When Mercy Rains (15 page)

She swallowed a lump of sadness. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Seems to me you ought to examine yourself then, make sure you aren’t reading more into your mama’s behavior than what’s really there because you’re still mad at her.”

Suzanne wanted to defend herself—Linda hadn’t seen Mother’s scowls or heard her harsh words—but she respected her friend too much to argue. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, Linda was usually right. “I’ll do that.”

“Good. Now tell me how our Alexa is getting along. She was so excited about meeting her uncles and aunts and cousins. Is she happy there?”

Mixed emotions rolled through Suzanne. Hesitantly, she shared her family’s reaction to meeting her daughter and Alexa’s attempts to fit in. Linda expressed pleasure that most of them, after their initial shock, had been kind to Alexa. Suzanne didn’t mention the conversation she’d shared with her daughter earlier in the day, though. She still felt raw from Alexa’s question and couldn’t bring herself to repeat it even to her dearest friend. But she did divulge a big concern.

“My mother seems taken with her. Our very first day, she gave Alexa a precious heirloom. Her betrothal locket. Traditionally, it should go to the oldest daughter.” Hurt tightened her throat, making her words come out huskier than usual. “But as Mother said, the locket would have been passed to my daughter eventually anyway, and Alexa was so touched by it—the locket meant even more to her than it would have to me. So I shouldn’t complain. But—”

“Why would you complain? Isn’t it good to have your mama and Alexa getting along? What’s the matter, girl?”

The worry that had risen up and wrapped its tentacles around her heart at
supper returned, squeezing with such intensity Suzanne found it difficult to draw a breath. “I think Mother is trying to win Alexa away from me.”

“Oh, Suzanne …”

“Don’t ‘Oh, Suzanne’ me.” She clutched the phone with shaking hands. “She’s asked to spend time alone with Alexa, and she won’t tell me what they discuss. She has this secretive smile she only gives to Alexa. And tonight, she coerced Alexa into baking her a chocolate cake.”

Linda’s laugh blasted out. “Are you listening to yourself? Honey, you’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Nobody has to coerce that girl into baking. She’d do it for a stranger as much as she enjoys it.”

Tears stung Suzanne’s eyes. She leaped up and paced back and forth, scaring the cat from its spot beneath the bench to the opposite side of the barn. “You don’t understand. She wanted me to give up my baby twenty years ago. Now she’s doing it again—trying to come between my daughter and me. I won’t let her take away another child, Linda. I won’t.”

A long silence fell on the other side of the conversation. Then Linda released a soft huff of breath. “So what are you gonna do?”

Suzanne eased back onto the tire. The inquisitive cat slunk across the floor and leaped onto the tractor seat where it kept a furtive watch on her. “I can’t leave until I’ve secured a nurse for Mother. It’s clear my siblings can’t keep coming out day after day to take care of her. But I can’t do it, either, no matter what Clete thinks. So as soon as I’ve managed to find a caretaker the family can afford, I’m coming back to Indiana.”

“You sure that’s what you want to do?”

Suzanne had asked Mother the same question about giving the locket to Alexa. She gave the answer Mother had given. “It’s what I have to do.”

“Well, all right then, honey. Tom and I will pray you through it.”

Suzanne drooped forward, tiredness stealing the strength from her bones. “Thank you.”

“I just hope you won’t look back someday and wish you’d stuck around—
made things work. Family … that’s not something you can pull out of thin air. Seems to me you’ve been without them too long already.”

“Alexa is all the family I need.” But even she heard the lack of conviction in her voice. Before Linda could dispute her statement, she said, “I should probably get inside. Believe it or not, I’m out in the barn. It’s the only place I could be alone.”

The cat yawned, showing a pink tongue and pointed teeth.

“Well, except for a cat. But I don’t think this whisker-faced mouser will repeat anything I said.”

Linda gave the expected chuckle. “You take care of yourself in between taking care of everybody else, you hear? You want me to mention to Administration you might be back before your leave is up?”

She started to say yes, but something held the word from escaping. “Not yet.”

Alexa

The squeak of the backdoor hinges caught Alexa’s attention, and she looked up from scrubbing the drop-leaf table to see Mom push aside the plastic curtain and enter the front half of the kitchen. Eager to show her mother what she’d accomplished in the past half hour, she straightened and held her arms wide. “Ta-da!”

Mom sent her a puzzled look. “ ‘Ta-da’ … what?”

Disappointed, Alexa allowed her arms to droop to her sides. The cloth in her hand dangled limply, reflective of her aching muscles. Despite the plastic tacked from one side of the room to the other, dust from the carpenter’s demolition had coated every surface and crept into tiny cracks and crevices. But thanks to her zealous use of dust rags, broom, and scrub cloth, the space was now sparkling clean. How could Mom not notice?

“Mom, really …” Releasing a brief huff of laughter, Alexa shook her head.
“It’s clean in here. And since it’s clean, I can bake in here.” The thought of mixing up one of her rich, gooey chocolate cakes erased her weariness. These past few days, occupying herself by reading some of the books she found on a shelf on the upstairs landing or exploring the property—she especially loved the barn loft—had passed so slowly. She needed something more to do, and she liked baking more than nearly anything else.

She moved to the little washtub she’d set up on the edge of the old-fashioned gas stove and plopped the rag in it. She paused for a moment, gazing into the plastic tub. “If my chocolate cake makes Grandmother smile, maybe Shelley will be pleased, too.”

Cool hands descended on her shoulders and turned her around. Mom pulled her into a brief hug. “Honey, you don’t need to try to please Shelley.”

Yes, she did. She needed to win favor with her family. With all of her family. Soon they would be glad to know her instead of being embarrassed by her. Alexa began gathering mixing bowls, spoons, and measuring cups from the boxes lining the wall. As she arranged the items on the table, she gave a cavalier shrug and grinned impishly. “It’s more for me than anyone else. You know how much I love chocolate.”

Mom leaned against the corner of the table and folded her arms. “Yes, I know you love chocolate, and I also know you wouldn’t have even attempted to bake in this disaster area of a kitchen if you didn’t think it would score points with your grandmother and aunt. I don’t want to see you setting yourself up for disappointment. They aren’t worth it.”

Alexa’s hands froze midtask. Mom’s voice had become hard. Bitter. So unlike her. She turned slowly toward her mother, almost afraid to look in case she saw a stranger standing in Mom’s place. “How can you say such a thing about your own mother and sister? Of course they’re worth the effort. Haven’t you always taught me to serve others the way I would serve Jesus? Isn’t He worth the effort, Mom?”

Mom sighed and hung her head. “That came out wrong.”

“I guess so.” Alexa nibbled her lower lip, uncertainty binding her in place.
For a few brief seconds, Mom had seemed to turn into Grandmother. Alexa didn’t like the change.

Lifting her head, Mom met Alexa’s gaze and spoke kindly—more like the mother she’d always known. “I only meant we don’t really know them. And we won’t be here long enough to get to know them. So even though we want to do our best to get along while we’re here, you don’t need to expend endless energy on building relationships that will likely be short term.”

Alexa frowned. Something didn’t make sense. “Two months is enough time for us to build relationships. I already feel as though Sandra and I are friends. The same with Tanya. Grandmother even seems to like me. And why can’t we continue our relationships with your family when we go back to Indiana? I know you’ve stayed away because you didn’t want them to know you’d kept me, but the cat’s out of the bag. There’s no reason for us not to stay in touch now, right?”

Mom set her lips in a pained grimace and didn’t answer.

Alexa took a step toward Mom, her pulse tripping into double-beats. “Mom? Is there something else that’s kept you away from Arborville all these years?”

Abigail

In the little hallway between the dining room and kitchen, Abigail sat in her wheelchair and listened for Suzy’s reply. When she’d left her room and overheard Suzy and Alexa talking, she only intended to let her daughter know she was ready to change for bed. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But then she heard Alexa’s question, and Abigail wanted answers as much as Alexa did.

Her Suzy had secrets—lots of secrets—and she suspected her daughter would clam up tighter than the joints of the cabinetry Paul Aldrich was building if she knew Abigail was listening. So she stayed put and strained her ear toward the opening, hoping to satisfy her curiosity.

After several long, silent seconds, Suzy’s breath whisked out on a sad sigh, and she spoke in a defeated tone. “Honey, can we let the past remain in the past? I can’t change any of the choices I made twenty years ago, and rehashing it serves no useful purpose. We’ve done well on our own, haven’t we?” Abigail envisioned Suzy embracing Alexa the way Abigail had once pulled her children to her breast to offer comfort. Suzy’s tender voice continued. “Be satisfied that you’ve had the chance to meet my family. Let it be enough to have … put names to faces, so to speak.”

“So what you’re telling me,” came Alexa’s voice, low and controlled yet with
an edge of belligerence, “is there are other reasons, but you want to keep them to yourself.”

Abigail held her breath.

Suzy’s blunt answer came. “Yes.”

Blowing out her air, Abigail pushed the wheels on her chair forward and rolled into the kitchen. Alexa and Suzy jumped apart as if they’d been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. Abigail shook her head and forced a soft chuckle. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you two were up to no good. Did I really startle you that much?”

Alexa busied herself with the supplies scattered over the table and didn’t answer. Suzy hurried behind Abigail and caught hold of the wheelchair handles. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Mother. I imagine you’re ready to turn in.”

Abigail chuckled again as Suzy pushed her chair through the hallway and dining room toward her bedroom. “And now you change the subject. Mm-hm, I interrupted something for sure.”

“Don’t be silly.” Suzy pushed the chair to the edge of the bed and set the brakes. “What nightgown do you want? Your pink one or the blue one with the yellow daisies on it?”

“It makes no difference, Suzanne. Just get one.” While Suzy headed for the closet, Abigail lifted her transfer board from its spot between the bed and night-stand and positioned it as a bridge from her chair’s seat to the mattress. She then shifted herself to the edge of the bed, grunting with the effort it took to drag her useless limbs. Her left hand slipped, and she flopped across the bed. With another grunt of aggravation, she righted herself, then sat with both palms pressed to the mattress, panting. How she hated the clumsy person she’d become. Why couldn’t that bale have stolen her life instead of only taking the use of her legs? God had chosen a special punishment for her. And after what she’d done, she supposed she deserved it.

Suzy returned with the pink gown draped over her arm. “Here you are, Mother. I like this one best. Let’s get you undressed and then—”

“Why are you here?” Abigail blurted the question, surprising herself as much as Suzy.

Suzy blinked twice. “I’m here to help you.” She laid the nightgown aside and reached for Abigail’s cap.

Abigail slapped her hands away. “I can do it myself. And you didn’t answer my question. You know what I meant. Why did you come back to Arborville? And don’t tell me because Clete asked you to.” She yanked the pins holding her cap in place with such force she pulled hairs from her head. Each yank stung, but she didn’t care. At least she felt something besides fury for a few moments. “You stayed away for twenty years. Twenty years!” She clutched the pins in her fist and glowered at her daughter. “An absence like that isn’t accidental. You never meant to come back.” She lifted her cap from her hair and wadded it in her hand. “Why didn’t you just tell Clete no?”