“Okay.” Danny didn’t sound cheered.
“Now what’s wrong?”
Danny sighed. “It’s not just the cake. I’m bored. I thought I’d get to play with the kids for a while. I know they’re all younger than me, but still …”
A familiar regret gripped Paul. He and Karina had wanted and prayed for a large family but they’d only had one child. As much as he thanked God for his son, there were days when he wished he’d been blessed with, as his father would have put it, a full quiver. Especially now with Karina gone, Danny often spoke of loneliness. He would have been an attentive, loving brother.
“Well, then,” Paul suggested in his brightest voice, “how about you get out the Parcheesi board?”
Danny bounced up, flipping the book onto its face. “Really?”
“Sure. See if you can skunk your ol’ dad.”
“Okay!” He took off at a trot for the hall closet where their games were stored.
Paul and Danny played three rounds of Parcheesi with Danny winning two to Paul’s one and gloating all the while. Paul laughed, teased, chatted with his son, but underneath a lingering sadness refused to leave. Danny was lonely not having any brothers or sisters. And Paul was lonely, too. Sitting at dinner tables with families, watching husbands interact with their wives, had been painful during the first months of his widower status. But now when he saw a man slip his arm around his wife’s shoulders or lean in to whisper something meant only for her ears, he only felt deep envy. He missed having a wife. Karina had been gone for over three years already—sufficient time for the fellowship to approve Paul seeking another marriage partner.
He watched Danny roll the dice and tap his little game piece across the board. A prayer formed in the back of his heart. Lord, guide me to the woman You would choose to become part of our family. Bring me the one who will love Danny as her own and be the partner I need. I’m ready. Maybe, if he were very blessed, another child or two would one day call him Dad.
Suzanne
Suzanne parked the car as close to the house as possible and turned off the motor. The silence that fell with the engine’s hushed rumble nearly smothered her. None of the car’s occupants—not she, Alexa, or Mother—had spoken one word on the drive from Shelley’s to the farm.
Words hovered on her tongue. Statements of protest, declarations of worry, heart-wrenching queries. But she gritted her teeth and kept them inside because her emotions were too raw, her anger and hurt too intense to allow them to escape. She’d inflict damage if she gave her tongue free rein. So instead she silently prayed and waited for the tidal wave of hurt and confusion to pass. When she felt in control, she would talk to Alexa. But not until then.
From the backseat Mother said, “Do you suppose the ramp Paul built to the porch door is ready for use? I’d like to try it out rather than making you carry me up the front stairs.”
“Mom, do you want me to go back and check on it?” Alexa asked.
Her overly sweet tone offered evidence of how troubled she was by her mother’s stony silence, but Suzanne couldn’t find the strength to reassure her. She felt bruised and battered. And Alexa, her precious daughter, had inflicted the blows with her spoken desire to remain here in Arborville rather than return to Indiana.
Suzanne sighed tiredly. “Go ahead. I’ll get the wheelchair from the trunk.”
Alexa darted off, leaving the passenger door open. Suzanne did the same, ignoring the car’s beeping signal that the keys were still in the ignition. The beep … beep … beep, shrill and obtrusive against the peacefulness of the late Sunday afternoon, should have raised a complaint from Mother, but she sat quiet and patient in the backseat. But then why shouldn’t she be happy now? She’d won. Alexa wanted to stay.
Suzanne slammed the trunk and unfolded the chair with stiff, jerky motions as Alexa trotted across the yard. An uncertain smile hovered on her lips.
“I walked up and down it twice, and it seemed firm. So I took down the ropes.” She paused, as if waiting for affirmation.
Suzanne gave the chair a push toward the car’s back door. “Fine.” Then she remembered securing the porch door. “I’ll need to unlatch the door or we won’t be able to get in through the back. Wait here.”
By the time she unlocked the front door and made her way through the house to the back porch, Alexa had already pushed Mother around the yard and was waiting at the base of the ramp.
Suzanne pulled the door inward and frowned. “How did you get her out of the car by yourself?”
Alexa sent her mother a puzzled look. “I did an assist-transfer. I know how it’s done. I’ve watched you plenty of times.”
“I told you to wait.”
Alexa drew back as if she’d been slapped. “I … I’m sorry, Mom. Grandmother was eager to see the ramp, so—”
Suzanne held up one hand. “It isn’t important. She’s here now. Bring her in.”
“I’m sitting right here listening,” Mother said, but instead of snide she sounded almost playful, “and I want to bring the chair up the ramp by myself.” She chuckled. “Or at least try. So move back, both of you, and let me see what I can do.”
Alexa didn’t release the wheelchair’s handles. She looked at Suzanne questioningly. Suzanne doubted Mother would be able to make it all the way on her own—she’d only propelled her chair on flat surfaces—but she didn’t have the energy to argue with her. She gave a brusque nod, and after a moment’s hesitation, Alexa stepped away from the chair.
Suzanne wrung her hands and watched her mother take hold of the rubber grips and push. The chair rolled forward half a foot. Mother slipped her hands backward on the grip, and the chair inched backward half the distance. With a little grunt, Mother pushed again, repeating the forward six inches, backward three progress.
Alexa hovered behind the chair, her hands upraised and her lower lip pinched between her teeth. She caught Suzanne’s eye, asking silently, Should I help? Although Suzanne was tempted to nod—Mother’s face glowed bright red and the veins in her neck stood out—she shook her head. Mother wanted to be independent. They should give her the chance.
Ten minutes after she applied her hands to the grips, Mother gave the chair a final push and crossed the porch’s threshold. Alexa bounded up the ramp and wrapped her grandmother in a hug from behind. “You did it, Grandmother! You did it!”
Mother, sweat rivulets rolling down her temples, patted Alexa’s arms and turned a grin of triumph on Suzanne. “I did. I sure did.”
Suzanne didn’t add her congratulations. Because she wasn’t envisioning her mother’s success at mastering the ramp. No, her mind filled with ugly images of her mother stealing away her child. She couldn’t even muster a smile.
Mother’s broad grin faded. She gave Alexa’s arm a slight push, and Alexa straightened. Once again taking hold of the grips, Mother aimed her chair for the kitchen doorway. She rolled past Suzanne slowly, her shoulders slumped as if a load had been strapped to her back. When she reached the threshold, she said with her face aimed forward, “Someone give me a little boost over the hump and take me to my room. I want to rest. And as soon as I’m settled, I think you two should talk.”
Once again Alexa bustled forward, usurping Suzanne’s position as helper, and gave her grandmother’s chair a push over the threshold and then through the cleared pathway in the midst of the construction mess. Suzanne trailed behind and watched Alexa roll the chair through Mother’s doorway. Then Alexa closed the door.
Soon the sound of soft voices and scuffling noises crept across the room to Suzanne’s ears. She should go in and help. She’d vowed to be Mother’s assistant until she found a full-time nurse. But her feet refused to budge. She did not want to see Mother and Alexa working together, talking together, growing together. Her chest ached. Why hadn’t she refused Clete’s request to return? She could not give up her daughter all over again.
The bedroom door opened and Alexa stood in the frame. “Have a good rest, Grandmother. I’ll wake you by
five so you don’t miss supper.” Mother mumbled something in reply to which Alexa offered a light laugh, then she closed the door behind her, turned, and spotted Suzanne. The smile died on her lips.
The look of apprehension on Alexa’s face pierced Suzanne’s mother-heart. She’d put it there with her silence. Mother had suggested they talk, and as difficult as it would be to share her hurt with her daughter without divulging more than she was ready to share, they needed to talk. Lord, let me convince her to come home with me. Please don’t let me lose her. Please, please … The sting of tears accompanied her plea, and she blinked rapidly.
Alexa hadn’t moved.
Suzanne forced a wobbly smile. “Did you get her settled in?”
“Yes.” Alexa glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ll wake her in an hour.”
Had she offered the time as a hint? How Suzanne hated this feeling of uncertainty, as if she’d somehow lost her connection with her daughter. “Then … how about we …” Would Alexa understand?
After a moment’s pause, Alexa nodded. “I think we should.” She angled her head, almost seeming to give a challenge. “Can we go outside, though? So we don’t bother Grandmother.”
Apparently Alexa expected a noisy argument. Suzanne didn’t have the energy for a noisy argument. She hoped she’d be able to muster enough strength to speak plainly. But the afternoon was pleasant, and the porch swing provided a good spot to sit. So outside was fine. “Of course.”
“Good.” Alexa took off toward the kitchen, moving past Suzanne in a determined stride. “Grandmother was just telling me I should visit the old summer kitchen where you played house when you were a little girl. Let’s go there.”
Alexa
She’d thought the exterior of the house was dreary, but it seemed well kept compared to the dilapidated appearance of the building Grandmother had called the summer kitchen. For a moment Alexa questioned the wisdom of entering it. Would the roof cave in? But Mom didn’t seem concerned. She forced the door open and stepped into the dim interior. So Alexa followed.
She glanced around the dusty space, trying to envision what the room might have looked like when Mom was a little girl. Her active imagination allowed her to paint the woodwork bright white, hang flowered wallpaper on the walls, and decorate the space with cheerful curtains, furniture, and a rug made of braided strips of rags. Her lips twitched into a grin, picturing Mom busily stirring up pretend soup at the iron stove and serving it to her dolls.
“Alexa?”
Mom’s quiet voice chased the cheerful images into hiding. Alexa turned slowly and met her mother’s gaze. Very little light made its way past the filthy windows, but even in the shadows Alexa recognized sadness in Mom’s eyes. No amount of imagination could change that reality. And what she needed to say would only make Mom sadder, but she had to say it. She had to do it. She’d spent too many years wondering and hoping to give up on gaining her family now.
“Mom, I know you’re upset with me.” She dove into the subject without preamble, still standing in the middle of the dusty floor with cobwebs swaying over her head like a jellyfish’s stingers. “And I’m sorry that I upset you. But I’m not ready to go yet. I don’t know them yet. They don’t know me. I want more time here. I need it.”
Mom reached out and caught the arched back of a chair frame as if she needed something to hold her upright. “I’m sorry I haven’t been enough family for you, Alexa.”
Anger stirred in Alexa’s chest. Mom’s comment felt manipulative—too much like Grandmother had been when they’d first arrived and how Aunt Shelley was all the time. She expected better from Mom. “Don’t.”
Mom arched one brow.
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty.”
Mom lowered her head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said it that way—like a petulant child.” She looked into Alexa’s face again. “But I’m frightened. Your entire life, it’s been you and me … and God. I put my focus on raising you and loving you. Every day I prayed that I would be able to fill your need for mother and father and brothers and sisters. So it hurts to realize how much I failed.”
“You didn’t—”
“I must have, or you wouldn’t choose them over me.”
“I’m not choosing them over you, Mom. I’m choosing them in addition to you.” Alexa crossed the floor, kicking up dust as she came, and grabbed her mother’s cold hands. “Why does it have to be one or the other? Now that they finally know I was born and that you kept me, why can’t I have both you and them? It isn’t a competition.”
“Not to you maybe, but—” Mom’s voice broke. She squeezed Alexa’s hands so hard her fingers ached. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You aren’t going to lose me.” Alexa felt as though she were the grownup comforting a child. Although she didn’t understand her mother’s fear, she recognized its depth in Mom’s frantic grip on her hands and in the pallor of her face. “You’re my mother. Nothing can change that.”
Mom let go of Alexa’s hands and grabbed her in a fierce embrace. Mom’s shoulders shuddered with silent sobs and Alexa clung hard, offering assurance with her hug. “Promise me, Alexa.” Mom choked out the words. “Promise you’ll always be my daughter.”
Confused and more than a little frightened by her mother’s desperate plea, she managed to speak firmly. “I promise, Mom.”
Mom held tight for several more seconds before finally relaxing her grip. She stepped back and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Then she cupped Alexa’s cheeks. A sad smile tugged at her lips. “I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Alexa answered promptly, but she wasn’t entirely sure why Mom needed forgiveness.
Mom seemed to wilt. She took a step back and pulled in a long, slow breath. As she expelled the air, color returned to her cheeks, making her look more like herself. Her before-coming-to-Arborville self. “I think I’ll go in and lie down. Will you wake me when you wake your grandmother? Then I’ll make sandwiches and cut up some fruit for supper.”
“Sure.” Alexa watched her mother until she disappeared inside the house, then she sank onto one of the rickety chairs to replay their conversation. Given Mom’s fear, even though it seemed irrational, maybe she should change her mind and go back to Indiana when Mom went. Her heart hurt as she considered forfeiting the chance to really know and become a part of the extended Zimmerman family.
She was much older than her cousins, so she couldn’t be their playmate, but she could be something like an aunt or older sister to them. Sandra had already begun treating her like a younger sister, and Shelley might grow to accept her. Eventually. With time. As for Clete … She chewed her lip. She wasn’t sure what to make of Uncle Clete. He was pleasant, never gruff or rude to her, but he held himself apart from Mom and from her. How did one break down a man’s barriers? Not having any other male relatives, she really wanted to know Uncle Clete.
Grandmother, in spite of her snappishness and complaints, had found a place in her life for Alexa, and she didn’t want to give up the newfound kinship. But if it was so hurtful for Mom, should she? Alexa rose and ambled around the room, idly running her fingers over torn edges of wallpaper and the dust-covered surfaces while her thoughts continued to roll.
They’d only been in Arborville eleven days. Eleven days was not enough time, given the years of separation, to develop or rebuild relationships. She didn’t want to hurt her mother, but she didn’t think Mom was being fair to her family, her daughter, or herself. Whether Mom wanted to admit it or not, she needed her family as much as Alexa wanted them. She’d been alone and on her own long enough. It was time to be a true Zimmerman again.
Alexa paced back and forth, planning what she would say to Mom when she went to wake her. She whispered the words, sampling the right vocal inflection to be kind yet convincing. “You have enough leave to stay here for the whole two months, so why not use it? Think of it as one month for every decade of absence—that’s a small price to pay to make up for
lost time, isn’t it? The longer you’re here, the more comfortable your sisters and brother—”
She shook her head. She should mention Grandmother first. “The more comfortable your mother, brother, and sisters will become with you. And, of course, the more comfortable you’ll become with them.” Her feet sped in their journey back and forth, and she began gesturing, her hands stirring the musty air. “As you told Grandmother, you’re really strangers right now. It’ll take time to get to know each other again, but it’ll be time well spent. Life is short. Family is important. Take the time, Mom. Take the time …”
She paused, her brow furrowing, as she imagined her mother’s response. Linda always called Mom determined, but Alexa knew it was pure stubbornness. Once Mom set her mind to something, she followed through. An admirable trait most of the time, but right now? Alexa wanted her mother to tuck her obstinacy in a drawer. She might need to offer a compromise of sorts to change Mom’s mind.
At once an idea struck. She hugged herself and giggled as the idea grew. She’d need help. Tanya would help, and Sandra would, too. It might take some real pushing to get Clete and Shelley involved, but Sandra—cute, sweet, pregnant Sandra—would be the most likely one to win them over.
Tomorrow was Sandra’s turn to bring supper out to the farm. As soon as her mother’s youngest sister arrived, Alexa would take her aside and share her plan. She smiled, envisioning Sandra’s happy laugh and quick agreement. With a light step, Alexa headed for the house. She would reunite Mom with her family, and she would secure a place for herself in their affections. Once she’d accomplished those goals, then she would be willing to go back to Indiana. Then everyone would be happy.
Paul
When Mercy Rains Page 15
