Bygones (30 page)

H
enry, it’s only right that you come for lunch today.” Joanna’s blue eyes sparkled as she looked at Henry. “After all your years of faithful prayer, you need to join us in celebrating Marie’s return to our fellowship.”

Henry’s heart certainly celebrated. Deacon Meiss had announced at the close of service that morning the decision to accept Marie Quinn as a member of the Sommerfeld congregation. Art, Conrad, Leo, and their families all intended to meet at Joanna’s in honor of Marie’s official return. He wanted to be there, yet he hesitated. He would be the only nonfamily member. If Lisbeth were there, too, it would be fine, given their unique friendship, but. . .

Snowflakes danced by, reminding him they were standing out in the cold while Joanna waited for an answer. He looked into her eyes, their hue the same as Marie’s, and he gave a nod. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

Her smile lit her face. Touching his sleeve, she said, “Good. Don’t dally—we want as much of the afternoon as possible to make merry!” She turned and scurried to her car, where Hugo waited with the engine running. In moments, Hugo’s vehicle left the churchyard. Marie waved from the backseat, her smiling face pressed to the glass.
He answered with a smile and wave of his own, then turned toward his car.

Across the churchyard, he spotted J.D. Koeppler assisting his wife into their buggy. Like a handful of other older members, the Koepplers hadn’t adopted the use of more modern transportation. Their ride home would be chilly today.

As Henry reached for his door handle, something in his soul compelled him to cross the hard ground to Koeppler’s buggy. He reached it just as J.D. picked up the reins.

The man gave a start when Henry touched his arm, and he turned a stern scowl down on Henry. “What do you want?”

The growl was certainly intended to put Henry off, but he didn’t back away. Giving the man’s arm a gentle squeeze, he said, “Are you coming to Hugo and Joanna’s?”

Erma leaned forward slightly, her gaze flittering between J.D. and Henry. There was no denying the longing in her eyes. But J.D. didn’t look at his wife—he looked firmly ahead, his jaw thrust forward. His mouth barely moved as he grated out his response. “I have nothing to celebrate.”

Henry jerked his hand back. Although he had witnessed J.D.’s stubbornness frequently over the years, his adamant denial of what had taken place inside the meetinghouse today still took Henry by surprise. “Mr. Koeppler, the lost has been found. The prodigal has returned. There is much to celebrate.”

But J.D.’s gray brows pulled down, giving him a fierce look. “I don’t buy into her games. She and her daughter only came when the opportunity to carry away the spoils was presented to them. They have no interest in relationships, only riches.”

Erma dropped her gaze to her lap, and Henry was certain he saw tears glint in her eyes.

J.D. went on. “Kyra told us how they count down on a calendar,
marking off the days until they can be away from us again. The lost is not found, Henry, but merely biding her time until she can discard us once more. I will not celebrate that.” Clicking his tongue, he encouraged the horse to pull away from the hitching rail.

Henry stood silently as the buggy rolled backward several yards. With a tug of the reins and a call to “Giddap,” J.D. directed the dappled gray beast to pull the buggy toward the road.

Henry watched it go, his heart heavy. J.D. was wrong in his assumptions about Marie. Yes, Beth had come for riches, but Marie was here for relationships. Henry was certain of that. His conversation with her last night in the car spoke clearly of her inner battle of balancing the important relationships in her life. She wanted her family—
all
of her family.

His sigh hung in the crisp air. Shaking his head, he moved toward his car once more. Perhaps J.D. wouldn’t celebrate, but Henry would. He, with Marie’s brothers and sister, would make merry and praise God for Marie’s decision to return to Sommerfeld.

As he pulled away from the churchyard, his gaze found Lisbeth’s simple headstone. What would Lisbeth say to J.D. if she were still alive? Even though Henry had spent time nearly every day for the past twenty years with the dear woman, he was unable to determine the answer to that question.

Although Marie relished the long afternoon with Henry, her siblings, and their families, she would have been lying if she said she didn’t regret the absence of some important people. Beth’s and her parents’ lack of attendance cast a pall over the celebratory mood, and she suspected she wasn’t the only one to feel it.

Many times she’d seen a glimpse of something in Henry’s or Joanna’s eyes that expressed a hint of sadness. In those moments,
their gazes had locked, and she felt a silent kinship of understanding. She knew, even without saying the words, they wished as deeply as she did for the circle to be complete, for the entire family to meet and rejoice together.

By midafternoon, the young people, who ranged in age from four to twenty-one, gathered in various bedrooms for quiet activities or naps, leaving the adults alone to chat. Hugo carried in chairs from the dining room, creating a misshapen circle of seats in the front room. Marie found herself in the center of the sofa between Joanna and Art’s wife, Doris. Henry sat on a ladder-back chair across from her. Having him directly in her line of vision proved distracting, and she played with the buttons on her blouse to avoid gazing into his warm brown eyes.

Doris gave Marie’s knee a pat. “So, what are your plans now, Marie? Will you stay permanently?”

Marie looked at Doris, aware of Henry’s attentive gaze from across the circle. “Now that I’m part of the congregation again, I would like to stay. But there are many things to work out. I’ll need a place to live and a way to take care of myself.”

Art leaned forward, placing his elbows on his widespread knees. “Seems to me you’ve already got that covered with the café and Lisbeth’s house.”

Marie smiled at her brother. “No. Those are Beth’s, not mine.”

“She wouldn’t let you have them?”

Art’s frown brought a rush of defensiveness. “It’s not a matter of her letting me. I wouldn’t ask. She’s depending on the proceeds from the sale of that property to start her own business. I won’t take that away from her.”

“Well,” Doris suggested, her brow puckered thoughtfully, “maybe you could buy the properties?”

Marie allowed a light laugh to escape. “If I had money to buy a café and a house, I would have offered to help Beth fund her business
without coming here.” Her words created a stir around the room, and she realized how ungrateful she sounded. She held up her hand. “Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t regret coming. But if it hadn’t been for Lisbeth’s unusual will”—her gaze met Henry’s, and she felt her lips twitch in a smile—“there would have been no motivation for me to return to Sommerfeld. I would never have found the courage to do it had it not been a means of helping Beth.”

Henry looked away, a hint of something—pain? regret?—flashing in his eyes. Before she could explore his reaction, Art spoke again.

“I understand.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You know, the new owners of the café, whoever they might be, will still need workers. So even if it sells, you’d probably have the opportunity for a job. But a place to live. . .that’s a little harder.”

Conrad crossed his leg and looked at his wife. “When Sonja and I got married, we wanted to find a place to rent. But there was nothing available. If old Mr. Brandt hadn’t passed away, we wouldn’t have had a house. There’s just not much turnover in Sommerfeld.”

“Maybe. . .” Joanna’s pensive tone captured Marie’s attention. But before she completed her thought, she shook her head and emitted a rueful chuckle. “No, that wouldn’t work.”

Hugo prodded, “What?”

Joanna’s gaze bounced around the room, as if gathering courage, before returning to Marie. “I was just thinking. . .there’s so much room at the farm now that all of us are on our own. With just Mom and Dad rattling around out there, I know they have space for Marie.”

A negative murmur made its way around the circle.

“See?” Joanna threw her hands outward, her expression regretful. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“It would work,” Art inserted, “if Dad weren’t so obstinate. I think Mom would be okay with the idea.”

Leo nodded. “I know she would. She told Phyllis at Thanksgiving
how hard it was to know Marie was in town yet not at the house for the holiday.”

Marie stared at Leo’s wife. “She really said that?” Her heart lifted with hope, then plummeted. “But she’d never cross Dad. He’s the head of the home.”

“And she’s right to honor him.” Henry spoke, surprising Marie. He’d been largely silent through most of their time together. Everyone looked at him, and he squirmed in his seat. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he spoke again. “God can’t honor her if she doesn’t honor her husband—you all know that. I’m not saying J.D. is right in what he’s doing, but Erma is right in what she’s doing. Asking her to cross J.D. wouldn’t be. . .” He shrugged, red mottling his cheeks. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Another mumble sounded, each husband and wife conferring quietly. Marie stared across the room at Henry, who stared back, a silent apology in his eyes. Marie felt her heart double its tempo. She understood the meaning behind his words. He wanted J.D. to accept her as much as she did, yet he didn’t want any more conflict while they waited for her father to bend. The same feeling of kinship that had swept over her at other times in Henry’s presence returned, rising higher and causing her pulse to pound.

“Marie—”

Reluctantly, she turned her attention back her older brother.

“Doris and I have a room you could use.”

Marie’s breath came out in a sigh, tears stinging her eyes. “Oh, Art, I appreciate that so much.” She glanced at Henry. “But you know, what Henry just said about Mom needing to honor Dad. . .” She let her gaze sweep the room, briefly touching each of her siblings. “I think all of us need to honor him, too. I am thrilled to be here today, but I know your choosing to be with me instead of with the folks creates conflict between you and them. My moving in with any of you would
only expand that conflict. I don’t want to be responsible for creating any more trouble than I already have.”

“So what will you do?” Joanna asked, tears in her eyes.

Marie took her sister’s hand, looking at their intertwined fingers. “I don’t know. But I know who does know, and we can petition Him in prayer. If I’m meant to stay in Sommerfeld permanently, He will provide whatever is needed. And if those needs aren’t met. . .” The next words had to be forced past a knot in her throat. “Then I know it’s His will for me to go back to Cheyenne.”

Marie lifted her gaze to look around the room at each person. “But this time, I’ll make sure God is a permanent part of my life. I won’t cast Him aside again.” Smiling through the tears that blurred her vision, she added, “I can be Mennonite in Cheyenne. And I will visit. Often. I won’t separate myself from any of you again.”

A lengthy silence followed, in which each person appeared introspective, their gazes aimed unseeingly at various spots in the room. Except for Henry, whose gaze remained pinned to Marie’s face. She returned his unwavering gaze, hoping he read in her steady contact that she meant the promise for him, too.