When Mercy Rains

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  He turned his hand upside down and wove his fingers with hers. “I’ve had a good life. I can’t complain.”

  She smiled. “Me, too.”

  He squeezed her hand. A soft, lopsided smile formed on his lips. “I don’t want to wallow in bitterness and anger. Danny deserves better than that. I choose to forgive. I forgive you, and I forgive your mother. I’ll tell her the next time I see her.”

  The last weight rolled from Suzanne’s heart. “Thank you, Paul.”

  “Thank you for telling me the truth. Even if I don’t have a relationship with Anna-Grace, I’ll pray for her. And—” He pulled his hand free and reached for his shirt pocket. He withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “I wrote this. For her. A letter, in case she ever asks who her biological parents are and why she was given up.”

  Suzanne stared at the sheet, wondering what he’d said.

  “I thought you might want to write one, too. Then we can put them together in an envelope and give it to Andrew and Olivia—let them decide when or if to share it with her.” He blew out a breath, shaking his head. “It was tough, putting my feelings down on paper, but it felt good. I think it helped me.” He pressed the square into her hand and closed her fingers over it. “I figured you’d want to see what I wrote. I’ll trust you to make sure it gets to Andrew and Olivia.”

  She held the folded paper, its edges digging into the soft flesh of her palm. He trusted her. After everything, he trusted her. He truly had forgiven her. She whispered, “Thank you, Paul.”

  “Yeah.” He rose and slipped his hands into his pockets. He didn’t smile, but tenderness lingered in his expression. “Life … it sure throws a curve ball now and then, doesn’t it?”

  Suzanne laughed softly and nodded.

  “But God …” Paul’s face lifted, and he seemed to peek between the branches at the blue sky. “He equips us with catcher’s mitts and the gear we need to keep from being too battered by it.”

  She’d never heard life symbolized so uniquely, but she liked it.

  He looked at her again. “See you in service, Suzy.” He ambled off, hands in his pockets but shoulders square and stride sure.

  She waited until he climbed into his pickup and drove away before unfolding his letter and laying it flat in her lap. With the swaying branches of the willow singing a sweet lullaby and the breeze kissing her cheek, she began to read.

  Dear Anna-Grace,

  If you’re reading this, it’s because your dad and mom chose to share it with you. I pray it will bring you peace and answers rather than pain and more questions. Because I only want the best for you.

  A long time ago I fell in love with a girl named Suzy. I wanted to marry her, and I convinced myself and her that because I loved her, it was okay for us to join intimately. You were conceived that night. Suzy went away after that, and I didn’t get to marry her. I didn’t even know you’d been born until so many years had passed that you weren’t a little girl anymore but a young woman planning your own wedding. I decided then it was better not to interfere in your life but to wait until you wanted to know who I am. I stayed away not because I didn’t want you but because I didn’t want to be selfish. I hope you understand.

  There are two things I want you to know. First of all, you might have been conceived out of wedlock—“unplanned,” some people would say—but you were also conceived in love. I loved your mother, and if we hadn’t made a mistake by breaking God’s instruction to save sex for the marriage bed, we would have gotten married. Second of all, if you ever want to get to know me, the door is always open. You have a dad who has raised you and loves you, and I wouldn’t expect you to call me dad, but if you’d like to have me as a friend or you want to know your family history, all you have to do is say so. I’ll respect whatever you want.

  I guess there’s a third thing. The most important thing. I erred, but YOU weren’t a mistake. God knew you would be born, and He loves you and has wonderful plans for your life. Seek Him first in everything you do, honor His biblical commands, and you will be able to live your life without regrets.

  Lovingly, your father,

  Paul Aldrich

  Suzanne refolded the letter and held it in her lap. So much wisdom, so much love, so much acceptance in Paul’s simple missive. She would write her own letter to Anna-Grace and seal it in an envelope with his, just as he requested. Andrew and Olivia would honor them by sharing it with her when the time was right. Just as Paul intended to pray for Anna-Grace, she would, too, that the choice she made so long ago wouldn’t bring pain on her daughter’s heart.

  Her daughter … She hadn’t had a chance to talk alone with Alexa yet. Mother had sent her with Sandra, and they hadn’t returned by the time she left for the cemetery. But Alexa was probably at the house now, helping to clean up. Eagerness to see her precious child, to assure her how much she was loved and wanted, propelled her from the bench and across the ground. She also intended to give her blessing on Alexa’s plans. Just as Paul had chosen not to be selfish, she wouldn’t be selfish either. Not even if it broke her heart to let her daughter go.

  Suzanne handed Clete her suitcase, and he tossed it into the back of his pickup. Then he brushed his palms together and leaned against the truck’s bed. He fixed a sorrowful look on her. “I can’t believe it’s time for you to go already, Suzy.”

  Suzy … Although she would be called Suzanne in Indiana, it felt comfortable becoming Suzy again to her family. “I know. It went fast.”

  “But you and that girl of yours sure got a lot done here.” His gaze swept across the house, beautiful in the late-afternoon sunlight. “I still do a double take every time I look at the house. It’s so different, inside and out.”

  Suzanne dared to say quietly, “There are lots of things that are different, both inside and out.”

  He nodded. Then he held open his arms, just as he had the day he picked her up at the Wichita airport, but this time she moved eagerly into his embrace rather than hesitantly. Was it only three months ago his letter had arrived, asking her to return to Arborville? Surely she’d lived a lifetime’s worth of experiences in the past weeks. They’d grown together again as a family, and leaving was harder than she’d imagined it could be. But going to Indiana was right. Her job was there, her friends and church family. But she would always be welcome in her childhood home—each of her siblings, including Shelley, had emphasized the fact—and she would visit regularly now. If she wanted to see Alexa, she would have to.

  “Mom!” Alexa called from the porch. She balanced a wooden tray against her ribs. The tray held a pitcher, several glasses of ice, and a plate of something Suzanne couldn’t recognize from this distance. “Your plane doesn’t leave for another three hours. You’ve got time to sample one of these. My newest creation—butterscotch-pecan-dried peach-oatmeal cookies.”

  Suzanne groaned and looked at Clete. “I think I just gained three pounds hearing the title.”

  Clete laughed and looped his arm over her shoulders. “Well, tell you what, I’ll eat yours for you and tell you if they’re good or not.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” She broke into a trot, sending a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Last one to the porch only gets crumbs!”

  Clete let her win, just as he had when they were younger. They settled into the new white rocking chairs and enjoyed a glass of raspberry-infused tea and the cookies, which they all proclaimed delicious. Even though she’d already heard Alexa’s plans a half-dozen times, Suzanne listened to her daughter declare her intentions to set out a plate of cookies each evening for the guests to enjoy before bed.

  “And, of course, on their pillows when they arrive, they’ll find a gourmet truffle—made by yours truly.”

  Mother chuckled. “I’ll probably need to take out the seams in my dresses before she’s done. She told me I’m to be her official goodie-sampler.”

  “But remember, you only get paid in chocolate,” Alexa quipped.

  Marjorie Wells, the nurse hired only two days ago,
held up one of Alexa’s cookies. “You can pay me in these. They’re so moist. What’s your secret?”

  Alexa grinned. “Applesauce in place of oil and real butter instead of margarine.”

  She took another bite and groaned dramatically. “Oh, they’re wonderful. I hope you’ll share your recipe.”

  Alexa let out a happy gasp and spun in her chair to face Suzanne. “Mom! What if I put together a cookbook of the things I prepare for the guests? Do you think people would buy them? I could donate the proceeds to some kind of charity. Or maybe to the benevolence fund at the fellowship.”

  Suzanne’s heart swelled. Alexa’s tender compassion knew no bounds. She caught her daughter’s hand and gave it a loving squeeze. “Sweetheart, I think it’s a marvelous idea. When you’re ready to put it together, let me know. Linda does a good job of designing the brochures and newsletters for the hospital. She’d probably jump at the chance to design a cookbook for you.”

  For a moment, Alexa’s face clouded. “I’m gonna miss Linda and Tom like crazy.”

  Suzanne blinked away tears. She was going to miss Alexa like crazy. But they’d cried together, prayed together, and agreed God had opened the door for Alexa to pursue this new means of ministry. She wouldn’t stand in the way of her daughter following the pathway God had carved for her. She forced a light laugh. “Linda just might clobber me when I come back without you. But I bet when I tell her what you’re doing, she’ll find a way for her and Tom to be one of your customers.”

  Alexa smiled again. “I’d love that.”

  Clete set aside his glass and stood. “Suze, I hate to rush you, but if we’re going to get you there in time for check-in, we’d better go.”

  She’d said her good-byes to Tanya, her sisters, and their families at supper last night. All that remained was telling Mother and Alexa good-bye. The last time she’d bid her mother farewell, she’d been young, frightened, bearing the weight of the world on her shoulders. Although leaving was difficult, this time she left with the warmth of acceptance, and the only regret was knowing how far apart Kansas and Indiana were.

  Suzanne leaned down and wrapped her arms around Mother’s neck. She clung hard, her tears mingling with Mother’s. Mother whispered in her ear, “You have your bear?”

  Suzanne whispered back. “Abby-bear’s in the front seat with my purse. I intend to carry her all the way home so I can hug her whenever I get to missing you too much.”

  “Oh, my Suzy …” A sob broke from Mother’s throat and her hands convulsed on Suzanne’s back. “I’ve loved having you home. I don’t want to let you go.” She drew in a ragged breath and let her arms slip away. She smiled, her lips quavering. “But I will. Because it’s what is best for you.”

  Suzanne kissed her soft cheek, then straightened. Alexa was standing behind her, tears glimmering in her eyes. Suzanne shook her finger at her. “Don’t you dare start or I won’t have any choice but to join in. I can’t get on an airplane with a red nose and watery eyes.”

  Alexa choked out a half laugh, half sob and nodded. She slipped her arm through Suzanne’s elbow, and they ambled beneath the Kansas sunshine toward the truck, savoring these last minutes together.

  “Now remember, you’re coming back for Thanksgiving,” Alexa said, “and you’ll ship the stuff from my room in six weeks, when Mr. Aldrich plans to have the summer kitchen ready for me to move in.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember.” Suzanne feigned disgust. “You’ve already reminded me how many times?”

  “Seven,” she answered quickly, her grin impish.

  “More like seventy.” They both laughed. Suzanne stopped beside the truck and turned a serious look on her daughter. “You’ll call me, right?”

  “Every day after supper.” Alexa held up her hand as if making a pledge. “At first Grandmother wasn’t thrilled about getting Internet set up out here, but she finally admitted I’d need it to make reservations. So maybe we can Skype. That way we can see each other while we talk.”

  Suzanne had sworn off such modern technologies, deeming them unnecessary, but she couldn’t refuse the chance to see her daughter’s face every week. “That sounds good.”

  “And you can talk to Grandmother, too, if I can convince her to try it out. She can be pretty stubborn.”

  Suzanne laughed and caught Alexa in a hug. She rocked her back and forth and breathed in her scent. God, let her be happy here. She means the world to me.

  “Suzy, we really need to get going.”

  Clete’s quiet reminder forced Suzanne to relinquish her daughter. She did so slowly, holding her breath, willing the seconds to stretch longer. As Alexa stepped away, Paul Aldrich and his son came around the side of the house. Paul carried a bundle of old lath, and Danny bent forward with the weight of a bucket. They both stopped, Paul’s gaze finding hers from the distance of sixty feet.

  With his hands full he couldn’t wave, but he bobbed his head—one up-and-down motion accompanied by the upturning of his lips. Suzanne offered a soft smile in return and lifted her hand in a silent good-bye. After a moment’s pause Paul turned to Danny, appeared to speak, and the two of them emptied their loads in the back of his pickup truck before moving behind the house again.

  Suzanne turned to find Alexa watching her, a knowing expression on her face. She said, “You two made your peace, didn’t you?”

  Although she’d only spoken to Paul in passing since their time in the cemetery—brief exchanges pertaining to Mother’s bathroom remodel or Alexa’s plans for the summer kitchen—Suzanne recognized the ease with which they now conversed. No tension, no nervousness, no undercurrent of anger. “Yes, we did.”

  Alexa ducked her head for a moment, then fixed Suzanne with a hesitant look. “Mom? When you left Arborville, was it to get away from … him?”

  Suzanne widened her eyes in surprise. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I’ve wondered. Because he never knew about you being pregnant. Because you didn’t come back.” She tipped her head. “Were you afraid of him?”

  “Oh, sweetheart, no.” Suzanne gripped her daughter’s hands. “I loved him, and I know he loved me.” His letter to Anna-Grace confirmed it. “I was never afraid of him. I was afraid of my mother and how the community would view my family after I made such a grievous mistake.”

  The sympathy in Alexa’s eyes pierced Suzanne. She squeezed her hands and finished softly, “But I’m not afraid anymore. All is forgiven. And I’m glad I came back.”

  “Me, too.” Alexa tipped her head, her brow puckering thoughtfully. “You know, Mom, when that thunderstorm rolled through last night, I was thinking how fresh and new everything feels after a good rainstorm. That’s what we’ve had—a rain. A mercy rain. And when mercy rains, lives become fresh and new.”

  Suzanne gazed at her daughter in open-mouthed amazement. “Alexa Joy Zimmerman, when did you get so smart?”

  Her teasing grin returned. “What did you expect? I take after my mom.”

  Suzanne grabbed Alexa for one final, tight hug, and then she threw the truck door open. Clete had already started the engine. The seat vibrated beneath her as she clambered in. She slammed the door, rolled down the window, and hung her head and arm out as Clete put the truck in gear and released the brake. The truck began to roll.

  Suzanne waved, her vision blurred by tears. “Good-bye, Alexa! Good-bye, Mother!” Pepper raced out of the barn, barking. Suzanne laughed. “Good-bye, Pepper!”

  “Good-bye, Mom! Good-bye!” Alexa trotted alongside the pickup for a few yards, Pepper leaping beside her. When they reached the lane, she fell back, but Suzanne heard her call, “I love you!”

  Suzanne pressed her fist to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, sweetheart, I love you, too.” Although dust billowed and filled her nose, she continued to lean out the window, reluctant to lose sight of her daughter. But as the truck increased its speed, she had no choice but to roll up the window. She leaned back, battling tears—both happy and sad tears. What a journey they’d ha
d. A journey of ups and downs, smiles and frowns. Despite their failings, their fumbling, and their poor choices, God had forgiven their youthful transgressions and poured out His mercy. And hearts had been changed.

  Clete reached across the seat and took her hand. “She’ll be fine.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’ll be fine.”

  “I know.”

  “We all love you, Suzy.”

  She smiled at her brother. “That’s good to know.”

  He winked, then put his hand on the steering wheel and began to whistle their dad’s favorite hymn, “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”

  The words rang through Suzanne’s memory, and she sang, “ ‘Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise …’ ”

  Clete sent her an approving smile. “Amen.”

  ⅓ c. butter, softened

  ⅔ c. packed brown sugar

  ½ t. ground cinnamon

  ¼ t. baking soda

  ½ c. unsweetened applesauce

  1 egg, beaten

  1¼ c. all-purpose flour

  1¼ c. rolled oats

  ¼ c. chopped dried apricots or peaches

  ¼ c. butterscotch chips

  ¼ c. coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts

  Beat butter until creamy. Add brown sugar, cinnamon, and baking soda and stir until well combined. Mix in applesauce and egg. Add flour in segments, mixing well with each addition. Stir in the oats, and then fold in the dried fruit, butterscotch chips, and nuts.

  Drop dough by heaping spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 375° Fahrenheit for 8–10 minutes until lightly browned. Allow to cool a few minutes on a cookie sheet before transferring to cooling trays. Makes 2 dozen.

  Enjoy!

  2 lbs. ground beef (or turkey or pork)

  1 large yellow onion, chopped

  4 large cloves of garlic, minced

  3 c. water

  2 15-oz. cans tomato sauce