She laughed. “Uh-huh. Amazing how different it looks when you break up the pattern, isn’t it? I found those two paintings—they’re original oils, I think—tucked under the eaves and hidden under old sheets.”
Paul remembered Suzy going through an artistic stage and giving paintings to everyone one year for Christmas. He probably still had the one she’d given him tucked away somewhere. Were these gifts to her parents back then?
Alexa had crossed to the paintings and ran her fingers along the edge of the second one’s frame. “Even though the scenes are very different, the colors coordinate well enough that they make a great pairing there over the sofa. I love them. They’re so folk-artsy.”
He didn’t know what folk-artsy meant, but he assumed it was a good thing. “I wonder why they were hidden away?”
“I dunno.” Alexa shrugged again, the gesture girlish. “But they’re out now. Just like this lap quilt, which makes a perfect wall hanging, and the mirror I put over the piano. What a shame to leave it collecting dust in the attic! The crack in the corner doesn’t even bother me because the shape of the frame is so pleasing—like a cathedral window. And doesn’t it make the room feel bigger? Those candle sconces are perfect beside it. They were in the same box as the doilies.”
She touched the empty, scrolled candle plate with her finger, tipping her head as if thoroughly examining the sconce. “I couldn’t find any silver polish to buff them up, but I think I’ll leave them alone. The tarnish tells a story of the years they’ve been in service. As time goes by, we all get a little nicked and marred, but those scars only prove we lived.”
Paul shook his head. “Alexa, that was beautifully stated. You should be a poet.” He glanced around again, marveling. “Or a decorator.”
She grinned. “Thanks. Doing all this was so fun. It’s made me realize how much I would enjoy taking an old house and renovating it to use as a retreat place.”
Had she inherited this creative bent from him? He was a decorator of sorts with his woodworking and remodeling. The thought pleased him. “Obviously you have the vision and the talent to make it happen.” Paul hoped his own desires wouldn’t come through too much with his next comment. “Have you … given opening a bed-and-breakfast out here more thought?”
Alexa bit down on her lip for a moment. “Honestly? I’ve hardly thought of anything else. It just seems so perfect, you know? The location, the size of the house, even the little summer kitchen that could be my private quarters. But Grandmother wasn’t keen on the idea, and Mom almost had a cow.”
Paul sputtered. “She did what?”
Alexa grimaced. “Sorry. It’s an expression the kids at the grade school use. I mean Mom pretty much told me to forget it. She—” Pink mottled her cheeks. She looked away. “Never mind. I don’t think Mom would appreciate me talking to you about her.”
No, she wouldn’t. But what Suzy wanted wasn’t important to him. What his daughter wanted was. “If it would help to talk it out, I’m listening.” His heart beat a hopeful thrum. Would she share her thoughts with him? He wanted her to. He wanted her to trust him enough.
To his disappointment, she shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll sort it out eventually.” She offered a weak grin. “Thanks for asking, though.”
He nodded. They stood in awkward silence for a few seconds, then he gave a little jolt. “Guess what? The kitchen cabinets are all in. Want to see?”
Her cheerfulness returned in the space of a heartbeat. “You bet!”
As his daughter followed him to the kitchen, he sent up a prayer for her dreams to come to fruition. For her, of course, but—admittedly—also for him.
Suzanne
“Here we go.” Suzanne gave Mother’s wheelchair a push and propelled her across the mall’s parking lot. The bright sun heated her head, and the black asphalt heated her soles. Sweat trickled down her temples. The weatherman had predicted the highest temperature of the month for Friday, and apparently he was right. Only nine o’clock, and already the thermostat on the mall’s digital billboard showed ninety-eight degrees. She was glad they’d chosen to visit the mall today, where air conditioning would keep them cool.
A teenage boy with red dyed hair badly in need of a trim and wearing baggy cutoff jeans and a T-shirt bearing the image of a wild-eyed rock star shot past them, the strings of his untied sneakers flopping on the ground. He caught the door handle and pulled the glass door wide. Suzanne expected him to dart through and let the door close in their faces, but to her surprise he remained braced at the edge of the entrance and said, “There ya go.”
Suzanne gave him a grateful smile as she pushed Mother’s chair through the opening. “Thank you very much.”
“No problem.” He skirted around them and joined a group of teenage boys wearing similar ratty apparel. The entire gang sauntered off together in the direction of the food court.
Mother tsk-tsked.
Suzanne could imagine what her mother was thinking. “Don’t be critical. He was kind to hold the door for us.”
Mother angled her face so she could peek at Suzanne. “Don’t leap to conclusions. I was berating myself. When I saw him, I thought, ‘Oh, what a thug. Hold on to your purse.’ Then he behaved like a gentleman. It was a good lesson to me not to judge a book by its cover.” Suzanne, humbled, offered an apology, but Mother waved it aside. “Don’t worry about it. Of course you’d assume I was being critical given how often I am critical.”
But she hadn’t been during this trip. Suzanne smiled to let her know all was forgiven. “Tell me when you want to go in to one of the stores. There’s a little of everything here.” She slowly pushed the chair across the tiled floor that formed a wide hallway between shops.
Kiosks created random islands in the center, leaving a narrow passageway. Suzanne stopped frequently, sometimes to allow others to pass, other times to change direction slightly to avoid bumping into benches or trash bins. Although the mall was crowded and noisy, Mother voiced no word of complaint but merely sat in her chair, hands folded in her lap over her pocketbook, gazing this way and then that.
In only a few hours, they’d be heading back to the farm. Suzanne couldn’t believe how quickly the time had passed. Or how pleasant it had been. After an uncomfortable first evening, they’d managed to relax and enjoy each other’s company—something that probably surprised Mother as much as it had Suzanne. Although they hadn’t engaged in in-depth conversations, keeping the topics both current and light in nature, there had been no lengthy, chilly silences.
Their room at the bed-and-breakfast inn was so comfortable Mother had teasingly threatened to move in permanently. Suzanne understood why. The innkeepers took excellent care of the guests, providing a delicious breakfast and making their library, courtyard, and television room available. She and Mother hadn’t visited the television room, but they’d spent their early evening hours in the library and, as the sun slipped away, dusk in the courtyard.
Even though she’d tried not to, she imagined Alexa serving as a hostess—greeting the guests, preparing the sumptuous breakfast, making everyone feel at home. Her personality was suited to the position as were her interests and abilities. When Suzanne returned to the farm, she’d tell her daughter she would support her desire to open a B and B. But in Indiana, not in Kansas.
Mother tapped Suzanne’s hand. “Look, a card store. I want to find one to give Alexa to tell her thank you for this trip.”
Suzanne wheeled Mother into the shop, and they read every thank-you card on the rack before Mother made her selection. Suzanne didn’t mind waiting. Mother’s intention to choose the best card told Suzanne how much Alexa had come to mean to her. A hint of sadness pushed at the contentedness she’d been enjoying. Mother would miss Alexa when they left. And Alexa would miss her grandmother.
With the chosen card in hand, Mother asked to browse the store. They laughed at the silly sayings on coffee mugs and admired the intricately painted bird figurines. Mother commented that the bluebird pai
r would look sweet on the windowsill, so Suzanne offered to buy them as her birthday present. Mother opened her mouth as if to argue, then instead bobbed her head. “Thank you, Suzanne.” They looked a little longer, fingering several items and pondering the purpose of others. Then Mother said, “All right. Let’s check out.”
They finished window-shopping on the first level and then rode the elevator to the second level. Just as Suzanne pushed Mother’s chair from the elevator, she let out a little cry and pointed ahead. “Look! Is that the teddy bear store Tanya said we should visit?”
Suzanne wheeled the chair to the store’s window. A smile tugged at her lips. She couldn’t help it. Dozens of teddy bears, cats, dogs, and assorted farm and jungle animals formed a cheerful chorus line across the display window. Some wore costumes, and Suzanne pointed out the elephant in a bright pink tutu and ballet slippers.
Mother laughed. “Oh, how ridiculous! But somehow also clever. Let’s go in.”
“Really?” There was nothing in the shop that would be considered practical. She couldn’t imagine her mother wanting to visit it.
Mother rolled her eyes, but her cheeks twitched with a grin. “Yes, really. I want to see what all they have.” She slipped her pocketbook between her hip and the chair’s side and took control of the wheels. Suzanne followed her inside.
Enthusiastic children swarmed a row of bins along the longest wall. Suzanne worked Mother’s chair into the midst of them, murmuring, “Excuse me.” When they were able to get close enough to look, they discovered the bins contained empty shells of various animals. Mother lifted out a giraffe and wriggled her fingers into an opening in its back. She scowled at the form.
A girl who looked to be close to Alexa’s age, wearing a striped cobbler’s apron with Lacey stitched across the bib, stepped close. “Can I help you with anything?”
Mother held the giraffe aloft. “Are these puppets? If so, the opening is too small for my hand.”
Lacey laughed and took the giraffe. “No, ma’am. That’s where we stuff the toy.” She gestured toward an odd-looking machine in the corner where several children and adults clustered with animals in their hands. “Once you’ve chosen what animal you want to build, you take it over there, and we can put in a heart or a little talking box before we fill it with stuffing. Then your new friend is completely personalized.”
“I see.” Mother took the giraffe back and examined it. She glanced toward the displays of little dresses, overalls, and other clothing items. “And then you dress them?”
“If you want to.” Lacey beamed at Mother. “Would you like to build a friend to take home with you today?”
Suzanne expected Mother to toss the giraffe body aside and wheel away. The store was obviously geared for youngsters, and surely she was ready to go. She gripped the handles on Mother’s wheelchair, anticipating her response.
“Yes. I would like to build a friend for each of my grandchildren.”
Suzanne jolted in surprise. Then she cleared her throat. She’d gotten a peek at the price tags. Leaning down, she whispered in Mother’s ears, “Um, are you sure? You’d need seven of them.”
“Eight.” Mother aimed a beaming smile at Lacey. “My youngest daughter is expecting another baby at the end of this month. So I need eight.”
“Congratulations! And what a fun way to celebrate.” Lacey rubbed her palms together. “Let’s get you started. Do you want bears, or do you prefer something less traditional?”
Suzanne felt like an interloper while Mother and Lacey formed a stack of animals in Mother’s lap. For Jay she chose a black-and-white dog that looked a bit like Pepper. For Jana and Julie she selected cats—one gray and one yellow. After debating for a bit between cats or rabbits, she decided on white rabbits for Ruby and Pearl. She grabbed an elephant for Ian and a monkey for the new baby. Then she turned to Suzanne.
“What about Alexa? I’m thinking a bear—maybe that brown one there with the big nose. He looks sort of sophisticated.”
Lacey held up her finger. “Let me show you something.” She darted off and then fought her way back through the crowd. She showed Mother a tiny tuxedo, top hat, and bow tie. “If you want your bear to look sophisticated, you should dress him in this.”
Mother laughed again. “Perfect!” She plopped the clothing items on top of the animal shells, then smirked at Suzanne. “It’s so crowded in here. Why don’t you go somewhere else for a little while? I’m in good hands with Lacey. Come back for me in …” She looked at Lacey. “How long?”
Lacey glanced around the store at the other customers. “I’d say at least an hour.”
“An hour and a half then. That will give me time to finish up.” Mother waved at Suzanne. “Go. Explore. Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
Abigail
Abigail watched Suzy leave the store, her progress slow with so many others weaving here and there, and then move past the windows. Once she was certain her daughter was gone, she aimed a conspiratorial look at Lacey. “Can we build a dozen toys instead of eight? Is that too many?”
Lacey grinned. She was a cute girl even though her brown-and-blond-streaked hair was cut in some sort of odd, spiky style longer on one side than the other. “You can build as many as you want. Are you expecting more grandchildren?”
Abigail shook her head. The black ribbon from her cap tickled her chin, and she pushed it over her shoulder. “I want one for each of my daughters and my daughter-in-law. They’ve all been so good to me.” Tears pricked her eyes and her throat went tight. Why had she told Lacey something she should be telling Sandra, Shelley, Tanya, and Suzy instead? Somehow it was easier to talk to this stranger than her own family. That wasn’t right.
Lacey put her hand on Abigail’s shoulder. The girl’s touch was comforting. “Maybe you could put a little voice box in their animals with a message from you. Then they could listen to your words of appreciation whenever they want.”
Abigail sniffed hard, clearing the tears. She smiled, although her lips quavered. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.” Wouldn’t the girls be shocked to hear words of affirmation from their mother? But she loved the idea and couldn’t wait to get started. She knew just what she would say to each of them.
There were more than half a dozen styles of teddy bears, so Abigail chose a different design for each of the “big girls,” as she laughingly called them. Lacey took her to a little room where the store noise wouldn’t intrude and let her record her message on the voice boxes. Her voice cracked twice, and she had to start over on Suzy’s because emotion tangled her vocal cords so badly she couldn’t continue. But finally she got all four messages finished.
When the animals were stuffed and sewn, Lacey took her to the accessories section. The tiny clothes were all ridiculously overpriced—she could make them for a fraction of the cost—so she chose not to dress any of the animals except Alexa’s. The little tuxedo and top hat were too cute to leave behind. Besides, she didn’t think she could sew a top hat.
Once they had Alexa’s bear decked out in his formal wear, the others looked so naked she relented and put pink hair bows on the cats, lavender tutus on the rabbits, and secured footballs on the paws of Jay’s dog and Ian’s elephant. Since she didn’t know whether the new baby was a boy or a girl, she chose a little yellow bib with a rattle stitched in the center for its accessory. The four bears she built for her daughters each received a ruffled mobcap and a pair of wire spectacles, turning them into grandmother bears. Although the items added to the cost, she liked the way they looked, and she gave Lacey a thumbs-up signal, which made the girl laugh.
She’d just finished paying for the purchases when Suzy returned. Her daughter’s eyes widened when she looked at the stack of boxes on the counter. “Are these all yours?”
“Yep. Lacey and I built an entire menagerie.”
“It will take me at least three trips to get them all to the car.” Suzy shook her head, peeking in the little cut-out windows on the boxes. A grin twitched at her
cheek. “They are cute, though. The kids will be thrilled with them.”
Abigail hoped all of her kids, little and big, would be thrilled.
The cashier handed Abigail her receipt, and she quickly tucked it away before Suzy got a glimpse of it. No need to send her daughter into a dead faint. The purchase was extravagant—she wouldn’t deny it—but she couldn’t recall the last time she’d had such fun. The price tag was well worth it.
“Do you ladies plan to do more shopping?” the cashier asked.
Abigail nearly snorted. She might window-shop, but she didn’t dare spend another penny.
Suzy answered. “We plan to eat lunch in the food court and browse the other shops, yes.”
“If you’d like, you can leave these here. We have a little storage room where they can wait for you. Then, when you’re ready to go, one of our employees will help you take them to your car.”
Suzy’s shoulders relaxed as if a burden had been lifted. “That sounds perfect.”
“Good.” The cashier gestured for another worker to come over and instructed him to take the boxes to storage.
As the young man began to gather the boxes, Abigail waved her hands. “Wait! You can take all but … that one.” She pointed out the box with Suzy’s bear inside. “I want to keep that one with me.” The worker handed the box to her, and she said, “Thank you.” Then, eagerness robbing her of ceremony, she thrust the box at Suzy. “This is for you!”
Suzy drew back in surprise. “You built one for me?”
Happiness bubbled up in Abigail and spilled out in a giggle. A girlish giggle she hadn’t even realized she was capable of releasing. “Yes, I did! Let’s go to one of the benches in the hallway and you can look at it.”
Suzy’s face remained fixed in an expression of wonder. Abigail set her chair in motion, and Suzy moved alongside her with the box hugged against her chest. They had to go quite a ways from the bear store before she found an unoccupied bench, but she pulled her chair near it and then patted the seat, inviting Suzy to sit.
When Mercy Rains Page 29