Mother's Promise (17 page)

Ben fingered the back of a rocking chair that he recognized as the one his mom used to sit in. From the end of the short hallway where he knew there were two small bedrooms and the cottage's only bathroom, he heard drawers opening and closing and the muted sound of singing.

“She's putting stuff away,” Zeke reported. “Coffee?” He indicated the half-filled pot on the counter.

Ben filled a mug and took the chair opposite Zeke. He glanced around the kitchen. “How's she going to manage?” he asked. “I mean, electricity and telephone and all? Although the stove is gas. Can her people use gas for cooking?”

“
Her people
, as you so quaintly put it, use electricity, own cell phones, drive cars, even watch television. She's Mennonite—you're thinking Amish. No worries. It's a common mistake.”

The two men drank their coffee in silence, each listening to the song coming from down the hall.

“Hester tells me that she's been through a lot, and her boy …” Zeke shook his head. “Trying to find his place in all of this. I know how that is.”

Ben understood that Zeke was reflecting on his own life and the difficulties he'd had settling back into the routine he'd known before volunteering for the military. After each tour of duty it seemed as if he came back more lost than the time before and the only solution he saw was to sign up for yet another round of service. Ben didn't understand how trying to stay alive in a combat zone could possibly be preferable to the life of comfort he could have enjoyed. But he gave Zeke credit for understanding what Rachel Kaufmann was going through better than he could. “It can't be easy,” Ben said.

“You've got no idea,” Zeke replied and got up to refill his mug.

Rachel came down the hall and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Ben, but her smile told him it was a pleasant surprise.

“Looks like we've got an extra pair of hands,” Zeke said. Ben gave her a wave. She looked like she'd just stepped out of the shower. Her floral print dress—this one lavender—fell to well below her knees and was covered by a full apron. In place of her usual white starched prayer hat, she had covered her hair with a black scarf. She was wearing white tennis shoes that while still pristine had clearly seen miles of wear.

“How can I help?” Ben asked. “Perhaps with three strong men here you'd like to consider rearranging the furniture to better suit your style?”

“Three?” She blinked.

“Justin?” Ben nodded toward the window where the boy could be seen pedaling up and down the driveway with the same furious intent he'd demonstrated when Ben first arrived.

“Ja.” She watched her son until he was once again out of sight, a wistful expression clouding those beautiful violet eyes. “Justin.” It came out as a whisper, as if she had not intended to speak it aloud.

“So, what do you think?” Ben asked, moving to stand in the middle of the cottage's main room. “Sofa here or facing the fireplace? How about this chair?”

“I couldn't,” Rachel exclaimed, clearly realizing what he was suggesting. “These are not my things.”

“No worries,” Zeke said. “Sharon said to make yourself at home, and if that means moving a chair or two, then so be it.” He set down his mug and moved to the opposite end of the sofa from Ben. “Where do you want this?”

Still Rachel hesitated.

“It's your home,” Ben reminded her. “Yours and Justin's, at least for now.”

“Justin,” Rachel called with a smile. “Come help.”

An hour later, after Sharon had shown up with a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of fruit and cookies, they had completely transformed the space. The small flat-screened television that had been the focal point of the room, visible from everywhere including the kitchen, had been relocated to a corner. The sofa had been repositioned to take full advantage of the view of the gardens as well as a cozy fire on cool evenings. A handmade rag rug that Rachel told them had been a wedding present now covered the planks of the floor in front of the sofa.

“But your rug is lovely,” Rachel assured Sharon as they rolled up the threadbare Oriental that had been there. Zeke carried it outside.

“This is better,” Sharon said, her amateur designer's eye taking in the changes. “Do you have a patchwork quilt or perhaps an afghan you brought along?”

“I do.”

“These beige slipcovers are so bland and now with the wonderful muted colors in your rug … shall we try it?”

Ben realized that his sister's involvement with the decorating had rekindled a hint of the enthusiasm and high spirits with which she had approached every new day before Sally's diagnosis. It occurred to him that Sharon and Rachel had a lot in common—they both had children they were concerned about. He watched as the two women draped a patchwork quilt first over the sofa and then moved it to the back of his mom's wicker rocking chair.

“You two make a good team,” he said when they stood back to consider their handiwork.

“Oh, it's going to be such fun having you here, Rachel,” Sharon gushed. “And, Justin,” she added, turning to include the boy. “You and Sally are going to have such good times together.”

Justin's smile was polite but definitely forced.

“That reminds me,” Ben said. “I was telling Justin that Sally's team has a ball game this afternoon, Rachel. I was thinking perhaps Justin could come along with us, meet some of the other kids in the neighborhood. It's only a few blocks away in the park.”

“Works for me,” Zeke said before Rachel could reply. “Looks like everything's pretty well settled here. Mind if I come along?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ben said. “That is, if it's all right with Rachel.”

He watched as Rachel looked first at Justin and then at everyone else. “You are all so kind. Danke. Justin, do you wish to see this ball game?”

Justin shrugged and studied the toe of his shoe. “I guess.”

“Ah, the enthusiasm of youth,” Zeke said, and all of the adults chuckled. Justin's cheeks flamed red. “Come on, sport,” Zeke said as he wrapped his arm around the boy. “Let's you and me return the van and then we can bike back here for the game. Four o'clock, right?”

“See you there,” Sharon replied. “Come up to the house before you leave. I have some clothes of your brother's that …”

Zeke rolled his eyes and grinned as he hugged Sharon and kissed the top of her head. “She fails to realize that my brother and I are not exactly the same size and that I travel light,” he explained to Rachel. “But her heart is in the right place and I love her for it.”

Sharon grimaced. “Traveling light for this one means a single change of clothing and his guitar. I will never understand that.” She looked up at him and brushed his shoulder-length black hair away from his face. “Do you know how handsome you would be with a simple haircut?”

Zeke laughed. “I'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick, and I really am not up to that in this heat.”

Ben heard a snicker and realized it had come from Justin. For the first time all morning the boy looked as if he might actually be enjoying himself. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Ben glanced at Rachel and saw by her smile that she was thinking exactly the same thing.

Chapter 10

D
arcy had a plan. She knew that Ben attended his niece Sally's baseball game every Saturday afternoon. Since she lived near the park and often ran there in her off-hours, she had decided to time her run to coincide with the game. Then she would stop by to say hello to Ben and his sister—perfectly normal—and she would remind Ben of that rain check for pizza she'd offered.

Her experience in coming up with plans of action for business projects included making sure she considered all possible outcomes. In this case she believed that one of three things would happen. Ben would have already made plans for the evening. That was the worst outcome and one she could do little to change. Number two was the possibility that Sharon Shepherd would suggest that she join the family for a casual supper after the game. That outcome certainly had appeal. It would give her a chance to become closer to Ben's sister. On more than one occasion she had heard Ben moan that Sharon was a born matchmaker and her current project was finding someone for him. The best outcome of course, was that it would be just the two of them. Ben would be available and offer to pick her up at seven.

With her plan mapped out, she changed into her running clothes then changed again into the red stretch top with black shorts. The outfit flattered her figure, showed off her arms without an ounce of flab on them, and accented her platinum hair. She grabbed her water bottle and sunglasses and set out.

The asphalt track ran around the perimeter of the park's multiple sports fields. She was on her second lap and at the far side of the oval track when she saw Ben arrive with Malcolm and Sharon, their daughter, Sally—who immediately took off to join her teammates—and Malcolm's brother, Zeke. She frowned. Zeke made her uneasy. Not that she had had much contact with the homeless veteran. And it was precisely because seeing Zeke with the family gave her pause that it took a moment and another several yards along the track for her to realize that Rachel Kaufmann was taking a seat in the bleachers next to Ben. Trailing behind Rachel was a boy that looked to be about Sally's age. He sat next to Zeke in the row behind the others.

Darcy stumbled, found her footing, and then paused to take a long drink of her water while she considered the effects of these unexpected developments on her plan. Ben was talking to Rachel, and she was laughing. Darcy capped her water bottle and started to run again, her long, graceful strides bringing her closer and closer to the bleachers.

But Ben never looked up. His focus was on Rachel and then on the players as they took their places on the field. The only one who seemed even vaguely aware of her presence was Zeke Shepherd. He glanced at her as she reached the bleachers and passed behind them.

Say something, she silently coached him. Ask Ben if that isn't his coworker running the track.

But Zeke kept watching her, his head turning slowly as he followed her progress. She heard the tinny crack of an aluminum bat and the voices of the fielders calling to each other as the ball sailed high and long. She watched it arc, clear the fence, and land at her feet.

“Hey lady,” a kid called out. “Little help?”

She picked up the ball and tossed it back over the fence to the kid and started to run again, but this time as she rounded the curve of the oval and approached the bleachers, she was smiling. Ben Booker was looking straight at her. As she came closer he got up, eased past Rachel, and jumped down from the bleachers to wait for her.

“Darcy!” he called as she approached.

She waved and turned off the track onto the grass, covering the distance between them with ease. “Hi.”

“Nice throw out there,” he said.

Darcy tossed her blond ponytail and grinned as she wiped a bead of perspiration from her temple. “I have many talents, Dr. Booker. If you'd care to take me up on that rain check for pizza, perhaps we could talk about it.”

Too pushy,
she chastised herself silently. She had been determined to let him take the lead, but her need to take control had jinxed that.

“I'm free tonight,” he said.

“Great.” She smiled. “Seven?”

“I'll pick you up,” Ben agreed.

Beside herself with the pure thrill of victory, Darcy took off running again. “I'll look forward to it,” she called over her shoulder as she ran behind the bleachers. It was all she could do not to pump her fist in the air. She had a date with Ben Booker. A real honest-to-goodness date. Life was so sweet.