Inescapable

by Nancy Mehl

  “Can I talk to you?” Mother asked.

  “Sure.”

  I started to follow her to the kitchen when I realized that Callie hadn’t been working when the sheriff first visited. She looked upset.

  “Had you heard about the man who died?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “News spreads through Kingdom pretty fast. I just can’t help feeling bad for him. The dead man, I mean. Sounds like he didn’t have anyone. No one to mourn his passing.” Her eyes were shiny with tears.

  I was touched by her tender heart. “It is sad. But you’re mourning his death, Callie. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

  “I guess you’re right. I hope so.” She turned away to check on our only customer, who looked somewhat stunned by the drama from the sheriff’s visit.

  While Callie warmed up the man’s coffee, I joined my mother in the kitchen.

  “So what does this mean?” she asked when the door closed behind me.

  “I honestly don’t know, Mother.” I kept my voice low, so Charity wouldn’t overhear us. “At least I don’t have to worry about him anymore. However, it now seems even more likely that someone hired him to tail me.” I shook my head. “I feel like I’m trying to put a puzzle together that’s missing several of the pieces. Something’s wrong with this whole picture, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.”

  Mother took my hands in hers. “I truly believe God brought you here, Daughter. If you can trust Him to work it out, you will be at peace. I know in my heart that somehow everything will be all right.”

  I looked into my mother’s eyes and saw the love she had for me. She was speaking from the deepest part of her soul, and it brought me a feeling of assurance. “I’m doing my best to trust Him, Mother. I’ve been mad at God for a long time, but I’ve had to confront the reality that I alone caused all my problems. Through it all, He just kept loving me. The least I can do is to have a little faith in Him now.”

  “We are both clinging to the Rock, Lizzie,” she said in hushed tones. “And each other.” She kissed me on the cheek and went out into the dining room.

  I stood next to the sink, trying to gather my thoughts. I’d been trying to figure out what to do to protect me and my daughter ever since Kansas City. As I’d told my mother, I had the distinct feeling my life had become a giant picture puzzle with several vital pieces missing. I certainly wasn’t omniscient, and the truth was that only God knew what was going on. He was the only one who could add the missing parts. I had no idea what to do now. Stay? Go? Wait? I didn’t have the answers.

  I took a deep breath. “God,” I whispered, “you know me better than anyone. You know how wrong I’ve been, and it seems you’ve forgiven me, even though I certainly didn’t deserve it. I thank you for that. I have no idea what my next step should be. All I know to do is to trust you to lead me. If you tell me to go back to Kansas City and face Reba’s lies, I’ll go. If I’m supposed to just stay here, I’ll stay. But until I hear from you, I’m not moving.

  “Since Clay came back, I’ve been wondering if he’s here so Charity can finally have a father. If this is what you want, God, then I’ll do it. You know I have feelings for Noah, but he’s not Charity’s father. More than anything, I want my daughter to be happy. If that means moving forward with Clay, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m counting on you to show me your will and to protect Charity and me. My future is in your hands, Lord. It’s all I have to give you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Already feeling my load was lighter, I hurried to begin meal preparations. The Tuesday night special was fried catfish, and I needed to get it breaded and ready for the fryer. I’d almost forgotten that Clay was coming that evening, so when Callie announced his arrival, it took me by surprise. I’d promised to close early so we could spend the evening together. I hadn’t realized then that my mother would be staying with me, but as I was lowering the first fish into the bubbling oil, she announced that she was going home after we closed.

  “I love being here,” she said, “but I must confess that I miss my home. And I must make certain Blackie has been fed.”

  “I think that’s wise,” I told her. “But any time you feel lonely, you come back and spend time with Charity and me. Our door is always open.”

  She smiled. “As is mine, Daughter.”

  I gave her a big hug, and then she went to round up Charity, who was visiting with Callie in the dining room. Mother and Charity came back into the kitchen, and Mother informed me that Callie had offered to drive her home in her buggy after work. I was relieved to know she wouldn’t be walking. The temperatures were still extremely frigid.

  I stopped by Clay’s table and found a bouquet of red roses waiting for me. “Oh my. I’ve never gotten roses before. Thank you so much.”

  He chuckled. “You’re blushing, Lizzie. I’d like to buy you roses every day just so I could see you look like that.”

  He was so handsome, wearing a white sweater that highlighted his hair and eyes. “Let me get you something to drink,” I said, smiling. “We’re not that busy tonight, so I should be able to close soon.”

  “Thanks. Coffee would be fine.”

  I nodded and was headed for the kitchen when I saw Ruth and her daughter giving Callie their supper order. I hurried over to say hello.

  “Liebling,” Ruth said, smiling, “I so hoped I would see you this evening. I heard about Cora. There is no one I know who is more capable of keeping the restaurant going than you.”

  I laughed. “Well, it’s only my second day, so I don’t think I can brag on myself yet. But so far so good. I’m just praying that her sister recovers quickly. Unfortunately, her condition sounds very serious.”

  “Yes, I am afraid you are right. But we know our God is a God of healing, ja? So I will keep praying for His very best.”

  I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “If I’m ever sick, you’re the person I want praying for me.”

  “That’s the way I feel too,” Myra said with a smile. She looked past me and frowned. “Lizzie, who is that handsome young man you were talking to? He doesn’t look familiar.”

  “Why, that’s Clay Troyer. He used to live in Washington.”

  Ruth’s eyes grew big. “Lizzie, is this not the man who . . . I mean . . .”

  “Yes, he’s Charity’s father,” I said quietly. “He came to town the other day looking for me, offering to help support his daughter.” Those feelings of rejection and the fear of people’s censure I’d felt after Charity was born came rushing back, even though I knew Ruth loved me.

  “Why, he looks like a very nice man,” Myra said, giving her mother a quick look.

  Ruth smiled. “I am sorry, liebling. Perhaps my surprise at seeing him here caused me to act inappropriately. He certainly does look like a pleasant fellow.”

  I wasn’t sure how Clay would feel about being called a “pleasant fellow,” but at least the awkward moment had passed. It was silly of me to fear Ruth’s disapproval. She was the one person who had always believed in me. “He really is,” I said. “He brought me roses. No one ever gave me roses before.”

  Myra clapped her hands together with glee. “They’re beautiful, Lizzie. You’re a lucky girl.”

  Ruth just smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve got to run,” I said, “but why don’t we all get together for dinner soon? Hopefully Cora will be back before long.”

  “That would be lovely,” Myra said. “Just let us know when your schedule eases up.”

  “Yes, liebling,” Ruth said. “I will bake those white coconut cookies for you. And for Charity.”

  Myra opened her purse and grabbed a piece of paper. “Here’s my phone number, Lizzie. You can call me anytime, and I’ll get a message to Mom.”

  “You have a phone?” I asked, although I wasn’t completely surprised. Myra and her husband, Charles, were rather free spirits. Although Myra dressed modestly, she didn’t wear a prayer covering unless she was going to church. And on the farm s
he wore overalls while she worked. I’d always admired her ability to be her own person.

  She laughed warmly. “Yes, we have a phone and a truck. There’s no way I’m driving a buggy all the way from the farm to pick up Mom. It would take me forever to get back and forth.”

  “Ruth, you ride in Myra’s truck?” I was stunned. My father wouldn’t get into a gas-powered vehicle if God himself came down and ordered him to.

  She nodded. “Ja. Seeing my daughter is more important to me than our mode of transportation. You will notice a few motor vehicles around Kingdom now. They are vital to many of our people. Especially our farmers. The Houslers own two of them, and Noah and Levi are now elders in the church.”

  “Wow. And you approve of an elder owning a motor vehicle?”

  She laughed. “Ach, Lizzie. Have they not driven tractors all along? Is this so different? I do not think so.” She smiled at the expression on my face. “See, I am not as conventional as you imagined.”

  I chuckled. “I guess not.”

  “Myra is trying to talk me into a telephone,” she said. “She believes it will provide me more protection if I should need help.” She grinned mischievously. “We will see. So far, the Great Protector has done a pretty good job caring for me.” She reached over and patted my arm. “I can hardly wait until we can get together again.”

  “Me either.” I said good-bye to her and Myra and rushed back to the kitchen.

  Except for Friday nights, most of the folks in Kingdom liked to eat early, so by six thirty most of our customers were already filing out. I flipped the Open sign over and prepared to close. While Callie took care of the people who were still eating, I got to work on my own dinner. Within a short time I had three plates of chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green beans with bacon ready to go.

  I took Charity to the bathroom downstairs because I didn’t want Clay to see her before I cleaned her up some. I washed her face and hands and carefully brushed her hair. She looked adorable in her dark blue pinafore and white blouse. It was a small miracle that she’d managed to stay tidy.

  I checked myself out in the mirror. The hot steam from the kitchen had given my shoulder-length hair even more curl than usual, as well as added some color to my cheeks. As I stared at my image, I worried that Charity might notice the similarity between herself and Clay. But I consoled myself with the knowledge that, at her age, it would probably never occur to her. I certainly didn’t want to tell her the truth. Not yet, anyway.

  By the time I reached the top of the stairs, Mother and Callie were waiting for me. I hugged Mother good-bye and thanked Callie for taking her home. After they left, I took our plates out of the oven, where I’d put them to keep them warm, and transferred them to a large tray designed for carrying more than one meal at a time. I intended to be very careful to avoid the bump in the rug. There was no way I was going to repeat my shameful performance from yesterday.

  “Mama, who is that man out there?” Charity asked after peeking around the corner and looking out into the dining room.

  “He’s a friend of mine. From a long, long time ago, Cherry Bear. He wants to meet you, and I want you to be very nice to him. Can you do that for Mama?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Is he a good man or a bad man?”

  I smiled at her. “He’s a good man, honey. You don’t need to worry about him.”

  “He won’t yell like Grandpa?”

  “No, he won’t yell like Grandpa.” I knelt down in front of her. “Cherry Bear, Grandpa is a very sad man. Sometimes when people are sad, they get angry, like Grandpa did. But that just means we need to pray really hard for him.”

  She looked at me quizzically. “Will you pray with me sometime, Mama?”

  Shame rolled through me. Because of my bad attitude toward God, I’d never prayed with my little girl. “Yes, I will. Tonight before we go to bed. But now let’s have dinner with Mr. Troyer.”

  “Toyer?” she repeated.

  “No, it’s Troyer.”

  A couple more attempts made it clear the first r in Clay’s last name wasn’t going to make an appearance that evening. “Well, maybe you can just call him Clay.”

  Charity screwed up her face as if thinking this over. “If I call him Clay, will I still be ladylike?”

  “Ladylike? Where did you hear that word?”

  She shook her head, causing her dark curls to bounce. Then she bent closer, as if she was telling me a secret. “Grandma told me that when I wear a dress I have to be careful not to show my underwear. It’s not ladylike.”

  I tried to suppress a grin. “And did you show your underwear?”

  She sighed and threw her arms up in a sign of surrender. “Well, I guess I did. But my back itched really bad, and I had to do something about it, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, I think that was probably an emergency. Maybe the next time your back itches you can tell me, and I’ll scratch it for you. And Grandma’s right, it’s probably best if you don’t show your underwear.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, I know that now.”

  I laughed and hugged her close. “Cherry Bear, you are the most wonderful person I’ve ever known. Do you realize how much I love you?”

  “Yes, Mama. I do.”

  I let her go and smiled. “Good. I want you to always be sure I love you. And I always will, you know.”

  “Forever and ever?” she asked, grinning.

  “Yes, forever and ever.” I stood up. “Now, are you ready to have dinner with Mr . . . I mean, Clay?”

  She nodded. “Yes, let’s go!”

  I took her by the hand and led her out to the dining room. Clay may have gotten a quick glance once, when my mother was ushering her upstairs, but as far as I knew, this would be his first good look at Charity. As we approached the table where he sat, I noticed his eyes focused on her as if there weren’t anyone else in the room. When we got closer I realized they were wet with tears.

  “Clay, I’d like you to meet Charity,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “And Charity, this is Mr. Troyer.” I smiled at Clay. “We have a little trouble with the letter r, so if you don’t mind, can she call you Clay?”

  “I would be absolutely honored,” he said. “Charity, you’re very beautiful, just like your mama.”

  My daughter seemed to suddenly turn shy. “Thank you,” she whispered. She hung back, half hiding behind me.

  “Why don’t you sit down with Clay while I get our food?” I said, pulling her around, lifting her up to a chair, and getting her settled. “I’ll be right back. Why don’t you tell Clay about the pictures you drew today?”

  I turned and left, hoping her shyness would disappear. It was important to me that Clay see how bright she was. I needn’t have worried. It only took a couple of questions from Clay to get her wound up. I could hear her beginning to jabber as I went into the kitchen to fetch the tray with our plates. While carrying it to the table, I cautiously avoided the dangerous bump in the rug. By the time I got back, Clay was laughing heartily at something Charity had said. It felt strange to see them together, even beginning to bond.

  “Chicken-fried steak?” Clay said when I put the plates down. “Wow, I haven’t had chicken-fried steak in a long, long time. One of my very favorite foods in the whole world.”

  “Me too,” Charity said, never taking her eyes from his face.

  I could have pointed out that she’d only had chicken-fried steak one other time, but I kept my mouth shut.

  I gave in to Charity’s plea for pop and also brought a coffeepot to the table for Clay and me. Dinner went by quickly as Charity gave Clay the rundown about everything that had happened since she’d come to town. He got an earful. From my mother’s “bad potty” to meeting a man who looked just like Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty. Clay glanced over at me during this particular part of Charity’s recitation, and I tried to look innocent, but I could feel my cheeks burn. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions, and we soon moved past the uncomfortable
topic and on to something safer. Charity began to regale him with all the foods she’d helped Miss Cora prepare.

  “You’ll be running the restaurant by yourself before long,” Clay said, his eyes crinkled with humor.

  Charity considered this idea. “I think I might be able to,” she said after a brief pause. “It’s really not too hard. Alls you gotta do is drop stuff into grease or flip things over on the grill. But I’d hafta get a tall chair. I can’t reach most things in the kitchen, you know.”

  Clay shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that. You look pretty big to me.”

  She grinned at him. “Thank you. I’m really much taller than I look.”

  Clay laughed. “You know, I’ve always felt the same way.”

  I brought out cherry cobbler for dessert. After we finished, I told Charity it was time for bed. She could barely keep her eyes open.

  “But I don’t wanna go to bed, Mama,” she whined. “We have company, and I wanna stay downstairs.”

  “You should mind your mother,” Clay said sharply. “Bad little girls don’t get presents from Santa, you know.”

  I frowned at him as Charity’s eyes grew large, and her small bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “I’m not a bad little girl,” she said, hurt in her voice.

  “No, you’re certainly not,” I said. I stood up and took her hand. “Come on, we’re going upstairs.” I could feel anger rising inside me, though I tried to keep myself composed.

  Clay cleared his throat. “I . . . I’m sorry, Charity,” he said, stumbling over his words. “I know you’re not a bad girl. Will you forgive me for saying that? I just wasn’t thinking.”