When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Alexa blew out a sigh. “I’m glad.”

  Suzanne lifted the phone again.

  “But, Mom?”

  Lowering her feet to the floor, Suzanne shifted to face Alexa. “What is it?”

  “I just wondered …” Alexa bit the corner of her mouth for a moment. “Did Uncle Clete tell you how Mr. Aldrich got hurt?”

  Suzanne shrugged. “No. He just said it didn’t happen on the job.”

  Alexa sat on in brooding silence, her narrowed gaze locked on something across the room.

  Suzanne placed her hand on her daughter’s knee. “Alexa, what is bothering you? Your concern for Mr. Aldrich is very sweet, but it seems a little out of place. After all, you hardly know the man.” She didn’t intend to scold, but neither did she want to encourage Alexa to develop a relationship with Paul. Nothing good could come of it.

  “Maybe I don’t, but …” Alexa tipped her head and peeked at Suzanne through her heavy fringe of eyelashes. “How well do you know him?”

  “We …”—Suzanne forced a light laugh—“grew up together. We were friends. Of course, that was a long time ago.”

  “Yeah.” Alexa crunched her brow, still pinning her mother with a thoughtful look. “Mom, on Monday morning when I went out to the barn to tell Uncle Clete I was ready to go to the paint store, I found him and Mr. Aldrich rolling on the barn floor, fighting.”

  Suzanne drew back in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  Alexa nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s how Mr. Aldrich got hurt.”

  Suzanne covered her mouth with her hand, stunned. No wonder Alexa had been quiet. What an awful thing to witness.

  “Mr. Aldrich told me they were fighting about something that happened a long time ago, but he wouldn’t tell me what.”

  Ice water seemed to fill Suzanne’s veins.

  “And Uncle Clete told me I should ask you about it. That it was your place to tell me. I thought that was a little odd, but Mr. Aldrich agreed and even said he’d pray for me to find the right time to ask you about it.” Alexa sucked in a breath and blew it out in a noisy rush. “So what happened, Mom? What were they fighting about?”

  It was Suzanne’s turn to fall silent. She had no idea what to say.

  Alexa waited while the steady ticktock of Dad’s old key-wound clock seemed to grow louder with each second. A full minute passed before Alexa spoke again, her voice strained and low. “I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit. Wondering. And I kind of put things together in my mind. Can I tell you what I think?”

  Suzanne, fearful of what would come next, refused to answer.

  Alexa went on as if she’d received approval. “I think maybe Clete attacked Mr. Aldrich because he was the one who got you pregnant. Am I right?”

  Shame roiled in Suzanne’s middle, melting the ice water and bringing it to a boiling point. Although her daughter’s tone held no recrimination, only a genuine desire to know, she couldn’t find the strength to speak of that painful time. In lieu of words, a low moan emerged from her throat.

  Alexa gripped her hand. Her fingers felt as hot as the bonfire they’d enjoyed only a few nights ago. Such a pleasant, relaxing night—a night of peaceful settling in together with her family, giving her a false sense of security. If Alexa discovered the truth, she’d never know peace again.

  Suzanne pulled loose and clutched her hands together in her lap.

  Tears flooded Alexa’s eyes. She leaned in, her face beseeching. “Mom, please tell me. I know you told me my father wasn’t here in Arborville, and if Mr. Aldrich is the one, then you must have lied to me.”

  Disappointment showed in her daughter’s face and voice—a disappointment brought on by Suzanne’s duplicity. Pain stabbed her chest with such ferocity she could barely take a breath.

  “Please tell me the truth now.” Alexa’s dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Am I right about why they were fighting?”

  The need to escape became too great to ignore. Suzanne bolted from the sofa and charged for the staircase. But something made her stop and look back at Alexa. The anguish in her daughter’s expression pierced her anew. Alexa wanted the truth. The Bible instructed believers to be truthful. But the truth would hurt Alexa, hurt Paul, hurt her mother and brother and sisters and even the extended family. She couldn’t tell the truth. God, who knew all and understood all, surely knew why she had to keep her secret, didn’t He?

  Alexa had guessed part of it. Suzanne wouldn’t outright lie and tell her she was wrong. But neither would she divulge every bit of the truth she’d held to herself for more than nineteen years. Truth, yes, but the whole truth? Absolutely not. Not even in a court of law.

  She held her arms open, and with a little cry Alexa dashed to her. She held her daughter close, the way she had when Alexa was a toddler in need of comforting. She stroked Alexa’s hair, pressed her lips to her temple, and finally took her face in her hands. Her courage gathered, she whispered raggedly, “Yes, honey. He’s the one. And I beg you … don’t ask me about it again.”

  Alexa

  Mom released her and darted up the stairs. Alexa stood at the bottom of the staircase and stared into the shadowy landing, too stunned to move. When she’d offered her speculation, she’d half expected Mom to say her active imagination had carried her away again. To instead have her suspicion confirmed left Alexa weak and reeling.

  She didn’t think she could manage the stairs, so she stumbled back to the sofa and dropped onto the faded cushions. The question that had plagued her from the time she was old enough to understand their family was different from others was now answered. She could replace the nameless, faceless image in her mind with Paul Aldrich, a tall dark-haired man with brown eyes and a warm smile.

  But with the knowledge came a rush of new questions. Why hadn’t Grandmother and Grandfather insisted Mr. Aldrich do the honorable thing and marry Mom? Why had they instructed Mom to give the baby away? Were they trying to protect themselves from humiliation, or were they trying to protect Mom from something else?

  She whispered into the quiet room. “Did they send Mom away to shield her from … Dad?” She sampled the title. Somehow it didn’t settle well. Not yet. It was too new, too unfamiliar. She’d need some time to adjust to it, to decide if she wanted to pursue a father-daughter relationship. Sadness sagged her shoulders. As much as she’d longed to know her father, now only uncertainty gripped her.

  Her grandparents had separated Mom from the boy who’d impregnated her. Mom’s tearful instruction to never speak of the subject again, the fact that she’d lied to Alexa earlier when asked if her father was in Arborville, the secrecy surrounding her conception and birth, and her uncle’s violent behavior toward Mr. Aldrich made her wonder if he’d not always been the pleasant, kind person he seemed to be today.

  She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, huddling into a small ball. Had he, at one time, hurt her mother in some way?

  The troublesome question followed her up the stairs and rolled through her dreams. By morning Alexa had made a decision. She wouldn’t ask Mom for the details of her relationship with Mr. Aldrich. Nor would she ask Grandmother or Uncle Clete. But she would satisfy her curiosity. Somehow. No matter how long it took.

  After a simple breakfast of instant oatmeal and juice, she started the percolator and then penned a note for her mother. Spending the morning in the summer kitchen. Don’t worry. I ate something and I’m fine—just feel like being alone. It’s a girl thing. She added a smiley face and left the note on the dining room table where she knew Mom would find it. Then she headed outside.

  Her sandals were wet from dew by the time she reached the summer kitchen, so she kicked them off and left them on the stoop. She propped the door open and then opened the north and south windows to allow a cross breeze. It was pleasant now, but as the sun crept higher, the temperature would rise. Eventually she hoped to cook out here, but she had no desire to cook herself. Too bad the little house was no longer hooked to a power line—she�
��d drag out the fan from her bedroom. Getting electricity would be the first item on her to-do list for the summer kitchen.

  Armed with her smartphone, paper, and pencil, she sat at the table and began creating a renovation plan. She’d need contractors to take care of the big things like plumbing, electricity, painting, and reshingling the exterior. Those jobs would eat up most of her budget. So she’d have to be thrifty in fixing up the interior. She wasn’t worried. Growing up in a single-parent household, she’d learned to shop at secondhand stores, flea markets, and garage sales. She loved scoring a good bargain, and as she sketched out her plans, her excitement grew.

  Not only would the summer kitchen become a cottage getaway for her and Mom when they came to visit Grandmother—because they would come to visit every year from now on if she had anything to say about it—but it would give her an excuse to spend time with Mr. Aldrich. He was a carpenter. He knew every contractor in the area. He would become her go-to guy. And as she spent time with him, asking him questions about renovations and decorating and designing a small but efficient bathroom, she would get to know him. As a worker, but also as a man. And, eventually, as a father.

  In time, when they were comfortable with each other—when she felt secure enough—she would come right out and ask what she needed to know. She lifted her head from her notebook and voiced the most pressing question. “Mr. Aldrich, why didn’t my mother’s family allow you to be part of my life?”

  The border collie, Pepper, set up a raucous barking. Alexa’s pulse skipped a beat. She rose and darted to the door. Sure enough, Pepper was chasing Mr. Aldrich’s truck up the lane. The pickup rolled to a stop next to Uncle Clete’s pickup. Pepper, still barking, circled the truck, her tail wagging as fast as a hummingbird beating its wings.

  Both the driver and passenger doors opened, and Mr. Aldrich and his son climbed out. Pepper attacked Danny, leaping and licking and barking all at once. Danny’s giggles carried all the way across the yard, and Alexa couldn’t help smiling.

  Mr. Aldrich gave the dog’s neck a few scratches before turning toward the house. Alexa ducked back in case he looked in her direction—she didn’t want to be caught spying on him, but it warmed her to see his kindness toward that annoying, long-haired mutt. She gave him enough time to get inside before peering out again.

  Danny had located a stick, and he gave it a mighty throw, hollering, “Git it, girl!” Pepper took off in a black-and-white blur. She snatched up the stick in her mouth and whirled, but instead of carrying it to Danny, she raced toward the wheat fields. Danny charged after her. “Pepper, you crazy dog! You come back here!”

  Alexa held her breath and hid in the shadows until the dog zipped by with her ears flapping and long fur waving. Danny pounded behind her, continuing to call fruitlessly for the dog to come back. He came to a halt at the edge of the yard and plunked his fists on his hips. “Fine then! I didn’t wanna play with you anyway!”

  Turning, he kicked at the long wild grass growing near the field and then scuffed toward the house. As he passed the summer kitchen, he glanced up and spotted Alexa. A grin formed on his face. He ambled over. “Hi! What’cha doing out here?”

  A little embarrassed to be caught spying, she shrugged. “Thinking. Dreaming.” She tipped her head toward the wheat field where Pepper had disappeared. “Did Pepper abscond with your stick?”

  “Abscond? What’s that?”

  “Steal.”

  “Oh.” Danny’s grin turned into a scowl. “Yeah. Crazy dog. It was a good stick, too. I could’ve used it to hit rocks. But I guess I can find another one. There’re lots of trees out here, so lots of sticks.” His grin returned, and he swung his arms, lightly brushing the legs of his trousers with each swing. “What’re you dreaming about?”

  Alexa had spent time with Danny already, but now seeing him as her half brother, not just a little boy, made her look at him differently. His thick dark hair, cut short, spiked upward above his left eyebrow with a natural cowlick. He looked a lot like his father, with eyes of brown sugar and a dimpled chin. In his button-up plaid shirt, trousers, and boots—odd summer attire for a child—he was a miniature of Paul Aldrich. And since he’d lived every minute of his life with the man, he would know him well enough to share some information if Alexa wanted to ask.

  Two emotions struck simultaneously—jealousy and eagerness. She chose to push the first aside and adopt the second. She smiled and held her hand toward the table where a pair of chairs waited. “Come on in and have a seat. I’ll tell you what I’m dreaming about, and you can tell me what you think of it. Okay?”

  Alexa

  “Wow, you have good dreams.”

  Alexa chuckled. Danny’s comment pleased her more than she could understand. She fiddled with the edge of the paper and shrugged. “I have a good imagination. My mom tells me I have an overly active one.” Was it her active imagination that had conjured the idea of Mr. Aldrich being a less-than-stellar choice as a husband and father?

  “I hope you get to do all that.” Danny pointed at the drawings. “Do you think you’ll get it done soon? Because I’d like to come out and play in here when it’s done. My friend Jeremy and me built a fort in his backyard out of blankets and stuff, but this would be a lot better. A wall that moves back and forth?” His eyes glowed. “I like that!”

  “Not a moving wall, just a curtain that slides on a track.”

  Danny grinned. “Okay. It’d still be neat, though. Would it be all right with you if Jeremy and me played in your cottage? If Dad lets us come out with him, I mean?”

  Another idea seemed to drop from the ceiling and clunk Alexa on the head. She gasped.

  Danny stared at her. “What?”

  She flipped to a clean sheet of paper and began writing furiously.

  He leaned forward, squinting at the page. “What’cha writing?”

  “Shh. Gimme a minute.”

  He froze in place, his arms folded underneath his chest and his gaze following the point of her pencil. When she jabbed a final period in place, he lifted his face to give her a wide-eyed look. “Did you have another dream?”

  Alexa tapped the top of his head with her pencil. “I did. And you’re the inspiration for this one.”

  Danny bounced in his chair, making the legs squeak. “What is it?”

  “Huh-uh.” Alexa rose and clutched the notebook to her chest, grinning at him. “Not yet. I need to talk to your dad first.” She wanted to say our dad, and sadness momentarily struck. She pushed the feeling aside. If this worked out, she’d have the chance to get to know—to really get to know—her father.

  “Aww …” Danny sagged into the chair. “C’mon, Alexa, tell me. Please?”

  She fought a giggle. She’d loved interacting with the kids at the grade school cafeteria and had imagined having a younger sibling, but the reality was much better than her imaginings. Danny was adorably personable, and he’d already weaseled his way into her affections. Temptation to share her idea teased, but in the end she decided it wouldn’t be fair to get his hopes up and then crash them if Mr. Aldrich said it wasn’t possible.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo, but you’ll have to wait.”

  Danny heaved a mighty sigh.

  She headed for the door. “C’mon. I baked monster cookies yesterday. We’ll ask your dad if you can have one.”

  His face instantly transformed from melancholy to delight. “Okay!”

  They walked together across the sunlit yard—Alexa cautiously, her sandals in her hand, and Danny half-skipping, half-sauntering. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Danny was such a happy, well-adjusted, well-behaved, seemingly well-cared-for kid. Watching his joyful progress, Alexa pondered anew why she’d been kept separated from her father all these years. Something didn’t make sense.

  Paul

  The sound of his son’s giggle preceded the slap of the back screen door into its frame. Paul paused in attaching the new handle to the cabinet drawer and watched for Danny to bounce into the kitchen. B
ounce, not walk, because Danny tended to do everything with exuberance. To Paul’s surprise, Alexa entered first with Danny trailing on her heels like a shadow. Seeing the two of them together took his breath away. My children …

  “Dad, Alexa made monster cookies, and she said I could have one if it was all right with you. So is it all right? Can I have one? Please?”

  Paul didn’t intend to ignore Danny, but he couldn’t seem to peel his attention away from the way Alexa smiled down at the boy. With affection and indulgence and a hint of amusement. Her expression reminded him of how Suzy used to look at Clete. Even when Paul had gotten aggravated with her younger brother, wishing he’d go away and stop bugging them, she never lost her temper with him. He’d dubbed the special look “big sisterly.” Now Alexa had it, too. What a gift Danny was receiving, and he didn’t even know it.

  “It won’t spoil my lunch. Honest. One cookie?”

  Danny’s begging finally pulled Paul to the present. He coughed into his hand to open his tight throat before answering. “Sure. If Alexa wants to share, that’s fine.”

  She gave him a look he could only define as hopeful. “Would you like one, too? They’re full of oats and peanut butter and chocolate chips and walnuts—really good.”

  Although his stomach was still full from the hearty breakfast he’d eaten at the café before coming out to work, he wouldn’t decline a cookie from his daughter. “I’d love one.”

  Alexa put down the notebook she’d been carrying and popped open a plastic tub. She held it to Danny first, who eagerly snatched out a cookie and carried it directly to his mouth, then she offered the tub to Paul. He swiped his hand along his pant leg twice before fishing out a cookie as big as his palm. He aimed a grin at Alexa as he held the cookie aloft. “They look good.”

  “Mm, ’ey are good,” Danny mumbled around a mouthful.

  Paul shook his head at his son, frowning slightly.

  Danny swallowed the bite, then shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to talk with food in my mouth.”