When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “But you have to agree the house needs it. Think how beautiful it would be with a fresh coat of paint.” Alexa pulled out her phone, which she’d wrestled away from Mom after letting Grandmother examine each of the nursing applicants, and opened the photo gallery. “Scoot over a bit. Let me show you something.”

  Sandra shifted slightly, opening a slice of space next to her hip. Alexa eased into the spot. The lounger’s metal legs squeaked, and Sandra grimaced. “I hope this thing will hold all three of us.” She cupped her belly. “This one sure makes me bulky.”

  Alexa gazed for a moment at Sandra’s round, tight belly. What must it feel like to carry another life inside your body? Derek was so solicitous to Sandra, holding her arm as she went up and down stairs, helping her from her chair, gazing at her tenderly as if he thought her the most precious thing in the world. Poor Mom had been all alone. Little wonder she clung so tightly to her daughter.

  Guilt tried to weasel its way into her thoughts, but she refused to give it sway. She wasn’t abandoning Mom. She was only bringing her back to the family who should have been there for her all along. She was doing right.

  She punched the screen on her phone and brought up a photograph she’d downloaded from the Internet. “Look. This isn’t your farmhouse, but it’s similar in style, see? It has a third-floor attic with dormers and a porch that wraps around. There’s a lot more gingerbread on this one than on your house, but still … it gives you an idea how the house would look if it was painted something besides white-white-white.” She grinned to let Sandra know she wasn’t being critical.

  Sandra took the phone and frowned at the image. “I won’t deny this house is lovely. I like the colors, too. But why so many?”

  Alexa had chosen this image because of the color scheme. Soft saffron made a perfect background for the accent colors of dark ocher, slate blue, and bright white. Peaceful colors, yet eye-catching. The Zimmerman farmhouse’s unique window frames, corbels under the eaves, and fish-scale siding on the dormers would be showcased beautifully with the varied palette. “What’s wrong with having so many colors?”

  Sandra sent Alexa an apologetic look. “Shelley would say the house looked like a peacock’s tail. Mother might, too. She isn’t one to be showy.”

  Alexa hit the sleep button on her phone and the screen went black. So did her enthusiasm. She returned to the swing and sank down, defeated.

  “Let me talk to Derek, okay? And maybe even Clete. I think it’s wonderful how you want to gift your grandmother. It’s a very extravagant gift! A party and her house painted? If you do all this she will never forget her sixtieth birthday, that’s certain.”

  Alexa slipped her phone into her pocket. “Mr. Aldrich told me I’d need to make arrangements quickly because professional painters get very busy fast. So please talk to them soon.”

  “How about now?” Sandra struggled to stand, and Alexa took hold of her hands to pull her upright. Sandra grinned a thank-you. “I’d like to see the kittens, so I’ll send Derek to you.” She started for the stairs in her waddling gait.

  Alexa trailed behind her. “I’ll go with you. I want to see the kittens again, too. They’re so cute right now—so big-eyed and clumsy.”

  Sandra laughed. She looped elbows with Alexa as they ambled across the lawn. “I’m going to ask a nosy question, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but where will you get the money to pay to have the house painted? I know what we’re paying Paul to do the remodeling needed. It’s a lot, and he’s giving us a discount since we’re from the same fellowship.”

  Alexa didn’t mind being asked. Sandra wasn’t snoopy and critical like Shelley, who had asked questions and then berated her for the answer. “I started working a part-time job when I was a sophomore in high school. Mom taught me to give ten percent to the church and encouraged me to put twenty-five percent in savings. I usually put closer to fifty percent in my savings account. When I graduated, I took a full-time job at the elementary school, working in the lunchroom, and I did the same with my salary. I’ve had enough to give Mom some for rent and utilities on our apartment, but Mom really wanted me to build my savings. So I’ve got more than enough in there to have the house painted.”

  “Weren’t you saving for something special?”

  Remembering Mom’s aghast outburst, Alexa hesitated. Would Sandra react like Mom? She stopped, drawing Sandra to a halt with her. “Is it against the … I don’t know what to call them … laws of the church for Old Order Mennonites to go to college?”

  “I think the word you’re seeking is ordinance. And our fellowship doesn’t strictly forbid college attendance. After all, there are some jobs—such as nursing, like your mother has done—that require more training than our local school provides. So if one of our young people believes God wants him to continue school for training in a specific field, he talks to the deacons. They all pray together and seek God’s guidance. Then the deacons either approve or disapprove the request based on what they think is best for the person and for the fellowship as a whole.”

  “So the church operates like a family, in a way.”

  Sandra smiled. “I like that description. A loving family should have each member’s best interest at heart.”

  “Did Mom get approval to become a nurse before she left?”

  Sandra’s smile faded. “I was so little when your mother left, I honestly don’t remember a lot about it. As I recall, Mother and Dad sat us younger children down and told us Suzy was going away for a while, we weren’t to worry, and she would come back by Christmastime. Christmas came and went, but Suzy didn’t come home. Mother again said not to worry—she’d be home soon. By the next Christmas, she still hadn’t come, and Mother began telling people Suzy was studying to become a nurse.”

  A sad smile lifted the corners of Sandra’s mouth. “I thought that was wonderful, and I told my mother I wanted to be a nurse someday, too. Isn’t that what little girls do—try to emulate the ones they admire? Then, of course, we were told Suzy was working in a church-run hospital and was too busy to come home. And I finally stopped asking about her because every time I did, Mother would be so sad. And grumpy.”

  Sandra’s image blurred as Alexa gazed through a mist of tears. Mom had given up a lot to keep Alexa, but the rest of the family had given up something, too—their daughter and sister. The realization made her all the more determined to bring everyone together.

  “Of course,” Sandra’s tone held a hint of melancholy, “now I understand why Suzy left and why she didn’t come back. So to answer your original question, she probably didn’t receive approval from the deacons to go for training. However, she obviously found her calling even without their approval, and just as I did when I was a six-year-old, I think it’s wonderful that my big sister is a nurse.”

  Alexa blinked away her tears. “Me, too.”

  “I also think it’s wonderful to have a niece so close to me in age. I only wish—” Sandra captured Alexa in an impulsive hug, nearly squeezing the breath from her lungs. “Never mind. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” She pulled back and smiled brightly. “Let’s go ask Derek about your idea to surprise Mother, okay? Then we’d better head back in before Mother and Suzy wonder what happened to us.”

  Derek seemed reserved about hiring a paint crew, but he promised to talk to Clete and Harper and possibly the deacons if Clete thought it necessary. He said they’d give Alexa an answer as quickly as possible.

  While she waited for the men to make a decision, Alexa kept herself busy. On Tuesday she took the telephone directory and her mother’s old-fashioned flip phone to the summer kitchen and called every paint crew in both Wichita and Pratt and even some of the smaller surrounding cities. As Mr. Aldrich had speculated, most of them were already booked and couldn’t commit to a “maybe” job, but two expressed interest and one offered to drive out, look the house over, and give her an estimate. Although Alexa wasn’t sure what would happen, she decided an estimate was
a good idea, and she asked him to meet her on Thursday morning when Mom would take Grandmother to a doctor’s appointment in Wichita.

  She handwrote invitations to Grandmother’s surprise sixtieth birthday party and hid them away in the drawer of the summer kitchen cupboard. She planned the menu and made a list of grocery items as well as décor items so she could make the dining room as festive as possible. The house needed some cheer, and Alexa intended to make the place pulsate with color and life both inside and out.

  Shelley brought supper Tuesday evening, and Alexa came close to taking Harper aside and asking if he, Clete, and Derek had come to any conclusions concerning the house. But fear of Shelley overhearing and adding her opinion, which Alexa was certain would be negative, kept her quiet. He made no effort to speak to her privately, either, so she could only surmise the men were still contemplating whether or not she could, or should, do it.

  Wednesday, feeling fidgety, she borrowed her grandmother’s car and drove to Wichita. The GPS on her phone led her directly to a huge arts and crafts store with a vast selection of party goods. After browsing up and down the aisle three times and examining the options, she selected plates with a bright yellow center and a border of overlapping bold pink, orange, purple, and blue flowers. She considered using yellow for the napkins and decorations, but on a whim instead loaded her cart with pink napkins, yellow plastic tablecloths, and balloons and streamers in orange, purple, and blue. With a giggle, she added a disposable helium tank to the cart. Why not make the balloons float? The children would love it.

  In the floral department she located clusters of silk daisies in every color of the rainbow. She chose three bunches in each of the colors in the plates, then grabbed several bags of clear marbles and some simple clear glass vases to hold the flowers, inwardly picturing the vases with two or three balloons tied to the necks. That thought led her to the ribbon department. Wouldn’t it be nice to add big bows to the vases as well as the corners of the tablecloth and maybe the back of each chair? She tossed in six-yard rolls of both one- and two-inch ribbon in the same colors as the flowers, planning to mix them for a more exuberant display.

  As she headed for the checkout counter, she glanced at the tumble of items in the bottom of the cart and couldn’t help smiling. Such an explosion of colors! Grandmother’s party would be a feast for the eyes. Even if her uncles told her she shouldn’t have the house painted, at least the interior would be bright and cheerful for Grandmother’s celebration. But, God, I really want to make the old house look alive again. Please let them say yes. Please, please, please …

  The prayer rolled in the back of her mind all the way home. When she reached the lane leading to the farmhouse, she noticed Clete’s pickup pulled up next to Mr. Aldrich’s. The men were both busy applying white paint to the newly constructed wooden ramp. Alexa parked beside Uncle Clete’s truck, left her purchases in the trunk, and trotted across the grass to the men.

  “It’s done already? It looks fantastic!”

  “Thanks.” Mr. Aldrich continued applying the paintbrush while he spoke. “Its main purpose is functional, but I wanted it to look nice, too.”

  “Oh, it does.” She took several backward steps to admire the ramp from a bit of a distance. Mr. Aldrich had matched the railing and spindles to the porch, making the ramp seem like a natural extension. Once they planted flowers or some low bushes in front of the ramp, it would look as though it had always been there. Unconsciously, she grimaced. As wonderful as the ramp looked, the fresh coat of glossy white paint served to make the rest of the house look even more run-down in comparison.

  She darted forward again and moved close to Uncle Clete. “White’s exactly what I wanted for the porch posts, railing, and spindles. It’s clean and crisp looking. So I’m glad you’re using that for the ramp. It’ll blend in … with the porch.” Would he catch the hint?

  He glanced at her, letting her know he’d heard her, but he didn’t say anything.

  Alexa waited a few seconds, debating with herself about tossing out another hint or letting the subject go for the moment. But in the end, she couldn’t stand it. Taking a step closer to her uncle, she clasped her hands tightly at her waist. “What have you decided? About the house, I mean … me hiring a crew to paint it?”

  Uncle Clete paused with one elbow on his bent knee and his head hanging low. Alexa waited, nearly squirming in place, as he set the paintbrush on the edge of the can and stretched to his feet. “I was going to talk to you after supper, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.”

  She searched his face, hoping for some sign of what he was thinking. She’d never met a more stoic person in her life. Please, please … The simple prayer repeated itself with every beat of her pulse. “So …” She held her breath.

  He spoke in a flat tone that matched his expression. “Derek and Harper and me decided no.”

  Alexa’s breath heaved out in one mighty whoosh of discouragement. Hardheaded men!

  Paul

  From the look on Suzy’s daughter’s face, Clete needed to prepare for a storm. Paul continued applying paint to the ramp while observing the girl out of the corner of his eye. Children in his community were taught to respect their elders. None of the youth from Arborville’s Mennonite fellowship would dare argue with an adult. But how would Alexa react?

  Before the girl formed a word, Clete went on in his usual straightforward manner. “It’s too much money for you to spend.”

  “It’s my money, Uncle Clete. Shouldn’t I be able to use it the way I want to?” She’d argued, but in such a respectful tone Paul couldn’t find fault with her.

  “We appreciate what you want to do. But we can’t let you do it.”

  Alexa blinked several times. Paul recognized the attempt to hold tears at bay—Karina had used the same method. His heart lurched in sympathy. A woman in tears always affected him. He came close to speaking in Alexa’s defense.

  “Not all by yourself.”

  Alexa gave a little jolt, and Paul did, too, splotching his knee with white paint. He stood and reached for a rag as Clete continued.

  “Derek and Harper and me talked it over, and we agree the house needs painting. Since we are already paying Paul for his work out here, we can’t buy paint. So …” Clete looked away from Alexa, his tanned cheeks streaking with red. Paul already sensed what he planned to say, but the big man wasn’t finding it easy to ask for help. “If you’ll use your money to buy paint, we’ll bring the fellowship men together to paint the house.”

  A beaming smile broke across Alexa’s face. “Like the picture I showed Sandra? With all the different colors?”

  Clete frowned, but he offered a brusque nod. “Sandra said it was …” He scratched his ear. “Colorful but tasteful. I trust her judgment. So you and me can drive to Wichita one day soon and buy paint. If all the men help, we should be able to scrape and prime the house in one day, then paint it on another day.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Mm-hm. Er, you’re welcome. Thank you for buying the paint.” He still angled his gaze to the left.

  Alexa reached toward Clete, her movement hesitant. She placed her fingertips on his sleeve and looked up until he finally turned and met her gaze. Sincerity glimmered in her dark eyes. “Your idea is better than mine, letting Grandmother’s church family have a hand in making the house beautiful again. I think it will mean even more to her knowing how everyone came together to do the work.”

  “Yes, well, speaking of work …” Clete stepped away from the girl’s touch. “I need to get back to painting. I’ll let you know when we can go after paint.”

  “All right. I’ll call the contractor in Pratt and tell him I don’t need an estimate after all.” Alexa inched backward, her smile as bright as the sun. “Remember, though, it’s supposed to be her birthday present, so we can’t wait too long.”

  “I know, I know.” Clete bent down and dipped his paintbrush in the can.

  Alexa clattered up the porch steps and steppe
d through the door, calling, “Mom, Grandmother! I’m home!”

  Clete gazed after her, his hand still and his forehead pinched into furrows.

  Paul couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. “That paint won’t jump from the can onto the wood. Get busy over there.”

  Clete made a face but he put his hand to work.

  Paul finished carefully coating another spindle before speaking again. “It’s a nice thing Suzy’s daughter is doing—buying paint for the house.”

  “Yeah.” Clete grunted the word.

  “It’s good of you to let her. It obviously means a lot to her, to be able to help. She’s a nice girl.”

  Clete set his lips in a stern line and applied paint in stiff, jerky motions.

  Paul sent a puzzled look in Clete’s direction. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothin’.”

  Paul laughed. “Clete, I’ve known you since you were a snot-nosed four-year-old spying on Suzy and me from the bushes, and I know when something is bothering you.” When Clete’s expression remained dour, Paul sobered. “You could’ve told Alexa no. If you’re that worried about painting the house, why’d you agree to do it?”

  Clete blew out a big breath. “Because the house needs it. It needed it even before Dad died. Another season with the wood exposed and we’d probably have to replace boards because of rot. It’s got to be done.”

  “Then why so glum?”

  Clete pinned Paul with a glare. “Because it’s taken an outsider to do what I should’ve done years ago. Before Dad died, he talked about getting the house painted, but Mother threw a fit—refused to let him touch it. Dad decided to wait a year, see if she’d be more receptive to it, but he died before he could ask again. So I asked. She screeched so loud I was afraid the neighbors would think I was killing her.”

  He painted as he spoke, his hand moving faster and more stiffly with each sentence. “Every time anybody’s said anything about the house—painting it, moving the furniture, buying something new—Mother has gone into what Shelley calls conniptions. I don’t know why she’s so determined to let the place go to ruin, but that’s the way she is. Then here comes Alexa …” The man suddenly ceased all movement. “She seems to like Alexa. So maybe, since it’s her idea, Mother won’t …”