Her knees began to quake. Without a word Derek got up, retrieved a chair from the dining room, and set it next to the rocking chair. Suzanne sank into it, grateful for Derek’s kindness. “When I walked through the emergency entrance, someone raced over with a wheelchair and asked me if I’d just given birth. I had, so I said yes. They took the baby and me to a room where the nicest nurse took care of me. She was so compassionate, so accepting.”
A soft sob sounded—Mother. Alexa immediately cupped her other hand over Mother’s. Satisfied Mother was being cared for, Suzanne went on.
“It didn’t seem to matter to her that I was only a teenager and there was no husband with me. She just … took care of me. When a hospital representative came in with a birth certificate, I gave the baby the nurse’s name—Alexa—because she’d been so kind. I added Joy as a middle name because the baby had brought me joy in the midst of my heartache.”
Tears slid down Alexa’s cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound. Suzanne wished she could hold her daughter’s hand, but Alexa was busy comforting Mother. She clasped her hands and tucked them between her knees.
“The representative recorded my name as the mother, and it felt so right. As if God had heard my prayers and decided to bless me for giving my own little baby to Andrew and Olivia. When she asked for the baby’s father’s name, I told the truth—I didn’t know who he was. And because I didn’t have a husband or family with me, a social service worker came in and told me about a couple who would let me stay with them for a while until I could get my feet under me. That’s how I went to live with Marvin and Cecilia Martens.”
Alexa smiled through her tears. “Papa Marv and Nana CeCe … They were so good to us. I love them.”
Suzanne smiled. “What a blessing they were. They encouraged me to get my GED, and when I said I wanted to become a nurse and help people the way the nurse Alexa had helped me, they supported my decision. I stayed with them until I earned my RN.” She shook her head, recalling their tender care. “The crowns waiting for them in heaven are surely encrusted with jewels. They were my saviors—Jesus with skin on.” Exhausted, Suzanne slumped against the chair back and fell silent.
Mother cleared her throat and spoke in a raspy voice. “So you didn’t have twins. Only one baby.”
Suzanne nodded wearily. “Yes. I’ve tried so hard not to tell outright lies even while withholding the truth that Alexa isn’t my biological child. I didn’t want to lie.” She turned to her daughter and prayed Alexa would see the love she held. “The deepest truth is this: Alexa, you are my God-given gift. From the first moment I held you to my breast, you were mine. I once saw a poem written from a mother to her adopted child, and it says so perfectly how I feel about you. You didn’t grow beneath my heart but in it.”
Tears flowed from her eyes, distorting her vision. She reached for Alexa, needing a connection with her, and to her relief she released Mother’s hand and reached back. Linked with her daughter, Suzanne shared another truth. “I never told you how you came to be my child because I was afraid I would lose you.”
She flicked a glance at Paul, who sat ramrod straight and silent, his gaze aimed slightly upward. “And I tried to keep you from Paul because I knew, eventually, both of you would assume he was your father. I didn’t want you forming a bond because—” Her voice broke, fresh guilt skewering her. “It could only lead to another loss. I didn’t want to hurt you yet again.”
Releasing Alexa, she pushed herself upright and walked woodenly toward Paul. “Please forgive me. I feel as if I’m stealing another child from you.”
Slowly he tilted his head until his gaze met hers. His stony expression pierced her, but she refused to look away. She deserved his condemnation, and she would accept whatever harsh words he threw at her. He rose stiffly, like a folding ruler being extended section by section. When he reached his full height, he drew in a breath. She braced herself for the verbal barrage.
“Anna-Grace Braun is the baby girl you gave up for adoption?”
She nodded.
“She is my daughter—yours and mine?”
Again she nodded. His flat tone and cold demeanor left her quivering in apprehension. The fiery glint in his eyes promised an eruption. When would it come?
“I lost her when you went away. But now she’s here. I won’t lose her again.” He started for the door. “Now that I know the truth, I’m going to tell her. I want my daughter.”
Abigail
“Paul, wait!” Abigail strained against her chair, against her useless legs. She wanted to race after him, to stop him before he made a grievous mistake. To her relief he halted a few feet from the door, but he didn’t turn around. His stiff bearing pulsated with impatience. She spoke to his back. “Give me a few minutes, please?” Even though he didn’t respond, she pretended as if he’d granted approval.
She sent a glance across the room. “Clete, Tanya, all of you—please go home. Alexa, go with Sandra, would you? I need to talk to your mother and Paul alone.”
Alexa crossed to Suzanne first, and the two embraced. They whispered to each other, words too low for Abigail to hear, while the others collected the children from upstairs and made their way outside. Alexa skirted around Paul and joined Sandra, who put her arm around the younger girl’s waist and delivered a kiss on her temple. Abigail’s heart swelled. With all the things she did wrong, she must have done a few things right to see her children respect her wish and react compassionately toward the little foundling they now knew wasn’t their flesh and blood.
As soon as the door closed behind Sandra, Abigail said, “Paul, Suzy, sit down.” Suzy returned to the rocker, close to her mother, but Paul clomped to the farthest sofa and perched on the edge of the cushion with his hands propped on his thighs as if prepared for escape. Abigail shook her head sadly. Such heartache in this room. Such pain and regret. She carried it, too. But maybe she could keep these two from inflicting further harm.
“All right. I need you to listen.” Lord, give me strength. “When Suzy came to me and told me she’d missed her monthly and that she had lain with you, Paul, I was very angry. My child and a young man I’d trusted had broken God’s laws. I was angry and disappointed and …”—she swallowed—“ashamed. The shame rose above all else, and every decision I made was to hide it. I was selfish. I thought only of myself. How embarrassed I would be if the fellowship found out. How much of a failure I would appear to those I held in esteem. So I told Suzy she couldn’t tell anyone else, and I sent her away to hide my shame. Because of my pride.”
Shaking her head again, Abigail heaved a regret-filled sigh. “So many scriptures warn of the pitfalls of selfish pride. I fell headlong into the pit, and I pulled so many down with me. Both of you, my dear Cecil, Clete, Shelley, and Sandra … So determined to cling to my pride and hide my shame, I turned bitter and ugly and harsh. I robbed both of you of the joy of raising your child, I robbed my family of the loving wife and mother they deserved, and I robbed myself of me.”
She snorted in self-recrimination. “What a foolish woman I’ve been. I didn’t think about what was best for anyone except myself. I was so very, very selfish and wrong.” She turned a steady look on Paul. “Don’t do what I did. Before you run off to Anna-Grace and tell her you’re her father, stop and ask yourself if you’re telling her because it’s for her good or yours.” She turned to Suzy. “And consider Alexa … She wants to stay here and open a bed-and-breakfast inn. Oh, I resisted her. In this old house? But look at what she’s done here. I can see it now—I can see her ministering to those who need refreshment. Don’t deny her the pursuit of her dream out of selfishness, Suzy. You’ve raised her right. Now trust her to spread her wings where God leads her.”
A tear slid down Suzy’s cheek, but she smiled and nodded. Abigail gave her hand a firm pat and then faced Paul again. “Paul, I beg your forgiveness. I wronged you, and you have every reason to hold to your anger. If you choose not to forgive me, to remain angry, I will understand. But I also beg you n
ot to let your anger at me trickle over on those who don’t deserve to experience the sting of wrath. Be better than I was—better than I am. Learn from my mistakes.”
Cecil’s trusty clock, faithfully wound each Sunday morning by Alexa, ticktocked on the wall. Abigail closed her eyes and prayed for God to move in their hearts, to work His will in their lives. As she prayed, tears—warm and cleansing—poured from her eyes. The joy of her salvation, of God’s amazing ability to forgive and make things clean, rolled through her in waves. Her daughter’s courage to speak truth had given her the courage to share her long-held secrets, too. Now healing could come, if only they would set aside self and open themselves to His leading.
The floor creaked—someone rising. Abigail opened her eyes and saw Paul crossing the expanse to Suzy’s chair. She held her breath, watching her daughter lift her face to the man who’d once possessed her heart. Would healing include new love blossoming between the two of them? Abigail began another prayer in her heart, for God to awaken romance for Suzy and Paul, but a whisper of recognition changed the prayer. Dear Father, it would please me if my precious daughter settled here in Arborville again where I could see her daily. But not my will … only Yours. Plant her where You would have her continue to grow.
Paul spoke gruffly. “We need to talk, but I can’t now. It’s after ten already, and I should let Mrs. Lapp go home. Can we … meet tomorrow? Somewhere public yet where we can talk privately?”
Suzy crunched her forehead. “I don’t know where—”
Abigail said, “The cemetery.”
They both looked at her as if she’d spoken a curse word.
She grimaced. Why on earth had she made such a suggestion? “It is a public place, yet no one would overhear. But maybe that’s a bit … morbid.”
But Paul shook his head. “No, I think that’s fine.”
Suzy said, “All right. What time? Ten o’clock?”
“Let’s make it nine. It won’t be quite so hot then.”
Suzy agreed and Paul left.
Abigail let Suzy push her chair through the house. Party reminders were everywhere—puckered balloons sagging on their ribbons, rumpled streamers, stray plates and cups, crumbs … The girls would have quite a chore cleaning tomorrow. She wilted into her chair, the ups and downs of the day creating an exhaustion greater than any she could recall from a day of hard labor.
Suzy helped her dress for bed, quiet and introspective yet somehow also peaceful. Abigail was grateful. Apparently her daughter’s release of secrets had let her cast off a weight. Although very tired, underneath Abigail felt light and airy. Free. Suzy tucked her into bed with a kiss on her cheek and a whispered good night, tender and loving, then switched off the light and left her alone.
She lay in the dark room, replaying what she’d told Suzy and Paul. Had she said enough? She believed so. She’d done all she could do to guide her daughter. Now it was up to Suzy and Paul to forge their pathways. If she could stay awake, Abigail would spend the night praying for them. And tomorrow, while Suzy was away talking with Paul and the girls were here cleaning up the party mess, she’d take Shelley aside for a talk about the consequences of holding to selfish pride.
Dear Lord, please don’t let my legacy of bitterness continue into the next generation.
Suzanne
Suzanne pulled up to the cemetery gate at a quarter to nine. She wanted a little time alone with her thoughts before Paul arrived. To her surprise he was already there, bent on one knee in front of his wife’s grave. She stayed in the car, unwilling to disturb him but unable to resist observing him. His lips remained closed, so he wasn’t talking to her, but his hands were busy. Plucking weeds? Arranging flowers? She couldn’t tell from this angle.
But she could see the age-carved furrows in his forehead, the unsmiling yet somehow soft line of his lips, the slight tilt of his head as if he listened to someone share a secret. He sat back on his heels and gazed at the headstone for several minutes, his eyes shifting, seeming to examine the stone inch by inch. Then his eyes slid closed, he lifted his face to the sky, and he sighed, nodded, and rose in one smooth motion. As he stood, his gaze moved outward and locked on hers.
Suzanne quickly opened her door and hurried across the close-cropped grass. Paul moved toward her at the same time, and they met on the gravel pathway weaving between stones. Neither of them spoke. Embarrassed at having been caught watching him, she didn’t know what to say. Apparently he didn’t either because he held his hand in silent invitation toward a cement bench tucked beneath a scraggly looking weeping willow tree in the far corner of the graveyard. She gave a brief nod, and he led the way.
They sat on opposite sides of the bench. Although in full shade thanks to the drooping, leaf-filled limbs, the cement was warm against her skin, but a gentle breeze stirred the branches and fanned her face. Somewhat secluded yet in full view of anyone who happened by, they’d found a perfect spot for a talk. If one of them finally decided to speak.
She waited several minutes for Paul to start. After all, he’d asked her to meet him. When he sat quietly, seemingly intrigued by a chip in his thumbnail, she cleared her throat and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Where is Danny this morning?”
Paul gave a little jolt. “Danny?” He angled a look at her, squinting with one eye. “I dropped him off at a friend’s house on my way over here. Said I’d pick him up before noon.”
Then they needed to get their talk going. But Danny seemed a safer topic, so Suzanne said, “He seems like a very bright, well-mannered boy. I know you’re proud of him. And I’m sure your wife would be, too. You’re doing a good job with him on your own.”
“Thanks. You’ve done well with Alexa, too. She’s … she’s a wonderful young woman.”
Did a hint of melancholy color his tone? She smiled her thanks. “I’m grateful every day to have her in my life. She’s my greatest blessing.”
Paul nodded slowly, his odd one-eyed gaze locked on her. Then he looked outward and released a heavy sigh. “It’s hard for me to let go of thinking of her as my daughter. These past weeks, seeing her almost every day and talking to her, getting to know her, I kind of grew to love her.” He reached up to massage the back of his neck. Red splotches formed along his jaw. “I feel a little foolish now about that. Seeing how she isn’t mine.”
Suzanne hung her head. “I’m sorry.”
He brought down his hand, swishing it through the air as if to shoo away her words. “All the apologizing in the world won’t change the situation, so how about we quit doing it and focus on something else, huh?”
“Like what?”
“Like Anna-Grace.”
Suzanne shifted slightly, crossing her ankles and giving Paul her full attention. “What did you decide to do?”
Paul lowered his head and scowled, scuffing the toe of one boot against the grass. “I sat up most of the night thinking about what your mother said, asking myself why I wanted her to know I was her father. I tried to convince myself she has the right to know. I kept thinking, wouldn’t she wonder about her real parents? Wouldn’t she worry she wasn’t wanted by her real parents, and she’d be happy to find out she wasn’t some castoff, rejected kid? But then I thought …” He clamped his jaw so tightly the muscles near his temple twitched.
Suzanne prompted gently, “You thought what?”
He looked at her. Anguish showed in his haunted eyes and the pinch of his brow. “I thought, she is wanted by her ‘real’ parents. Andrew and Olivia—they wanted her. They raised her. They’ve loved her and taught her and cared for her since she was only days old. Just like you with Alexa. And I started thinking how I’d feel if someone came along and tried to take Danny from me. I’d fight them. I’d fight them to the death. Why wouldn’t Andrew feel the same way about Anna-Grace?”
“So you’re going to …” Suzanne chose her words carefully. “Let her go?”
“Yeah. It’s hard, though.”
Suzanne recalled how it had hurt
last night to be in the same room with her daughter and unable to claim her. “I know.”
Paul jammed his toe against the ground once more, then bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I think it’s what Karina would tell me to do.” He sent a brief, sidelong glance at her. The red blotches deepened and rose into his cheeks. “Back before we got married, I told Karina about you—about what I did with you when we were young. It took her a while to accept it, but eventually she said she shouldn’t hold me accountable for something God had forgiven, because, in His eyes, it had never happened.”
He sat up, pressed his palms to the bench’s flat surface, and looked at her fully. “But it did happen, and you and I have to live with the consequences of that night. Even though God forgives, we both have to live with the regrets. Am I right?”
Suzanne nodded. She would carry the regret to her grave.
“But why should we tangle Anna-Grace in our regrets? As long as she’s happy with her dad and mom, why should we upset that?”
“We shouldn’t.”
“Yeah. We shouldn’t.” There was no joy in his voice, only resignation.
She dared to reach out and place her hand very lightly over his. “Paul, if I could do it over again, I’d tell you about our baby. I’d give you a chance to decide whether or not to be her dad. But now that it’s over and she’s grown up away from us, and our lives have gone in different directions, I can’t say I regret everything. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have found Alexa. If I’d stayed, you wouldn’t have married Karina or had Danny. I realize we each lost something when I went away and allowed Andrew and Olivia to adopt our baby girl, but we each gained something, too. Something we wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
When Mercy Rains Page 32