When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  She updated the day nurse on medications prescribed to patients during the night, listened to one worker’s complaint about the hospital’s failure to change to computers in lieu of the old record-and-file system, and reminded her—as she’d done dozens of times before—of the small, mission-minded organization’s limited budget, completed and initialed her reports, and then finally headed to the bank of lockers for her coat and purse.

  As she pushed her arms into her trench coat, Linda’s suggestion to take some time off whispered through her mind. She’d promised to think about it, but thinking was all she’d do. She wouldn’t take time away from the hospital. Here she was needed. Respected. And busy, leaving her no time to reflect on the past or how things might have been.

  She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and stepped out into the cool dawn. Beneath a rose-colored sky, she crossed the street to the small, graveled parking lot used by hospital employees and planned her morning. Breakfast with Alexa, a quick jaunt to Sarah’s Sweet Treats for a half pound—well, maybe a pound—of licorice cats, then pajamas and bed.

  She slammed the door on her late-model sedan, sealing away Linda’s suggestion. Her friend meant well, bless her loving heart, but Suzanne was satisfied with her life of work, mothering, and church. God had gifted her beyond all deserving. She had no desire for anything more.

  The alarm clock’s buzz roused Suzanne from a sound sleep. She slapped it silent, then rolled over and stretched like a lazy cat. After tossing back the covers and slipping her feet to the floor in one smooth movement, she sat on the edge of the mattress for a few seconds and allowed herself to awaken by increments. Yawned. Rubbed her eyes. Yawned again.

  Finally awake, she padded to the window and rolled up the blinds. Late-afternoon sunlight poured into the room, making her blink, but she welcomed the splash of brightness. During the winter months she often awakened to a black sky, making her feel as though the sun never shone. But now spring had arrived with its longer days and warmer evenings. Before long she and Alexa would be able to sit on their tiny balcony in the evenings, sip tea, and chat while watching the sun set over Franklin. One of their favorite activities. They’d always been content with little pleasures.

  The clatter of silverware found its way past her closed door. Alexa was setting the table, so apparently supper would be ready soon. Knowing how her daughter disliked letting a meal grow cold, Suzanne quickly showered then dressed in a work uniform—flowered scrub top over a long straight skirt, anklets, and her comfortable oxfords. She brushed out her damp hair, braided it into a single plait, and then twisted it into a bun on the back of her head. After running a soapy cloth over her face and brushing her teeth, she made her bed and then headed to the kitchen.

  Alexa looked up from chopping a red pepper into thin slices and smiled. “You’re just in time to turn the chicken breasts on the grill.”

  Suzanne raised her eyebrows. “You started the grill? Kind of early, isn’t it?” They’d only turned the calendar to April three days ago.

  Alexa shrugged, sending her long ponytail over her shoulder. The silky tresses, as richly brown as a mink’s fur, fell straight and sheeny down her slender back. “The sun warmed up the balcony, and I couldn’t resist having our first cookout.” She bobbed her chin toward the sliding doors at the far end of their small combination sitting and dining room. “Better go turn ’em before they scorch.”

  Suzanne grabbed the two-pronged fork from the end of the counter and stepped onto the balcony. The aroma that rose when she lifted the grill’s cover made her stomach roll over in eagerness. She poked the thickest chicken breast with the fork, and clear juices ran out to sizzle on the hot grid. She stuck her head inside and announced, “They’re done.”

  Alexa bustled over with a plate, and Suzanne transferred the chicken from the grill, then turned off the burner and closed the gauge on the propane tank. She entered the apartment just as Alexa carried the bowl of salad to the round table tucked in their tiny dining alcove.

  “I hope you don’t mind just having chicken and a salad.” Alexa lifted a pitcher of tea from the middle of the table and poured it over ice cubes in two jelly jar glasses. “A light supper will leave room for what comes later.” She waggled her eyebrows teasingly.

  Suzanne slipped into her chair, smiling. She’d gotten spoiled over the past years since Alexa had taken on the responsibility of cooking. Her daughter was especially adept at creating delectable desserts. Fortunately all of her hallway walking at the hospital worked off the extra calories. “What did you concoct this time?”

  “A triple-layer torte with both chocolate and strawberry fillings.”

  Suzanne nearly groaned. “Oh, that sounds rich. Where did you find the recipe?”

  Alexa offered another glib shrug and plopped into her chair. Suzanne would never cease to be amazed at how Alexa could move so quickly and still appear graceful. “I sort of made it up. If it turns out, you can take the leftovers to work and share.”

  Suzanne had no doubt she’d be sharing with her coworkers. She held her hand toward Alexa, and her daughter took hold. They bowed their heads in unison, and Suzanne offered a short prayer of thanks for the meal. Alexa used a pair of plastic tongs to serve the salad—a combination of colorful chopped vegetables, walnuts, and dried cranberries that was almost too pretty to eat.

  Suzanne lifted her knife and fork and cut into the tender chicken breast. At the first bite, she murmured, “Mm … how did you season this?”

  Alexa swallowed a bite and took a sip of tea before answering. “I brushed them with olive oil, then sprinkled on dried parsley, basil, a little seasoned salt, and some garlic pepper. I was afraid the garlic pepper might be overboard, but it doesn’t taste bad at all.”

  “It tastes great.” Suzanne stabbed up another bite.

  “I used the same seasonings and olive oil for the salad dressing but added some fresh-squeezed orange juice and a little bit of sugar.”

  “Sweetheart, everything is wonderful, as always.” Suzanne gave Alexa’s wrist a squeeze, pride filling her. “You’re going to make a wonderful homemaker for a lucky man one day.”

  A wistful expression crossed Alexa’s youthful face. “Well, you keep praying for my husband-to-be, Mom, and I’ll keep my eyes open. So far he’s stayed pretty well hidden.”

  Suzanne forced a light chuckle, but inwardly she cringed. If she’d raised Alexa in the Old Order sect, she’d probably already be published to marry. At nineteen, she was considered old enough to be a wife and mother. Although Suzanne prayed daily for a loving, God-honoring husband and faith-filled home for her daughter, she didn’t mind waiting another year or two for Alexa to find the man God had planned for her. She liked having her close. As Alexa had grown older, she’d become more than a daughter—she’d become Suzanne’s best friend. Would they be as close if—

  She chased away her inner reflections by asking about Alexa’s work. Alexa shared a few cute anecdotes about the children who came through the line at the elementary school where she helped prepare and serve lunch each day, then Suzanne told her about Mr. Birney and asked her to pray for his full recovery—as he’d said, someone needed to fill the bird feeders. Their supper hour passed quickly, and when they’d finished, Alexa carried their empty plates to the sink, then removed the torte from the refrigerator.

  As Alexa sliced into the towering dessert, she said, “Oh, Mom, I almost forgot. You got a letter today. From Arborville.”

  “Really?” Letters were rare, usually arriving around Christmastime, the time of year when families were expected to contact one another.

  “I put it on top of the daily newspaper.” She shook her head, pursing her lips in a what-is-this-world-coming-to expression. “Read the article on page three about the abandoned baby a kitchen worker found in the Dumpster behind a restaurant. I can’t believe someone would just leave a newborn in the trash that way …”

  Suzanne experienced an inner jolt of reaction to Alexa’s dismayed commen
t, but she didn’t respond. She knew all too well how children were tossed aside by unfeeling or desperate parents. As she crossed to the far side of the room and picked up the long envelope, she offered a prayer for God to provide a loving home for the little foundling. Every child deserved to be loved and nurtured by caring parents.

  Then she turned her attention to the envelope, and her hands trembled. The return address said Cletus Zimmerman in scrawling penmanship. Clete had never written before. Letters always came from Mother.

  “Cletus is your brother, right?” Alexa slid a sliver of cake onto a dessert plate and licked a smudge of icing from her thumb.

  Suzanne nodded woodenly.

  Alexa snickered. “He should be a doctor with handwriting like that. What does he say?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

  “Well, don’t just hold it. Open it, goofy.” Alexa’s teasing grin did little to calm Suzanne’s rattled nerves.

  Suzanne managed a weak smile. She peeled back the flap and removed two sheets of yellow notepad paper. Clete’s messy scrawl covered the front and back sides of both pages. Mother’s letters, which were meant to encompass a year’s worth of news, never filled more than one sheet of paper. Comparatively speaking, Clete had written a book.

  Alexa touched Suzanne’s arm. She jumped in surprise, unaware Alexa had left the kitchen. A soft smile curved her daughter’s lips. “Mom, sit down and read your letter. I’ll put the cake back in the fridge, and we’ll have it when you’re done, okay?”

  Suzanne cupped Alexa’s smooth cheek in a silent thank-you. Then she sank onto the couch cushion, flicked on the table lamp, and angled Clete’s letter toward the light. She read slowly, frowning at times as she struggled to make sense of her brother’s sloppy handwriting, but eventually she reached the end. By the time she’d finished, her desire to sample Alexa’s triple-layer torte had fled. She wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite.

  Suzanne

  “You mean to tell me nobody bothered to let you know your mama had been hurt bad enough to put her in a wheelchair?”

  Suzanne held a Styrofoam cup of black coffee between her palms and nodded in understanding at Linda’s incredulous blast, yet at the same time she felt the need to defend her family. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, I didn’t go home when my father died.” She hadn’t been able to. If she’d missed her boards, she wouldn’t have received her nursing license. Alexa’s and her future had rested upon her taking those exams. She sighed. “My siblings probably thought I wouldn’t care.”

  “That’s a bunch of hooey.” Linda’s voice rose above the chatter of three young aides taking their break at a table on the other side of the small cafeteria. Her dark eyes flashed. “You’re one of the most compassionate people I know. It’s what makes you such a good nurse.” She leaned in close, the spicy smell of licorice wafting to Suzanne’s nose. “What are you going to do, girlie?”

  In the three days since the letter from Clete had arrived, Suzanne had thought of little else, yet she had no answer. How could she go? Mother had been so adamant no one ever discover she’d become pregnant out of wedlock. She’d stayed away to protect her secret—to protect the family from fingerpointing and criticism. If she returned now, especially with Alexa in tow, it would open the door to questions and speculation.

  She swallowed a lump of agony. “I don’t know.”

  “You been praying about it?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “And the Lord hasn’t spoke to you one way or the other yet?”

  Suzanne shook her head. Why did her prayers concerning her family seem to go no farther than the ceiling?

  “Well, I sure won’t be the one to tell you what to do—”

  Suzanne tamped down a moan. She’d stayed late this morning and poured her heart out to Linda in the hopes the older woman, so practical yet so wise, could direct her.

  “—but I will say you should do nothing until you hear from the Lord.”

  “And what if He remains silent?”

  Linda reached across the table and took Suzanne’s hand. Such a simple touch, but the warmth of her palm offered soothing comfort. Sometimes Suzanne wished Linda was her mother instead of her mentor and friend. She blinked back tears as Linda spoke tenderly. “Honey, sometimes God speaks best through silence. We just have to be close enough in tune to read His Spirit. Keep your heart open. You’ll know what you’re supposed to do when the time comes.”

  Linda withdrew her hand, and Suzanne lifted her cup to take a sip of the now-cool strong brew. She made a face and set the cup aside. “Will you pray for me?”

  “Tom and I pray for you every day anyway, but we’ll pray especially for God to direct your thoughts.” Linda picked at the doughnut on the paper plate in front of her. “Did your brother tell you when they wanted you to come?”

  “He didn’t mention a specific date.” Suzanne cringed, recalling Clete’s strong wording. “We need your expertise. None of us can do what needs doing for Mother.” “But the tone of the letter hinted at desperation. I think he hoped I’d come right away.”

  “Well, at least you know you’ve got the time if need be. All that saved-up vacation—it could come in handy.” Linda spoke in a musing tone, seemingly unaware of the turmoil her statement stirred within Suzanne’s breast. Were all the years of stockpiling vacation days meant to give her the time to care for her mother? If only she knew for sure. “And since it’s a family situation, the board of directors would probably give you a leave of absence if you asked. You’ve been a faithful employee for almost fifteen years. That counts for a lot.”

  Frustration built and spilled over. “So can’t you see my dilemma, Linda? I have the time. I have the training. They really seem to need me. But I can’t find peace about packing a bag and returning to Arborville.”

  To Suzanne’s further aggravation, Linda had the audacity to laugh. “Well, honey, why would you? You’ve been away from there for more than half your life! And your leave-taking wasn’t exactly under happy circumstances. Of course you’ve got apprehensions about going back.”

  Suzanne cringed. Linda only knew the half of it. And she couldn’t bring herself to share the other half. After burying her secret for twenty years, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to bring it to the surface.

  Linda checked her watch. “Tsk. Look at the time. I better get to my desk, and you should go home and put yourself to bed. Those circles under your eyes are darker than midnight.”

  Despite her flustered emotions, Suzanne released a soft laugh. Linda’s wry forthrightness always managed to boost her spirits.

  Linda pushed herself from her chair and shot a pointed look in Suzanne’s direction. “Walk with me.” They dropped their breakfast items in a trash receptacle and then ambled through the hallway. Linda threw her arm across Suzanne’s shoulders. “What does Alexa think of all this?”

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “What?” Linda came to a halt, forcing Suzanne to stop, too. Her surprised expression changed to a disapproving glower. “Why ever not?”

  “I told her my mother had been injured.” Alexa had clapped her hand to her mouth in horror when Suzanne shared how the three-hundred-pound bale of hay rolled from the transport trailer and pinned Mother to the ground. They both agreed God’s hands had sent the rains to soften the ground, giving the slight cushion that prevented her from being crushed to death. Even so, her shattered bones and damaged nerves left her a paraplegic. “But I didn’t mention Clete wanting me to take care of her.”

  “Suzanne, you’ve got to tell her.” Linda shook her head, emitting a little huff. “Alexa isn’t a child anymore. She’s a young woman, and whatever you decide to do will affect her. Go home and talk to your daughter. Give her a chance to pray for you and with you. Give her a chance to offer you some moral support. After all these years of you doing everything for her, let her do a little something for you. It’ll build her character.” Taking Suzanne by t
he shoulders, she turned her in the direction of the lockers. “Go home, Suzanne Zimmerman.”

  Her head low, Suzanne began moving toward the exit.

  Linda called after her, “And when you’ve finished talking to Alexa, get some sleep. Those raccoon eyes are liable to scare the patients.”

  Alexa

  Alexa inserted her key in the apartment door and let herself in. Humming, she dropped her jacket over the arm of a dining table chair and leaned against the counter to flip through the few envelopes she’d found in their mailbox. Two bills, an invitation to change their television service to a different company—silly, since they didn’t even have a television—and a coupon for a Mexican restaurant. Mom couldn’t eat Mexican because the spicy food gave her indigestion, so Alexa threw away both the coupon and the TV-service advertisement, then placed the bills in the little basket on the corner of the counter where Mom would be sure to see them when she got up.

  She headed for her bedroom to change her spaghetti sauce–stained T-shirt—somehow she’d gotten splashed above the bib of her apron—but before she took three steps, a quiet voice stopped her.

  “Alexa?”

  Spinning toward the sound, she let out a gasp of surprise. The end-table lamp snapped on, bringing her mother’s form into plain view. Alexa pressed her palm to her chest and forced a laugh. “Mom, for heaven’s sake, you nearly scared me out of my skin. Why aren’t you in bed?”

  Mom yawned. “I wanted to be where I’d hear you when you came in. Can you sit down for a minute?” She patted the sofa cushion beside her. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “Sure.” After three days of near silence, Alexa welcomed the opportunity to talk. She seated herself sideways, tucking one foot beneath her, then placed her hand over her mother’s knee and tipped her head. “Is it bad? You’ve been awfully quiet the past few days. You’ve worried me.”