When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Spinning to face Suzanne, Alexa clapped her hands together and beamed. “Mom, let’s do it!”

  Suzanne, still trying to envision the old stove covered in potted plants, frowned. “Do … what?”

  “Fix this place up.”

  Suzanne nearly groaned. “Oh, Alexa …”

  “No, think about it.” Alexa darted close and grabbed Suzanne’s hands, swinging them to and fro. “We’d have our own private space—a little home away from home when we come to visit. There’s already plumbing out here—”

  “It’s not connected.”

  “—and electricity—”

  “Knob and tube, Alexa. Probably a fire hazard.”

  “—and enough space to create separate sleeping and relaxing areas. All it needs is some TLC.”

  Suzanne stiffened her arms to bring an end to the gentle motion. “I’m not saying there isn’t the potential for this being a very sweet little cottage. But it would take weeks and quite a bit of money to whip this place into shape. I don’t have either to commit to it.”

  Alexa yanked her hands free and stepped back. The look of betrayal on her face cut Suzanne to the core. “Just like you’re not willing to commit time to rebuilding your family.”

  Her daughter’s words too closely lined up with the thoughts that had tortured her earlier. Suzanne winced. “Honey …”

  “Fine. It’s no big deal if we don’t fix this place up. There are bedrooms in the house we can use.” Alexa folded her arms over her chest, her stance defiant. “But I hope you aren’t going to be in a great big hurry to get back to Indiana, because Grandmother’s birthday is June 13, less than four weeks away. It’s her sixtieth. And I intend to be here and help her celebrate it. I also intend to invite her son, her daughters, her grandchildren, and her church fellowship to join in the celebration. And for a present, I’m getting her house painted.”

  Suzanne’s jaw dropped open. “Y-you’re doing what?”

  “You heard me. It needs it, and I’ve got enough in savings to cover it. Mr. Aldrich said so.”

  How had Paul gotten tangled up in this? Suzanne spluttered, “That’s your college money.”

  “Yes, it’s my money, and if I want to use it to paint Grandmother’s house instead of taking classes, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Oh, but, Alexa—”

  Tears winked in her daughter’s eyes, and her stiff pose faded. She held her hands toward Suzanne, as if in supplication. “Don’t argue with me, okay? I want to do this. I want to give her something … worthwhile. I want to fix something for her. She’s so broken, Mom, and I’m not talking about her legs. Her spirit is broken. And I just think if I can make the house beautiful again, then something inside of her might be restored to beauty, too.”

  Suzanne feared Alexa was expecting too much from a fresh coat of paint, but she couldn’t find the wherewithal to say that. So she stood in mute agony while her daughter went on in a wistful tone.

  “And I really want you to help me do it. I want you to celebrate with Grandmother, too. You missed so many of her birthdays by living so far away, keeping your secret.” The tears spilled over Alexa’s lashes, giving her face a dew-kissed appearance that was both heartbreaking and heart stirring at the same time. “Can you stay long enough for her birthday? One day of celebration with your whole family. Just one. Please?”

  Abigail

  Shouldn’t matchmaking be easier than this? Abigail speared a bite-size chunk of lettuce with her fork, wishing she could use it to skewer Paul into one of the dining room chairs instead. Even though Alexa had invited him, very kindly, to sit at the table and eat lunch with them, he’d taken his chef salad out to the porch. He used the excuse that he was too sweaty and dirty to sit at the table, but he seemed no filthier than Suzy. What on earth had that girl been doing?

  Suzy pushed the pieces of lettuce, eggs, tomatoes, and ham around without carrying anything to her mouth. Abigail stayed quiet and let her play with her food for over five minutes before she lost her patience and snapped, “Are you going to eat that or not?”

  Suzy looked up from her bowl, surprise on her face. “I’m eating.”

  Abigail snorted. “Eating requires chewing and swallowing. All you’re doing is rearranging the salad. And the clink of your fork on the side of the bowl is annoying.” If Suzy or Alexa would talk instead of sitting there like a pair of bookends, Abigail probably wouldn’t even notice the clink-clink. “Eat it or put it away for later. Stop playing with it.”

  Suzy sighed and set the bowl aside. “I suppose I’m not hungry.” She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, creating a grimy smear that matched the one on her jaw. “I wore myself out this morning.”

  Alexa shot a quick frown in her mother’s direction before she bent over her salad bowl again. Whatever Suzy had been doing, Alexa didn’t approve. Curiosity got the best of Abigail. “What did you do to make yourself so tired?”

  Suzy acted as if she hadn’t heard, but Alexa answered. “She cleaned the summer kitchen.”

  Abigail stared at Suzy. “That old wreck? What for?”

  Alexa turned her frown on Abigail. “It’s not a wreck. It’s charming. All it needs is a bathroom and it could be a wonderful little retreat cottage.”

  Abigail laughed. The old building needed much more than indoor facilities to be deemed a wonderful anything. “Oh, Alexa, the things you say …”

  She put down her fork. “So you’re siding with Mom?”

  “Siding with—” Abigail looked from Alexa to Suzy to Alexa again in confusion. “Your mother spent the entire morning cleaning out there. It seems to me she’s the one who sees value in it, not me.” She lowered her fork as well and sat up straight, her enjoyment of the salad gone. “What is the matter with you two? Do I have to tie your tails together and throw you over the clothesline until you work out your differences?”

  Alexa bowed her head. “No.”

  Suzy looked off to the side. “Of course not.”

  Abigail picked up her fork again and poked the tines into a grape tomato. “Then stop arguing and let me eat in peace.”

  “We’re not arguing.” They chorused the remark in the same vocal inflection and with the same stubborn expression.

  Abigail burst out laughing. “Well, that’s the first similarity I’ve seen between mother and daughter.” She used the speared tomato as a pointer and bobbed it at each of them by turn. “Alexa might not possess the Zimmerman coloring, but I see she inherited the Zimmerman hardheadedness.” She popped the tomato in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed while the pair across the table exchanged a sheepish look. “I thought I told you two yesterday to talk. Are you still feuding?”

  Suzy sighed. “Mother, we aren’t feuding. We never were. But …” She glanced at Alexa, who seemed to hold her breath. “I might not be leaving as soon as I’d thought.”

  Abigail’s heart gave a hopeful leap. “Oh?”

  Alexa’s eyes flew wide.

  “No.” Suzy toyed with her fork, her head low. “Even if I get a nurse hired soon—and that’s a real possibility because I have found two strong candidates for the position—I might … stay … a little longer.” She looked up, meeting Abigail’s gaze but appearing to avoid Alexa’s. “I could help the new nurse … settle in.”

  The reason sounded flimsy, but Abigail wouldn’t say so. If Suzy stayed longer, it would buy her time to put her and Paul together. Assuming an indifferent air, Abigail said, “Whatever you want to do, Suzanne.”

  Alexa rested her elbow on the table, leaning toward her mother. “Do you mean it? You’ll stay?”

  “I said I might, Alexa.”

  “Why not just do it? You have the time.”

  “I want to think about it. And pray about it. Decide what’s … best.”

  “You already know it’s the right thing to do. You’re just being hardheaded, like Grandmother said.”

  Had they forgotten Abigail was still in the room? She cleared her throat. Loudly. They both
looked at her. “Am I going to have any say-so about who is hired to help take care of me?”

  “Well …” Suzy fiddled with a straggly length of hair falling along her temple. “I hadn’t thought about you wanting to be involved in the hiring process.”

  “Of course you hadn’t. No one seems to include me in decisions anymore.” Abigail tried not to sound too irritated, but Clete and the younger girls had invited Suzy here without asking her. They’d put Paul Aldrich to work tearing apart her house even though she told them repeatedly she didn’t want those things done. Sitting in this chair didn’t make her stupid, but her children acted as if they believed she’d lost her ability to think and make decisions. If she was going to be dumped on some stranger who would help her bathe and dress and all the other things her useless legs kept her from doing on her own, she should at least be able to choose the stranger. She aimed a firm look at her daughter. “I want to pick the person.”

  “All right, Mother. After I’ve interviewed them and assured myself they are qualified, I’ll have them speak with you.”

  Suzy spoke in a syrupy voice she probably used on agitated patients in the hospital. It only increased Abigail’s irritation. She narrowed her eyes into a glower. “I said I want to pick the person. Not from your leftovers, but from the applicants. How many are there?”

  “Thirteen people submitted applications, but—”

  “Then let me see them.”

  Suzy shook her head. “Mother, not all of them met the qualifications I requested. That happens sometimes—people see an opening and apply without bothering to follow the requirements. We don’t want someone who isn’t familiar with lift techniques, muscle massage, and recognizing signs of blood clots or tissue death. A patient with paralysis requires a different type of care than someone who is elderly or has some sort of diminished capacity. We need to find the person who can meet your specific needs.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes and released a disgruntled huff. “I know all about my ‘specific needs,’ and I think I’m the most qualified to choose a helper. I’m the one who will be stuck with this person, after all. Give me the applications.”

  “They’re on Alexa’s phone.”

  “What?”

  “They were submitted online. I read them on Alexa’s phone.”

  Abigail wasn’t sure why Suzy’s knowledge of the technological device bothered her so much, but it did. She snapped, “What’s wrong with using paper and pencil?” To her further aggravation, Suzy laughed.

  “You just reminded me of a nurse at the hospital in Franklin. Only she is constantly complaining about our continued use of paper files rather than inputting data on computers. Maybe I should have you send her a letter expounding all the positive aspects of written forms.” Suzy’s smile faded and she seemed to drift away.

  Abigail stared at her daughter, wishing she knew what Suzy was thinking about in those moments of quiet. Her fellow employees at the hospital? The patients? The church family she and Alexa had claimed? Guilt nibbled at the edges of her conscience. Derek had called Sandra, Shelley, and Tanya selfish for pulling Suzy away from her life in Indiana. Hadn’t Abigail initially been furious with Clete and the girls for the same reason? Suzy was settled out there, obviously good at her job and happy with it. She hadn’t wanted to be responsible for taking something more from her daughter and had only wanted to send her straight back. But now she was trying to hold her here. Confusion rolled through her.

  As the mother, she was supposed to know the right thing to do for her children. She’d failed Suzy so badly when she’d come to her, scared and tearful and begging for understanding. Abigail had reacted in anger and embarrassment rather than seeking God’s wisdom. Now she had a second chance, but what was best—trying to give Suzy and Paul an opportunity to bloom what had once been only a bud, or allowing the past to remain in the past and letting Suzy keep what she’d built for herself in Indiana?

  The uncertainty bore down on her, and Abigail shifted her gaze away from Suzy to Alexa. Even more guilt attacked when she considered all Alexa had been denied. Did the girl want to stay here and connect with her family because she’d been separated from the sister with whom she shared her mother’s womb? Did she yearn for the father she’d never known?

  Another question rose from Abigail’s mind, a question that had bothered her since the day she, Alexa, and Suzy went to the Wichita zoo. If she knew the answer, it might help her know what was best for Suzy in the future.

  “Alexa.” Her voice blared out loud and intrusive in the otherwise quiet dining room. “I’d like a piece of that chocolate cake. And a big glass of milk. Or no—not milk. Whip some cream. Cake and fresh whipped cream would be perfect.”

  Without a word of complaint, Alexa picked up the salad bowls and left the room. As soon as she disappeared through the butler’s pantry, Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Suzanne, I need to know something. I want you to tell me the truth.”

  Suzy’s eyebrows descended briefly. “What is it?”

  “When we came back from the zoo—remember that day?—I thought I heard you tell Alexa her father isn’t here in Arborville.”

  Panic flickered in Suzy’s eyes. She sent a quick look over her shoulder.

  Abigail waved her hand. “She’s busy and can’t hear us.” As if to prove her words, the sound of a whisk being exuberantly swished against the sides of a glass bowl carried from the kitchen. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  “Mother …”

  The single word groaned from her daughter’s throat, nearly silencing Abigail. But the need to understand was too great. “Did you let more than one man touch you when you were seventeen years old?”

  Suzy’s lips trembled. She shook her head.

  “Paul Aldrich is the one who … who …” Even after all these years, Abigail couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

  One quick bob of her head affirmed the unspoken statement.

  Abigail frowned. “Then you lied to Alexa.”

  Again Suzy nodded, this time her nod slow and agonized.

  Abigail slumped back in her chair. The commandment concerning truth given by their Lord and Master played through her mind. She’d borne false witness for years, letting people believe Suzy had gone away to become a missionary nurse. Now Suzy was bearing false witness, withholding the truth of Alexa’s parentage. Such a mess. Such a big, big mess.

  “Do you ever intend to tell her the truth?”

  Suzy stared at Abigail, her face pale and her lips set in such a grim line they nearly disappeared from view. From the kitchen, the swishing noise stopped and Alexa began to hum, a sweet and lilting tune unfamiliar to Abigail’s ears. In a few more minutes she’d come in with the cake topped by whipped cream. The sweet dessert would probably make Abigail sick to her stomach, but she’d eat it anyway. Every bite. As penance.

  “Suzanne?”

  Suzy finally answered. “Mother, I didn’t want to go away and give my baby to my cousins to raise. I did it because you said I had to. But Alexa is mine. I won’t give her up. The subject of her paternity is closed. Don’t ask me about it again.”

  Alexa entered the dining room with a tray in her hands. Instead of plopping a dollop of whipped cream on top of the slices of cake, she’d done the opposite. The wedge of cake became a castle suspended on a cloud. The presentation was delightful, almost too pretty to desecrate with a fork.

  “Here you are, Grandmother.” Alexa placed a dessert plate in front of her. “Mom, you get one, too, even though you didn’t eat your lunch.” Her lighthearted statement seemed to erase a portion of the tension hovering in the room. Two more plates remained on the tray. “I’m going to take one to Mr. Aldrich, and I think I’ll eat mine out there.”

  Suzy jerked, as if zapped by a lightning bolt. “Alexa—”

  Alexa headed for the front door without a pause. She called over her shoulder, “Enjoy!”

  Suzy stared after her, worry knitting her brow.

  Abigail wante
d to tell Suzy she was wrong to keep Alexa from her father and wrong to keep Alexa’s father from knowing he had a daughter. It was wrong. Wrong. But Abigail couldn’t reprimand her. She’d set the example of fabrication herself. Her daughter was only perpetuating what she, the mother, had begun. Such a web they’d woven, and after all these years, it was probably foolish to think they could free themselves. She might as well reconcile herself to going to her grave with this burden on her heart.

  Alexa

  As soon as supper was over, Grandmother settled on the sofa with a book. Mom took over cleanup in the dining room. Derek caved to Ian’s begging to visit the litter of barn kittens Alexa had discovered earlier that day, but when Sandra started to follow Derek, Alexa commandeered her with a whispered, “Can we talk?”

  Sandra agreed, and Alexa took her to the porch. Sandra lowered her cumbersome frame into Grandmother’s lounger, and Alexa perched on the edge of the swing. She shared her plans for surprising her grandmother with a party and a house makeover, watching Sandra’s face for signs of disapproval. None appeared.

  “I love your ideas, Alexa.”

  Sandra’s response sent a burst of joy through Alexa. She gave the porch floor a push with her feet and set the swing into motion. Her heart soared with the sway of the wooden swing. “Then you’ll help me? I want to invite everyone—all the people from church and members of your family who don’t live in Arborville but are close enough to drive over.” Wouldn’t Mom be surprised to have her cousins and other relatives in attendance?

  Sandra lifted her hand to her brow, casting a shadow across her upper face. Mr. Aldrich had cut down several large bushes to make room for Grandmother’s ramp, and the evening sun now fell across the porch. “I’m willing to help with the party, of course, but the house painting?”

  Alexa stopped the swing with a downward thrust of her toes. “What?”

  Sandra stretched out her hand and brushed Alexa’s knee. “It’s a wonderful plan, but I’m not sure Mother would be in favor of a bunch of strangers coming out here and working. We had to fight with her to let Paul in, and she’s known him since he was a little boy. She’s rather … reclusive.”