Authors: Lenora Worth
S
itting in his mother’s kitchen, Greg stared through the patio door at her fading garden. Only the hardy mums stood in round bunches adding a splotch of bright color to the brown crispy leaves of the dead plants.
Rose set two teacups on the table. The spicy orange fragrance curled up from the hot liquid.
“Smells good,” Greg said, pulling his gaze from the flower beds.
“Something’s on your mind.”
Her words were not a question, but a statement, and despite his discomfort, Greg felt a grin tug at his mouth. “You’re like Solomon, Mom. You seem to know everything.”
“Just a mother’s instinct…and your face. It reads like a book.” A faint frown appeared. “You’re not having a problem with Emily?”
He gave her a real grin this time. “It’s not Emily. She’s fine. Her knees improve a little more each day. She’ll be walking outside without the cane in another week or so.”
“That’s grand. She’s a wonderful woman, Greg. The kind of girl a mother dreams her son will marry.”
He raised his downcast eyes to her. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Maybe it’s a son’s instinct,” she said, giving him a pat. “But this isn’t getting to the problem.”
Greg turned his head to the window again, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer. “I feel like a child, trying to tell you about some terrible thing I did.”
“You’re not a child. But I loved you then, and I love you now. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”
“I hope you will. This has been a burden since I was a kid.” He caught her gaze and held it.
His mother frowned, but didn’t blink an eye. Her silence pressed against Greg’s chest, limiting his breath.
“Since you were a child? That’s a long time to hang on to a problem…and unnecessarily. Your dad and I were never angry at you for long.”
“No, you weren’t.” He found his courage and began. “It’s about Aaron’s death, Mom…how it happened. You never knew the full story.”
Her face twisted with sorrow. “But I guessed, Greg.”
His chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
“Your dad and I thought there was more to the story. I could see it in your face.” Slowly fear rose in her eyes. “It was an accident?”
Greg’s hand grasped his mother’s arm. “Yes, Mom. It was an accident, but I felt so responsible.”
Tears filled her eyes. She pressed her palm against his hand. “Then tell me what really happened.”
Greg told her the story from the moment Aaron followed him up the hill to the horrendous collision at the bottom. Tears puddled in his eyes and he pushed them away with the back of his hand. “I felt so responsible.”
Rose wiped away her own tears. “I’m sure you did. You
were Aaron’s older brother. Your dad and I always told you to watch out for him. Parents do that. The older takes care of the younger. I’m so sorry you didn’t tell us.” Her sad eyes searched his.
“Fear. I thought you’d hate me.”
“Hate you? Oh, Greg—”
“I should have been firm with Aaron. But I gave in, then I thought God made me pay for it when he died.”
Rose wagged her head, her eyes downcast. “No, Greg. Aaron’s death wasn’t God’s payback. It was His will.”
“His will? Why?”
“We’ll never know. But the Lord is loving, not vindictive.”
Greg couldn’t find the words to speak, but hung his head, staring at the table. “I was so angry that God hadn’t let me die instead of Aaron.” The memories crashed into his thoughts. He recalled being alone in the night, crying and bargaining with the Lord to bring Aaron back and to take him instead.
“I wish you’d told us. We could have helped you. Your dad and I could never hate you.”
“But a child doesn’t use common sense.”
“That’s true. You thought you were guilty.” She drew in a deep breath. “You loved Aaron, Greg. And you’ve tried to make restitution for his death. I can see that now.” Her gaze drifted through the window to the garden. “I wonder if you’d been a physical therapist if that hadn’t happened.”
Greg’s eyes widened. “Funny you say that. Emily asked the same thing.”
“I’m glad you told Emily.” Rose lifted her cup and sipped the tea. “You’ve helped people walk without pain and brought smiles to frightened faces. If you could buy your way to heaven, Greg, you’ve made a valiant effort.”
Filled with remorse, he pushed a halfhearted grin to his
face. “It took a while, but I realize that God’s forgiven me. But I need to know that you forgive me, too, Mom. Then maybe I can forgive myself.”
“There is no need for forgiveness. You were blameless. Aaron was a terrible nag, but as cute as a bug’s ear. I gave in to him many times when I shouldn’t have. I’m as guilty as you.” Tears pooled again in her eyes. “If he’d learned that no meant no, you wouldn’t have had a problem.”
“Let’s not dredge up more blame or guilt. I needed to get this off my chest. I feel better.”
“And wholly forgiven, Greg. By God and by me…and, I pray, yourself.”
His mother’s message flowed into his thoughts like a quiet, gentle stream. He relaxed his tense shoulders and leaned against the chair back. Eyeing the tea, he lifted the cup to his lips. “Cold.” He gave her a wry grin.
She stood and carried his cup to the microwave. They waited in silence while the teacup twirled behind the glass door. When the buzzer sounded, she carried the steaming cup back to the table.
“Thanks,” he said. “And thanks for understanding.”
“I’m your mother.” With a faint smile, she ran her finger around the edge of her drink. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
Greg’s head shot upward. “Business?”
“Emily,” she said. “Are you going to marry this woman or not?”
Greg threw his head back and laughed. “You and Shakespeare, Mom. You sure know when someone needs comic relief.”
Her brow wrinkled as she eyed him. “I didn’t think that was funny. I’m serious. I think you’ve found a soul mate, Greg. A beautiful Christian woman and about your age. And if you two hurry, you might even give me a grandchild or two before I die.”
A jolt of deep sorrow struck him, but he couldn’t speak of that now. He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re planning my life right down to the nth degree.”
“You haven’t found yourself a wife so I’m willing to help.”
“I think this is one thing you’ll have to leave up to me, Mom.”
She left her chair and wrapped her arms around Greg’s shoulders. “Do you mean what I think you mean? When? When will you ask her?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “All you’re getting from me is name, rank and serial number.”
Greg paced in front of the wide door leading to the Venetian Club’s ballroom. When he tired, he took a break and leaned against the wall, waiting for the bride and groom’s arrival while envisioning Emily in the long green gown. Wedding photographs took forever.
Greg had been awed by Emily’s loveliness as she walked unaided down the long, church aisle. She’d been so busy with her matron-of-honor responsibilities, Greg hadn’t had time to tell her how beautiful she looked.
Applause echoed across the room and halted the noisy conversation. Greg turned toward the ballroom’s double doors. When Emily entered, he caught his breath and signaled to her.
She spotted him and headed his way. “Finally.” She released a sigh. “I thought the photographer would never stop.” She brushed his cheek with her fingers. “I missed you.”
He drew her to him. “That dress looks good on you, Em. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Her face etched with concern. “You mean I didn’t resemble a Christmas tree?”
He chuckled. “No. You looked gorgeous, and I felt so good seeing you walk all the way down the aisle.”
“I was so afraid everyone could tell I had artificial knees.”
“They’d only notice that if you’d been carrying the X rays.”
She laughed and pulled a playful punch to his upper arm.
He nuzzled her hair.
“I thought Marti looked radiant,” Emily said.
“She did, but my eyes were only on you.”
She clasped his arm. “Did you notice how nervous I was? You’d think it had been my own wedding.”
Her own wedding. Had she read his mind? He wiped the thought away. “I’ll get some punch before we sit.”
She nodded, and he filled two glasses, then headed toward their seats.
After the meal was served, Greg led Emily from the ballroom. They followed a wide hallway leading to a quiet atrium. Ferns and hanging plants filled the room, and stone benches nestled amid the greenery along the glass windows.
“Let’s sit,” Greg said, looking out at the pines and bare-limbed trees bordering the stretch of lawn. He gestured to the bench.
She raised a cautious eye to his. “But not too long, Greg. Marti’ll wonder where I am.”
“Just for a few minutes.”
She nodded and sank to the seat, facing the window.
During the afternoon, the gray sky hung heavy with clouds, brightened only by an occasional glint of hazy sun. But as they watched, the evening’s cold had opened the clouds, and white flakes drifted on the winter wind and clung to the dried limbs.
He nestled her in his arms as they watched the snow accumulate on the bare limbs shrouding them in white.
“It’ll be a real white Christmas,” Emily said.
“It will.”
“So beautiful.”
Greg nodded. The building’s outdoor spotlights made shimmering circles on the ground, and fragile flakes danced in the silvery rays. Though the setting was beautiful, Greg’s gaze soon turned to Emily’s face, glowing in the dim light. He slid his hand in hers, wondering how to begin.
“Are you enjoying the wedding?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’d have preferred to spend the whole time with you.” She shrugged. “But this was important to Marti and how could I refuse? She was so good to me when I needed her.”
“She’s your sister, Em.” His leg trembled as he fumbled for courage. “Is this the kind of wedding you’ve dreamed about?” He’d said it. His breath rattled from his constricted chest.
She faced him. “Why?” A frown flashed across her face.
“I’d hoped you might smile at the question, Em.”
Ashamed of herself, Emily forced the scowl from her face. “I’m sorry. You surprised me.” She rallied her thoughts, wondering why he asked and praying it wasn’t what she’d feared. “I really haven’t given a wedding much thought. I figured I was too old for marriage now.”
“Too old? You’re only thirty-five.”
“Thirty-six in another month.”
“Some people marry late in life and widows often marry again.”
He searched her face, and she sensed his anxiety. Apprehension filled her. Was he going to ask her to be his wife? Why hadn’t she told him the truth so long ago before
they’d fallen in love? She’d been a fool to let it go on this long.
“I—I suppose I…never considered marrying again. I had too many problems to even consider the possibility.”
“But not anymore, Em. You’re walking and—”
“But that’s not the only problem, Greg.” Her heart hammered against her chest.
“Em, I can’t imagine a problem that you and I couldn’t face together.”
Tremors rose in her limbs. She knew the truth would have to be shared. She could no longer hide behind her damaged knees.
He slipped his hand into his inside breast pocket, then dropped his fist to his lap. “You know that I want to marry you. I hoped today you’d picture another wedding. Yours and mine. Probably not the white dress and tuxedo, but a beautiful wedding all the same because it would be ours. Didn’t that enter your mind at all?”
Overcome by his question, Emily managed a calming breath. She had to tell him the truth…about everything. “Yes. I’ve imagined us married. Not only today, but many times. But I knew it wasn’t going to happen.”
Greg clutched her arms and turned her to face him. “Why? I love you, Em, and I’m positive you love me.”
Before she realized what he’d done, Greg had placed a small velvet box into her hand. She gazed at the delicate case, and tears rolled from her eyes, dripping to her hands. She had no right to open the gift.
She lifted her misty eyes to the pure white flakes falling outside the window and remembered the doctor’s prognosis…the unaltered truth she’d buried so long ago.
“I do love you, Greg, and if I were to marry, you would be my only choice. You’re wonderful in every way. But I can’t marry anyone.”
“Em, please—”
“Let me finish.”
She brushed tears from her eyes, praying to stay coherent until she finished what she had to say. “You deserve a whole wife, Greg. A woman who can give you a family. More was injured during that accident than my legs. It’s doubtful I can have children.”
Greg didn’t speak, but brushed away her tears with his fingertips. He lifted her shaking hands to his lips and kissed them. “Em, listen. I have two things to tell you.” He gazed lovingly into her eyes.
“What?” His look was unfazed. His staunch demeanor threw her thoughts off balance. She searched his face for a hint. “What things?”
“First—and please don’t be upset—Marti told me a long time ago about the doctor’s prognosis.”
Her fist rose to her chest and a gasp tumbled from her mouth. “But you never said—”
“Marti probably didn’t realize when she began that I didn’t know, and back then, we’d just begun to fall in love. After I thought about what Marti told me, I struggled with the possibility of not having children, but I love you, and then I realized your prognosis was one doctor’s prediction. Not a fact.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he pressed his finger against her lips.
“And the second point—you’ve forgotten God, Em. If God wants us to be parents, we’ll have a child. Medical problems or not. Remember? We can move mountains if we have faith even as small—”
“As a mustard seed,” she said with him.
His face spoke volumes—concern, faith, hope and, best of all, the deepest love.
“We’ll leave that problem at Jesus’ feet,” he said. “Children or not, Em, I’m asking you to be my wife. I promise my everlasting love and faithfulness forever.”
Her hands trembled as she clutched the velvet box. Her tears, bound by her lashes, misted her sight without leaving a damp trail down her cheeks.