The Days of Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Let’s hope it takes just as good.”

  That’s what she liked about him, Lorene realized. By all counts, John Miller had become successful. He owned his own store, bought a lovely home, and had taught himself to cook. But somehow he’d retained his modesty. He still looked as eager for her acceptance as he had ten years ago.

  After sharing a silent prayer, they dug in. And, of course, the meal tasted as wonderful as it looked. “It’s great,” she said. “Thank you, John.”

  “You know that I’m the thankful one, Lorene. Never did I imagine that we’d be together again.”

  They’d both been too full of pride. If she’d come to him years ago and told him that she’d changed her mind—or if he’d fought harder for their relationship—they might have enjoyed hundreds of meals like this.

  “I never imagined it, either,” she said. “I’m sorry for how long it took for us to come to our senses.”

  He set his soup spoon down. “Me, as well. But there’s something we can do now, you know.” Looking at her directly, he said, “We can promise that things will be different this time. That we’ll be completely honest with each other.”

  Here was her chance. “I promise.”

  His expression turned wry. “You don’t even need to think about it?”

  “Not even for a minute.”

  Reaching out, he grasped her hand. “I don’t need to think about it, either. I love you, Lorene. I can promise you that.”

  “I love you, too,” she said simply. She couldn’t believe how simple it was. She loved him. Always had. She couldn’t believe how nice it felt to hold his hand. To look into his eyes and see his promises.

  It was so nice, Lorene let his delicious soup cool in its bowl. Virtually ignored.

  chapter nineteen

  Yesterday, Edward had wondered if it would ever stop snowing. The flakes had become so heavy and thick that branches, telephone lines, and electrical lines were in danger of breaking. The foul weather had suited his mood, however. He, too, felt like he was in the middle of his own storm, desperately attempting to find his way through a future that was hard to see.

  Fancifully, he’d compared himself to an early explorer, trying to imagine what his life would be like if he took a different track. If he took a different route.

  Now, though, he knew that he couldn’t be a solo traveler. He needed other people by his side to help him make his decisions.

  This morning when he’d woken up, he’d leapt out of bed, his mind totally focused on his plans for the day. He needed to speak to his father, needed to show him the binder and get his advice. And he ached to talk to Viola, as well.

  Viola!

  What was it about her that kept drawing him in? The day before, as he’d watched the neighbor children run down their driveway in small sleds and build a snowman, his mind kept returning to memories of doing the same thing.

  And thoughts of one day watching his children doing that as well. More than once, he’d imagined Viola being by his side.

  And more than once he realized that he needed to include her in his deliberations.

  Though there was a very good chance she wouldn’t approve of him leaving again, he now knew her well enough that she would put her feelings aside to help him talk through all the pros and cons. Only then would she share her opinion. And he had no doubt that she would share it freely, and with great emotion.

  Viola was like that, he realized with a grin. She was far from a shy woman, hesitant to share her views. He found her willingness to be bold completely enchanting. She was like no woman he’d ever met, and when he was around her, he found himself wondering if she was the woman God had intended for him.

  By eleven, he felt he was in the right frame of mind to go to the retirement home and talk things over with his father. And to do the same with Viola if the occasion arose. He put on his old, thick boots, a sweater, and his coat and hat, and made his way to the retirement home.

  A half hour later, he arrived.

  “Edward, look at you!” Nancy, the receptionist, teased. “You look like the abominable snowman!”

  “I feel like it, for sure. The sun is peeking out, but the temperature is probably not out of the teens.”

  “I fear you’re right.” She pointed to the cloakroom off the main lobby. “Feel free to hang your things up, or to leave them on. Whatever suits you.”

  “Danke.” He went ahead and hung up his hat and coat, walked down the carpeted halls that were becoming familiar, and finally knocked on his father’s door. When no one answered, he knocked again.

  After another two minutes, his daed finally answered. His nose was red and chapped, and his eyes were watering. “Edward,” he said around a cough.

  All thoughts of Belize and Berlin fled in an instant. “Daed, what’s wrong?”

  He waved off his concern. “I’ve got a cold, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “Maybe it’s the flu.” He raised his hand, ready to feel his father’s forehead, when his father cut off his motion with a fierce glare. “No son of mine is going to start feeling me for a fever.”

  “Would you like me to call for a nurse?”

  “Definitely not. It’s simply a winter cold, Edward. It ain’t nothing all of us have had at one time or another.”

  “Ah.”

  “Did you come by simply to visit? Because if you did, I’m afraid I’m not much for company right now.”

  “You don’t need to be good company, Daed. I’ll just sit with you.” Looking around the dimly lit room, at the drawn curtains, he said, “Would you like to play cards? Or do you want me to open the curtains and let a little light in?”

  “Ed, I was in bed. Half-asleep.”

  “Ah.” Now he felt ill at ease. He’d come over for advice, but his father was obviously hoping his son would leave him in peace very soon.

  Peering at him through bleary eyes, his daed gave him a knowing look. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. That true?”

  “Yes. I did want to speak to you about something, but it can wait.”

  “What’s going on? Is there something wrong with the house?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” He backed away. “Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow and see how you’re feeling.”

  “That sounds gut.” He was leaning back against his pillows and closing his eyes even as Ed turned the doorknob to walk out the door.

  When he was out in the hall, he sighed. He’d been selfishly counting on his father’s time and attention, and to see Viola, too. Now he had no reason to conveniently “run” into her. She was probably busy working, anyway.

  With less than forty-eight hours left to make a decision, it looked like he was simply going to have to deal with this on his own.

  He was still stewing as he put back on his winter coat and stocking hat and was walking outside. He was so preoccupied that he practically ran into Viola on the front sidewalk.

  “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Edward Swartz,” she said.

  Viola, too, was bundled up. She wore a thick black wool cloak and a black bonnet on her head. The black made her skin look even more creamy than usual, her already rosy cheeks flushed from the cold.

  “That’s because it feels like it, Viola Keim.”

  Concern lit her pretty brown eyes. “Is something the matter?”

  “No. It’s just a problem that I’m working on. I’ll get through it. I was going to talk to my daed about it, but he’s feeling under the weather.”

  Reaching out, she gripped his arm. It was a sweet reminder of how much she, too, cared about his father. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “I asked him if he wanted the doctor. He assured me that it was only a cold.” He shrugged. “I hope that’s all that it is.”

  She visibly relaxed . . . but didn’t remove her hand. “Mrs. Ames said several people have colds right now.”

  Liking her touch, he shifted his arm so he could hold her
hand instead. “So . . . did you stay home yesterday?”

  “I did. The roads were too rough.”

  “And did you enjoy yourself?”

  She bit her lip before replying. “To be honest, no. I’m afraid things aren’t all that happy at my house right now.”

  “Ah. It sounds like we both have a lot on our minds.” Remembering that she was on her way into work, he smiled gently. “Have a good day, Viola.”

  “Wait. Do . . . Do you want to talk now? I have time. I mean if you have time, too. They don’t need me to work today after all. I’m only here to pick up a paycheck.”

  “Sure,” he said before chickening out. Of course he was worried about how she would react to his dilemma. But he was even more worried about the prospect of keeping his problem to himself for another day.

  She flashed a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  Good to her word, she wasn’t longer than five minutes. When she was by his side again, he pointed to a new fancy coffee shop on the corner. “How about we chat there?”

  “Do you drink those fancy lattes?”

  “Nee, a good cup of coffee is fine for me. But it looks quiet. And I have been known to enjoy strong coffee. A person gets used to such things in Central America.”

  She chuckled. “And here I thought you only ate rice and beans.”

  “And tortillas.” His mouth watered as he remembered the taste of homemade tortillas, fresh from the oven. “I’ll always remember that food fondly.”

  As they walked the two blocks, he told her stories about living in the mission compound.

  Viola, to his surprise, looked interested instead of judgmental. Almost as if she was trying to imagine such a life. That gave him hope.

  After ordering their coffees, black and plain coffee for him, a mocha latte with whipped cream for her, they sat down at a table by the window.

  Viola closed her eyes when she sipped her coffee. “I don’t know why I like these fancy coffees so much, but I do.”

  His heart warmed as he eyed her. She had such a content look on her face, reminding him to take the time to appreciate the small pleasures in life more often.

  Leaning back, she laughed. “Goodness, I think I’ve already finished half the drink.”

  He smiled, too. Then, before he could stop himself, he reached across and wiped the trace of whipped cream that had settled on her upper lip.

  She stilled at his touch . . . and, perhaps, her gaze heated a bit.

  “Whipped cream,” he said. Needlessly. When her eyes widened, he took an overlarge sip of his piping hot coffee and nearly burned his tongue off.

  Now it was her turn to look at him contemplatively. After another sip, she said, “What’s on your mind, Edward?”

  He didn’t bother to hedge. “I got a call from CAMA, Christian Aid Ministries Association, last week. They asked that I visit with them on Tuesday.”

  “Is that unusual? I thought you were on vacation.”

  “It is a bit out of the ordinary. But they’re my employer, so I figured that they just wanted to keep in touch with me.”

  Around another sip, and a swipe of her tongue to mop off a stray blob of whipped cream, Viola said, “That makes sense . . .”

  “It did, to an extent.” He swallowed. Now that it was time to tell the full story, he felt himself tense a bit. “I went into the meeting sure that the director simply wanted another report on my experiences at the mission. Sometimes they want to check facts or reports against each other. It makes sense, since the main office needs to make sure all our donations are being handled in the best ethical way.”

  “Was there a problem with your mission in Nicaragua?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Then?”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, they made it sound like they were very happy with everything that I’d been doing . . .”

  “So what did they want?”

  “They want me to start another mission in Belize.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Where’s Belize?”

  “Off the coast of Central America. Near Guatemala and Honduras.”

  She still didn’t look concerned. “Well, it’s nice that they already know where to place you one day. So, what’s wrong? Do you not want to go to Belize?”

  “It’s not that. It was two things. First, it’s a little too early in my career to be given such responsibility. I didn’t expect it.”

  “Ah. Well, God never gives us a task we aren’t ready for. Perhaps God and CAMA see leadership qualities in you.”

  “The folks on the board of CAMA said they did.” He hoped sincerely that he wasn’t sounding too full of himself. He didn’t want this to be about pride and ego.

  “I’m not quite sure why you look so agitated. I’m sure they’ll help you.”

  “They will. But the problem is about the timing. They want me to accept or refuse the position by Friday.”

  “Next Friday?” When he shook his head, her eyes widened. “Tomorrow?” That one word was heavy with dismay.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why the hurry?”

  “The first person they had in mind can’t go anymore. I’m the second choice. If I accept, they want me to go out there next week to hire people and do an inventory of supplies.”

  Her eyes widened. “So soon?”

  Miserably, he nodded. “This first trip would only be for about ten days, then I’d come back here. But it would only be until they got everything together. At the most, it would be about two weeks.”

  “Two weeks,” she echoed.

  “Yes.” Uncomfortable, he spit out the rest of the news. “Then, well, they’d want me to go out there for five years.”

  “Edward, you told me most assignments were only for a year or two at a time.”

  “That is still true. But because I would be the director, and because the facility would be brand-new, they’d want me to take on a longer time.”

  He watched her process that. Little by little, the lines that had formed on her brow smoothed. “That makes sense.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I can hardly believe it.”

  He was still having a difficult time grasping the news himself. If another man told him that he’d been offered the chance to start up a new mission, Ed knew he’d be telling him to jump at the chance.

  But all he could think about was everything he’d be missing. All that he’d be leaving behind.

  Staring at his hands that were now curved around his mug, he added, “I might get to come home for a week’s vacation during that time. But it’s not a certainty.”

  “Five years is a long time.”

  He nodded.

  “So, after next week, we might not see each other again for five years.” Viola sounded defeated, almost as disappointed as he felt.

  But her statement wasn’t quite true. As he’d said, he’d be back. But it wouldn’t be the same. When he did return, he’d be busy with meetings and phone calls and shopping and packing. If he had a few hours to spare each day, it would be spent with his father. “We wouldn’t see each other much. I mean, unless you wanted to visit me.”

  She looked incredulous. “In Belize?”

  “It’s not the end of the earth, Viola.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound like that.” She pushed her drink to one side. “Is there any way you can refuse the position?”

  “I could.” When he saw her worried expression ease, he knew he needed to tell her more. “But, Viola, I’m not sure if I want to refuse it.”

  “But if you weren’t the first choice, I imagine they have others in mind.”

  She was making it sound like he was easily replaceable, and perhaps he was. But it still stung his pride. He tried not to let his hurt show. “There are many others in the organization who they could’ve asked. They chose me. They prayed about it, read my reports, and talked to people who had been in the field with me. Only then did they ask me. It’s an honor to be asked.” He knew he sounded full of hi
mself, but he couldn’t help it. Even if she didn’t agree with him, he wanted Viola to understand that the position hadn’t been offered lightly.

  “I see.”

  Ed could almost see her wrapping a cold, hard shell around herself. “No, I don’t think you do. I feel really torn, Viola. I just came back to Berlin. After feeling vaguely like a visitor in my own home, I’m finally settling into living in America again. I’m seeing my father daily, and I love seeing him.”

  “I understand . . .”

  “But if I push this off and refuse, I know I’ll feel guilty. And I’ll worry that the Lord had meant for me to take this position, but that I refused it for my own selfish reasons.”

  She blinked. “That would be difficult, I suppose . . .”

  But she still seemed distant. As if she’d been hoping he’d say something more. And so though it was surely too early to confide in her, he forged ahead. “And there’s more. There’s you.”

  “Me? What do I have to do with anything?”

  It was time. Time to take a step forward, time to let the feeling that was running through him override all his doubts and worries. “A lot. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

  “I’m sorry. I . . . I don’t understand.”

  He knew she didn’t. And honestly, he was struggling, too. He felt just as conflicted about his relationship with her and the future he wanted with her as he did about everything else. He wasn’t a man who liked to rush decisions or rush to judgments.

  But he didn’t have time to wait. He knew his feelings for her were impacting his decision or at least how he felt about the opportunity. “The truth is that I’ve grown to really appreciate our friendship, Viola.”

  “I, as well,” she said slowly.

  Since she looked just as stunned by the fact that she was opening up as well, it gave him the strength to continue. “Since we’re being so honest, I suppose I need to tell you that more than once I’ve entertained thoughts of there being something more than just friendship between us.”

  “What do you mean by ‘more’?”

  She had to know what he meant! But perhaps she needed to hear the words? Though it was painful, he continued, feeling the whole time like he was precariously perched on the edge of a cliff. “More, as in I want to have a deeper relationship with you.” Even as he heard himself, he wanted to slap his words away. He sounded awkward and childish.