Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal (6 page)

Two weeks had passed. Fourteen terrible, emotional, painful days.

Every time Lilly thought about those hours spent in the emergency room, she relived the pain. Whenever she recalled waking up to the doctor’s announcement, tears pricked her eyes. Lilly hadn’t known if she’d ever stop crying.

But then, just yesterday, she’d woken and felt a little better. Almost like herself before everything had happened. It was both a blessing and a curse. She was so grateful for the feelings of relief, but also troubled. Somehow, some way, God was enabling her to return to normalcy. It didn’t seem right.

Now, in the early morning, as a golden house finch chirped outside her window and called to attention the glory of spring, Lilly sat in bed in the quiet of her room, wondering how much longer she would be able to stay in her retreat, away from the rest of the family.

So far, they’d let her have a lot of time to herself, but last night, when she’d refused to come downstairs to dinner, Lilly had heard a strand of impatience that was new in her mother’s voice.

Lilly understood their feelings. After all, the rest of her family had moved on. She heard Ty talking about school projects and his need for a new pair of cleats for soccer. Charlie had met a girl and was now constantly on his cell phone or going to class.

Her parents went to work each morning, seemingly more determined than the day before to accomplish as much as possible in twenty-four hours. Her father had even taken up running.

Only she had been unable to do anything but mourn.

After a quick knock, her mom opened the door and peeked inside. Within seconds, Lilly saw her gaze dart from the pile of clothes and towels on the floor, to the stack of dishes littering her desk, to the partly pulled-down shades, to her daughter.

“Good. You’re up,” she said as she walked right in.

Lilly pulled up the sheets around her shoulders like a shield. “Not really. I was about to go back to sleep.”

With a new look of determination, her mother shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s Monday morning. A new week. The sun is shining. Ty left for school three hours ago. It’s past time for you to start your day.”

Lilly had purposely hid her clock. Watching the numbers change had been her sole activity the day she’d come home. It had just about driven her crazy. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“I told them I’d be coming in late today because I had a few things to do around here.”

“Like what?”

“Like get you out of bed, dear. Honey, I know it’s hard, but take it from me. Things won’t get better if you only sit and stew and cry.”

With a start, Lilly remembered that her mother had had a miscarriage years ago. In her haze of depression, she’d forgotten all about that.

But still…she just wasn’t ready. Slumping back against her pillows, she made a feeble call for more time. “I’ll get up tomorrow. I don’t feel well,” she said, though to her surprise, it wasn’t really true. The pain that had taken hold of her midsection had lessened considerably. Many of her other aches and pains had vanished, too. Now all that remained was a numbness that seemed to constantly float over her mood and her spirit.

A look of concern flashed in her mother’s eyes as she approached the bed. “Still sore?”

Lilly shrugged. “Some.”

“The doctors said your body should be healed by now.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Perhaps we should go in for a checkup? I could take off the whole day.”

The last thing Lilly wanted was to be poked and pulled and inspected again. “I’ll be fine. I’m getting better. Like I said, tomorrow’s probably the right time to start doing things.”

“You know, I don’t think so.” After pausing for a moment, her mother went to her dresser. After pushing a few bottles of water and a container of painkillers to one side, she uncovered a brush and a hair clip. “As soon as you get cleaned up and take care of yourself, you’ll feel like leaving this room.”

Before Lilly could defiantly tell her that, no, brushed hair was not going to help a thing, her mom sat right back down beside her, gently turned Lilly so her back faced her, and, with a little sigh, pulled the brush through Lilly’s maze of knots and tangles.

“Ouch,” she said, though even to her ears she sounded incredibly whiny.

Immediately the brush stilled. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. It didn’t hurt that badly. I’m sorry.” Gosh, how many times had she said “sorry” over the last two weeks? She’d felt like she’d been apologizing to everyone. Her family. To Alec. To herself. To God.

She must have done something incredibly wrong to have miscarried.

Gently, her mother continued brushing again. When the worst of the tangles were combed out, the rhythmic motions soothed her. Over and over the brush went, massaging her scalp, skating through her curls. Taming them.

Little by little, Lilly felt her neck muscles relax. Her shoulders loosen. She hated to admit it, but perhaps her mother was exactly right. Taking care of herself and moving around a bit could only help.

“Thank you,” she said as her mom gently clipped her hair back into a ponytail. “I do feel better.”

“Brushing your hair brought back some nice memories,” her mother mused. “Remember when you were six and your hair was halfway down your back?”

“I do. You’d have to help me brush it every morning. And I’d fuss.”

Behind her, Lilly heard her mom’s soft chuckle. “How many times do you think I threatened to cut off that hair?”

“At least once a day.”

“At least.” Squeezing her daughter’s shoulders, she said, “Lilly, you have some things you need to do today. You need to call the Sugarcreek Inn and let them know when you’re returning to work. They need you.”

“But I don’t know…”

“Maybe after you take a shower and do a load of laundry, you’ll have a better sense of when you can help out. When she called yesterday, Mrs. Kent said you could return part-time. But that she definitely does need you…or someone else.”

“She’d fire me?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not. She’s given you two weeks off. She’s willing to give you a couple of more days. But the other girls have been taking your shifts and, frankly, they’re tired.”

“I’ll call.” After she made the pronouncement, Lilly felt like boulders had been placed on her shoulders. Responsibilities threatened to engulf her. Make her weak with it all. She slumped against the bed.

But her mom didn’t even notice.

“Good,” she said, looking pleased. “As soon as you make that call, I have a project for you.”

This all felt like too much. She was going to have to shower, do a load of laundry, call Mrs. Kent. “Mom—”

“We’ve started a garden.”

“What?”

Walking to the picture window, she raised the blinds with a jerk. As sunlight streamed in, she continued. “Come now, Lilly. Stand up now. Do you see it? The garden is right out front. Charlie and your dad and I tilled and brought in fresh soil and planted seeds all weekend.”

Getting to her feet, Lilly crossed the room and looked out the window. There, just like her mother said, was a large area of freshly tilled soil surrounded by a little white picket fence.

Her family had done all that when she’d just been sitting in the dark? How had she been so unaware of everything around her? Embarrassment mixed with the fog in her brain. She wasn’t quite sure how to climb out of her depression, but leaving the room sounded like a good start. “Mom, what do you want me to do?”

Something flickered in her mother’s eyes. Was it approval? Relief? She cleared her throat. “I made a little map on a sheet of paper and wrote down what we grew. I want you to make some signs and stake them in the ground so we’ll know what is growing where. And then you’ll need to water, of course.”

Her mother paused. “Do you think you can do that?”

Was she capable of getting out of bed, getting showered and dressed, making a couple of little signs, and watering some plants?

It was a silly question.

But, unfortunately, it was also a very realistic one.

Inside of her head, thoughts warred. It all sounded so easy.

But right now everything that had seemed easy was now terribly difficult. Maybe too difficult?

“Yes,” she began. Ready to explain that she would give the tasks her best shot, but she wasn’t completely sure she could do any of it. Ready to talk about how she was still sore.

But before she could form the words, before Lilly could once again say that she wasn’t feeling well…that she had enough to do without making silly vegetable signs, her mother kissed her brow. “Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that.”

“Actually—”

“Thank you, dear. Now, I’ve got to scoot off to work. Be sure and give Ty a snack when he comes home. I’ll be home between six and seven.”

She watched her mother walk out the door, leaving it open for the first time in days. Sunlight shown from the window, illuminating the dark walls.

As Lilly blinked and stared at the ray of light, she heard her mother’s heels click against the wood floor. Heard her keys jangle.

Moments later, the garage door opened and her mother drove off. She was alone and had promised to finally look forward.

Could she do it?

Closing her eyes, she prayed. “
Lord, I sure need some help right now. These past two weeks, I’ve felt so alone. But now I realize I haven’t been that way at all. My family has been on the other side of the door, just waiting for me to reach out.

“And the light streaming in, reminds me that You have been there all along, too. Just waiting for me to remember.

“I need You now. Please help me. I promise I’ll do my best not to forget you any longer.”

When she opened her eyes, the room looked exactly the same. The ray didn’t look any brighter or longer or different.

But she felt renewed. For the first time since that terrible night when she’d lost her baby, Lilly felt God’s presence running inside her.

It felt like Hope.

Before she could change her mind, she walked over to her bed, smoothed the sheets, and made it up again—even going so far as to arrange the little teal-and-violet decorative pillows in the middle. She stepped to her dresser and pulled out an old pair of gym shorts. She had no idea if they would fit or not, but they were part of her old life, and she needed the reassurance that somewhere inside of her, she was still the same person she used to be. The sporty girl with plans for herself. The girl who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty or her clothes muddy. The girl who would find the idea of her city family planting a garden invigorating. After picking up a pile of dirty clothes and tossing them into her laundry basket, Lilly gathered some of the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. And then, before she could weigh the pros and cons of it, she walked back to the bedroom and opened her bedside table’s drawer and took out her digital clock. The green light shone an eerie 10:15. It was time to begin.

Things seemed better after Lilly had showered and slipped on an old T-shirt and those shorts, which miraculously still fit.

Her room certainly smelled better after she’d carried out the dirty clothes and stacked her dirty dishes in the dishwasher. After wiping down her desk and dresser with some furniture polish, Lilly finally felt like her room was back to normal. She’d always been organized and meticulous about her things. It was amazing how the dark cloud of depression could change years of habits.

By eleven forty-five, she’d showered, cleaned, and gotten dressed. Lilly shook her head at how slow she’d become. Back in Cleveland, she used to do all those things in under a half hour.

Almost grateful that her mother had given her a list of things to do, she poured herself a glass of orange juice, and tackled item number four on her mother’s carefully printed list: call the Sugarcreek Inn.

After her employer answered, Lilly spoke in a rush. “Hi, Mrs. Kent. This is Lilly Allen. I thought I better call about my job.” She braced herself for a barrage of questions—and complaints. She’d been gone a long time and was a new employee, too.

“Lilly, it’s so nice to hear your voice. I’m glad you called.”

The sweet sound created a lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

“We’ve missed you here. All of us have gotten used to your cheerful smiles and speedy feet. When will you come back?”

It was time to dive in. Staying home in a dirty room was no longer possible. “Right away.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. I mean…my mom said that maybe I could come back part-time?”

Mrs. Kent didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, of course. Can you start tomorrow? Maybe just come in for four hours? Do you think you could handle that?”

Her boss was like a cyclone. She talked fast and in circles. Lilly could almost see her with a pencil on the calendar, impatiently waiting to either pencil in Lilly’s name on the schedule or erase it. “Yes?” she asked, though she wasn’t really sure if she was asking her boss the question or herself.

“Good. I’ll see you at eleven. Can you do that? Can you work from eleven until three?”

“Yes?”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

After a quick goodbye, Lilly hung up the phone with a shaking hand. It was done. She was now officially working again and more or less back in the land of the living.

She expected to feel overwhelmed.

To her surprise, it felt good to have something new to think about. Already she was wondering if both Gretta and Miriam would be on tomorrow’s schedule. Next, she started mentally cataloging her clothes situation. She wondered which skirts and blouses were clean and which ones still fit.

Maybe her mother had had the right idea, after all.

Yes, being busy was the key to moving forward. Walking to the neatly printed map of the garden, Lilly smiled at the cute water-resistant place cards for plants that her mother had obviously bought at the nursery. Probably had paid too much for, too.

They were brightly colored and in cute shapes. All Lilly had to do was write on each with a black permanent marker and stick the stake in the soil.