Bygones (16 page)

M
arie closed the basement door and headed toward the kitchen, but a shadowy figure outside the back door brought her to a halt. Someone stood on the porch, hands cupped beside eyes, peering through the lace curtain. Squinting, Marie stared. Then her jaw dropped.

Dashing to the door, she swung it open. “Joanna?”

A shy smile played at the corners of the woman’s lips. “Hello, Marie. May I come in?”

Marie jerked backward a step, gesturing. “Yes, please. It’s so good to see you.” How Marie longed to throw her arms around her sister. Only a year apart in age, the pair had been inseparable growing up. With their similar hair color—although Joanna’s leaned toward brown while Marie’s leaned toward red—and identical clefts in the chin of their heart-shaped faces, the two had often been mistaken for twins. Both had loved this, and they’d sewn matching dresses clear into their teens to perpetrate the myth.

Now, looking into Joanna’s face, framed by her white mesh cap and black ribbons, Marie felt as though she were looking into a mirror of what might have been had she remained in Sommerfeld. Instead of reaching for her sister, she took a step back.

Joanna’s face clouded. “Would you rather I not be here?”

Marie’s hand shot forward, her fingers barely brushing the sleeve of her sister’s coat. “Oh, no! I just—I’m so surprised.” She waved toward the kitchen, releasing a nervous giggle. “Please. Come in. Sit down. Or would you rather go to the front room? There’s still coffee in the pot, but I haven’t started lunch yet, so—”

Joanna’s blue eyes twinkled. “Stop blabbering, Marie. You always were one to blabber when you didn’t know what to say.”

Marie gawked at Joanna for a second or two, then burst into laughter. Joanna joined her. For a few glorious moments they were teenagers again, elbows linked, sharing a private joke. The laughter faded, and they stood, smiling into each other’s matching eyes.

“Well. . .” Marie cleared her throat and pulled out a kitchen chair to sit down. “What brings you here?”

Joanna tugged out a chair, too, and started to sit. At that moment, Beth bounced into the kitchen with an overflowing laundry basket held against her stomach. Joanna jerked upright and stared at her.

Beth came to a halt and stared back. Her gaze bounced between the two women several times; then she released a low whistle. “Wow. This one’s got to be related. For a minute, I thought you were Mom in dress-up clothes.”

Marie sucked in a sharp breath, but Joanna’s tinkling giggle rang. She shook her head, smiling at Marie. “And this one has to be yours. Despite that blond hair, she’s got your eyes and chin, as well as your frankness.”

Beth raised one eyebrow and fixed her gaze on Marie. “You always told me that whole being-too-frank thing came from Dad’s side of the family.”

Joanna laughed again. “Did she? Really, Marie. . .” She shook her head, still chuckling. Looking at Beth, she said, “I’m your aunt Joanna. And I could tell you stories about your mom that would
make your head spin.”

Beth’s lips quirked. “Oh, yeah?”

“But she won’t,” Marie inserted.

Beth and Joanna laughed and shared conspiratorial winks.

“Later?” Beth asked.

“Later,” Joanna promised.

Marie glowered, but her heart sang at the instant camaraderie of these two women who meant so much to her.

Beth’s expression turned sheepish. She set the basket down and dug underneath, removing the quilt that had been on her cot. “Can you tell me how to get nail polish out of fabric?”

Marie jumped up and rushed forward, snatching the quilt from Beth’s arms. A bright pink splatter filled the center of the quilt. “Beth! How did this happen?”

She shrugged. “I was doing my toenails, and the bottle spilled. I tried to blot it, but. . .”

Joanna stepped between them, fingering the stain. She shook her head. “I think you’d ruin the fabric if you used something strong enough to remove that stain. This quilt has to be at least forty years old.”

Beth groaned. “Oh, that means I won’t get a penny for it.”

Marie bit back the words that longed for release. This quilt was much more than a dollar sign to her. Why couldn’t Beth see the sentimental significance?

“Oh, well.” Beth rolled the quilt and tossed it aside. “I can always sell it as a ‘cutter.’ Someone may want to chop it up and make a teddy bear out of it or something.” She hefted the basket. “So, where are the car keys? I’m going to hunt up a Laundromat.”

Joanna spun, staring at Marie with an open mouth. “Laundry. . .on Sunday?” Then she clapped her hands to her cheeks and moaned. “Oh, I told myself I wouldn’t do that.” Clamping her hands together
and tucking them against her ribcage, she drew a deep breath and smiled at Beth. “There’s one on West First in Newton. Just follow Highway 135 North. There’s a First Street exit off the highway, so you can’t miss it.”

“Is there a McDonald’s near there?”

Joanna laughed. “Aren’t there McDonald’s everywhere? Just follow the signs.”

Beth grinned. “Thanks!” Turning to Marie, she raised her eyebrows. “Keys?”

Marie pulled them from her pocket and handed them over. She forced herself to set aside her sorrow over the ruined quilt and focus on the issue at hand. “Do you have money?”

“Yep.” Beth headed for the door, her ponytail swinging. “See you later!”

At the slam of the door, Joanna removed her coat, hung it on the back of the chair, and sat down. “She’s a pretty girl, Marie.”

Did a hint of accusation linger in her tone? Marie picked up the quilt, folded it lovingly, and carried it to the table. After setting the quilt aside, she seated herself. “Yes, she is. She’s a challenge at times, but I can’t imagine my life without her.” She glanced at the quilt, reminding herself that Beth was infinitely more important than squares of fabric pieced together.

Joanna nodded. “I feel the same about my three. My oldest one, Kyra, has the fiery personality I see in your Beth. It’s too bad—” She jerked her face away, the black ribbon of her cap crumpling against her shoulder.

“Too bad they didn’t know each other growing up?” Marie finished her sister’s thought.

Joanna bit down on her lower lip and gazed outward for several seconds before facing Marie again. The hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. “I’ve missed you so much. Not a day has gone by that
I haven’t thought of you, wondered how you were, wished I could talk to you. It’s been very hard.”

Marie tried to swallow the resentment Joanna’s gentle reprimand stirred, but a question found its way out. “Then where were you last week when I pulled into town? Do you know how hard it’s been to sit in this house every evening, knowing my family is out there but doesn’t care enough to come by?”

Joanna dipped her head. Marie stared at the spot where Joanna’s part disappeared beneath the nearly translucent mesh of the cap. Joanna sighed, her head still low. “I wanted to come. But how could I know if I’d be welcome?” Her chin shot up, and tears winked in her eyes. “Twenty years, Marie, and you never wrote or called. How is a person supposed to know what to do?”

Marie’s thoughts sniped,
You never called or wrote to me, either
. But she held the words back, aware they would do more harm than good. The silence lengthened.

Finally Joanna sighed. “I didn’t come here to start an argument. I just wanted to know how you are. To see you again. I—” Joanna lurched from the table and held out her arms.

Marie pushed to her feet and fell into her sister’s embrace. They hugged, laughing and crying at once, and Marie felt as though her heart might burst with happiness. Hurts melted away in the warmth of the hug, and when Joanna pulled loose to slip her elbow through Marie’s, Marie knew things would be all right between the two of them.

They walked to the front room and perched side by side on the couch. For the next three hours they caught up, sometimes giggling like young girls over remembered silly times, other times vying for who could tell the most outrageous story of parenting. When Marie’s stomach growled, it reminded her that lunchtime had come and gone. She pulled back, guilt striking.

“I’m keeping you from your family. They’re probably wondering where you are and when they’ll be fed.”

Joanna shook her head. “They know where I am, and Kyra and Kelly are plenty capable of putting a meal on the table.”

Marie grimaced. “Won’t Hugo fuss about you spending the afternoon away from home?”

“What are Sundays for except to visit?” Joanna’s gently lined eyes sparkled. “But if you offered me a sandwich, I wouldn’t decline it.”

They returned to the kitchen, where they made sandwiches and then sat at the table to eat. Marie felt a twinge of discomfort when Joanna prayed aloud, asking a blessing for the simple meal. It had been a long time since she’d offered grace before eating. But the easy conversation that followed erased the discomfort.

At nearly five o’clock Beth returned, the clothes folded neatly in the basket. Her face reflected surprise when she spotted Joanna. “You’re still here? I figured you’d be long gone by now.”

Joanna glanced at the red plastic wall clock and jerked. “Oh, my. It is growing late. I should go home.” She stood and reached for her jacket. Slipping her arms into the sleeves, she looked at Beth. “I’ll have to come back sometime and bring my daughters so we can all get acquainted. Your mother assures me she won’t be such a stranger from now on.”

Beth shot her mother a quick questioning look, but she recovered quickly and smiled at Joanna. “That would be great. How old are your daughters?”

“Kyra is nineteen and Kelly is thirteen.” She smirked. “I also have an eleven-year-old son, Hugo Jr. We call him Gomer. But he isn’t one for visiting. Too active.” Turning to Marie, she added, “I didn’t tell you—Kyra’s engagement to Claude Braun’s son Jacob was published today at the end of service. They plan a January wedding.”

Marie’s chest tightened. She and Beth would need to be gone
before the wedding. As nonchurch members, they wouldn’t be welcome. Being in town, knowing the celebration was going on without them, would be too hard. She nodded. “I wish them well.”

Joanna paused, her gaze narrowing, as she examined Marie for a few thoughtful seconds. Then her face relaxed. “Well, I need to go.” She gave Marie a quick hug. “But I’ll be back, Kyra and Kelly in tow.” Pulling away, she cupped Marie’s cheek with her hand. “Soon?”

Marie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “Very soon.”

With another quick smile, Joanna slipped out the back door.

Beth put her hand on her hip. “Careful, Mom.”

Marie jerked her gaze to Beth. “What?”

Pointing at the doorway where Joanna had disappeared, she said, “They’re pulling you back. I can see it your eyes. This is
temporary
.” She drew out the word, exaggerating each syllable. “Remember?”

Marie nodded, forcing a light chuckle. “Of course I remember.” She scooped out the towels from the top of Beth’s basket. “I’ll go put these away,” she said, changing the subject, “and you take care of the rest.”

Beth gave her mother a wary look before turning toward the bedrooms. Marie headed for the hallway leading to the bathroom, but as she passed the kitchen window she paused, looking across the landscape behind the house. Aunt Lisbeth’s words echoed through her mind.
“A wise person reaches toward the Son.”
For a moment she wondered—was the pull Beth mentioned coming from her family, or from the One she once called Savior?

The telephone jangled on the corner of Henry’s desk. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, dropped it beside his plate, and crossed the floor. He lifted the receiver in the middle of the second ring. “Hello?”

“Henry, this is Joanna.”

“Don’t tell me you’re having trouble with the starter in your car again.”

Joanna’s light laugh sounded, bringing a pang of remembrance. The airy tremble at the end of her laugh sounded so much like Marie’s. After Marie had left, he’d considered pursuing Joanna. Fortunately, good sense had reigned. Who could ever replace Marie? His good friend Hugo Dick had asked for Joanna’s hand, and the two enjoyed a happy marriage. While he remained a bachelor.

“No, no, I’m not calling about my car. This is. . .personal.”

Henry straightened his shoulders.

“I finally went to see Marie.”

His heart began to thud.

“And I’m so glad I did. We spent the whole afternoon together and had a wonderful chat.”

Henry smiled. “That’s good. And she. . .welcomed you?”

A slight pause. “Yes. I think she was apprehensive at first, but so was I! We had a good time, though, and we plan to get together again soon so our girls can get acquainted.”

Henry imagined outspoken, wild-haired Beth in her denim pants and shirts three sizes too small next to Joanna’s sweet girls with their white caps and modest caped dresses. He shook his head. “I hope that goes well.”

His tone must have communicated his doubt, because Joanna laughed. “I suppose it will be interesting, but they’re cousins. They need to know each other.”

“I agree,” Henry said. “I’m glad you’re trying to work things out.” He paused, wondering if he should keep his next thought to himself, but finally decided to share. “I know Lisbeth would be pleased.”