When Mercy Rains (39 page)

Alexa gazed after him, chewing her lip. It hurt her heart to see Mom and Mr. Aldrich at odds with each other. Did every child want her parents to be happy together rather than uptight? Although troubled by their behavior, she also found pleasure in feeling what kids who grew up in two-parent homes probably experienced from time to time when their moms and dads had differences. For the first time in her life, she felt completely like a normal daughter. Should she go after him or Mom—or both—and play peacemaker? What would kids in traditional families do?

The longer Mom and Grandmother remained at the farm, the less time the men would have to get started on the new paint job. And Alexa, with no experience playing buffer between a set of parents, had no idea how to fix things. So she sent up a little prayer for God to repair whatever was broken between her mother and Mr. Aldrich and hurried inside to Grandmother.

Suzanne

At the car, after settling Mother in the passenger seat, Suzanne wrapped Alexa in a hug. She clung tightly, almost desperately, and Alexa squeezed back just as hard. Suzanne took comfort in her daughter’s firm embrace.

She stepped away and tried to smile. Alexa’s image swam, distorted by her tears. She blinked quickly, hoping Alexa wouldn’t notice, and forced a bright tone. “All right. We’re off on our adventure. I’ll see you Friday evening. Yes?”

Alexa nodded. She closed the passenger door, sealing her grandmother inside, and lowered her voice to an excited whisper. “By six everyone will be here, the house will be wearing its brand-new colorful coat, and the buffet Sandra and Tanya planned will be ready. I can hardly wait!” She leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Have lots of fun. Relax. Laugh.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll be praying for you to be safe and happy.”

Alexa’s sweet words brought another rush of tears. She grabbed her close again. “I’ll pray the same for you.”

A soft chuckle sounded in Suzanne’s ear. “You’re acting just like you did when you dropped me off for my first day of kindergarten. Remember? I would have been fine and not cried at all if you hadn’t started crying.”

Suzanne snuffled and laughed, stepping back. “I guess we both survived
that separation, didn’t we? And I’ll survive this one, too. It’s just …” Her gaze drifted in the direction of the barn, where Paul’s power saw sent up a high-pitched hum. She caught her daughter’s hands. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with us instead of staying here? Sandra, Shelley, and Tanya can get the party things done.”

“M-o-o-o-o-m.” Alexa drew out the word, affecting a mock pout. “Stick to the plan, will you? I want to make sure the house gets decorated and painted the way I want it.” She hooked Suzanne’s elbow and escorted her around the car. “I’ll be just fine for a few days without you. You and Grandmother are going to have so much fun you won’t even miss me. Wait and see.”

Suzanne sighed and popped open the car door. “All right, then. We’re off.”

“Good!” Alexa gave her door a push and then stepped back, smiling and waving at both her and Mother.

Mother waved back, then looked at Suzanne. “Are you sure you want to go? You look worried.”

“Of course I want to go. I’m looking forward to our minivacation.” She put the car in gear and backed up slowly, watching Alexa trot toward the barn. She pinched her forehead into a frown.

“Suzanne, you aren’t looking forward, you’re looking back.”

Mother had no idea how true her words were. She sighed and aimed her gaze to the road. “Just making sure I don’t hit anything, Mother. Here we go.” As she pulled out of the yard, she glanced at the rearview mirror. Alexa was still in the barn. Her stomach tightened into knots. She’d commanded Paul to keep his distance from Alexa.
God, make him do it
.

Paul

Paul shut off the saw as Alexa darted across the barn floor toward him. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, and his leftover grumpiness from the brief
encounter with Suzy drifted away like sawdust from the saw’s blade. “Are they gone?”

“Yes!” She clasped her hands beneath her chin and released a joy-filled giggle. “Let’s get started!”

“Okay.” Paul strode to the corner, where a black plastic rotary-dial telephone was mounted on the wall. Alexa hovered near his elbow as he called Bernie Lapp. At the man’s gruff greeting, Paul said, “All’s clear. C’mon out.”

“For both projects?” Bernie’s voice blared through the line.

Paul cringed. Would Alexa overhear? She wasn’t meant to know about the second project, a surprise he’d planned for her. “That’s right. I’m in the barn, and I’ll point you to the right paint cans.” He couldn’t have the men grabbing the paint meant for Alexa’s guest cottage and slapping it on the side of the house.

“All right. Be out soon.” The line went dead.

Paul turned to Alexa. “Okay, your part is done. I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure? You remember how I want it painted? Window frames ocher with slate on the inside trim? The fish scale—”

“Ocher with slate blue on the fascia boards.” He grinned and patted his shirt pocket. “I’ve got it all right here, Alexa. Don’t worry. You can trust me.”
You can trust me …
 Wasn’t that what he’d said to Suzy the night he led her to the barn loft?
Don’t worry. Nobody gets pregnant the first time. It’ll be all right, Suzy—you can trust me
. And standing before him was the evidence of how wrong he’d been.

“Mr. Aldrich?” Alexa was looking at him strangely. “You’re kind of spacing out on me.”

He forced a laugh. “Sorry. Just thinking.” He steered her toward the door. “You get the house spiffed up and ready for weekend guests.” Karina always wanted fresh sheets on all the beds, everything dusted and spit-shined. The task should keep Alexa busy and out of the way. “I’ll be in and out working in the kitchen so it’s ready by Friday, but Clete has the paint plan, too, and if there are questions we’ll holler at you, okay?”

She sighed. “Okay. I just really want to
see
it all happen.
Make
it happen.”

Paul smiled. “You’ve done more than your fair share already.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her so she faced the house. “Take a good look at the way it is now. Memorize the ‘before.’ Then Friday, when everything is done, I’ll bring you out to this spot and you can look at the transformation. If you haven’t seen the mess that has to happen in between, you’ll appreciate the ‘after’ a lot more.”

Alexa’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I don’t know. I think I’m going to appreciate seeing that kitchen all done even though I’ve put up with every mess in between.”

The first of the cars turned into the lane, workers arriving. Paul pointed. “Here they come. Go on now. We’ll get more done if you aren’t underfoot.” He smiled to soften the reprimand.

She sighed again, but she hurried off. Paul removed the second paint plan from his hip pocket and headed across the yard to greet the workers.

Abigail

Who would have thought she would be jaunting off with Suzy in the middle of the week? Especially with wheat harvest in full swing. Everywhere she looked, combines cut wide swaths through fields, opening up the view to the horizon. The non-Mennonite farmers in the area each owned their own equipment so they didn’t have to wait their turn with fellowship-owned machinery. They’d finish sooner but with no more success than what the men of her fellowship enjoyed.

Abigail had always liked the way the Kansas landscape gently rolled. The rich soil was perfect for wheat, and she found pleasure in watching the green shoots appear, then grow tall and slender, the cluster of kernels at the top plumping more each day. But watching the wheat come down was best. The land seemed broader, the sky bigger, and sunrises and sunsets more vibrant with
the unobstructed view. Her view was usually from the porch on her house or her own yard, so witnessing the harvest in progress from the highway was more exciting than she’d expected.

Suzy drove in silence, so Abigail gazed out the window, letting her thoughts roll much the way the landscape rolled toward the horizon. Her only excursions away from the farm since Cecil’s death were to attend church service or shop in Arborville and, since her accident, visit the neurologist and spine specialist in Wichita. This trip was a treat. That Alexa. She was a wily one, springing this birthday getaway on her just days before the time to leave. If she’d had weeks to consider going away for such a selfish reason, she would have talked herself out of it. But the spontaneity of the excursion—just packing up and going on what felt like a whim—was the most fun thing she’d done since she was a girl.

If Suzy had raised Alexa in Arborville, would her oldest grandchild have convinced her to take little vacations away from the farm over the years? Would she have laughed more, smiled more, relaxed more? Of course there was no way to know for sure, and it was pointless even to consider it now since one couldn’t turn back time and reverse choices. But Abigail couldn’t seem to stop wondering what might have been had she made a different decision when Suzy came to her and confessed her sin.

Something she knew for sure—if she hadn’t sent Suzy away, her daughter wouldn’t have become a nurse. She probably would have stayed in Arborville, married Paul Aldrich, and assumed the role of wife and mother. Would she have been happier? More fulfilled? Only God knew the answer to those questions, but Abigail could say with certainty her daughter was a good nurse, had carved a good life for herself. She’d given up a lot—a potential husband, a child, closeness with her family—but seemingly God had blessed her. And for that, Abigail was grateful.

She sent a sideways look at Suzy. Was the look of consternation on her face due to concentrating on traffic, did she wish she wasn’t going away for time alone with her mother, or was she just missing Alexa? It was sad that she, the one who’d given birth to Suzy, couldn’t determine the cause. A mother should
be able to read her child. But maybe this minivacation would help bring them together again. Very soon Suzy would leave for a second time unless something kept her in Arborville.

As much as she’d tried to push Suzy and Paul together, now both seemed determined to keep their distance from each other. Abigail was sure Paul had guessed Alexa was his child, and of course Alexa had already figured it out—every time the girl looked at the carpenter, a dreamy expression drifted across her face. Wouldn’t Alexa be thrilled if her mother and father became united?

Abigail turned eagerly to face Suzy. “Don’t you ever want to marry?”

Suzy gave a little jolt. “Where did that question come from?”

Abigail laughed, self-conscious. Of course Suzy hadn’t been privy to her thoughts so she couldn’t follow the trail leading to the query. “I’ve been sitting here thinking. You’re only thirty-seven years old, still a young woman. You could even have another child. Maybe two. Why, Mavis Troyer was forty-one when she had her last baby.” Would Suzy remember Mavis Troyer? Probably not. “My point is, you’re young enough to enjoy many years as a wife if … if you wanted.”

“I suppose.”

Her daughter’s doubtful tone raised an unexpected wave of irritation. “Why do you have to be so stubborn? Do you want to grow old all alone?”