When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Paul’s can was empty, which gave him an excuse to get up and move around the ramp to where Clete bent on one knee. He put his hand on Clete’s shoulder. “It’s got to be done, Clete. We all know it. Can’t let this fine old house fall apart.”

  “I know.”

  Something Clete had said earlier whispered through Paul’s memory, and he frowned. “Why’d you call Alexa an ‘outsider’? I know she’s not from our fellowship and you’ve only just met, but she’s part of your family.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Clete took Paul’s empty can and poured half of his paint into it. “I just can’t get comfortable around her. Because she’s”—he thrust the can at Paul and finished gruffly—“illegitimate.”

  Cold chills erupted across Paul’s arms. Unexpectedly, defensiveness rose along with the chills. “That’s not her fault. If you come right down to it, we ought to call the parents illegitimate rather than the child because they’re the ones who chose to engage in intimacy outside of marriage. The child is innocent of wrongdoing.”

  His bold words echoed in his mind, stinging him with the truth. He’d taken Suzy in ways a man shouldn’t with anyone except his wife. They’d only done it that one time, but even so, he’d been wrong. Remembering how awful he’d felt afterward about being so selfish, he’d kept himself pure right up until the day he married Karina. But he couldn’t help worrying that his indiscretion opened a pattern of promiscuity in Suzy’s life. How else could he explain Suzy having a child but no husband?

  “Look, Paul, I don’t want to talk about this.” Clete rose, thumping his paintbrush into his can as he straightened. “I’ve heard enough of it from Tanya.”

  Paul hid a smile, imagining lively, enthusiastic Tanya jabbering in Clete’s ear.

  “And I’m praying about it. Plenty. But it’s gonna take time. Having a teenage niece dumped on me by my sister who ran off and got herself in trouble when I was just a kid isn’t exactly easy. To be perfectly frank, it embarrasses me.”

  Bitterness carried heavily in Clete’s voice. Paul, as an older man in the fellowship, should advise or admonish lovingly, but what could he say that wouldn’t be hypocritical? He had no business lecturing Clete for his actions when his own had been so questionable. Were still questionable. He hadn’t asked Suzy’s forgiveness yet.

  He searched for something to say that might soothe Clete without sounding like a criticism. “Well, try to remember Suzy’s choices were her own. You aren’t responsible for what she did.” But I am. “So you don’t need to be embarrassed.” But I do.

  “Yeah.” Clete removed his ball cap, ran his hand over his sweaty hair, then settled the cap back in place. “Easy for you to say, not so easy for me to do.” He stepped around the paint can at his feet. “This is almost done. Can you finish up alone? I have some work in the barn.”

  “Sure, go ahead.” Paul watched Clete trudge toward the barn, his shoulders slumped and head low as if weighted by a mighty burden. Paul became aware of a dull ache between his shoulder blades from today’s labor. Or was it from the weight of guilt?

  He’d eaten the lunches Mrs. Zimmerman insisted on giving him, but he’d eaten in the yard rather than in the house, trying to distance himself from Suzy and the old memories that wanted to pummel him every time she was near. But he’d put off his talk with her long enough. He had to leave by three to be home when Danny got there. Which meant he had an hour to finish the ramp and catch Suzy for a short, private conversation.

  Lord, open the door, and then give me the courage to march through it. Just as the old house is due for a good scraping and repaint, I’m due to shed these regrets from the past and start new with Suzy. Praying helped ease the tension in his shoulders. He set to work with the paintbrush again, keeping one eye on his wristwatch so he wouldn’t miss his self-imposed deadline to issue that too-long-held apology.

  Suzanne

  Suzanne held a clothespin between her teeth and, with a few deft snaps of her wrist, flipped the last wet sheet over the clothesline. She quickly pinned it at one end, then scurried to the other to secure it before it slipped from the line. The wind wasn’t roaring across the plains today the way it could in Kansas, but she never knew when a sudden blast might surprise her. She wanted the sheet secure just in case.

  With the sheet safely clipped, she grabbed the basket and moved farther down the line to hang towels. The laundry waved gently in the breeze, releasing the scent of soap—a fresh scent that pleased her senses. Tonight she’d lay her head on air-dried sheets carrying the smells of wind and grass. She smiled, thinking about it. Maybe when she returned to Indiana, she’d run a line across the little balcony of her apartment and hang her towels and pillowcase. The sheets wouldn’t fit—the balcony was too small—but a clean-scented pillowcase would be nice.

  Then she shook her head. What a silly thought. The fabric would pick up the odors of neighbors’ charcoal grills, garbage bins, and car exhaust. Did she want to fill her dreams with those aromas? Absolutely not. She clipped the last towel to the line, scooped up the basket, and turned to go back to the house. As she stepped from between the sheets, someone moved into her pathway and startled her so badly she dropped the basket. The remaining wooden clothespins scattered across the grass.

  “Whoops!” Paul stooped down and began gathering the pins. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Well, for not meaning to, you did a good job.” Suzanne clutched her chest, willing her pounding heart to calm. She’d avoided the front porch so their pathways wouldn’t cross, and here he was anyway. “What are you doing back here?”

  He lifted the basket and stood, his lips twitching into a weak grin. “I came looking for you.”

  “I came looking for you.” Her pulse scampered, and her stomach danced, and half of her gloried while the other half moaned in despair. How could such a simple statement bring such a strong reaction? “Why?” The word blasted out more tartly than she’d intended, but he didn’t back off.

  “There’s something I need to say to you. Something I’ve needed to say for a long time. And I told myself I wouldn’t leave today until I’d said it.”

  She wished he’d hurry up and get it over so she could go inside. With Mother constantly singing his praises and the reminder of his presence all over the house in his handiwork, she’d spent far too much time thinking about him than was healthy for her. She took the basket from him and hugged it tightly against her ribs. “Well, what is it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She drew back, uncertain.

  “For … what I did.” Color climbed his cheeks all the way to his temples, as bold red as the misshapen ball cap covering his hair.

  She needed no further explanation. His blushing face and stuttered words spoke with eloquence. Heat filled her face. Trapped between the damp sheet, which slapped against her bare calves, and his sturdy frame, she could only stand there gripping the basket, too embarrassed to speak.

  “We were young, but that’s no excuse. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. And then you left, and you never came back, so I couldn’t ask your forgiveness. But I’m asking now. Will you forgive me, Suzy?”

  Her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. She wanted to speak—to assure him he had no reason to beg forgiveness, she’d been wrong, too—but no words would come out.

  He sighed, hanging his head. “I know it’s a lot to ask. If it hadn’t been for me, you would’ve stayed here in Arborville and … and …”

  Suzanne’s ears began to buzz—a stress-induced reaction. She had to get inside. “Paul, it’s all right.” Her voice came out shrilly, as if a stranger were speaking. “As you said, we were young. We made a mistake. But it was a long time ago, and we don’t need to worry about it anymore.”

  His head lifted and he gazed into her eyes. “So you forgive me?”

  She recognized his deep need for absolution. She nodded.

  His entire body seemed to relax, his shoulders straightening and his lips curving into a smile. �
��Thank you, Suzy.”

  Clearly he’d found freedom from his burden. But what of hers? She needed forgiveness, too, but asking for it would only reveal things she wanted to keep secret. So she said, “I’m Suzanne now,” and then darted for the house.

  Suzanne

  Suzanne had just finished asking the blessing for breakfast when the slam of the back screen door alerted her to someone’s arrival. Her mother looked up, a piece of buttered toast in her hand, and frowned.

  “It’s not even seven thirty yet. Is that Paul already?”

  Suzanne considered asking if she should go check, but if it was Paul battling his way through the kitchen—judging by the scrapes and bumps, whoever it was must be shifting things right and left—she didn’t want to see him. Their brief encounter at the clothesline last night had haunted her dreams. He’d apologized to her and asked her forgiveness, but he had no idea how much she needed his forgiveness. And she couldn’t ask for it.

  Mother continued to frown toward the doorway leading to the kitchen. “What is going on in there? It sounds like someone set loose a herd of buffalo.”

  Alexa dabbed her mouth with her napkin and rose. “I’ll go see.” But as she rounded the table, Shelley charged through the little hallway. Some sort of cloth flapped over her bent arm as she came. Alexa quickly moved aside, and Shelley passed her without acknowledging her presence. She crossed directly to Mother’s chair and thrust the items—dresses, Suzanne now realized—forward.

  “I got them done. And they’d better fit because now that the girls are home from school for the summer, I can’t get out the machine without them pestering me. Don’t plan on me doing any alterations.”

  Mother offered Shelley a wry grin. “Good morning, Shelley. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  Shelley blew out a little breath that stirred the black ribbons trailing from her cap. “I had a cup at Clete and Tanya’s when I dropped the twins over there.” She rolled her eyes and continued, keeping her focus fixed on Mother as if Suzanne and Alexa were invisible. “Would you believe Tanya asked to keep the girls for the day? To have some sort of first day of summer celebration. Who celebrates something like that? Celebrating the first day of school, that I would understand. Getting those two out from under my feet is reason to cheer. The summer can’t go fast enough to suit me.”

  Suzanne experienced a pang of regret. She wished she could caution her sister about willing time to fly. Children grew up so quickly—the childhood years were fleeting and precious. She glanced at Alexa, and tears stung. If only she could turn back time and enjoy her daughter’s growing-up years again.

  Shelley headed for Mother’s bedroom, her stride as rigid as a soldier on parade. “I’ll put these in your closet. I hope you have some extra hangers because I didn’t bring any.”

  “Leave that peachy-colored one on the end of my bed,” Mother said to Shelley’s retreating back. “I’ll wear it to my doctor’s appointment today.”

  Shelley paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder with her brow pinched into a scowl. “What doctor’s appointment?”

  Mother broke off a bit of toast and carried it to her mouth. “My six-month checkup with the neurologist.”

  Shelley marched back to the table and balled her hand on her hip. “Why didn’t you tell me you had an appointment today?”

  “You were with me when we scheduled the visit.”

  “Well, it isn’t as if I haven’t had anything else to think about since then.” Shelley glowered for a moment, then released a heavy sigh. “Do you need me to take you?”

  “Suzanne is taking me.” Mother took another bite of the toast, ignoring the crumbs that dotted her dress front. “Suzanne and Alexa.”

  Shelley whipped a short look in Suzanne’s direction but didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I see.” She sounded grim.

  Suddenly a sly glimmer entered Mother’s eyes. “You could come with us.”

  Shelley’s scowl deepened. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  Although she wouldn’t have thought to include Shelley—mostly because Shelley didn’t seem to want to be included—Suzanne was glad Mother suggested it. They’d lost so many years, they might never be close, but if they spent time together maybe they could at least learn to be civil. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Why don’t you come along?”

  Alexa piped up. “Sure! The car will hold us all, and your girls are celebrating the first day of summer. You can celebrate, too, with a trip to Wichita.”

  Suzanne squeezed Alexa’s hand in silent appreciation for her support. Alexa could have argued about including Shelley and with good reason—Shelley treated her niece as if she had leprosy. Pride in her daughter brought a smile to her face and a lift in her heart. “After we’re done at the doctor’s, we plan to go to lunch at the restaurant Mother likes so much out on the highway—the one with the gift shop attached. They have such unique items there and a great menu. I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”

  Shelley snapped, “Eating out is extravagant. Don’t you have food in the cupboards?”

  Mother answered. “I’m tired of sandwiches for lunch every day. Eating out once in a while won’t hurt anything.”

  Shelley gawked at Mother. “But you’ve always said—”

  “Do you want to come or not?” Mother glared at Shelley as if daring her to keep arguing. “As Alexa said, there’s room in the car. You don’t have to worry about the girls. Suzanne wants you to come.”

  Suzanne watched various emotions—anger, indecision, perhaps even desire—play across her sister’s face. Shelley could be pretty if she would drop her stern demeanor. She was far too young to already have deep grooves etched between her eyebrows from constantly scowling. Suzanne wanted to give her sister a day of fun and relaxation, to see those lines diminished and a smile grace her face instead.

  Unconsciously she leaned forward slightly, narrowing the distance between herself and Shelley. “Please come with us. I’ve had some one-on-one time with Sandra, but you and I haven’t had the chance yet. Spend the day with us.”

  For a long time Shelley stood staring at her as though searching for hidden motives. Finally she blew out another little huff. “We’ll have to stop by the co-op and let Harper know what I’m doing, but all right. I’ll go.”

  “Well, help me change my dress.” Mother pushed away from the table and aimed her chair for the door. “But try not to mess up my hair. Suzanne got my bun just perfect this morning, and I don’t want her to have to redo it.”

  By the time they reached Wichita, Suzanne questioned the wisdom of inviting Shelley along. She’d given her the front passenger seat so they could talk on the way, but even though Mother and Alexa kept up a steady stream of chatter in the backseat, Shelley kept her lips so tightly closed only grunts could escape in response to Suzanne’s attempts at conversation. Eventually Suzanne fell silent, too, and let her sister stare broodingly out the window.

  During the doctor appointment, they both accompanied their mother to the examination room, but Shelley abruptly cut off Suzanne when she tried to ask the doctor questions. She tried not to be resentful. After all, Shelley had been Mother’s caretaker long before Suzanne returned to Arborville, but there were things she wanted to know so she could pass the information along to the new nurse who would be caring for Mother. Rather than embarrassing the doctor by participating in a power struggle in the office, she jotted down the things she wanted to know and left the note with the receptionist along with a request for the doctor to call her at his convenience.

  Shelley glowered at Suzanne all the way through the parking garage as if she thought Suzanne had left a terroristic threat with the genial woman at the desk. At the car Suzanne suggested Shelley ride in the back with Mother—she needed a respite from her sister’s stony silence—and to her relief Mother seconded Suzanne’s request. Shelley climbed in with Mother, but she continued her refusal to converse as they drove to the restaurant.

  When Suzanne parked the car, Alexa retriev
ed Mother’s wheelchair and Suzanne assisted her into its seat. She reached for the handles to push Mother across the parking lot, but Shelley crowded in front of her.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Mother chuckled. “Don’t fight over me, girls.”

  Shelley snorted.

  Suzanne sighed.

  They formed a tense parade with Alexa in the lead and Suzanne bringing up the rear. She battled the urge to deliver a swift kick to her sister’s posterior, but fortunately a prayer for patience alleviated the temptation.

  White rocking chairs lined the long porch in the front of the restaurant, and Alexa paused to set one in motion. “I love these,” she said, sending a grin across the group. “Wouldn’t a pair of them be pretty on your porch, Grandmother?”

  Shelley said, “She already has a porch swing, two folding lawn chairs, and a lounger. It would be cluttered with those things there, too.”

  Alexa’s smile dimmed momentarily, but it rejuvenated so quickly Suzanne was certain she was the only one who noticed the lapse. “You could replace the folding lawn chairs with these. The rockers are so much prettier, and they’re a lot more comfortable, too. Try one, Aunt Shelley, and you’ll see.”

  Shelley raised one eyebrow. “It would be a foolish waste of money to buy chairs when the ones we have are still good.”

  The ones on the porch had been used for so many years, the straps sagged and the metal frames were rusting, but it would be pointless to say so. Suzanne linked elbows with Alexa and steered her toward the door. “Let’s get inside, huh? I bet Mother is hungry. I know I am. I’m looking forward to chicken pot pie. Theirs is as good as any I’ve ever made at home.”