The Days of Redemption

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “And you’d feel good with my family here?”

  “I’d feel good knowing that you have everything you need. Maybe you won’t need them all that much. But just in case you do, I don’t want you to be afraid to ask.”

  She turned, looked at her family. “What do you all think of this?”

  To her surprise, Roman laughed. “What do we think? Elsie, why else would we all be here? We want to be here. And we don’t want you to ever be afraid to ask for help if you need it.”

  Viola walked toward her. “And if you don’t need our help, I want you to be able to tell us that, too.”

  “Could it be as easy as that, Landon?”

  He held out both hands to her. “Only if you want it to be.”

  It could be easy . . . but only if she wanted it to be.

  That was what life was like, wasn’t it? You could grasp the future with two hands, or hold yourself apart and be afraid.

  You could live independently by yourself, and not do things because they were too hard.

  Or you could depend on others . . . and let them carry you through when you needed it. Her wonderful, noisy, complicated family was right there for her.

  As was a man who was willing to have everything . . . if he could have her, too.

  And so there was only one choice. One beautiful, awe-inspiring, blessed, wonderful choice.

  Reaching out, she clasped Landon’s hands.

  Then right there, in front of everyone, she looked him in the eye as best she could and said what was in her heart.

  “Yes.”

  As the room exploded in cheers and Landon wrapped his arms around her and held her close, Elsie felt as if for the first time in a long time, she saw the world clearly. She was loved.

  And because of that, all was well with the world.

  It was perfect.

  epilogue

  Oh, what a day! Dear Viola’s wedding day! She was as tired as she’d ever been, Lovina decided, as she stepped out onto the narrow front stoop of the dawdi haus.

  Looking out into the yard, she recalled the faint impressions left from the dozens of buggies parked on the lawn. The flower beds that she and Marie and Lorene had so carefully tended and nurtured were a bit trampled now. No matter what the occasion, children had a way of forgetting to watch where they were going!

  Taking care to shut the door quietly behind her, she sat down on the step, letting her bare feet graze the soft spring grass that was already turning damp with dew. Viola and her Edward had been quite the happy couple.

  Actually, everyone in the family had been happy. Happier than they’d been since she could remember. Lovina let herself smile as she recalled how merry the wedding luncheon had been, and how pleased Peter and Marie had looked as they watched Viola flit about.

  Roman and his wife, Amanda, and Elsie with her fiancé, Landon, had been just as exuberant. But that was to be expected, she mused. Newlyweds and soon-to-be newlyweds were supposed to be all smiles.

  It was only recently that she’d realized that older married couples could enjoy the same bliss.

  It was late. Very late. Aaron had gone to bed hours ago. She had a feeling the rest of the family was asleep, too.

  But for some reason, she wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to the day.

  But of course, the day had already passed.

  As far as she could see, the only lights to be found were in the form of twinkling stars overhead. Leaning back slightly, Lovina gave into a childish impulse and attempted to count them.

  When she got to thirty, she giggled softly. Many years ago, her own father had told her that he’d sometimes felt decades younger than his age. At the time, she hadn’t believed him—but probably because she had been at the stage in her life when she yearned to be older.

  It had been too hard to imagine wanting to be younger.

  But here it had happened. Here, she was doing something she’d done back when she was eleven or twelve. . . . And counting those faraway stars still felt as exhilarating as it had when she was small.

  Yes, time really did move on. Day became night and then day again. Before she knew it, another week had gone by, then a month, and then yet another year.

  Life had a way of doing that, she supposed. People fell in love, got sick, had babies, simply lived. Time kept passing whether a person was ready or not.

  And what a year her beloved family had been through!

  At last, all of their carefully hidden secrets had come to light, and one by one, each of them had been forced to deal with the revelations.

  To her surprise, they’d all become better people because of the disclosures. She and Aaron had finally dared to return to Pennsylvania and confront the people they’d tried so hard to leave behind. And in doing so, they’d reconnected with Sara and her family.

  They’d even learned that forgiveness is always possible, even after forty years.

  Peter, after finally seeking treatment for his alcohol problem, seemed to be happier. He and Marie had reached a better place in their marriage, too.

  Each of Lovina and Aaron’s kinner were calling and writing often now. And Lorene had finally found love with a man she’d first been infatuated with ten years ago.

  They’d all done a lot of growing up, too. Roman was now preaching to the community, Viola was now married, and would be moving to Belize in just a few days.

  And Elsie? Her sweet Elsie was engaged and bravely facing a future she knew she’d never see.

  Since she was alone, Lovina allowed the tears to come. Elsie’s blindness, and her eventual decision to not have surgery had been quite a blow. For a family who ached to fix everything, it had been hard for them to accept Elsie’s decision to keep things the same.

  But of course, Elsie had also taught them so much about acceptance and perspective. Elsie had taught them about patience and perseverance. About inner strength.

  That was when they’d all realized that Elsie wasn’t broken at all. Instead, she was as she was meant to be—sightless but full of insightfulness about the world around her.

  Now, as Lovina sat alone on the stoop, fighting the urge to go to sleep in order to eke out the last minute of the day, she realized that Elsie was the smartest one of them all.

  At the end of the day, when darkness fell and the light of others dimmed, believing in yourself was really all that mattered, wasn’t it?

  Everyone was blind to what lay ahead of them. It didn’t really matter how much a person planned or struggled or fought. . . . What was in one’s future depended on God’s will.

  And a person’s acceptance of that will, of course.

  Here in the dark, where she saw nothing but the stars . . . where she felt only the cool spring grass and warm air caressing her skin, Lovina smiled.

  And finally, she understood.

  At the end of the day, when only her thoughts lay between herself and sleep’s oblivion, God gifted her with eventide.

  Eventide . . . those blissful few moments when day turned to evening, that precious time that hovered between action and sleep.

  That time when she could embrace the future and all of its surprises and beauty and fears and its unknowns.

  The moments when she could cling to the silence and hold it to her heart, knowing that in a few, brief hours the light would come again and carry with it the dawn of a brand-new day.

  Gripping the door frame for support, Lovina Keim got to her feet. It was time to finally bid the day farewell and give her problems to the Lord.

  Time to finally let the beauty of sleep claim her, and let the mystery of her future be what it always had been . . . just out of her reach.

  She opened the door, stepped inside, and let the door close behind her.

  The day was over, night had come, and she was at long last able to receive it with open arms. Just as the Lord had intended.

  “I am blessed,” she murmured as she walked through the house on bare feet. “I am blessed. I am happy. I am at peace,” she whisp
ered as she climbed into her bed and carefully pulled the smooth cotton sheet up to her chin.

  And when she closed her eyes, felt her body relax and her mind drift . . . she knew that God was very, very good.

  P.S.: Insights, Interviews & More . . .

  About the author

  Meet Shelley Shepard Gray

  About the book

  Letter to Readers

  Questions for Discussion

  Read on

  A Sneak Peek of Shelley Shepard Gray’s Next Book, Peace

  About the author

  Meet Shelley Shepard Gray

  The New Studio

  I GREW UP IN HOUSTON, TEXAS, went to Colorado for college, and after living in Arizona, Dallas, and Denver, we moved to southern Ohio about ten years ago.

  I’ve always thought of myself as a very hard worker, but not “great” at anything. I’ve obtained a bachelor’s and master’s degree . . . but I never was a gifted student. I took years of ballet and dance, but I never was anywhere near the star of any recital. I love to cook, but I’m definitely not close to being gourmet . . . and, finally, I love to write books, but I’ve certainly read far better authors.

  Maybe you are a little bit like me. I’ve been married for almost twenty years and have raised two kids. I try to exercise but really should put on my tennis shoes a whole lot more. I’m not a great housekeeper, I hate to drive in the snow, and I don’t think I’ve ever won a Monopoly game. However, I am the best wife and mother I know how to be.

  Isn’t it wonderful to know that in God’s eyes that is okay? That from His point of view, we are all exceptional? I treasure that knowledge and am always so thankful for my faith. His faith in me makes me stand a little straighter, smile a little bit more, and be so very grateful for every gift He’s given me.

  I started writing about the Amish because their way of life appealed to me. I wanted to write stories about regular, likeable people in extraordinary situations—and who just happened to be Amish.

  Getting the opportunity to write inspirational novels is truly gratifying. With every book, I feel my faith grows stronger. And that makes me feel very special indeed.

  About the book

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Reader,

  I have a secret. Lovina turned out to be my favorite character. I had been sure it would be Amanda. Maybe Elsie. Maybe Atle (I really liked Atle!). I almost always write about people I would like to know.

  But when I first started Daybreak, I was thankful I did not have a Lovina Keim in my life.

  There were many times I was tempted to highlight her scenes and press delete, and make up a different grandmother. You know, someone cozy. Pleasant. Happy.

  But something kept me from doing that. As I wrote Daybreak, continued on to Ray of Light, and then finally began Eventide, I started to see her flaws, her hurts, and her attributes, too. By the time this series closed, I was very fond of her. I liked how fragile she was inside, and how she’d developed a somewhat hard shell to make up for that. Most of all, I loved how she slowly let the Lord’s light shine inside her.

  It turns out I would have enjoyed a Lovina of my own after all! I hope you, too, connected with one or two of the characters in this series.

  Yet again, I find myself getting ready to close a thick spiral notebook. The one for the Days of Redemption series was bright blue. Now that I’m at the end of the series, it’s in pretty sad shape. It’s filled with notes and pictures and poems—everything in the made-up world of the Keim family.

  Soon, I’ll head back to the grocery store and pick up a new notebook, this one for my return to Sugarcreek. I, for one, can’t wait to begin to write the new series. It will begin with Hopeful, followed by Thankful and Joyful.

  This letter would not be complete without conveying my thanks to you for reading my novel. Someone the other day asked what I’d rather be doing instead of writing, and I drew a complete blank. I love to write, and I’m grateful that you’ve given me the chance to do so every day.

  God bless you all, and I hope, like the Keims, you will get the chance to celebrate today.

  With blessings and my sincere thanks,

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  10663 Loveland, Madeira Rd. #167,

  Loveland, OH 45140

  Questions for Discussion

  What do you think about Elsie’s role in her family? Would that have changed if she hadn’t been afflicted by a vision problem? What is your role in your family? Has it evolved over the years?

  What problems, if any, do you think Peter will have now that he’s back? How did Marie’s time in the hospital affect the reunion with his family?

  Roman’s new wife, Amanda, comes alongside Elsie in several key moments. How do you think her perspective helps Elsie?

  Aaron and Lovina have grown closer together throughout the series. How have they grown and changed? What do you think would have happened to their marriage and their relationship with their children if they’d divulged their secrets ten years earlier?

  Did you sympathize with Landon’s worries about getting involved with a wife who was going blind? Were you surprised he changed his mind?

  Elsie grows stronger and more independent as her vision weakens. How can this be?

  Did you understand Elsie’s refusal to have surgery? What would you have done? What would you have said to a loved one faced with the same decision?

  How do you envision the Keim family growing and changing in the future? Which character appealed to you the most?

  Read on

  A Sneak Peek of Shelley Shepard Gray’s Next Book, Peace

  Head back to Crittenden County for an exciting preview of Peace: A Crittenden County Christmas Novella, coming in fall 2013 from Avon Inspire

  Blood was dripping onto the pristine doormat under his feet. As he watched one drop, then another, and another fall to the ground, then glow eerily in the reflection of the thousand white lights adorning the rooflines of the Yellow Bird Inn, Chris Ellis felt his resolve slip.

  He should never have come back, and certainly not in the condition he was in. But he’d come anyway.

  He peeked into the long rectangular window next to the door, and his fingertip hovered like a nervous hummingbird over the doorbell. Over and over again, he would almost push the button, but then a bizarre sense of conscience would surface and he’d stand motionless a little bit longer. Trying to persuade himself to do what was right.

  What he should do was turn around. Walk away. Never return.

  But at the moment, he wasn’t sure he could take even one more step forward, never mind make a complete U-turn. He was dizzy, he was weak, and he was sweaty and hot—even though it was barely thirty degrees out. Chances were slim to none that he’d even be able to remain in an upright position for much longer.

  Besides, where would he go? Back to his beat-up SUV to spend the night in a vacant parking lot again? Somehow drive back to St. Louis? Lexington?

  Where did a man who was beaten up and bleeding go when he’d been working deep undercover for so long that even his family thought he was a person to avoid?

  The only place that had come to mind was Frannie Eicher’s Yellow Bird Inn. Frannie had a brisk, efficient way about her that he appreciated. She was the type of proprietor who would treat him with kindness . . . but give him his distance, too.

  And he was desperate for a little bit of kindness.

  But of course, even the nicest people weren’t always understanding when it came to near strangers bleeding on their front porch three days before Christmas.

  Before he could talk himself out of it again, he knocked. Well, he let his hand slip and fall against the smooth planes of the door. Just once. If no one answered, he’d go back to where he’d hid his truck and drive away.

  Almost immediately, the front porch lights turned on. Then a face peered through the window just to the right of the door.

  But it wasn’t Frannie. It was t
he one person he’d hoped to never see again.

  He was still standing there, stunned, when he heard a deadbolt click, followed by a high-pitched squeak as the door opened.

  And there was Beth Byler. His mouth went dry as his gaze ached to take in every single inch of her.

  It didn’t help that she was looking as perfect and beautiful with her crisp white kapp as she’d been when he’d last seen her. Looking just the way she did when she appeared in his dreams.

  Chris fought to keep his expression neutral. Which was crazy, of course. Like she’d care about his look of shock when he was bleeding all over the front porch.

  Sure that she was about to slam the door in his face, he anxiously continued to look his fill. A man needed as many sweet pictures to store for times when nothing he was seeing was good.

  Dim candlelight cast a mellow glow behind her. The scents of pine and cinnamon and everything clean and pure wafted toward him, teasing his senses. He reached out, gripped the doorframe in order to keep from falling.

  Blue eyes scanned his form. Paused at the cuts on his hands. At the new scar near his lip. At the way his right eye was swollen shut.

  He waited for the look of revulsion that was sure to come. What kind of man let himself get in such a state?

  “Chris?” she whispered.

  “Yeah. It’s me.”

  “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  He needed someplace quiet to stay. He needed an out-of-theway place to hide out, to recover. To heal his body and his soul. To try to remember who he was.

  He was just attempting to say that. To come up with a way to convince her to let him in without making a big fool of himself, or scaring her. When he looked down at his boots.

  Noticed the blood again ruining the doormat.

  “I guess I’m bleeding on your front porch,” he muttered.

  “Bleeding?” Her gaze darted away from his swollen face. Traipsed down his body. Down his legs to his thick black boots. Then her eyes widened as she, too, noticed the blood.