt as if Viola’s skin turned a different shade of red.

  Oh, but this was terrible! This was just what she was hoping to avoid. “Mr. Showalter, this
. . . this is not a romance,” she blurted. “It is only a meal.”

  “Jah,” Ed said. “It’s only a meal. Don’t make it more than it is.”

  “In my day, asking a lady to share a meal was courtship,” Atle said. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad you have come to your senses and are taking’ a shine to Viola here.”

  She’d now gone from blushing to wishing she could scoot out of the room.

  But Ed simply crossed his arms over his chest and returned his father’s sass easily. “Daed, in your day, I imagine your father knew better than to comment on your activities. Somehow, I can’t imagine that Grandpa Joseph was as into your business as you seem to be in mine.”

  As Atle squirmed, Viola chuckled. “He’s got you there, Mr. Swartz.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She glanced Ed’s way, intending to share a smile. But as she did, she stilled. He was staring at her in a new way. Not heated, exactly. But with a new, fresh awareness.

  Her lips parted as she felt an unexpected pull. She was attracted to him; she couldn’t deny it.

  Not that that was a good thing. They were far too different, and he was leaving. For a split second, she let her impatience get the best of her all over again. Only she would start liking the one man she shouldn’t in Berlin.

  Then, conscious of everyone’s attention, she shook off her regrets. “Edward, what time would you like to eat? I can be flexible.”

  “Around noon?”

  “You can go earlier if you want,” his daed said.

  “That’s okay,” Ed replied with a grin. “I wanted to spend some time with you first. Nobody’s teased me since last time I was here.”

  His daed grumbled, but Viola could tell he was pleased. She stood up. “I think that’s my cue to move on. I’ve got some other things I need to do before lunch.” She held up the place cards she’d just finished writing names on. “The least of which is to put these in a safe place.”

  “But you’ll come back to fetch Edward?”

  Now it was Edward’s turn to be the focus of much amusement in the room. His cheeks flushed, but to his credit, he stayed silent.

  “Ed, how about you meet me in the lobby at noon?”

  “That sounds good. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby at noon.”

  He sounded so certain. Almost like he was eager for their date!

  Viola turned away before either man could see the broad smile that threatened to erupt. But before she left the room, she could hear the other residents teasing Edward about having a date.

  And how, although they all teased him, he never corrected them.

  After Viola left the room—and everyone got tired of teasing him—Edward and his father settled into easy conversation. They talked about his father’s trip to the cheese shop, and about one of his friends who’d recently passed away.

  His father asked him about the house and if he’d shoveled the sidewalk and if he’d remembered that the back door stuck in the cold.

  As the minutes passed and his father’s reminders continued, Ed was starting to feel as if he’d become ten years younger since he’d returned home. In Nicaragua, he’d been respected. His opinion valued. Men and women alike had depended on him for advice, and had admired his hard work ethic.

  He’d had to grow up fast. He’d made some impressive mistakes and had to bear the burden of fixing his messes all by himself.

  Now, though, it was starting to feel like he had never left home. Not only was his daed interested in his love life, but he seemed to have forgotten that he was a grown man.

  For a moment, he considered speaking to his father about that, but decided against it. There was no point in it, after all. In six months he’d be gone again.

  Suddenly, he felt empty.

  “Tell me about the house, Edward. Does anything need to be repaired? Do you need to hire someone to come in and help you clean it better?”

  “I think I got the cleaning under control.” Briefly, he described his new close relationship with the bottle of Pine-Sol. Then, before he knew it, he was telling his father about the little dog who had wandered into his life. How they had enjoyed a few quiet moments together in front of the fireplace the evening before.

  “That’s a good spot. I’ve spent plenty of days in that chair myself, son.”

  “It’s not too late, Daed. How about you move back in with me for the next six months?”

  “Until you leave again?” Some of the spunk ebbed from his demeanor. “I think not.”

  “But it will be just like old times.”

  “Ah, that’s where you are wrong. Nothing is ever like old times, I’m afraid. It’s never the same.”

  “It could still be good, though. I’d love to live there with you.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, but this is where I belong, Edward.” A faint shadow of a secret slid into his expression. “It’s where I need to stay, too. I’m happy here.”

  Ed had a feeling his father was being completely honest. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “Something that would make me mighty happy is if you continued your courtship of Miss Viola.”

  “I’m taking her to lunch, Daed. That’s all.”

  “Lunch can grow to something more.”

  “We both know it shouldn’t. I’ll be leaving in six months.”

  “Six months is time enough to fall in love.”

  “Daed—”

  “Don’t some missionaries travel with their wives?” he interrupted.

  “Jah, but I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

  “Maybe so, but whether we are talking about Viola or another woman, I think it’s something to think about.” He eyed Ed intently through his lenses. “Promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said dryly. What he didn’t want to share was the feeling that he’d already had about Viola. He’d always wanted a woman in his life who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

  But that aside, he wasn’t even sure Viola would want a life built around mission work. As it was, he and Viola had hardly had more than a handful of conversations, each one barely less stilted than the previous one. To go from lunch to asking her out for another date was a big enough step. Marriage and traveling together for mission work felt like too much of a gap to even contemplate.

  Why was his father so intent on getting him hitched?

  A slow steady note of worry threaded through him. “Hey, Daed? Is there something going on with you that I’m not aware of? Are you sick?”

  “Certainly not.”

  But his father wasn’t looking at him. In fact, he seemed to be doing everything he possibly could to avoid meeting Edward’s gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I am that your pesky questions are beginning to annoy me, Edward. I’ve been living fine here in Berlin without your constant interfering. You needn’t begin fussing over me now.”

  “I’m not fussing.” Feeling more confused by the second, he looked around the room for some support. Surely there was someone nearby who could give him a hint of what was going on with his daed?

  But during their spurious exchange, the room had emptied. Now, it was only the two of them in the big room. “Daed, are you supposed to be somewhere?”

  Looking as if he were visibly holding on to the last of his patience, his father narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “No one else is here.” He stood and moved behind his father’s wheelchair, and took the handles. “Would you like me to wheel you to wherever you need to go?”

  “I am not an invalid, Edward!”

  He let go of the wheelchair handles and stepped backward. “I know.”

  “Good. Now stop getting into my business.”

  In a lot of ways, Ed was his father’s son. It went against his nature to rely on others, or to be bossed around. He kept his temper with effort. “All right.”

  Now that he’d won whatever sort of battle he’d been waging, his father h
eld up a crossword puzzle with a shaky hand—the only sign, as far as Ed could see, that he, too, had been disturbed by their angry exchange of words. “Now, it’s time to put that brain of yours to good use, Edward. Help me finish this puzzle.”

  There was only one thing to do. Ed sat back down and plucked a pencil from the holder in the center of the circular table and leaned forward. “Which clue are you working on?”

  “Two across. A four-letter word for stubborn.”

  DAED fit the bill. But he tried for something a little less inflammatory. “How about mule? I think that might work.”

  After a moment, his father wrote that in. “It works, indeed.”

  chapter nine

  They’d been walking in silence since they left the retirement home. Though Viola wasn’t a woman who needed constant chatter, the awkward tension between them was so different from their usual bantering that her nerves were starting to get the best of her.

  “Was it something I said?” Viola joked.

  “I don’t follow.”

  She noticed that he neither slowed his pace nor looked her way. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “You’ve hardly looked my way for two blocks. And, you’re walking so fast I practically have to jog to keep up with you.”

  Immediately, his steps slowed. “I’m sorry. And as for looking your way . . .” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Did you want me staring at you?”

  “Of course not. All I meant was that we’ve hardly spoken ten words to each other since we left the retirement home,” she explained as they stepped around a woman strolling with her basset hound. “Plus, every time I’ve tried to start a conversation, you’ve looked distracted. Since this lunch was your idea, I was wondering if I’ve done something to upset you. Or, did you change your mind and not know how to back out of it?”

  Immediately, he looked pained. “Viola, I promise, that’s not it at all.”

  “Then what is it? Or am I just imagining things?”

  “It’s . . . nothing.” He paused, looking as if he was tempted to say more, but instead turned and looked straight ahead again. “But no, you’re not imagining things.”