Bygones (22 page)

When the benediction was complete, he stormed to the hat rack, snatched his hat from its hook, and charged out the door. His wife followed.

Marie’s heart leaped with hope when, just before slipping through the cloakroom door, her mother paused and looked over her shoulder, meeting Marie’s gaze. A tender longing lingered in the brief, silent exchange. Then she disappeared from view.

Joanna squeezed Marie’s hand as three men stepped to the end of their bench. Marie swallowed the tears that choked her throat and turned to face the men. She held her breath, waiting for them to tell her she should not return. But to her surprise, the tallest one offered a hesitant smile.

“Marie?” He clutched his hands against his stomach, his blue eyes searching hers. “Do you remember me?”

She frowned, looking into lined eyes. Suddenly recognition dawned. “Art?”

He nodded, his smile growing. He gestured to the two younger men standing behind him. “And Conrad and Leo, too.”

Marie met each of her brothers’ gazes in turn. Still holding Joanna’s hand, she stammered, “Oh, my. You–you’re all grown up, you little pests.”

Her face filled with heat as she realized what she’d just said, but all three men laughed, earning a stern look from the residing preacher.

Art touched her arm. He kept his voice low. “Where can we go and visit?” His gaze swept across the other family members standing in an awkward circle.

“My house,” Marie blurted.
My house? Since when is it
my
house?
She remembered too late that Beth was there, maybe still in her pajamas, not expecting company.

Joanna shook her head as Hugo and Gomer joined the little circle. “My house is bigger, and I have a turkey in the oven. Let’s all go there today, hmm?”

Marie’s eyes filled with tears. Obviously Joanna had planned—in advance—a welcome-back-to-the-family celebration for her. Knowing her parents wouldn’t be there made the situation bittersweet, yet how wonderful to experience the warmth of her sister and brothers’ acceptance.

“Thank you. I’ll need to go home first and—” She intended to say, “Tell Beth where I’ll be.” But Art offered a suggestion.

“You could pick up your daughter. We’d like to get to know her, too.”

Tears of gratitude spilled down Marie’s cheeks. Swallowing, she
offered an eager nod. “I’ll be there soon.”

She turned to retrieve her jacket from the cloakroom but froze when she heard her sister’s words: “Henry, if you don’t have lunch plans, please come to our house. We have plenty.”

Her heart pounding, she waited for his response.

“I usually have lunch with Deborah’s family on Sundays. They’re expecting me. But thank you for the invitation. Maybe another time?”

Joanna’s laughter rang. “Sure. There’ll be plenty of other times.” Marie experienced a brief roller-coaster ride of emotion—relief, followed by disappointment, followed by elation. Before she could examine the odd feelings, she dashed to the cloakroom, grabbed her jacket, and ran through the drizzling mist to her car.

Henry slapped his hat on his pant leg, shaking off the raindrops, before knocking on Deborah’s front door. Normally he entered through the back, but on Sundays his sister insisted on formality. Trina opened the door to him and took his hat with a twinkling grin. He chucked her under the chin to thank her, smiling when she giggled.

Trina scampered to the hall tree, hung up his hat, then headed toward the back of the house. “C’mon, Uncle Henry. Mama’s just about got everything on the table.”

Henry smiled and followed. Of all his nieces and nephews, Trina was his favorite. Her infectious giggle and freckled nose had always been impossible to resist. There were times when sympathy swelled for her—he believed her parents were too strict, their expectations unreasonable. But he was cautious enough to keep that opinion to himself. No need to incite rebellion in the teenager’s heart. He also carefully refrained from giving her preferential treatment to avoid conflict with her cousins. But he couldn’t deny she possessed a
special piece of his heart. If he had a daughter, he’d want her to be like Trina. Suddenly an image of Beth Quinn in her faded blue jeans and tight shirt flashed in his memory. He scowled. There was no comparison between Beth and Trina. And hadn’t he decided to come to his sister’s house today so he wouldn’t be faced with Marie Koeppler Quinn and her daughter? There was no sense in thinking about either of them.

Still, as he sat at Troy and Deborah’s table, eating his sister’s good cooking and participating in the conversation, his mind kept flitting down a few blocks, to where half of the Koeppler family had gathered. He chewed Deborah’s baked ham and wondered if Marie and Beth were enjoying Joanna’s turkey. He listened to Troy’s opinion on the proper irrigation of winter wheat and wondered what kind of reminiscing was taking place around Joanna’s dining room table. He watched Trina and her brother Tony engage in a quick exchange of elbow pokes and wondered if Beth was feeling at ease with Kyra and her other cousins.

By the time Deborah served dessert, Henry knew he wouldn’t be able to relax that evening unless he could find out how the reunion between Marie and her brothers had gone. He excused himself as soon as he could, experiencing a prick of guilt at Trina’s hurt look when he refused a game of Wahoo, their usual Sunday afternoon activity. He gave his niece a one-handed hug and promised, “Next Sunday we’ll play two rounds, okay?”

Trina nodded, releasing a sigh. “I’ll just play with Tony.” She shot her brother a pointed look. “Unless he cheats. Then I’m putting it away.”

Henry shook his finger at the thirteen-year-old. “No cheating, Tony. Playing fair in games leads to playing fair in life.”

The boy sent him an innocent look. “I don’t cheat. . .much.”

Henry stifled the chuckle that rose in his throat. Affecting a
stern look, he said, “Any is too much. Understand?”

Tony shrugged, offering a sheepish grin. “Okay.” He punched Trina in the arm. “I get the blue marbles.”

Both scurried off. Henry called good-bye to his sister and brother-in-law, then headed for his car. The rain had stopped, but the sky still looked overcast and dark, much like a late winter evening. A glance at his wristwatch told him it was still early afternoon. He snorted. He’d been foolish to leave his sister’s place so soon. Surely the Koepplers were all still visiting, getting reacquainted. He should have stayed and played Wahoo with his niece and nephew. Should he go back in?

No, he wouldn’t be able to focus on the game anyway. He put the car in gear and drove slowly through the rain-drenched streets, his tires slipping in the softened earth. His windows fogged, and he cracked one open, allowing in the fresh scent of after-rain. Passing Hugo and Joanna’s house, he cranked his head around, searching for Marie’s car. It wasn’t there.

With a frown, his heart pattering in concern, he faced forward again. Why would she have left so early? Maybe the reunion hadn’t gone well after all. Worry struck hard, and he curled his fingers around the steering wheel and increased his speed slightly, eager to reach his home and telephone Hugo.

He cleaned his feet on the doormat and headed to his telephone without removing his hat. He dialed with a shaking finger and waited through four rings before a female voice answered. “Hello?”

“Is this Kyra?”

“No, it’s Kelly.”

She would do. “This is Henry Braun. I just wondered. . .” Suddenly he felt foolish asking the teenager about Marie. He blurted, “Is your father or mother there?”

“Just a moment, please.”

After a scuffle, accompanied by the mumble of voices, he heard Joanna’s voice. “Hello, Henry. What can I do for you?”

The telephone tight against his chin, he whispered, “Did Marie leave already?”

“No, she’s still here.” Joanna kept her voice low, too—as if they shared a secret. “She and the boys are having a wonderful time visiting.”

Henry frowned. “I drove by, and when I didn’t see her car, I became concerned.”

“Ah.” Joanna didn’t question why he was driving past her house when it was out of the way between his home and Deborah’s. “Beth left with the car about an hour ago. Said she had some things to do this afternoon. But she’s coming back around seven to pick up her mother.”

“Oh.” A relieved breath whooshed from his lungs. “I hope all went well.”

“Very well.” Joanna’s tone held an undercurrent of joy.

“Good.” Henry swallowed, suddenly wishing he could be at Joanna’s, be a part of the circle accepting Marie home. “Well, I’ll let you go then.”

“All right. Good-bye, Henry.”

He placed the receiver in its cradle, then stood, his hand still cupping the black plastic, his gaze on Lisbeth’s sampler. He smiled. Marie had been welcomed home, first by her sister and now by three of her brothers. Surely it was only a matter of time before her parents and remaining siblings accepted her as a member of the family again. Just as Lisbeth had hoped and prayed.

Unless. . . His smile faded. Unless Beth created problems. Why hadn’t the girl stayed, become acquainted with her uncles and aunts and cousins? Beth meant so much to Marie. The rebellious young woman could pull her away again.

M
arie refilled a customer’s coffee mug, offering a smile and a cheery, “Can I do anything else for you?”

The man glanced at his wife, then shook his head. “No, thanks. Just the check, please.”

“Coming right up.” Marie nearly skipped to the back to tally the tab. Her heart continued to sing despite the gloomy weather outside the café. The wonderful afternoon two days ago with Art, Joanna, Leo, Conrad, and their families—talking, laughing, hugging, bonding—still lingered, offering a peace and acceptance that resulted in an explosion of joy.
Thank You, Lord, for this step toward reconciling with my family
. She couldn’t stifle the smile on her face, even when patrons didn’t respond to it.

They would respond someday, she assured herself. If her family could welcome her back, the community would, too, given time. And if they didn’t? She shrugged as she wrote the final dollar amount at the bottom of the ticket. She would be fine. She had her God, her daughter, and her sister and brothers again. That was more than she’d ever hoped to have. More than enough.

She returned to the table and slipped the square of paper next to the man’s elbow. “Have a good day, and come see us again.”

“We will,” the man responded. “And maybe when we come back, you will have solved your mystery.”

Marie tipped her head. “Mystery?”

The couple exchanged a quick look. “The whole town is buzzing,” the man said. “We even got wind of it in Lehigh.”

Marie moved closer to the table, her curiosity piqued. “What’s the buzz?”

The woman leaned forward, her eyes snapping with eagerness. “This past Sunday, two families returned from afternoon visits to discover their homes had been burglarized.”

Marie jerked back. “In Sommerfeld?”

The man shrugged, his thick eyebrows pulling down. “To be honest, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You don’t have any police force on duty here, and you’re right off the highway. That’s an open invitation to criminals.”