Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “It’s a relief to hear you say that.”

  “So, I can understand why Ruby was upset. But still, you have not told me why you are here. It’s obviously not because you were in a hurry to make amends.”

  No, that was definitely not why he had rushed back. He’d left Sugarcreek because he’d needed his parents’ help and strength. He needed advice from the two people who knew him best.

  Further introspection drew him to realize that he’d been acting like a spoiled child. When Clara hadn’t been immediately agreeable to his plans, he’d taken off instead of acting like a man. Instead of working with Clara to see how they could make things better. His actions shamed him.

  But not the feelings in his heart.

  “The fact is, I’ve fallen in love.”

  His father’s hands tightened on the reins. Buddy neighed a bit in protest. “Sorry, horse.” Then he turned to Tim and frowned. “You’re in love already? Again?”

  He was smarter now. Instead of throwing out words, he thought about them, putting his heart and mind into his voice. “This thing I had with Ruby, it wasn’t love. More likely it was habit. She’s a good woman, and I know she will make someone a wonderful-gut frau, but she’s not for me.”

  “She thought she was.”

  “I never told her. I never made her a promise. But, if one looked at my actions, I have to admit that they did seem like they were filled with promises.”

  “You wrote to each other often.”

  “We did. At first I was lonely for my life here. And, the truth is, I wanted to love her. I liked my life here. I liked the future I’d imagined.”

  “It was comfortable, yes?”

  “Yes.” Though it was the truth, it was still hard to admit. Part of Tim couldn’t believe he was even thinking about throwing it all away for a future that was unknown.

  “But this other woman, you care for her now?”

  “Yes. My feelings for her are far more complex. She gives me peace when I’m by her side. I feel that anything is possible when I’m with her.”

  “And?”

  “And she has a lot of heart. She is…unique, Daed.” Briefly, he described Clara’s childhood trauma to his father. Without any exaggeration—or omissions. He talked about how the scars affected her, and how the flaws made him admire all that much more.

  As he talked, his father guided Buddy down the country roads. Every so often, cars zipped by. Every once in a while, another buggy approached going the opposite way. They’d wave hello. And still Tim would talk about Clara.

  Little by little, Tim watched the tightness lessen around his dad’s thick, work-hardened shoulders and a more thoughtful look appeared in his grayish blue eyes. “She sounds special, Timothy.”

  “She is,” Tim agreed, relaxing a bit, too. “When I look at her, I see everything.”

  “Now that is something, jah? Sometimes seeing ‘everything’ is a difficult thing to do. It is so much easier to look at only what we want to see.”

  “That isn’t how it is with Clara.”

  “I hope to meet her soon.”

  His father’s comment surprised him. Tim had thought he would have been upset about his sudden change of heart. He thought he’d receive a lecture about the dangers of falling in love too quickly. But instead of peppering him with questions, his father sat in silence for a bit.

  Tim did the same. Buddy was making good time. They’d be home soon. Because he father had suddenly clammed up, he looked at the area and noticed the changes. Along the roadside, trees had filled out. Lilac bushes were blooming, filling the roadside with a delicate scent.

  Their neighbors had tulips and daffodils blooming all over their yard.

  And then, up around the bend came their farm, the white buildings standing stark and brilliant against the green fields.

  Before he knew it, they’d pulled in.

  And because they were about to see his mother, Tim turned to his daed. “Are you disappointed in me?”

  “Not at all.”

  “But you haven’t been asking me questions, or asked me about my plans for the future with her. You haven’t asked me much at all.”

  “Timothy. Your plans for the future are with Clara, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she is the one who you should be discussing all this with. Not me. Not your mother.”

  “But I need advice. I ran home because it’s always been the three of us, together. I’m sorry to do it, but I’m afraid I’m going to leave you. I want to live in Sugarcreek, where Clara is happiest. But I can’t do this without your blessing.”

  To his shock, his father chuckled. “Oh, Timothy. Yes, for all of your life, it has been three of us. But it hasn’t always been like that for your mother and me. We felt sure that one day you would go off on your own. It’s the way of the world, yes?”

  “So you think I’m making the right decision? To live with Clara in Sugarcreek?”

  “I cannot answer that. That is something you must work out with your Clara. Not your mother and me.”

  “But you’re my parents. And the farm—” He stopped himself, unable to say it. Leaving them felt like a betrayal. After all, who would take care of the farm if he wasn’t there? Who would take care of them if he wasn’t there?

  “The farm is only land, son.”

  “But it’s our home.” Tim couldn’t understand why he wasn’t listening. “It’s your home.” Plus, they needed him.

  “Home, Timothy is where your family is. And if you’ve found your mate, it is where she and you will be happy. Together. Now, go on inside and hug your mother while I put up buggy. And let her fuss over you, too.”

  “Yes, Daed.”

  “Tim, from the moment the neighbor told me you were at the train station, she’s been bustling about, cooking up a storm. Even if you just ate, pretend you’re hungry.”

  In something of a daze, Tim nodded. Hopping out of the buggy, he shouldered his bag and walked into the farmhouse that his mother had been born in.

  As his father had described, she was fussing in the kitchen. A pie was on the counter, biscuits were near the oven, and the delicious aroma of cinnamon and apples permeated the air. Her back was to him chopping carrots. “Mamm?”

  “Oh, Tim! You are home! I’m so happy.” With hardly a backward glance, she put down the knife and hugged him tight.

  Though he’d only been gone a few weeks, his mother looked a little older to him. Or maybe it was he who had gotten older. He hugged her back, and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

  She looked him up and down. “You are a sight for sore eyes, you are.”

  “As are you.”

  Arms still around him, she leaned back a bit. “You look a bit thinner. You feel thinner, too. Have you been not taking care of yourself? Do they not feed you in Ohio?”

  “You know Elsa. She’s a wonderful-gut cook. They fed me well.”

  “Maybe. But, perhaps all her cooking was not the same as mine, hum?” Bustling across the room, she started giving orders as she always did. “Well, wash up and sit down. I’ll pour you some iced tea and fix you a plate. While you are eating, you can tell me the cause for this surprise visit.”

  Tim knew better than to ignore his mother’s wishes. As she turned to the bread box and started slicing homemade bread, he walked to the sink. “Well, there’s a girl. Named Clara. Clara Slabaugh. She’s the schoolteacher. Everyone likes her.”

  “Including you, I see.” His mother smiled as she piled on too much turkey, cheese, and lettuce onto the pieces of bread. “Already, she sounds wonderful-gut.”

  “She is that, Mamm. She is wonderful-gut. And more.”

  He sipped on his tea as she loaded a pile of potato salad and some pickled beets on his plate. When she placed the heaping plate of food in front of him, he groaned. “Mamm. This is too much.”

  “It’s not all that much. Eat, now. Eat and start telling me all about your time with Frank and Elsa. And how you met this Cl
ara.”

  “I can’t do all that and eat at the same time.”

  “I’ll give you five minutes to eat quietly then.”

  He knew she wasn’t joking. After giving thanks, he dug into the sandwich.

  Moments later, right on time, she sat down and smiled. “I went and got your father, so he could hear all about this Clara, too. Now you may begin. Start from the beginning. How did you two meet?”

  Tim didn’t even dare tell his mother that he’d said a word about Clara on the ride home with his father. One quick glance at his dad said that there would be trouble to pay if he mentioned it. “We met near a creek. A creek that recently flooded and almost took Cousin Anson and his best friend Ty with it.”

  Over the next hour, he ate and talked and then talked some more. Being with his patient, quiet parents was a soothing balm over his frayed nerves.

  As they asked questions, he filled them in on Clara and Frank and Aunt Elsa, and the rest of the family.

  “Why don’t you come out with me when I go back?”

  His mother’s eyes widened. “You just got here and you are already ready to return?”

  “Maybe.”

  His father looked at his mamm and laughed. “Timothy Graber, I think we should return to Sugarcreek with you and pay Frank and Elsa and all the folks there a visit. If this woman has you so tied up in knots, she must be a terribly fine person indeed.”

  Pure relief filled him as he realized that once again, his parents were as supportive as he could ever wish for them to be. “Clara is a fine woman. She is one of the best people I know.”

  His mother reached out her hand to Tim, then gently squeezed it. “Then that is all I need to know, Tim. I do believe you have chosen well.”

  He knew he had. Now he just hoped he and Clara would be able to overcome all their obstacles and step forward into their future together.

  He, for one, was ready. And he couldn’t wait to begin.

  Chapter 29

  All her life, Clara had believed in the power of prayer. Prayer had gotten her through many a difficult time and provided much comfort during some of her darkest hours. She’d prayed for the doctors and nurses before each of her surgeries, and prayed for healing after them.

  She’d prayed for patience with her mother, and for joy in her life.

  And the Lord, so abundant in his gifts, graced her with many wonderful things in return. She had healed. Her mind worked well, and she’d never lost the use of her right hand, even though at first that had been a concern.

  She’d also been given the opportunity to teach. From the moment she’d started at the school, she’d felt that working with children had been her calling. Their accepting attitude of her was a blessing she relished.

  Most recently, she’d prayed for the safety of Anson and Ty Allen. The fact that both boys could now be outside playing near the creek again was almost a miracle. At the very least it was evidence to the astounding power of prayer.

  And things with her mother, while not good, were not as bad as she’d believed them to be.

  Yes, she was a blessed woman. She had much to be happy about. It didn’t seem right to ask for more than she was given. To ask the Lord to help her find a solution with Tim. It seemed like she was asking for too much.

  So that was why she’d decided it was time to move on. She was going to go ahead and move to Mrs. Miller’s garage apartment and at least gain her independence. She needed to do something for herself, no matter what else the future brought.

  Her mother hadn’t been too happy with Clara’s decision, but she had gone along with it.

  “I don’t understand why Timothy left,” her mother murmured as she sat at the kitchen table and watched Clara pack up a few dishes. “I thought you two had found something special together.”

  “We did. I mean, I think we did,” Clara said as she pulled down a bowl and wrapped it in newspaper.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I’m not sure. There were a lot of obstacles,” Clara said evasively. “Maybe there were too many.”

  “I hope not.” As she sipped her coffee, she looked at Clara over the rim. Everything about her posture showed that she was anxiously waiting for Clara to share more information.

  Clara turned back to the open cabinet and pulled out a plate. “He is supposed to be coming back soon.”

  “And will that solve some of the problems?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Clara, I want to listen and try to help you, too.”

  Turning back to her mother, Clara realized she was telling the truth. Perhaps things between them really were getting better. “One of the difficulties is that Tim’s home is in Indiana,” she ventured slowly. “Mine is here in Sugarcreek. Neither of us wants to move.”

  “He is an only child, yes?”

  “He is. He wants to farm their land. He loves farming. And getting a prime piece of land is a difficult thing. I don’t blame him for wanting that.”

  “And you? What do you want?”

  “To be more independent.” As she thought of her postcard lessons, of the recitals she’d organized, of the hugs and pure enjoyment she received from the kinner, Clara said, “Also, I don’t want to stop teaching. I’m not ready to say goodbye to my students.”

  “I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course, Clara. I’ve noticed how your eyes light up when you see your students. I know you wouldn’t want to leave them.”

  “I don’t want to move far away from you either,” Clara admitted.

  Surprise and more than a little bit of wariness flashed over her mother’s expression. Slowly she set her mug of coffee down. “After everything we said to each other, after everything that has happened…you still think that?”

  Crossing the room, Clara took a seat by her mother. “Mamm, I love you. And you’ve taken care of me through so much. I owe you everything.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. Please don’t ever think that,” she whispered, her voice stricken.

  “Why not? Mamm, I know all my bandages and surgeries weren’t easy.”

  “No it wasn’t. But I didn’t mind. After all, it was my fault.”

  Clara blinked “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have been frying anything that day. Or at the very least, I should have had the pan farther back on the stove.” She bent her head and clenched her fists in her lap. “I should have been more watchful in the kitchen.”

  Clara was stunned. She’d had no idea her mother had ever even imagined such a thing. “Mamm, it was an accident.”

  “It was, but I didn’t handle it well.”

  “What could you have done?”

  “Not panicked. Not thrown water on the fire.” Obviously agitated, she stood up and crossed the room. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve replayed that scene in my mind. Wished and prayed that I had responded to everything better.” Turning to Clara again, her voice cracked. “I failed you, and I’m sorry.”

  “You did not. Mamm, you did the best you could. I’ve never blamed you.”

  “I didn’t do enough. I should have kept my head and thrown flour.” Closing her eyes in shame, she said, “It’s my fault you are like this. I can never make it up to you. Never.”

  Shaking, Clara joined her mother and clasped her forearms. “Mamm, please don’t say those things. It’s over. It’s been over for quite some time.”

  “I don’t think it will ever be.”

  “It was an accident,” she said again. “I promise, I’ve never blamed you.”

  “That is because you are such a sweet girl. But others haven’t been as kind. Others have assured me that a better mother wouldn’t have let such a thing happen to their beautiful daughter.”

  “Tim thinks I’m pretty now,” she blurted. As the words floated between them, Clara stared at her mother. “I don’t know why I said that.”

  Her mother smiled. “Perhaps because his words made you happy?”

  Clara c
ouldn’t meet her gaze. Yes, Tim’s words had made her happy, but they also brought forth a wave of guilt.

  “But you’ve always told me vanity is a sin.”

  “It is when vanity overtakes the rest of your life. Vanity is a sin when it becomes the only thing one worries about. But I don’t believe that being pleased to hear that the man you love finds you lovely is a bad thing. When he shares something so meaningful, it’s something to be treasured.”

  Clara felt like she was talking to a total stranger. She couldn’t ever recall her mother discussing love and courtship with her. Digging deep into her memory, she couldn’t even remember overhearing such a conversation take place with her sisters.

  But what stood out the most in her mind was her mother’s refusal to allow her to have that last surgery. “If you really think all these things, why did you refuse to let me have that last operation with the plastic surgeon? He would have made me better.”

  “He couldn’t promise anything,” she murmured.

  “Yes, but…”

  “He had you seeing his work through your wishes instead of the truth. Your father and I knew that surgeon was never going to make you become the woman you had wanted to be. We felt it was better to not let you get your hopes up.”

  “You never said that.”

  “Clara, I don’t know if you will ever understand what it was like to sit in the hospital waiting room and watch what happened to you. Each one of those operations left you weak. For days—sometimes weeks—you’d cry from the pain of the skin grafts. And each time, the surgeons would promise miracles. That their hands would make you into the girl you once were. But they never did. I was afraid it would be the same.”

  Clara had few memories of the days after each surgery. Her sister Ruth had once told her that she’d been given lots and lots of pain medication, and that her mother would cry whenever the medicine was too slow to take effect.

  Now, as an adult, after worrying for just a few hours about Anson’s safety, Clara was starting to have a better idea of what her parents had gone through. But even knowing all that…she couldn’t help but feel that things could have been handled differently. “I should have had the choice about that last surgery, Mamm.”