When Mercy Rains (5 page)

She gently squeezed Alexa’s elbow. “Honey, listen to me. I know how excited you are—how long you’ve wanted to meet your grandmother and uncle and aunts—but I don’t think you fully understand how the Mennonites live.”

A sheepish grin climbed her cheek. “Actually, Mom, I know more than you know I know. I kind of researched Old Order Mennonites when I was in junior high.” She shrugged. “Curiosity …”

Suzanne cringed. “Well, you still don’t know how my family lives. Please don’t be hurt if there isn’t—”

Alexa’s gaze moved beyond Suzanne’s shoulder. She jerked loose of Suzanne’s light grasp and pointed. “Mom, look. That man over there has a sign with
Zimmerman
on it. Let’s go!” Without a moment’s pause, Alexa looped her arm through Suzanne’s elbow and headed for the waiting man.

He wore the Sunday garb of Suzanne’s sect—white shirt buttoned to the collar and tucked into black trousers. A suit coat with no lapels hung open, revealing a sliver of navy-blue suspenders. The man appeared to search the crowd, but as Alexa and Suzanne approached, he pinned his focus fully on Suzanne. His gaze traveled from her face down the line of her simple sweater and matching cardigan, long skirt, and bottom four inches of her low-heeled slouch boots and then up again. His brow furrowed, but he appeared more puzzled than disapproving.

He dropped the crude sign with its block-letter printed name into a nearby receptacle and took two steps toward them. “Suzy?”

Alexa arched her eyebrows, her lips quirking into a teasing grin. “Suzy?”

Suzanne gave her daughter a brief frown, then turned to the man. “I go by Suzanne now, but yes, I’m Suzanne Zimmerman.”

The man’s puzzlement faded in an instant. He released a self-conscious chuckle. “I’ll try, but it’ll be pretty hard for me not to call you Suzy.”

Only then did she notice the pale scar running from the outer corner of his left eye to his hairline, the result of a childhood encounter with the sharp barb
on a neighbor’s wire fence. The entire fellowship had praised God for allowing the barb to miss his eye and leave his sight unaffected. A buzzing filled her head and her jaw slackened. “Clete?”

He nodded, his blue eyes sparkling. “That’s right. Welcome home, Sis.”

And then Suzanne found herself wrapped in her brother’s embrace. When she’d left, he’d been a gangly eleven-year-old, the top of his head barely reaching her chin. Now his chin pressed against her temple, and his firm hold spoke of a man’s strength.

His deep voice—unfamiliar yet somehow known—filtered past the ringing in her ears. “It’s been a long time. Too long.” Did a hint of recrimination color his tone?

Suzanne extracted herself and peered into her brother’s face. “I’m here now.”

Perhaps he recognized the challenge she’d injected in her simple reply, because he gave a nod and his expression softened. “Yes, you are.”

Alexa, who’d stood silently by and shifted from foot to foot during the brief exchange, now bolted forward. “Hello.” Her greeting whooshed out breathlessly. She took his hand and shook it, her smile growing broader with every pump. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Clete nodded, his gaze zipping back and forth between Suzanne and Alexa. “Yes. Yes, of course it is. Um …” He withdrew his hand and scratched behind his ear, his confused glance landing on Suzanne. “Who is this?”

Befuddlement pursed Alexa’s face. “Who else would I be? I’m—”

Suzanne slipped her arm around Alexa’s waist. “This is my daughter, Alexa.”

Alexa

Surprise widened her uncle’s eyes, but as quickly as his startled expression formed, it disappeared, leaving Alexa wondering if she’d seen it at all. He reached for her, and she allowed him to tug her against his broad chest.

For years she’d anticipated this moment—being welcomed into a large circle of family instead of being the only child of a single mother. But now that her uncle’s arms held her in what she could only define as an uncomfortable embrace, all the wonderful images of reunion she’d conjured faded. She pushed lightly against his chest, and his arms dropped.

He ducked his head briefly, as if collecting himself, and then he aimed a wobbly smile at Mom. “We’d better get your luggage.”

Alexa darted ahead, needing to gather her thoughts. She searched for a positive aspect to the situation. In moments her ready imagination served up a plausible scenario. Mom hadn’t told her family she’d be bringing her daughter along. After all, they’d asked her to come to nurse Grandmother. They probably assumed Alexa had responsibilities keeping her in Indiana. So her arrival caught them by surprise. That would explain Uncle Clete’s confusion.

She glanced over her shoulder, noting the firm line of her uncle’s mouth. Mom appeared equally grim. Although he and Mom hadn’t seen each other in two decades, they walked side by side in a tense silence. Shouldn’t they be speaking over the top of each other in their eagerness to catch up on their lives? Unease sent a tingle down her spine. Something was wrong.

Most of the passengers had already claimed their luggage, so only a few bags remained on the slow-moving conveyor belt. Alexa snagged Mom’s black bag and her own green-with-orange-polka-dots one. To her dismay the brand-new upright cases, purchased especially for their trip to Kansas, bore oil stains and scuff marks. Their damaged appearance too closely emulated the marred expectations of meeting her family for the first time.

Uncle Clete stepped forward and reached for the bags. “I’ll get those. I left my truck in short-term parking, so we won’t have a long walk. This way.” He spoke kindly yet impersonally, the way one might address a stranger.

His tone raised a prickle of resentment. She followed her uncle from the terminal into a cool early evening. The leftover scent of a recent rain filled her nostrils, and she breathed deeply, willing the fresh essence to chase away the unwelcome emotion.

Mom often berated her to act her age, and now Alexa gave herself the same admonition. To expect instant affection was childish and whimsical. She and her uncle were strangers. After twenty years apart, he and Mom probably felt like strangers, too. Alexa would allow a few days for everyone to settle in and get comfortable. They just needed a little time.

Beside her, Mom shivered, and Alexa automatically slipped her arm around Mom’s waist. Mom shot her an appreciative smile, and Alexa answered it with a bold wink. Poor Mom … She looked exhausted. She’d worked all night, honoring her responsibility to the hospital right up to the last minute, then traveled all day. Her reticence was probably more a result of tiredness than anything else.

“Here we are.” Uncle Clete unlocked the door on a gray pickup truck with a double cab. “Suzy … er, Suzanne, why don’t you sit up front and Alexa can have the back.” Without waiting to see if they followed his directions, he moved to the bed of the truck and heaved their suitcases over the edge.

Alexa cringed, imagining the additional bumps and scratches his rough treatment would certainly inflict on their luggage, but she held her tongue and climbed into the backseat of the cab. Bits of dried grass and dirt clumps littered the floor, and the distinct aroma of cattle clung to the upholstery. She sucked in one last draft of the rain-scented air before slamming the door closed behind her.

A child’s booster seat sat in the middle of the bench, and Alexa pushed it to the far side to give herself more room. Uncle Clete settled himself behind the steering wheel, then sent an unsmiling glance into the back. “Oops. Want me to put that in the bed with the suitcases?”

“It’s not bothering me,” Alexa said, unexpectedly warmed by his offer. She clicked her seat belt into place. “Who does it belong to?”

Uncle Clete answered as he backed out of the narrow parking space. “My daughter Jana.”

“How old is she?” Alexa couldn’t quite temper the eagerness in her voice. The yearly Christmas letter coming from Arborville had never told as much as she wanted to know about Mom’s family—her family. She wanted to know everything.

“Four.”

“And she’s your youngest, right?”

He pulled a curled-edge photograph from beneath the sun visor and handed it over the seat. “Youngest of three. Jana’s the one on the far left. Jay’s in the middle—he’s eight. And then Julie’s five.”

Alexa examined the images in the grainy photo. The trio of children stood at the edge of a wheat field. The little girls wore knee-length gingham dresses, obviously homemade, and the boy’s shirt seemed to be sewn from the same blue-checked fabric. Bright sunshine turned their fair hair into halos. Mom craned her neck to peer over the seat, so Alexa gave her the picture as she told her uncle, “They’re real cute. Your girls look so much alike and are so close in size, they could be twins.”

He stopped at the gate to pay the parking fee. As the truck merged with other cars leaving the airport, he said, “We get asked that a lot. Especially since we have a set of twins in the family.”

Alexa leaned as far forward as the seat belt would allow. She searched her memory for details from Grandmother’s annual Christmas letters, but she came up empty. “I’ve forgotten—which of your sisters has twins?” She shouted to make herself heard. Now revving at close to sixty miles an hour, the truck’s engine roared like an angry lioness.

“Shelley and her husband, Harper.” Uncle Clete yelled, too, turning his face slightly to send his answer into the backseat. “Girls—six years old. Their names are Ruby and Pearl.”

Now Alexa remembered. She’d thought the names pretty but old-fashioned. “Does Mom have any new nieces or nephews?” She tapped Mom’s shoulder with her fingertips, hoping to encourage her to ask these questions so she wouldn’t feel so nosy.

“Our youngest sister, Sandra, and her husband, Derek, have a little boy named Ian. You probably know about him—he turned three last week—but they’re expecting another baby midsummer.” Uncle Clete flicked a quick look at Mom. “Just wondering … Wasn’t your husband able to come with you?”

Mom turned her face toward the side window. Alexa frowned. Mom’s family didn’t already know she wasn’t married? Although puzzled, Alexa found no insult in the question. She’d adjusted to not having a father, and she’d hardly been the only girl in school being raised by a single mother. Mom had explained long ago how a foolish decision to break God’s instruction to save sex for the marriage bed resulted in her becoming pregnant.

Watching Mom struggle to provide for her and be both mother and father had been a good lesson for Alexa. She wanted a family someday, but she wanted the support of a husband both physically and emotionally. She’d promised her mother she wouldn’t make the same mistake, and she intended to keep the promise.

Mom still hadn’t answered, so Alexa piped up. “It’s just Mom and me.”

Uncle Clete’s eyebrows descended. “I see.” He aimed his gaze forward, his jaw set so tightly the muscle in his cheek bulged.

Mom stared out the side window at a landscape that looked so much like Indiana’s, Alexa had a hard time believing they weren’t still in their home state. Silence fell, making the truck’s engine seem to increase in volume. Alexa wriggled uncomfortably, wishing someone would say something.

Uncle Clete cleared his throat. “Alexa, how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Mom suddenly seemed to come to life, sitting upright and turning to face Uncle Clete. Her face glowed bright red, but she spoke in a strong voice. “How long will I be needed?”

He rolled his clenched fists on the plastic steering wheel. He didn’t look at Mom. “Why?”

“Because I’d like to know.”

Alexa wanted to know, too.

Uncle Clete swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’d thought … for good.”

Mom shook her head as if she hadn’t heard right. “I only arranged for a two-month leave.”

He pulled in a deep breath and released it, his big frame sagging a bit as the air left his lungs. “Mother is never getting out of that wheelchair. The damage to her spine can’t be fixed. None of the rest of us know how to help her. You’re the nurse. Our missionary nurse.” His tone took on a bitter edge, as if he’d tasted something unpleasant. “Shelley, Sandra, and me … we figured you’d be happy to use your training to serve your mother.”

Mom said, “Have you moved her into town?”

Uncle Clete snorted. “She won’t leave her house.”

“Of course she won’t.”

Although she’d never seen it, Alexa held a picture in her head of Mom’s childhood home. A rambling farmhouse two stories tall with decorative gable trims, an attic, too many bedrooms to count, a spindled porch in front, and a screened sun porch off the kitchen. She’d dreamed about living in a century-old house exactly like the one in which Mom grew up, and even though Mom sounded dismayed, Alexa couldn’t resist a rush of elation at the thought of staying, even if only briefly, in the old house out away from town.

“For the past four months, Tanya, Shelley, and Sandra have taken turns caring for her,” Uncle Clete went on. “But they have to bring the kids along, and Mother …” He slowed the truck and turned right onto a dirt road. He held the speed to a crawl, but even so, the truck bounced over ruts, making Alexa grateful for the seat belt holding her in place. She hoped the suitcases in the back wouldn’t fly over the edge.