A Chance to Remember

by Kathleen Fuller

  “Hello,” she repeated, stopping in front of the house but not going into the yard. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Hi,” the familiar-looking one answered. “Why aren’t you at Cevilla’s?”

  She blew out a relieved breath, glad she hadn’t been mistaken about his identity. “I went for a walk, and, uh . . .” She cleared her throat. “I got lost.”

  “How’d you get lost?” one of the twins asked.

  Meghan grimaced. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “Mamm always tells us to pay attention,” the other twin said.

  “I guess she doesn’t want us getting lost,” his twin brother chimed in.

  “I can show you the way back,” the older boy said. “You’re not too far.”

  “That’s all right, you can just tell me—”

  “Mose, you and Mahlon go tell Mamm I’m going back to Cevilla’s for a minute.”

  The boys nodded and dashed off.

  Mose and Mahlon. Unusual names. She assumed Mose was short for Moses, but the name Mahlon was new to her. “What’s your name?” she asked the boy.

  “Perry.” He stepped over the curb and started walking in the direction she came. She fell in step next to him.

  For a few minutes neither one said anything. She’d always felt awkward around children, and she’d never been one for babysitting or volunteering to work with the kids at church. When she went to church. She hadn’t been there in weeks. Not since . . .

  Desperate to change her thoughts, she said, “It’s pretty around here.”

  Perry nodded. “Ya.” His voice had a trace of an accent.

  “What language do you speak?”

  “You mean English?” he looked up at her, the sun glinting off his reddish-brown hair.

  “I meant the other language.”

  “Dietsch. Although Mamm says I should speak English when I’m around English people. It’s rude if I don’t.”

  “English people?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You’re not Amish.”

  She almost laughed. What an absurd idea, her being Amish. “Definitely not.”

  “Then you’re English.” They came to an intersection, and he took a right turn.

  She followed him. “Is that what you call us?”

  “Yes.” One rust-colored eyebrow lifted. “Where are you from?”

  “LA.” At his puzzled look she added, “Los Angeles. It’s a city in California.”

  He nodded. “That’s one of the fifty states. Sacramento is the capital.”

  “Very good.”

  “My teacher says it’s good to know where other states are and their capitals. I got one hundred percent on my quiz.”

  Meghan smiled. “That’s great.”

  “I like geography.” He jumped over a small dark lump on the side of the road. “Watch out for that.”

  “What is it?” she said, sidestepping it and the smaller clumps that trailed it.

  “Horse dung. Don’t they have horses in California?”

  “They do, but not in LA.”

  “I don’t think I’d like LA.”

  She paused. “You know what, Perry? Right now, I don’t like it either.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Cevilla sat in her special chair next to the empty woodstove in the living room. She rarely used the stove in the summer months, except for a rare chilly night. Even unlit, though, she thought it made the room cozy. She glanced at Richard, who was standing, looking out the window and leaning heavily on his cane. She recognized the weariness in his stance. She’d felt it many times.

  “Sit down,” she said, folding her hands on her lap. Normally she would be crocheting because she liked to keep busy. She just didn’t do it when she had company. If Richard was going to keep standing there with his back to her, though, she just might pull out her yarn.

  “She’s been gone a long time,” he said.

  “Only thirty minutes or so. Not that long.”

  He looked at her, frowning. “What if she’s lost?”

  Cevilla rolled her eyes. “Richard, she’s an adult. I’m sure she’ll figure out what to do if she is.”

  But he turned and looked out the window again.

  She sighed. She shouldn’t be hard on him. True, she’d never had children, or even a husband, of her own. But she would probably feel the same way if her nephew, Noah, was wandering around an unfamiliar place. She’d be concerned if anyone in the Birch Creek community was in trouble. The people in Birch Creek were her family, and in the past several years, even though the community had grown by leaps and bounds, they were all closer than they’d ever been.

  None of that would help her friend, though. “Richard,” she said, gentling her voice. “There’s no need to worry. She’s safe here. This isn’t Los Angeles.”

  He turned around, a slight look of relief on his features. “You’re right. It isn’t.” He shuffled to the end of the couch nearest to her and slowly sat down, wincing as he did.

  “Does your hip still hurt?” she asked.

  “It twinges.”

  “That looked like more than a twinge.”

  “Because it’s not just my hip that’s complaining.” He gave her a sad smile. “Old age isn’t a picnic, is it?”

  “Oh, it has good things about it.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for one, you’re pretty settled on who you are and what you’re about. You no longer experience the confusion and anxiety of youth.”

  He nodded. “That’s true.”

  “And people respect your opinions.” She smiled wryly. “At least they pretend to.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” He glanced at the window. “Lately Meghan’s been . . .”

  “Suffocating you?”

  “To put it mildly.”

  Cevilla smoothed the skirt of her gray dress. “She loves you.”

  “I know. And I love her. I just wish . . . I want her to be happy.”

  She nodded. It was plain as day that Meghan was troubled about something. She’d seen a dullness to her eyes, and a sharp tension around her mouth, like she was continually sucking on a lemon. Without sugar, of course.

  “I thought maybe a few days here in the country would help her . . . relax a bit.”

  “Too busy? Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Richard looked down at his lap. “Can’t deny that. I worked hard when I was her age. But back then life was still slower. Sunday was the Sabbath, and stores and restaurants weren’t open. You didn’t have to go to work or have your phone ringing all the time in your pocket. You could visit with family or take a nap or just sit in the quiet and think. None of that exists now.”

  “It does here.” She leaned forward. “Now, I’m not saying we’re perfect. Far from it. But we keep a simple and slower pace because that’s how we can stay in tune with God.”

  “I stay in tune with God,” Richard said, looking a bit offended.

  “But it’s harder to do with all that noise and busyness . . . isn’t it?”

  He blew out a breath. “You’re right. And since I’ve slowed down, I’ve had more time to spend with the Lord.” He frowned. “Meghan’s missing that in her life.”

  “And you think a week here is going to fix it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not that foolish. But it will give her a reprieve, at least.”

  Cevilla smiled. “You’re a good man, Richard.”

  “Thanks.”

  His wizened cheeks looked pink, which Cevilla thought was charming—and she didn’t dole out compliments she didn’t mean.

  After a few moments of silence, Richard looked at her. “Did you ever see CJ again?”

  She’d known the subject of CJ would come up. It was the main thing she and Richard had in common—their friendship with CJ. Hers had turned romantic, however, and she and CJ had come close to marrying. But she had chosen the Amish faith over that marriage, breaking his heart—a
nd hers, even though she never regretted the decision. “We didn’t. But he did write a letter to me, years later.”

  “I didn’t know that. We lost contact after I moved to California. He’d already married . . .” Richard looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

  “I know he did. And I’m glad he found someone else to love, and who loved him.”

  “What about you, Cevilla? Your last name is still Schlabach. You never married, then?”

  She paused. Normally she answered this question quickly. There was no shame or regret in being single. Not everyone was created to be married, and she had always been content with her single life. Except, oddly enough, over the past months. Maybe that had to do with the numerous courtships and weddings in their community in the past three years. She had put two of them together as a matchmaker. Or maybe she was slowing down more than she liked to admit. Not only could she not work in the yard the way she wanted to, but her hands ached after only a few rows of crochet.

  Yet she had a constant companion. Someone who never left her, never allowed her to feel alone. “The Lord is enough,” she whispered.

  “Pardon?” Richard touched his left ear. “These new hearing aids have been giving me trouble ever since I got them.”

  She smiled. “No,” she said, raising her voice. “I never married. But I’m content with my life. I don’t need a husband to make me happy.”

  His eyes widened. “Okay.” He gave her a wry grin. “I heard that well enough, by the way.”

  She leaned back in her chair. She hadn’t meant to speak that loudly. Or to sound like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. She was content with her life. But the ache was there, underneath the surface. Along with the question, What if?

  “I’m glad you found happiness, Cevilla. I know that’s what CJ would have wanted for you.” He paused. “It’s what I’ve always wanted for you too.”

  Puzzled, she frowned. She’d also wanted happiness for him, and it pleased her that he had found it with his family. But those words, coupled with his genuine tone and the warmth in his eyes, seemed to be saying something more. She just didn’t know what that something more was.

  The front door opened, and Cevilla pulled her gaze from Richard as Meghan and Perry walked in. Richard turned in his seat. “Where have you been?” he asked, scowling.

  Perry pointed at Meghan with his thumb. “She got lost. I had to show her how to get here.”

  “Which was very nice of you,” Meghan said, although she looked a little annoyed at Perry’s tattling.

  Cevilla hid a smile as she saw the relief on Richard’s face. “I think that good deed earns you another cookie, Perry. You’ll find a couple left in the kitchen.”

  The boy’s face lit up. “Danki!” He disappeared from the living room.

  “I’m sure I could have found my way home by myself eventually,” Meghan muttered. She spotted her purse on a chair and rummaged in it for her phone. After staring at it for a moment, she looked at her grandfather. “Are you ready to go to the hotel?”

  “We just got here, Meghan.”

  “It’s nearly suppertime.”

  He looked at his watch. “Goodness, time flies.”

  “Not exactly.” Meghan started tapping her foot.

  Cevilla grabbed her cane and got up. “I can make some tuna sandwiches for supper, if you’d like to stay. I think I have a few homemade pickles too.”

  Meghan’s nose pinched. “We need to check into our hotel.”

  Richard gave her a dry look, and then he turned to Cevilla. “Rain check?”

  “Of course.”

  Richard rose from the couch. Meghan was already standing near the front door. While her behavior was off-putting, Cevilla didn’t take any offense. Storm clouds were behind this young lady’s eyes, and not because she’d lost her way here. Whatever had happened to her, she could see why Richard was concerned.

  Lord, help them both, in ways only you can.

  “I’d like to stop by tomorrow,” Richard said when he reached the front door.

  “Grandfather, you need to rest.”

  “I can rest here with Cevilla as well as I can at some hotel.” He looked at Cevilla. “That’s if you don’t mind me inviting myself here once again.”

  “You’re always welcome. And I don’t have any plans for tomorrow, so I’ll be here.”

  Richard smiled, and something stirred inside her. Her hand flew to her chest as Meghan, not bothering to wait for Cevilla, opened the screen door and went outside.

  “I promise she’s not normally like this,” Richard said.

  “I’m sure she isn’t.” She put her hand on his arm. “The Lord will help her through her troubles.”

  “If she’ll let him.” He looked at the door. “Right now, I don’t think she is.” He turned to her. “I had a good time this afternoon. You’re great company, like you always were.” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Again, she felt the flutter in her stomach. “Tomorrow,” was all she could say.

  After they got in the fancy car, she closed the front door and leaned against it. I’ll see you tomorrow. She grinned. She was looking forward to it.

  “I see you left your manners back in Los Angeles.”

  Meghan turned onto the highway that led to Barton. Her grandfather had been quiet up until now, and she’d thought he’d fallen asleep. She should have known better. “You’re tired,” she said, her own voice weary.

  “I’m not that tired. And I was having a lovely time visiting Cevilla. If you’ll give her a chance, I’m sure you’ll find her as charming as I do.”

  Meghan gave him a side look. He sounded twenty years younger, and she saw a soft smile on his face she hadn’t seen in a long time. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about her,” she said, her tone turning sharp.

  “What way?”

  “That way. Like you like her. Like you really like her.”

  “I do. She’s an old friend.”

  “Do you want her to be something more?”

  He chuckled. “At my age? I don’t think that’s possible. Even so, she’s not interested.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Grandfather scoffed. “I’m sure. Besides, I see what you’re doing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Changing the subject.”

  She gripped the steering wheel. She was changing the subject, but she was also curious about Grandfather’s feelings. It had never dawned on her that he might feel something for Cevilla. Since Grandmother had died fifteen years ago, he hadn’t shown any interest in women. Plenty of them had shown interest in him, though. Some of them had been younger than Meghan, which was unseemly, but it was clear they were after his bank account. She wasn’t so sure that the women at the senior center weren’t seeing dollar signs as well. That irritated her, because her grandfather was not only still handsome but kind and sweet. Anyone could see that.

  “Why were you rude to Cevilla?” Grandfather pressed. “That’s not like you.”

  She let out a sigh, a dash of guilt hitting her. “I’m sorry.” And she was. She wasn’t rude, especially to people she didn’t know. But according to Mother she was acting out of character, and Meghan had to agree with her. “I’ll take you over there tomorrow for a visit,” she said. “And I’ll apologize to your friend.”

  He nodded. “That’s the Meghan I know and love.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, and a few minutes before they arrived at the hotel, she heard light snoring. She smiled. Of course. Grandfather was tired. They’d had a long flight, and then a little more than an hour’s drive from the airport. He wasn’t used to this much activity. She should have insisted they go straight to the hotel when they landed instead of going to Cevilla’s. But he argued with her until she relented. Now she wished she wouldn’t have given in so easily.

  She pulled in front of the modest hotel. She’d found a lot of bed-and-breakfasts in the area, but most of them wer
e half an hour away or more. Besides, she’d rather stay at a hotel. From what she could tell from pictures on the internet, this one had more amenities than any of the bed-and-breakfast offerings.

  “Grandfather?” She nudged him slightly on the shoulder. He didn’t move, and panic ripped through her. What if he’d died on the ride from Cevilla’s? Her heart thumping, she nudged him again, this time harder. “Grandfather!”

  “What, what?” He jerked awake. “Is the car on fire?”

  Meghan breathed out a long sigh of relief. “We’re at the hotel.”

  He blinked and looked at her. “You shook me awake for that?”

  Now she felt foolish. She’d overreacted—again. Like she had at Cevilla’s. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her, his scowl fading. “It’s all right.”

  The kindness in his eyes brought a lump to her throat. “I need to check us in.” She scrambled out the car door and hurried into the lobby before she lost her emotions completely.

  An “Under Construction” sign greeted her, along with a bare, plywood floor. Stacks of laminate flooring were against the far wall. Dust was everywhere. She sneezed as she strolled to the front desk.

  The clerk, a plump woman who looked to be in her late fifties, gestured to the box of tissues on the counter. “Pardon our dust.”

  “I didn’t see any notice on your website about remodeling the lobby.”

  The woman sighed and pushed up her red-rimmed glasses. “We’re remodeling the whole hotel. And I’ve sent notices to our webmaster to update the site, but he’s ignored our emails.”

  If there was one thing Meghan couldn’t stand, it was incompetence. “You need to get a new webmaster.”

  The woman leaned forward. “I agree. But since he’s the boss’s son . . .” She shrugged. “Do you have a reservation?”

  Meghan sneezed again.

  This time the clerk handed her a tissue. “I really am sorry,” she said.

  “The entire hotel is being remodeled?”

  “Well, not everything. The pool is open.” She grinned, but it faded quickly. “The second and third floors haven’t been tackled yet. But yesterday we had two large leaks on the third floor, so we had to close half the wing.”