When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Under ordinary circumstances I’d agree with you, but the concrete is slippery. I don’t want you to fall.” His hand inched closer. “Grab hold.”

  Suzanne gritted her teeth and gingerly placed her hand in his. His fingers closed, the grip strong, sure. And disquieting. She shivered as she stepped onto the uneven floor.

  “I’ve mopped twice.” The bright beam of his flashlight bobbed slightly as they moved slowly forward, shifting around her dad’s old tool bench and ducking beneath the sagging clothesline. “But it’s hard to get things completely dry when it’s so cold down here.”

  “Why n-not close the window?”

  “The air will help dry things out.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry you’re so cold.”

  To recover from the cold, she just needed to go upstairs. But the effect of being so close to her first love in the dark space with the pressure of his hand around hers and the brush of his warm breath on her cheek—those sensations might linger. A nervous laugh found its way from her throat. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive. The question is will the foundation survive?”

  “Yes.”

  She released a sigh of relief.

  “But it’s going to need some repair.”

  Relief washed away on the tide of worry. “Oh.”

  “The problem is over here.” He guided her to the northwest corner and aimed the flashlight beam at a moist trail zigzagging down the rough concrete wall. “If I remember correctly, your gutters all channel rainwater to this corner of the house. I suspect the flow of water has carved a ‘pocket,’ so to speak, along the foundation where moisture has accumulated. With temperature changes the water’s been freezing and melting for years, putting pressure on the foundation. These concrete walls are as old as the house—more than a century—and like anything else, with time they’ve eroded.”

  Suzanne pulled free of his hold, took a short step backward, and hugged herself. Partly because she was chilled clear through, but partly because she needed a little distance. The intimacy of the flashlight’s soft beam, the enclosed space, and their solitude was proving very discombobulating to her senses. “Can you repair it?”

  Paul grimaced. “Yes. But not until spring, when the ground thaws.”

  “But we can’t have water seeping in here all winter long. We’ll end up with mold.”

  “Well…” He scratched his chin, his forehead puckering. “I could do a patch on the inside. It wouldn’t be a permanent fix, but it might keep the water out until I can dig down and do the real repair work on the outside.” He turned the beam on the wall again and traced the damp crack with his fingertip. “If I also reroute the drain spout so it deposits the water out in the yard instead of so close to the house, it should help prevent more moisture from filling up the channel.”

  Suzanne nodded. “That would be great. But do you have time? I’m sure you have other jobs lined up, so…”

  He turned toward her. His face was softly lit on only one side by the flashlight, but she still recognized the upturning of his lips and the gentle sympathy glimmering in his eyes. “I was thinking earlier today that it was a blessing not to have a long list of things to do right now so I can focus more time and attention on Danny. But it also means I’m free to take care of this for you and your mother.”

  Something in his tone triggered concern. “Is Danny all right?”

  Paul gave a little jolt, as if someone had poked him with a pin. “Why do you ask?”

  “You just said you were glad to focus more time and attention on him. Is he…needy right now?”

  To her surprise Paul laughed. Maybe she’d misread something. Embarrassed, she turned to go upstairs.

  He caught her arm. “Suzy, I wasn’t laughing at you. Please forgive me if I offended you. But your question about him being needy made me remember how I thought maybe he needed a good swat on the seat of his pants this morning.”

  His explanation surprised her, too. Danny had always been very polite and respectful in her presence. Not that any child was perfect all the time, but she’d never witnessed anything other than obedience from the boy. She gently extracted her arm from his grasp and offered a weak smile. “Maybe you should blame it on the weather. I think it’s hard for children—especially boys—to be cooped up during the winter months. It was always hard on Clete when he couldn’t get outside to expend his excess energy.”

  “Maybe.” His face pinched into an expression of frustration. “I hope that’s all it is, but I’d like to see his attitude change now instead of having to wait for the weather to change. He’s…he’s not been himself lately.”

  She shouldn’t discuss personal topics with Paul Aldrich in the privacy of the basement in the dark. If fellowship members got wind of it, the gossip wheels would churn with fury. But how could she walk away from him when he was clearly in turmoil? “Are you sure you aren’t making too much of some simple misbehavior? Children go through different growing stages, and it could be that Danny is just stretching his wings a bit—seeking more independence from you.”

  Paul’s eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

  Was he encouraged or discouraged by the thought? She wished she knew for sure. “Alexa went through spells when I felt as though I didn’t know her at all. Then, in time, she settled in again. It’s part of growing up.”

  “So you ignore it?” He folded his arms over his chest. The beam from the flashlight, which he held in one fist, painted a bright circle on the floor joists over their heads and highlighted the right side of his face. He seemed genuinely interested in her reply.

  Suzanne focused on his right eye—the one she could clearly see—as she answered.

  “No. You can’t ignore a child whose behavior is blatantly disrespectful. But instead of becoming angry or inflicting punishment, perhaps ask Danny what’s troubling him. Assure him he can always talk to you. Then follow that up with a reminder of your expectations. Impose consequences if need be. But overreacting will certainly drive a wedge between you. And those distances aren’t easily bridged.”

  Slowly Paul lowered his arms, bringing the circle of light to the floor. His entire face was shadowed now, but she didn’t need to see him to hear the deep contrition in his voice. “I wish I hadn’t contributed to creating the distance between you and your family.”

  “Whoa.” She held up both hands, silly since he likely couldn’t even see the gesture. “We weren’t talking about me. We were discussing you and Danny.”

  “I know, but your advice made me think of the long separation you had from your family. Maybe if your mother hadn’t overreacted, then—”

  “Mother and I have mended our differences.” She hoped her firm tone would bring an end to the topic. “There’s no sense in wallowing in the past.”

  “Is that what I was doing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  They stood in silence with only the sounds of the continuing whistle of wind through the window and the muffled footsteps of Anna-Grace moving around in the kitchen above their heads. Suzanne sent a glance over her shoulder, trying to remember the location of each of the potential stumbling blocks between her and the stairs. She wished she had her own flashlight.

  His soft chuckle interrupted her thoughts. “This is pretty funny.”

  She frowned. “What is?”

  “Me holding you captive down here, talking to you about my problems.”

  Suzanne couldn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

  He swung his arms slightly, casting the light to and fro. “To be perfectly honest with you, when you called to see if I could come out, I wasn’t crazy about the idea. Especially when I heard you talk to Anna-Grace and knew she was here, too. Being with both of you is kind of…” He gulped, as if choking back something unpleasant. “Scary.”

  Interesting choice of words, considering how she’d felt when he reached to take her hand and lead her across the floor. She clamped her jaw and remained
silent.

  “But here we are, and all of a sudden I was talking to you about Danny, and it seemed kind of right.” A hint of puzzlement entered his tone, and he stilled, the circle of light surrounding their feet. “Which tells me we’ve pretty much mended our differences, too. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you if we were still, the way you put it, wallowing in the past, right?”

  Suzanne examined herself. She’d made peace with Paul, and with herself, over the choices they’d made so long ago. So why did his presence create such conflicting emotions? Why did she equally desire to escape him and embrace him? She might not be wallowing in the past, but the past was still impacting her. She had no idea how to answer.

  “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

  Uncomfortable didn’t cover it, but she wouldn’t tell him so. “Paul, a cold, damp basement isn’t the best place for a long conversation.” Goose flesh ran up her arms beneath her sweater, and her body convulsed with a shiver. “Could we go upstairs where it’s warm?” He wouldn’t want to talk upstairs, not where Mother or Anna-Grace could overhear them. The suggestion was guaranteed to bring an end to the conversation that had taken too much of a turn for her comfort.

  “Or maybe we could take it to Wichita. On Saturday.”

  “W-Wichita?” Had she heard him correctly?

  “Yeah.” He swung his arm again. The bobbing light made her dizzy. Or was the thought that he’d seemingly just asked her to go out with him responsible for the sensation of spinning? He went on, his words emerging slowly. “If some of Danny’s issue is being cooped up, a trip to Wichita might help. And if you came too, you could observe him. Talk to him. Maybe figure out if he’s just going through a growing spell, the way you said Alexa did.”

  So it wasn’t a date. Disappointment struck, and Suzanne shook her head, irritated with herself. “I don’t know Danny well enough to form any conclusions about why he’s not himself.”

  “So time with him wouldn’t help?”

  He sounded so disappointed. Her sympathy rose. “Not just an hour or two, no. I understood Alexa’s moods because I had a long-term relationship with her. You have the same with Danny. You’ll figure it out.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Boy, I hope so. When I was a kid, my mom was the one more likely to be understanding than my dad was. I think I’m a pretty good dad, but there’s no way I can ever be ‘mom’ to Danny. I miss Karina. I miss her for me, and I miss her for my son.” He jerked the flashlight up, sending the beam toward the stairs. “And you’re right—we shouldn’t be talking this way. C’mon, let’s get you out of the cold, and I’ll get started on patching that crack.”

  Upstairs, Paul went directly to the breaker box while Suzanne crossed to the stove. Anna-Grace was nowhere to be seen, but either she or Mother had tucked a baking sheet of biscuits into the oven. Suzanne hunkered near its door, absorbing the warmth. Clicks emerged from the pantry, breaker switches for the basement being pressed to On, and then Paul stepped into the kitchen.

  “I’m going to pull the hose, latch the window, and see if I can rig something under the downspout to deflect any water that might come through. After that, I’ve got to head home for tools. I didn’t bring anything strong enough to chip out the concrete. If you want to hang your laundry down there now, it’s probably okay.”

  Suzanne had no desire to go back into that cold space, even if she could turn the lights on. Besides, she’d done a load of personal items. The thought of Paul ducking beneath her slips and underwear made her face fill with fire. “That’s all right. I’ll hang them in the upstairs bathroom instead. Then nothing will be in your way.”

  He gave a firm nod. “Probably a wise choice since I might get dust on them when I’m working.” He moved toward the back door and then paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Suzy, about you going to Wichita with Danny and me.” He licked his lips, his brow furrowing. “Would you think about it? Danny’s always with me or with his teacher, Mr. Brungardt, so maybe he just needs a feminine influence in his life.”

  The heat from the stove was singeing her hip. She moved away a few inches and gathered her courage to answer honestly. “You might be right, but are you sure I’m a wise choice? Considering…” She couldn’t say more, knowing Anna-Grace might interrupt at any time, but she prayed Paul would hear the unspoken words.

  He ducked his head for a moment, then looked her square in the face. “Considering we were once really good friends, maybe you’d be the best choice.”

  And maybe it would open the door to those old feelings. She held the statement inside, unwilling to let him know how much his presence affected her. Especially since her presence didn’t seem to stir anything in his heart. How embarrassing to realize the candle she’d once held for him still contained a small flicker that was all one-sided.

  He twisted the doorknob and pulled the door inward, flashing a charmingly crooked grin. “Think about it. Yes or no, you won’t offend me. And I hope you’ll say a prayer for Danny and me to find our footing together again. See you later, Suzy.” He stepped out and closed the door with a snap behind him.

  The oven timer began to ding. Suzanne moved to the drawer where the potholders were stored, and as she opened it, Mother wheeled around the corner, the ribbons on her cap floating over her shoulders. She stopped when she spotted Suzanne.

  “Oh. I thought you were still downstairs. Did Paul fix the leak?”

  Suzanne removed the biscuits from the oven and switched the dial to Off. She carried the baking sheet of steaming biscuits to the worktable, set it down, and finally faced her mother. “He’s working on it.” She briefly shared his plans for keeping more water from leaking into the basement. “But he said the real repair will have to wait until spring.”

  “Did he give you any idea how much it will cost?”

  She hadn’t asked because they’d started talking about Danny. And the past. She shook her head.

  Mother shrugged. “Well, if he ends up doing all the work, I won’t worry too much. He’s good about billing reasonable amounts to members of the fellowship, and if we need to, we can make payments to him. It’s nice to have someone we can trust.”

  Suzanne busied herself removing butter and jam from the refrigerator so she wouldn’t have to answer her mother. Odd how Mother claimed to trust him, given their history. Maybe Mother had truly released the past, too. And if Mother trusted him…She spun, sending the refrigerator door against the wall.

  “Suzy!”

  She ignored her mother’s startled outburst. “Mother, what would you think about me taking a day trip into Wichita with Paul Aldrich and his son? Just as friends.”

  Mother rolled near and pushed the refrigerator door closed. Then she angled her head to peer into Suzanne’s face. “As friends, you say?”

  Suzanne, butter dish in one hand and jam jar in the other, pressed the cold items to the front of her sweater. “Yes.”

  Mother’s brows descended. Slowly she shook her head, causing her cap’s black ribbons to sway beneath her chin. “Not possible, Suzy. I’ve never known of a single man and a single woman who could be ‘just friends.’ Something—usually an attraction that one party discovers for the other—interferes. And given your, er, past relationship, I would say it’s doubly unlikely the two of you could spend time together as ‘just friends.’ ”

  “It’s too bad, too.”

  The intrusion of another voice startled Suzanne so badly she nearly dropped the items in her hands. She jerked her gaze toward the dining room doorway, where Anna-Grace stood framed with an expression of pity on her face.

  Mother recovered sooner than Suzanne and spoke first. “What’s too bad, Anna-Grace?”

  “That Cousin Suzy and Mr. Aldrich can’t be friends. Especially since they were once sweet on each other.” She grinned sheepishly. “Dad told me you were really close when you were children.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Suzanne wished her pulse would stop its thundering gallop.

  Anna-Grace
sighed. “I know, but doesn’t it seem as though people who were good friends as youngsters ought to be able to remain friends as adults? Sometimes people make things so complicated.”

  “You don’t know the half of it…,” Mother mumbled, her head low.

  Suzanne sent a warning look in her mother’s direction, but to her relief Anna-Grace gave no indication she’d heard. Instead the girl moved directly to Suzanne and enfolded her in a short, almost-impersonal hug. Then she took the butter and jam and moved to the refrigerator.

  “If you don’t mind, Cousin Suzy, I’d rather make some sausage gravy to pour over the biscuits. It’s really too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but biscuits and gravy makes a good brunch, don’t you think?”

  If Anna-Grace wanted to make gravy, she wouldn’t stop her. “Sure.”

  “And why don’t you see if Mr. Aldrich would like to join us?” Anna-Grace stepped toward the stove, carrying a carton of milk and a paper-wrapped chunk of ground sausage. “Steven is always telling me I need to get better acquainted with the folks in Arborville, and sitting down to a meal together is a relaxing way to do that. And maybe”—an unexpected spark of mischief brightened her blue eyes—“your old friendship will rejuvenate while you chat over a plate of biscuits and homemade gravy.”

  Suzanne swallowed a groan. The girl had no idea she was poking a hornet’s nest with a stick.

  Franklin, Indiana

  Alexa Zimmerman

  Alexa rolled over, yawned, squinted one eye at the alarm clock, then sat up with a startled yelp. Nine thirty? How had she slept so late? Grandmother would be half-starved by now!

  She threw the covers aside and bounded out of bed. Halfway across the floor, reality caught up with her and drew her to a halt. She wasn’t at the B and B in Arborville. She was in Linda and Tom’s guest room. Grandmother wasn’t waiting for breakfast, and she didn’t need to hurry across the cold grass to the house to get coffee started.