“No, no. We’re friends, having a heart-to-heart. You know you’re welcome.”
“Why do I get the feeling you find my situation amusing?”
“Some…things have happened while you were away, that’s all.”
“Oh? I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Yeah.”
Merit narrowed his eyes. Pete’s grin only grew wider. “I see you’re not going to elaborate. So, my dearest sister Pru also informed me she thinks that if I choose the training option, I should know what it’s like to have a family. What do you think?”
“I think you’re going about this idea like a science experiment.”
“I don’t know what else to do. Take someone like…Amalia Kennedy, for example. I don’t see Amalia living in the kind of conditions I had in Nehrangestan.”
Pete sat back in the chair and lifted his face to the sun. “I can. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“But I can’t demand that kind of life from anyone.”
“You demanded it of yourself,” Pete had the audacity to point out. “Merit, we don’t worship like the Israelites did fifteen hundred years ago. The Lord no longer insists upon sacrifices.”
Merit stamped his foot on the deck and leaned forward in the chair, gripping the arm rests. “I gave my life. That’s why I never wanted any distractions. What if a wife decided she couldn’t live there after we arrived? What if real war broke out, or something? Or they were injured, like me?”
“You don’t want to worry, you mean.”
“I’ve seen terrible things, Pete. People die. When I first got to Nehrangestan, one in five babies died. After my first six months I didn’t even want to know what name their parents chose. I’ve halved that, but the odds are still horrendous. I don’t know how I could handle watching a child, or my wife, die like they do.”
“What are you going to train missionaries to do? Wear blinders or close their eyes before they jump into the field? And that’s not the only place people die.” Pete had not moved from his lazy position.
Merit slapped the arm rests. “Of course not!”
“You have to give others more credit, Merit. You have to trust God more.”
“That’s what Pru said. But I do. I’ve given everything that I am. I’ve given him my brother, my parents.” Merit ran his hand across his eyes. “My brother Worth? You remember him?”
“He started the mission. Yes, I remember him.”
“My parents. They went to visit, bring supplies. They were so proud. The helicopter crash. God still demands sacrifices. No matter what you say, Pete, there are always things you have to give up.”
“So, you think if you don’t have love, God can’t take it away.”
Merit stood and paced. “It’s not like that.”
A new voice joined the conversation. “Then how is it?” Cherie pushed aside the screen door and came back outside with Gregory slung on her hip. “Part of loving always involves losing.” She gave Gregory a hug. “I raise these children knowing that if I do my job right, they will leave home, and me, to start a new life of their own. There’s danger everywhere, Merit. One wrong step off a curb, and you get hit by a car. You can’t keep everyone safe just by willing it.”
Pete grabbed his wife’s hand, squeezed, then relieved her of the baby.
“You have to allow Amalia the dignity to choose. You can’t choose for her. Joey!” Cherie chased her oldest son, who had struck his sister with a toy shovel from the sandbox.
Merit put his hands on his hips and stared after his friend’s wife. “What is she talking about?”
Cherie returned, holding the squirming boy.
“Anyway,” Merit told her, “I don’t have to worry about going anywhere right away since the board denied my request to return. That’s why I’m considering a training program. At Uncle Bruce’s house.”
“That’s sensible. At least for now. Putting yourself in danger doesn’t help anyone. And Amalia’s the perfect one to help you get the house ready for something like that. She knows a lot about putting things in order.”
Joey kicked and bucked. “Potty!”
“Excuse us.” Cherie took him inside.
Merit heard the phone ring behind the screen door. He reached for the baby. “Here, let me take him.”
Pete gave Gregory to Merit and went in to the kitchen, sliding the screen door behind him.
“So, what do you think I should do, Gregory?” Merit bounced the baby gently, dancing him firmly against his knees. “Do we tell Amalia how we feel, even if she tells us to get lost ’cause she’s marrying someone else? Or do we wait?” The baby’s mouth made an O. Then he laughed.
TWELVE
When no one answered the front door at Pete and Cherie’s house, Amalia slipped around to the backyard, where she heard children’s voices. Someone should be home. Cherie probably had her hands full with the kids. Amalia stopped short of pushing open the gate when she saw Merit seated in a deck chair, apparently at ease holding the baby in his arms.
Merit turned his head in her direction. “Look who’s here, Gregory. Is that some kind of answer, or what?”
Amalia opened the gate and approached them slowly. “What? No one answered at the front door.”
Merit regarded her with one brow raised. “Cherie’s on a potty call and Pete’s on the phone.”
“Oh. Hudson proposed. I said no.” Amalia blinked with surprise. She hadn’t felt that announcement coming. How could she blurt out something personal like that? Great. Where was the verbal delete key when she needed it? The faintness must be the sun. Merit shouldn’t even be here, anyway. Why wasn’t he on a plane back to Nehrangestan?
Amalia watched him hold the baby in a wobbly stand. To the baby he said, “Did you hear that, Gregory? The pretty lady said no to her boyfriend. Why is she telling us this? Hmm? When I said ‘wait’ I thought I’d have more than three seconds.” Gregory danced on Merit’s thigh, a huge drooly smile lighting up his face.
Amalia closed the gate behind her but held on to it as if it were a lifeline. “Pete said you’d gone to New York. To ask the mission board for permission to go back to Nehrangestan.”
Merit continued to play with Gregory. Amalia watched, her confusion growing. The scene felt like a dream. She pinched her arm. Ouch. Nope, not dreaming.
The screen door squealed in its tracks as Cherie came out on the deck, trailing Joey. The child held a big plastic cup of red juice in both hands and sported a cherry-colored mustache.
Cherie plopped down on a deck chair next to Merit, appearing not at all surprised to see Amalia. “Hi, girlfriend, have a seat. Pete’s going to be a few more minutes. What can I get you?”
Amalia wanted to say “Reality, please.” She took a deep breath instead. “Hi, I’m sorry to drop in like this. But thanks, nothing at all.”
“You wanted Pete?”
“Huh?”
“Did you want to talk to Pete about something?” Cherie flashed an amused glance between Amalia and Merit, who continued to play with her son.
“Oh. Um, no. I wanted to talk to you, actually. But I didn’t know you had company.”
Merit raised his face from Gregory’s tummy, where he had been blowing raspberry kisses, making the baby giggle. He looked at Cherie. Amalia interpreted his scrunched-eyebrow expression as one of desperation. She must have interrupted them. Amalia got to her feet. “I just remembered, I have an appointment.”
Cherie pursed her lips. “Ha.” She waved a hand. “Fine. Call me later. I’ll be here.”
Amalia opened the gate before she heard Merit say something like “I can’t. Please….” before she got out of range of their voices. She sat in her car taking her time buckling and rolling the window down while she willed her heartbeat to return to normal and her numb fingers to turn the key in the ignition.
Merit’s hands appeared on the open window frame of the door, startling her. She turned her head to see him crouched on the curb beside her car. Amalia’s heart
rate sped up so fast she could barely breathe. She and Merit stared at each other for several seconds before he broke the silence. “Can we go for a walk? At Starved Rock? Or…anywhere else?”
“Now?”
He bowed his head, shaking it, then looked right into her soul. His golden eyes mesmerized her. “No. Tomorrow? Or the next day?”
Amalia’s frozen lips tried to form the word “yes.” She didn’t know if she said it out loud, but apparently Merit heard it. He reached inside the car to touch her cheek with a warm, rough fingertip. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Amalia wanted to lean into his palm so he could caress her face. What would they talk about? And why wait so long? Tomorrow would take forever to arrive. Maybe he wanted to make another trip to Chicago with her. She would love to spend more time with him.
His hand withdrew. “Thank you,” he said. “Tomorrow, then. When are you free?”
“Any time. I don’t have anything but paperwork scheduled.”
“I’ll pick you up. Maybe…is nine too early?”
“No, that’s fine. Merit? What did you mean when you said ‘is that an answer?’”
He stood and stepped away from her car, smiling, and thrust his hands into his front pockets. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
* * *
Amalia frantically worked the under-eye concealer into the dark circles above her cheekbones at five to nine the next morning. She felt dopey from her restless night and hoped she would not say anything stupid to Merit. Her stomach whirled at the thought of seeing him again. Lord, have mercy. Showing him her weak and foolish side would serve them both right. Scare him off.
Off what? She grimaced at her reflection. Silly girl. She had no idea what he wanted. Probably something to do with the refugees. Or the house.
He had come back. When she thought she would never see him again, Merit had returned to Fox Falls. Amalia laid her hand on her cheek where he had touched her yesterday. The sensation of his fingers lingered on her skin.
A knock at the back door sent her spinning in the small space of the bathroom, scooping things into a drawer, straightening the towel, breathing hard. A second knock reminded her that she had to answer.
Gulping calming breaths, Amalia walked through the kitchen and opened the door to Merit. They locked eyes, staring at first. “W-would you come in for a moment?” she asked.
His expression softened from tight control to gentleness, and he followed her after a quiet greeting. He wore boots with khaki hiking pants. “It’s warm out already. I imagine there will be lots of bugs. Or do the park people spray?”
Idle conversation. Merit knew what she needed to calm down. “We’ve not had much rain lately, so the mosquitoes shouldn’t be too bad yet. I’ve got some repellent we can bring along. Would you like coffee or something before we go?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Whenever you’re ready.”
Amalia followed him to the curb where he opened the door of an older-looking Jeep. “I’m borrowing this from a friend of Pete’s,” he told her.
On the drive to the park, Amalia relaxed, comfortable in the silence. When he found the main lot, he settled on a spot at the far end with fewer cars. He shut off the engine but made no move to get out. Amalia unbuckled her belt and waited.
Merit seemed unusually preoccupied and took his time opening the car door. Amalia walked around the Jeep to meet him. He stared at a nearby picnic table. “Amalia? Could we just sit here at the table for a little bit? And talk first? Would that suit you all right?”
“Sure.” Amalia followed him to the heavy, green-painted table and sat, facing outward, since it appeared that Merit intended to stay on his feet. In fact, he made her dizzy as she tried to follow his pacing. She grew more confused as she watched him alternately bite his lips and open his mouth.
“Merit, whatever it is, I can help you. I think. You want to arrange another trip to Chicago, right? So we should keep visiting the refugees after you leave?”
He stopped in front of her and narrowed his eyes. “What? No, no. At least, not right now. Maybe…maybe later.” He hunched over, hands thrust in his front pockets.
“Well, what, then? The house?”
Merit turned right around, his back to Amalia. “The house?” His voice sounded faint.
“Are you all right? We can go—”
“No.” Merit turned back again. He sighed and sat next to her on the bench. “Amalia, I have…I have a proposition for you.”
Amalia felt a prickle of apprehension across her cheeks.
“I can’t return to the field right now. Instead, I’ve been asked to provide training for missionaries.”
Amalia scrunched her brows and strained to listen to the rush of his words.
“Will you help me? Help me get Uncle Bruce’s house ready? Pru and I—Pru said I should keep the house, and I’m deciding—I’ve been thinking about it. I want—I think I want—to stay here. Maybe not all the time, but I can still work in the…Amalia, say something, please.”
“You’re not going back?” Amalia’s smile felt too big for her face. She took a deep breath as he turned to her and touched her shoulders.
“No. No one can return right now. It’s too dangerous because of the fighting.”
“Oh.” Amalia cocked her head, other words permeating her brain. “Help you? Did you say something about…about helping you?”
She joined him in a breathless laugh as he leaned his forehead against hers in an intimate gesture so swift she wondered if she’d imagined it. He pulled away to look at her. She shifted on the seat, embarrassed at being caught not paying attention.
“I’ve been asked to consider developing a training program for missionaries. And Pru thinks Uncle Bruce’s house is big enough to use for a home base. Families could come and stay there during the sessions. But I have a lot of things to work out, such as whether or not the city would allow me to do that, much less what the neighbors would think. Besides the fact that the house needs a lot of work. The mission board will help financially, but I trust you and your great eye for detail.”
“You trust me?”
“Yes.” Amalia shivered as Merit took her hand. “Yes, I do trust you. What do you think? Can we work together? I have a few days yet to come up with a plan, or even tell the board if I agree. Even if I don’t end up training, the house still needs work before we can sell it. Do you want to think about it?”
Amalia squeezed his hand. “I don’t need to think about it, Merit. This is an answer to a prayer of mine, as a matter of fact. I’ve been wondering what to do with my life, how I can return some of the blessings I’ve been given, and this would be a wonderful opportunity to start doing that.”
Merit pulled her up from the table. “Do you want to walk now?”
Amalia wondered if her rubbery knees would support her, but she managed to match Merit’s pace. An hour later, her memory of their hike revolved around the feel of Merit’s hand clasping hers to help her over rough spots on the trail and the warm glow at the prospect of spending a lot of time in his company. Even if his stay ended in his eventual return to Nehrangestan, maybe there were other ways she could help the refugees.
They talked about the house, and she even vaguely remembered something about zoning, but exactly what, she couldn’t recall. The fact that he needed her, trusted her, and asked for her help, made the path feel more like clouds than last year’s pine needles. Merit’s plan would fall into place later. She wasn’t worried about a “to do” list.
When they returned to the parking lot, Merit opened the Jeep’s door for her, then walked around and got in himself. Amalia watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel instead of turning the key. She opened her mouth to remind him that they couldn’t go anywhere until he did so when he spoke first.
“There’s something else I need to say, Amalia. To—to tell you. I’ve never been in love,” Merit said straight into the windshield. “You might think that’s odd. I’m nearly
thirty years old, but I…I guess I’ve always…wanted… Well, I’m selfish. That’s one way of putting it.”
Amalia felt her breath catch in her throat. “Selfish? About what?”
“About sharing. Sharing my life. I thought, if I had no other responsibilities, I would have more time to spend on the Lord’s work. I kept myself so busy I didn’t realize how hard I’d been trying to cover up my loneliness. Until I got hurt.”
Her eyes misted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, either,” she whispered, all the louder her voice would utter.
That brought Merit’s attention to her. “But you had Demarest.”
Amalia felt a tight half-smile turn up the left side of her mouth. “I hope you don’t think this is too creepy, but Hudson’s been more like a parental figure. Not a father, but perhaps a guardian of sorts. Since my parents died, I’ve been lonely, too. Hudson’s not…um, passionate, I guess.” Her face heated up. “I’d rather not talk about him.”
“I understand.” Merit leaned toward her. “In fact, I’d rather not talk about him, either.”
Amalia exhaled as he drew near, his head blocking out the dappled light. His right hand threaded through her hair while his left reached for hers and brought it to his face. When her phone chirped, the wren sound blended in with the other birds in the park. She ignored the summons to study Merit’s gilt eyelashes and the creases along either side of his lips. She felt the smoothness of his shaved cheek under her palm and watched his mouth come closer until she lost focus. This time they were in control of the moment. This kiss would be different—a promise, not a regret. Not something to be ashamed of, or sorry for.
Her phone buzzed like a trapped hornet. The suspended moment broke when he pulled away.
Amalia pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. It does that when it’s important.” With a worried, hesitant glance at him, she reached for her purse on the floor of the Jeep. A touch to her arm reassured her that Merit forgave the interruption. Amalia frowned when she saw the identity of the caller. “It’s Hudson.”
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