Daybreak: The Days of Redemption Series, Book One (11 page)

“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 held 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.”

It would be good manners to let the matter drop. But he looked so pained, so in need of a friend, she pushed a bit. “Now we both know it’s not nothing. Would you like to talk about it?”

Again, whether or not to answer her seemed like it was a monumental decision. “Maybe.”

“Is it about your
daed
? Or your job?” She grasped at straws. “Is there a problem with your
haus
?”

His steps slowed right in front of one of the many gift stores that dotted the area. “It’s many things, if you want to know the truth. I realized last night that I might not have come to terms with my mother’s death like I had believed I had.” He hung his head. “And though it shames me to admit this to you, I half feel like you were right all along.”

“Right about what?”

“Maybe I really did go to Nicaragua for selfish reasons. Maybe I went down there, thinking I was going to make all these great changes, help all these people, but what really happened was that I was only thinking about myself. I wanted to get away from hurting.”

Viola was shocked. Ed was speaking so honestly about things that she’d never imagined, and she felt guilty. She’d been just as self-centered as he had been, but she hadn’t had the nerve to admit it to him—or even herself!

But before she could say anything, Ed sighed and started walking again. “I’m starting to worry about my
daed,
too,” he said as they continued walking.

“Your father? I think he is doing well, Edward.”

“Mentally? I agree. But I’m afraid his physical health isn’t near as good as he pretends it is. I’m afraid he’s keeping things from me, and that makes me worried.”

He inhaled, as if he was expecting her to brush off his worries. Or worse, that she was going to point out that he had no right to make such judgments because he’d been gone for two years.

She felt his wariness as if it were her own. And yet again, she felt embarrassed for how judgmental she’d been.

But that wouldn’t ease his mind. He clearly wanted to talk about his father, so she nodded seriously. “I would have heard if the medical staff had worries about him.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Everyone at Daybreak keeps a good eye on the residents. But that doesn’t mean that you’re wrong. What have you noticed? What seems off?”

“I’m not sure, exactly.” He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a feeling, and it’s probably nothing.” Then, preferring to get her criticisms out in the open, he added, “Here you’ve been giving me grief about being away from my
daed
. I hadn’t thought you were right. But maybe you were. Perhaps I should never have left. I can’t expect everyone else to keep a close eye on him.”

Now that he was saying she was right, she’d never felt more wrong. They were in front of the Johnson’s hardware store now, almost to the pizza parlor. As she glanced into the shop’s windows, she saw that the owners still hadn’t changed their Christmas display.

Which reminded her of the way she’d thought about Edward. Before she’d met him, she’d thought he was a careless son, off gallivanting around the world while his father had to make friends with strangers. But now that she’d met him . . . “I judged you without even really knowing you, Ed. That was wrong of me.”

“Maybe you weren’t that off the mark.”

“
Nee,
I was hasty to judge. It was wrong. And as far as feeling like you’re running away, well, I think we all run away from our hurts, to some extent.”

“I don’t think we all run to another country.”

“Maybe you were running away, but you did good work there! You did something to be proud of. Everyone grieves, but not everyone is willing to help other people while grieving.”

His eyes widened, as if she’d really surprised him. “Thank you for saying that. I never looked at it that way. How did you get so smart?”

“I don’t feel smart at all. As a matter of fact, I’ve been feeling a lot of the same things that you’ve been feeling. That I was going along in my life, serving others, but really simply keeping myself happy.” Now that she was baring her soul, she felt compelled to continue, even if it didn’t paint her in the best light. “Ed, I’ve been learning lately that appearances can be deceiving. Mighty deceiving.”

“Now I feel like I’m the one who needs to be coaxing information out of you. Are you having troubles, too? Is something going on with your family?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” When she spied his look of confusion, she sought to explain a bit. “I mean, I’m fine, but there are some things that are happening in my family that I’m . . . upset about.”

“You know you sound terribly awkward, don’tcha?”

“
Jah,
” she said sheepishly.

“Shall we go inside, then?” He opened the door to the pizzeria.

“Sure. I’d rather focus on pizza than on my problems.”

“I, as well.” As he approached the hostess stand, he sniffed the air appreciatively. “It smells like heaven in here. I don’t know if pizza will help our worries, but I have a feeling that it can’t hurt. I haven’t had a slice of pizza in ages.”

Seeing the pure enjoyment on his face, just from the thought of pizza, made Viola realize that she’d never really taken the time to think about all he’d given up when he moved away. “You had to make do with all kinds of changes, living far away, didn’t you?”

“I did.” When the hostess greeted them, he held up two fingers before continuing as they followed her to a booth. “Most things I didn’t miss. I learned to like many of the foods in Nicaragua, like empanadas and rice and beans and tortillas. But there were some things that couldn’t be replaced. A thick slice of pepperoni pizza from Pizza Palace is one of them.”

After they were seated and ordered two waters, Viola chuckled. “That’s something, don’t you think? An Amish man wasn’t missing roasted chicken, but pizza.”

He grinned. “I’m Amish, but not an Amish saint, Viola. I’ve never been one to ignore the calling of a thick slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza.”

She wrinkled her nose. “We don’t have to have mushrooms on our pizza, do we?”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said softly.

She knew that he was referring to much more than how she liked her pizza. The look in his eyes was an invitation for more. For more of a relationship, more dates, more time spent together. And that would have been all well and good, if he wasn’t leaving in six months.

“I’ll take any kind of pizza you want,” she said, keeping things light. “I’ll even pick off mushrooms if you really want them.”

“I had no idea you were so agreeable.”

“I’m usually not. You must have caught me on an off day.”

“I think your off days might be my blessings. Tell me, do you get in an agreeable mood often?”

“Most would say not often enough.”

Their banter continued over a pizza loaded with enough sausage and vegetables and pepperoni that Viola had to use a knife and fork to eat her piece neatly.

They chatted about everything and nothing. Without either of them saying it, both of them were eager to brush off serious conversation and focus on things that didn’t matter.

They talked about foods they liked and the times of year they hated. She entertained him with stories about being a twin, and he told her tales of playing baseball after church with his friends. And in the midst of their laughter, they both realized that meaningless conversation wasn’t meaningless after all.

It was good to be able to laugh and relax together. Neither wanted to take every moment of every day too seriously.

And then, all too soon, it was time to go.

“It’s after two. I’m sorry I kept you here so long,” he said, eyeing the clock.

“I can’t believe we were here two hours.”

“Time flies, for sure.”

When they got back out on the sidewalk, he buttoned up his coat while she wrapped a thick wool scarf more securely around her neck. “Where are you off to now? You’re done with work today, right?”

“I am. My aunt Lorene lives nearby. I’m going over to her house to bake cookies. We’re hosting church this weekend, so there’s lots to do to get ready. I need to be available for my sister, and for my
mamm,
too, in case anything else falls apart in the
haus.
”

“Do you need some help? I could stop by sometime this week. Other than visiting my father, I don’t have a lot going on.”

“There’s no need. But thank you.”

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll look for you then, Viola. Thank you for having lunch with me.”

Viola smiled before turning away.

“Viola?”

She stopped and turned to look back at him. “Yes?”

“Would you . . . Would you want to go to lunch again soon?”

“I would.” There was no reason to be coy.

He grinned. “Great. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.”

After waving a hand at him, she turned back around and picked up her pace. Thinking about his smile, her body warmed with happiness. He’d asked her out again, and she’d accepted!

But as she stopped at an intersection, nerves and doubts got ahold of her again. Once she’d agreed to this lunch date, she’d hoped that it would prove to her that he was not the man for her. But instead of that happening, she’d discovered that they were able to talk easily about most any topic. They could banter, and then switch gears and begin to share meaningful thoughts and concerns.

And even more, she appreciated his ability to put his imperfections in God’s hands, and to be guided by Him. For the first time, Viola considered adopting that way of thinking. It would feel so good to let someone else take control of her life. To put her faith and worries and fears into someone else’s hands.

chapter ten

Lovina had always preferred to sit at the kitchen table instead of in the
sitzschtupp,
the good living room
,
when she was alone. Years ago, Aaron had ceased asking her the why of it. He liked to sit in his thick easy chair. It felt better on his back, and he liked the way the cushions curved around his sides.

But she liked the sturdiness of the hard ladder-back chair against her spine, and the way the scarred, smooth oak felt under her hands. Sitting at the head of the table made her recall other days. Better days. The days of serving breakfast to six scrubbed faces every morning before her busy children went off to school. When she’d have women over to help with a quilt, or write down recipes for a new bride.

Of course, she also had memories of her mama’s kitchen table. Back when she was in high school, she used to do her homework at the kitchen table. Her mother would give her a Coke and read the paper or talk on the phone while she struggled through conjugating French verbs. Or her history homework. Or geometry. Boy had she hated geometry!

She’d been sitting at one almost just like this when Jack had asked her to go to the homecoming dance with him. She still remembered how handsome he’d been, his hair damp from his shower after football practice . . . a bruise on his cheek that she’d fussed over. He’d blushed from all her attention.

She’d thought she was in love.

Leaning back, in the quiet of her kitchen, where no one was around to see . . . Lovina allowed herself to smile. He’d been so nervous when he’d asked her to the dance. Jack Kilgore, one of the most popular boys in her class!

She’d tried to play it cool, but inside, she’d been so giddy and excited, she’d hardly been able to stand it. No doubt she hadn’t fooled him for a second.

“Lolly, will you go to the dance with me? I promise, it will be a great time.”

She remembered thinking that she should be coy. Maybe tell him that she wanted to think about it for a day or two. But all those ideas had flown out the window. Instead, she’d beamed like she was the happiest girl in the world. “I’d love to, Jack,” she’d said.