When Love Returns

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Alexa stood and held her hands wide. “No, Melissa, I don’t see. How can it be best to give the baby you’ve carried in your belly for nine months—a baby you’ve grown to love—to strangers? You’ll regret it. I know you will.”

  Melissa swiped away the tears staining her cheeks. “How do you know?”

  “Because of my mom. She gave the baby girl she delivered right here in this home to someone else. And she never forgot. She never got over it. Even though she had me, she always wished she had her baby, too.” Funny how much it stung to say all that out loud. “When you love somebody that much, you can’t be completely happy without them.”

  “When you love somebody that much, you don’t think about your own happiness. You think about theirs!” The veins in Melissa’s neck stood out. Her face glowed red, and her entire body trembled. She gripped the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. “That’s how much I love my baby. Enough not to care about me but to care only about her. Of course I love her. I can’t help it. I feel her move inside of me, and I know she’s alive and real, and I want to cry because I love her so much. But I’m not ready to be a mom. I don’t know how to do it by myself. I can’t give her a nice house and nice clothes or a dad. But the people who want to adopt her can.”

  She’d started out nearly yelling, her frame stiff, but the longer she talked, the more her body drooped, and the softer her voice became. She sagged against the chair and whispered, “That’s why I’m giving Evvie up. So she can have everything I can’t give her.”

  Alexa stared at Melissa for long seconds, thinking about all she’d said. It all sounded so noble, so selfless. But there was something more Melissa needed to know. She took the girl by the elbow and guided her to the bed. Melissa sat, automatically cupping her stomach again. Alexa perched on the edge of the chair and held her stomach, too. Her insides jumped with nervousness, but she’d say all she’d planned.

  “When Evvie finds out she was adopted, she’ll think you didn’t want her.”

  Her jaw slack, Melissa gawked at Alexa. “No!”

  Alexa nodded somberly. “Yes. She will. Ask me how I know.”

  Melissa closed her mouth and sat in silence.

  Alexa pretended she’d asked. “I know because my mom isn’t my birth mom. I was…adopted.” Not officially, but she didn’t know how else to explain it without going into all the details.

  Melissa’s face went white.

  “My mom never got over giving away her baby girl, and I won’t ever get over being abandoned by the woman who gave birth to me.” She bit down on her lower lip for a moment, forming a serious question. “Is that what you want for yourself and for Evvie?”

  Melissa looked away. Her throat muscles convulsed. “I think you should go, Alexa. I’m tired.” She rolled onto her side and pulled up her knees, balling her fists beneath her chin.

  Alexa grabbed the afghan from the end of the bed and draped it over Melissa’s form. “Think about what I said, okay? Make sure you aren’t doing something you’ll regret later on.”

  Melissa crunched her eyes closed and didn’t answer.

  With a sigh Alexa left the room. She descended the stairs slowly, skimming her hand on the railing. Years ago Mom had gone up and down these stairs. She tried to imagine her mother with a round belly like Melissa’s, sticking out so far it hid her feet. Did Mom grip the rail so she wouldn’t fall and hurt the child she carried? Probably. Alexa’s hand tightened as she came down the final risers.

  A twinge of guilt attacked along with the thought of Mom. She should’ve told Melissa the whole story—how much Mom loved Alexa even though she wasn’t her biological child, how she’d raised her without a husband’s help, and how Alexa had always felt secure and happy. Tom had even suggested she should. But she left it out because she hadn’t wanted Melissa to think an adoptive mother would do a better job of raising Evvie than Melissa could. Had she shortchanged Mom by only telling the bad parts?

  She pictured Melissa curled on the bed, her pose reflecting inner torment. The guilt pressed harder. She’d wanted to encourage Melissa, not destroy her. If Melissa knew how well Mom had done on her own, maybe it would help her believe she could raise a baby on her own, too. She changed direction and started back up the stairs.

  Ms. Reed stepped from her office and glanced in Alexa’s direction. Her face lit, and she hurried across the floor to the staircase. “Alexa, I’m glad to see you. I finally remembered where I’d heard the name Zimmerman.”

  Alexa stood with one foot on a higher riser, eager to return to Melissa before the visiting hours ended. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Right after the first of the year, a private investigator—What was his name? Malcolm, Mallon, something like that…”

  Alexa blurted the name of the man staying at her B and B. “Mallory?”

  Ms. Reed nodded. “Yes, that’s it. Mallory. He came here to gather information about an abandoned baby.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t help him much. For one thing, I wasn’t in charge twenty years ago. For another, the record books didn’t show any evidence of a baby being left. But while he was here, he also went through and examined the names of the girls who resided at the home during that time. One of the girls had the last name Zimmerman.” Ms. Reed smiled. The first genuine smile Alexa had seen her offer. “Isn’t that a coincidence?”

  A man named Mallory had snooped around here at the home, and now a man named Mallory was snooping around Arborville. It had to be more than coincidence. Alexa forced a calm tone. “Yes, it sure is.” She stepped off the stairs and inched toward the coat hooks. “Ms. Reed, will you tell Melissa I’ll try to visit her next week—maybe Monday?”

  “Of course, Alexa. Drive safely now.”

  “I will.” She grabbed her coat and bag and hurried out the door, with the bag bouncing on her shoulder and the coat draped over her arm. As she ran, she rummaged in her purse for her phone. She needed to call Mom.

  Arborville

  Suzanne

  Suzanne placed the last pie in the plastic carrier and blew out a sigh of relief. Another morning of baking completed and just in time to deliver the pies to the café for the lunch crowd. She’d always liked pie, but after two weeks of baking a dozen pies five mornings out of seven, she wasn’t sure she’d ever eat a slice again. She was—as Mother had teasingly called it yesterday—“pied out.”

  Anna-Grace slipped on her coat. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride along to town with you. I’d like to mail the wedding invitations, but I prefer some prettier stamps than what the post office had the last time I was there. The postmistress said they would have heart ones closer to Valentine’s Day. I hope they’re in by now.”

  Truthfully, Suzanne did mind. She’d only moved Anna-Grace back to the house last night with Mr. Mallory’s departure. Her emotions were still running amuck. “Would you like me to pick up the stamps for you? That way your aunt Abigail isn’t left here alone.” Mother would survive being alone for the length of time it would take Suzanne to run two errands, but she couldn’t think of any other excuses.

  The girl shrugged, smiling. “That’s fine. Thank you. But since I’m already bundled, I’ll help you carry these out to the car.”

  Suzanne trailed behind Anna-Grace, balancing two of the three pie containers in her arms. If her arms weren’t occupied, they might pull her daughter into a hug. Anna-Grace’s consistently cheerful spirit and sweet nature were impossible to resist. They placed the containers in a row in the backseat of the car, and Anna-Grace turned toward the house. Before she’d taken a step, the phone in Suzanne’s pocket rang with “My Girl”—Alexa’s ringtone.

  Anna-Grace aimed a grin over her shoulder. “Tell Alexa hello from me, please.”

  Suzanne nodded and slipped behind the steering wheel. She slammed the door, sealing herself inside with the smell of fruit and pastry, and answered the phone. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Hi, Mom. Are you busy?”

  Suzanne poked the key into the ignition. “Just getting
ready to take the pies to town. But we can talk while I drive.”

  “You might not want to be driving when you hear what I have to say.” Suzanne’s hand froze. “What’s that?”

  “That man you said was staying at the B and B—Mr. Mallory? I guess you were right to wonder about him. Ms. Reed, the director of the unwed mothers’ home, just told me Mr. Mallory had been here asking questions about an abandoned baby, and he found your name in the record book. That’s probably why he came to Arborville.” Excitement threaded Alexa’s tone, but the statement stole Suzanne’s ability to breathe.

  Alexa went on, unaware of her mother’s panicked reaction. “I bet he’s looking for me. He has to be looking for me, doesn’t he, Mom? It’s more than circumstantial that he’d be here and then go to Arborville, right?”

  Right. Nothing else made sense. But Suzanne couldn’t draw enough air to answer.

  “Mom?”

  She forced herself to suck in a shuddering breath. “I…I’m sure you’re right, honey. It sounds like…like your birth family wants…wants to find you.” This was what Alexa wanted. Suzanne should be happy. But only fear gripped her.

  “Now I have to decide what to do. What do you think? Should I go visit this Mr. Mallory and tell him I was left behind the home? See if I’m actually the one he’s trying to find?”

  Suzanne’s heart thudded against her ribs. Tell her yes. But when she opened her mouth, something else came out. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  The other end of the connection fell silent.

  Suzanne closed her eyes. She’d disappointed Alexa. She pushed aside her selfish wants and focused on her daughter’s need. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have asked that. It wasn’t for you. It was for me. Of course you should find out whether he is seeking you. I’d be very surprised at this point if he wasn’t.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.”

  Alexa’s voice came through subdued rather than eager. Remorse struck Suzanne hard. “Don’t let my reaction steal your excitement, honey. It’s just hard for me to think of you belonging to any other mother than me. Okay?”

  “I don’t belong to any other mother.” A hard note crept into Alexa’s tone—an undercurrent of anger that chilled Suzanne even more than Alexa’s earlier excitement had. “And I can’t wait to tell the woman who’s trying to find me exactly that.”

  Suzanne started to question her daughter, but Alexa rushed on.

  “I’m gonna get off the phone now. You need to get those pies delivered, and I want to drive back to Franklin. Tom and Linda will flip when they hear what I found out from Ms. Reed. Bye, Mom. Love you.”

  The connection went dead. Suzanne sat staring at the blank screen for several seconds, her heart continuing to thump hard and fast. Alexa didn’t want a relationship with her birth mother. She only wanted to let the woman know she wasn’t wanted or needed in her life. She should celebrate Alexa’s attitude. But instead of elation, sympathy for the unknown woman flooded Suzanne and brought a sting of tears.

  If this woman had hired someone to locate Alexa, then she wanted her daughter. Just as Suzanne wanted to claim Anna-Grace. She bowed her head and whispered, “Lord, my emotions are such a muddle. And so are Alexa’s, it seems. I don’t know how to advise my precious girl, so I’m asking You to guide her. Open her to what You deem best for her even if…even if…” Could she actually say the words? She swallowed tears and rasped, “Even if it means she forms a relationship with the woman who gave birth to her.”

  She waited for peace to descend, the peace that always came when she yielded her will to the Father’s. But tension stiffened her muscles and made her temples throb. She sighed. As Alexa had said, she needed to deliver the pies. So she started the engine and headed for town.

  Paul

  Paul hopped out of his pickup and aimed himself for the post office. He hadn’t bothered to button his coat—it was plenty warm in the truck cab with the heater blasting—and the chill air slapped against his stomach. He hurried to the door and wrenched the knob, eager to step inside where Mrs. Bartel always had the furnace set high enough to melt chocolate.

  As he pulled on the knob, someone from inside pushed, and the door nearly clipped him on the side of the head. He leaped backward as Suzy stepped out of the post office. Memories from their last time together swooped in with as much force as the swinging door and clopped his heart. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, then bounced to her bright-blue eyes, which seemed to be focused on his lips.

  He no longer needed the heat from Mrs. Bartel’s furnace. He scuffed another few inches in reverse, putting her out of reach. “H-hi, Suzy.”

  “Oh…Paul.”

  She seemed so relieved to see him, concern struck. “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  He tipped toward her, keeping his hands in his pockets, and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Is it Anna-Grace?”

  She shook her head again.

  The little beret-style knitted cap she’d tugged over her head slipped, uncovering one delicate earlobe. Without thinking, he reached up and pulled the nubby blue cap back into place. Color flooded her cheeks, and he jammed his hand into his pocket again. “Then what is it?”

  She glanced left and right. He didn’t blame her. He hoped nobody saw him make such an intimate gesture. The tongues would start wagging for sure. She lifted her pink-stained face to him. “I can’t really talk about it out here. In the open.”

  “Want to meet someplace? Talk?” He was bound and determined to grease the Arborville gossip wheels. But he cared about her. Hadn’t they decided to be friends? So he couldn’t just ignore her when she was in distress. Of course he couldn’t. He waited while indecision played in her eyes. She wanted to talk to him—confide in him—but she was probably worried about what townsfolk would say. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. If you don’t have guests at the inn, we could go to Wichita again. Just us this time. No Danny.”

  The pink in her cheeks changed to splashes of red. “Is that wise?”

  Her caution both pleased and aggravated him. “Probably not. But the offer still stands.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, once more searching the street as if expecting someone to rescue her from having to tell him yes or no. The cold must have kept her rescuer at home. She sighed. “Paul, I really would like to talk to someone. I’m confused, and it would probably help to get your opinion on the situation. But if we go to Wichita by ourselves, people will think we’re…” She dipped her head. “Courting. And that could get you in trouble.”

  “Because you aren’t a member of the fellowship anymore? Or because you showed back up here with a daughter and no husband?”

  She flicked a look at him before lowering her head again. “Both.”

  He brushed the sole of his boot back and forth on the cold sidewalk, the soft whish-whish keeping time with his scampering pulse. He planted his boot. “Suzy.” He waited until she lifted her gaze. “Have you given any thought to rejoining the fellowship?” Standing on the post office porch with a January breeze chilling both of them wasn’t the best place for this conversation, but maybe there wasn’t any good place for it. The whole topic was hard and uncomfortable. No matter how she answered, it would affect him.

  “Sure I’ve thought about it.”

  “And?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. So much depends on whether I choose to stay here…or not.”

  “You’re thinking about going somewhere else?” The question snapped out more sharply than he’d intended. He softened the impact of his words with a hesitant smile.

  “My severance package won’t last forever. I’ll have to find a job eventually. If not here, then somewhere. Nothing’s opened up for me within driving distance, but Linda told me I could probably get a job at any hospital in the Franklin area, given my good work record there.” Suzy lifted her shoulders in another shrug and held the position. “So I really don’t know.”

  “B
ut would you like to stay—if you can find a job?”

  She gazed at his face. The fuzzy collar of her coat framed her jaw and softened the worry lines creasing her forehead. “My daughter…both of my daughters…are here. My mother and my brother and sisters are here.”

  I am here, he wanted to add. But he didn’t.

  “So, yes, I’d like to stay. If God opens a door for me to support myself.”

  Sadness and maybe even a hint of resentment pricked Paul. Had her years of raising Alexa without a partner stolen her desire to ever share her life with someone? Did she have to be so independent? He pushed those questions aside. “What about the fellowship? If you find a job around here, will you ask to join again?” He swept a deliberate gaze from the top of her covered head—he knew without seeing it that she’d coiled her hair into a bun under that hat—along her coat and skirt and up again. “I still see quite a bit of the Old Order in you.”

  She finally relaxed her shoulders, releasing a light laugh with the motion. “I suppose one never completely loses the foundation of faith to which she was born.”

  His pulse gave a hopeful leap. “Then does that mean yes?”

  She sighed, her breath hovering in a little cloud. “Paul, if I had to be completely honest, a part of me wants to be a member of the fellowship again. Even though everyone has been kind, it isn’t the same to sit in the pew beside Mother and know that my name isn’t listed on the membership roster. But if I ask to have my membership reinstated, I’ll have to give an account to the deacons of the years I spent away. I’ll have to tell…everything.”

  He understood exactly what she meant. He gritted his teeth. The damp breeze had nearly frozen his ears. He needed to get out of the cold. He needed to send her out of the cold. But he wasn’t ready to let their conversation end. Talking with Suzy, even when they discussed hard things like telling the fellowship leaders how badly he’d erred when he was an eighteen-year-old youth, revived something inside him that had lain dormant for too long. He wanted her in the fellowship again so he could openly pursue a relationship with her. They had a history together. They could’ve spent the last twenty years together. Was it too late to build what could have been?