by RJ Griffith
Chicory blinked her eyes and stretched before padding off.
Amy gave Violet the tuna and slumped into one of the chairs to read the note.
Dear Amy,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the years of saying no. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it sooner. I didn’t want you to make the mistakes I did. You running off to Stockholm helped me realize I chose wrong.
First, let me explain Mr. Lundahl. I was young, but I knew better. We spent the summer together. I’m not proud of my actions. I ignored my innermost feelings and made choices I regret to this day. His family didn’t approve of me, and ultimately God saved me from a horrible relationship. As you know, from the box I left you and by meeting Mr. Lundahl in person, he is not your father.
I met Bruce a week after Mr. Lundahl returned to Sweden. His fun and impulsive personality reminds me of you. He asked me to marry him the next week. I told him no, of course, but he kept asking. I gave in the next month and we drove to the courthouse the same day and made it official. Somehow, I knew there wouldn’t ever be anyone but him. I still love him, I never stopped.
Two months of bliss followed, we were a couple of kids in love. Bruce, a devout Christian, went to church and read his Bible every day. I didn’t believe in Jesus, but I had nothing against Him either. I remember the night he came home from church. His eyes were bright. He told me all about how God called him to Kenya, Africa, to be a medical missionary. I refused to listen. We fought.
I found out I was pregnant with you the next week. I didn’t want to raise my child in another country, far away from family and friends. I told Bruce I wanted a divorce. He could go to Africa by himself. He told me he didn’t believe in divorce, so I left your father. Oh, Amy, I regret this so very much. I ran away instead of working things out. I came to my senses in the hospital. I held you in my arms and knew leaving him had been a huge mistake, but it was too late to fix what I did.
The years piled on top of each other. I came to find Jesus and now know some of the things Bruce did. I found out too late. Wishing for different life choices would not change anything. I went on thinking I made the right choice in not telling you, ignoring the truth.
Today I am doing what I should have all those years ago. I’m going to Africa to find your father. I boarded the plane yesterday. I found the group he went with years ago, and they gave me the address he left them to pick up his mail. It’s a start. Don’t worry about me, God is with me.
Love,
Mom
P.S. When I saw you at your work yesterday, I noticed a man in the background who resembled your description of Archer Stock. From all you’ve told me about him, he seems like a good man. Take care you follow Christ always.
Amy laid the letter down. Everything made a little more sense now, the photo album of Bruce, the weathered letter postmarked from Africa to Abby, the reason her father never asked about her. Her mother had found God eventually. Amy had followed in her mother’s footsteps, also finding God. Her mother had let the love of her life get away. But Amy had no plans to follow in her mother’s footsteps in that respect. She pulled out her phone and dialed Archer’s number. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“More news on your father?”
Yes, but some things are better told in person. I’m running a few minutes late. Would you wait for me at the park?”
“I’ll wait for you forever.”
Thank you
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AMDG
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