The Days of Redemption (31 page)

“Oh,” she said again. “Well, then . . . I suppose I'll call you later.”

“I'll be talkin' with you then. Goodbye, Marlene.”

After hanging up, Amanda stared at the empty spot on the beach where she'd been sitting. She wished she were still sitting outside. Then she wouldn't have heard the phone ring or picked it up.

She could've still been sitting quietly, giving thanks for the day and enjoying the antics of the seagulls as they flew in circles over the water.

Now? She was feeling guilty about rejecting her mother-in-law's invitation and about letting Regina stay up late and sleep in.

And she couldn't stop thinking about Roman Keim. The first man to tangle up her thoughts in years. For the first time in a long time, she felt a fresh slice of pain. Almost as if she was suddenly living again.

It was as if one of those rays of light from the rising sun had struck her skin and were blazing inside her.

Waking her up.

Chapter Three

“Momma?” Regina called out from her room. “Momma? You here?”

“I'm right here, dear,” Amanda said with a wry smile as she walked to the hallway. “Where else would I be?”

“I don't know,” her daughter said around a yawn as her bare feet padded along the white tile floor. Every few feet, she stopped and gathered up her stuffed dog in her arms. When she did that, her toes curled away from the cool surface, as if the cold tile was a little too chilly on her skin.

As she came closer, Amanda noticed Gina's white nightgown was wrinkled, and it fluttered around her ankles. It was the perfect complement to the long brown hair falling in thick waves to her shoulder blades.

As she stopped and yawned yet again, Amanda felt her heart fill with love for her little girl.

Regina always looked like an angel to her, but of course, she wasn't the quiet, peaceful sort.

Not at all!

Instead, Regina had a way about her that brought a smile to your face. Since Wesley's death, she was just a little hesitant, a little apprehensive about new things. But once she felt secure, her smile could warm anyone's heart.

Amanda didn't know how she'd been so blessed to have such a sweet little girl. “Are you hungry, sweet pea?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What will it be this morning? Scrambled eggs and bacon?”

“Do we have Pop-Tarts?” Regina's eyes sparkled with mischief.

They'd played this game before. “Pop-Tarts? Here?” she asked in mock surprise.

“We might have them.”

“Truly?”

Regina giggled. “
Jah
, Momma.”

“Well, if you say so, I suppose I'd best go check.” She made a great show of opening several cabinets and looking around in wonder, but of course, it was all in jest. In truth, strawberry Pop-Tarts were their little secret. On vacation, the two of them ate foods that were decidedly different from their usual healthy diet.

Instead of bowls of nutritious oatmeal or eggs and toast, they enjoyed box cereal with tigers and other cartoon characters on the cartons . . . and indulged in their shared love of the boxed pastries. Regina loved the strawberry ones. And Amanda? She didn't even pretend to be healthy—her favorite were the brown sugar cinnamon ones.

Regina got on her tiptoes, trying her best to peek on the counter. “Mamm, do we have any today?”

Her daughter's voice was so hopeful, Amanda couldn't continue the ruse any longer. “Of course we do, dear.”

“
Aeb-beah
?”

“
Jah
. You may have strawberry and I'll have cinnamon sugar. But you must drink your milk, too.”

“I will.” As Amanda was pouring milk into a sippy cup, Regina asked, “What about you?”

“What about me what?” This time, she really was confused.

“Are you going to drink healthy
millich
, too?”

“
Nee
.” She held up her mug. “I'm going to stick to my
kaffi
.”

“But Mommi says you don't take care of yourself.”

Surprised, Amanda set the carton of milk down. “When did your grandmother say that?”

Eyes wide and innocent, Regina said, “Mommi says you don't take care of yourself like you should. 'Cause you're still missing Daed.”

“I'm taking care of myself.” Seeing the stress in her daughter's eyes, Amanda felt a flash of annoyance. She didn't appreciate Marlene causing Regina unnecessary worry. Regina had already had more than enough pain and worry in her short life. “Don't worry about me, child. I am fine.”

“But—”

“I am perfectly fine, Regina. Please, don't worry that I'm not,” she said with a bit more emphasis than she'd intended.

Just as Regina started to get that pout in her lip that signified she was going to argue, Amanda set the red plastic cup on the table and placed one strawberry Pop-Tart on a napkin beside it. “Now, what would you like to do today?”

“Go to the beach.”

That was the top of Regina's list always. She loved the beach and hunting for crabs and building sand castles, and swimming, too. Never did she complain about sunscreen or getting salt or sand in her eyes. If she was outside at the beach, she was a happy girl.

“I think we can go to the beach,” Amanda said with a smile. “And maybe we can go for a walk and look for shells?”

Regina nodded, as if they were discussing extremely important matters. “And maybe get some ice cream, too?”

“Perhaps. Also, Lindy might have time to play. Would you like that, too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Eat up, then.” Amanda smiled, but felt her insides churning with doubts all over again. As much as she loved spending time at the beach with her daughter, something about those few moments with Roman Keim had reminded her of what it was like to have a man by her side. To be more than just a
mamm
.

Yes, she was calm and relatively content. But she was beginning to feel as if she were only half alive. Suddenly, a lazy day at the beach didn't sound as if it were the best day ever.

No, it sounded like another day to pass while she waited for something better to happen.

Was that true? Had she begun to confuse contentment with happiness . . . simply because both were far better than grieving for things that couldn't be?

 

“Have you heard from Roman again, Marie? Has he called, by chance?” Lovina asked from across the room where she'd been hard at work at the treadle sewing machine for two hours.

They'd been working in almost complete silence, each lost in thought. At least, that was what Marie suspected. For herself, she kept thinking about Peter . . . and wondering how he was going to react to the latest bombshell about his parents.

Marie kept waiting for Lovina to bring up the matter again. But, like always, it seemed she was content to push their problems to one side . . . almost as if they weren't happening.

“Have you heard anything?” Lovina asked again, her voice now tinged with impatience.

“Not a thing.” Looking up from the pattern she was tracing for Lorene's wedding dress, she said hesitantly, “Perhaps Roman is trying to forget about us this week. If he stayed in constant touch, he'd hardly be taking a vacation from the goings-on around here.” She paused, half expecting Lovina to say something caustic.

But instead, her mother-in-law chuckled. “I suppose you're right. We've had enough drama in this home for a lifetime. If I were a young man, I'd try to stay as far away as I could. At least things seem to be calming down here, I think.”

“Are they?” Marie asked. “Lovina, when are you planning to explain this news about Aaron's first wife and son?”

Lovina clenched her hands on her lap. “I wasn't planning to discuss it.”

“But we deserve to know more. I mean, if he lost his wife and child . . .”

“It's not my place to discuss my husband's past.”

“Since he doesn't seem ready, I wish you would.”

The tension in the air thickened. Marie stared at her mother-in-law, tired of playing games.

“We need to have everything out in the open,” she whispered. “Only then can we begin to heal.”

“Perhaps,” Lovina said, but she didn't sound too convinced.

For a moment, Marie was sure Lovina was going to talk. Was finally going to share her feelings and talk about their past. Chest tight with unspent emotion, Marie waited.

And waited.

Then watched as her mother-in-law shook out her fabric and cleared her throat. “Well, now. At least Viola is happy. That is a blessing, for sure.”

So that was going to be the way of it.

With a sigh, Marie relaxed her posture and played along. “It is a blessing, to be sure. I fear the postman is going to start coming to our house with body armor on. Viola practically tackles him when he delivers the mail.”

“She's in
lieb
. She can't be faulted for wanting to hear from Edward.”

There was such fondness and whimsy in her mother-in-law's voice that Marie looked her way in surprise. “So, you don't think I should be worrying about Viola marrying a missionary? Moving to Belize is a big step.”

“It is, but I've never known your daughter to do anything she doesn't want to do. Or to take advice.” Carefully clipping some stray threads, Lovina held up the portion of the pink dress she'd just pieced together. “Elsie now has half a dress for Lorene's wedding.”

Marie noticed how perfectly the sleeves were attached and again marveled at what a competent, skilled seamstress Lovina was. “Viola's dress is already done, right?”

“It is. As is mine. I only have Elsie's to finish, and yours.”

Thinking about her sister-in-law Lorene, her husband's youngest sister, Marie said, “Lorene is as giddy as a schoolgirl, don't you think? I've never known her to be so full of life. It's fun to see.”

“It is
gut
to see. It is time she had some giddiness, I think.” Smoothing out the pink fabric in front of her, Lovina added, “I truly thought John Miller wasn't the right man for her all those years ago. I thought interfering in her life was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe it was? Not everyone is ready for marriage at twenty.”

“I should have let her make that choice.” Lifting her chin, she gazed at Marie. “I regret my actions.”

“It wasn't just your choice, Lovina. Aaron agreed, and both John and Lorene went along with your decision.” Smiling slightly, she said, “But could you ever imagine Viola giving in so easily?”

Her mother-in-law chuckled. “I can't even imagine Viola eating carrots! She never was one to do something she didn't want to.”

Marie smiled. “I had forgotten about that. When they were little, that was one of the ways Peter and I could tell them apart! Elsie always loved all vegetables. Viola? Not so much.”

“Those were the days, weren't they? It was such a busy house, with those twin girls constantly causing mischief.”

Marie felt the same spark of nostalgia. “I thought I'd never get a moment's rest when the girls were two and Roman was three. Oh, the three of them together were a handful.”

“Remember when Roman announced he wanted to live in the barn, because there were no little girls there? Aaron and I couldn't stop laughing.” There was more than a touch of fondness in Lovina's tone . . . and a bit wistfulness, too.

Which made Marie realize she was feeling the absence of another member of their family.

Marie hesitated, then decided to let the cat out of the bag. “I hope Peter will be able to attend Lorene's wedding. They're so close, it would be a shame if he missed it.”

“So . . . I don't guess you've heard from him?”

“Only one phone call so far.” Her husband had warned her that his time in the alcohol rehabilitation center would be restrictive. But somehow, she'd thought they'd talk more often. She missed him so much. Before he'd left, they'd never been apart more than two nights, when he'd sometimes go with his father to a horse auction. They'd been together so long, she felt his absence acutely, as if she were missing one of her limbs. “I sure hope he calls soon. I wonder why he isn't writing?”

“Are you worried about him, Marie?”

Once again, Lovina's voice was so kind, it almost caught her off guard. Lovina had never been one for sympathy, or understanding people's weaknesses. But ever since it came out that Lovina had grown up English, and that she'd kept it a secret all these years, there was a bit of humility in her that Marie didn't know what to do with.

Little by little, Marie had lowered the defensive wall she'd erected for self-preservation. It was time to speak the truth—even if it made her vulnerable. “Of course I'm worried. I mean, I don't want to think the worst, but hardly hearing from him for two weeks . . . my imagination takes control and I start worrying that he's sick. Or that his drinking problem has gotten worse.”

“I doubt he's worse. He can't be getting into any alcohol there. And if he was sick, you would have heard from the center.”

“I suppose. I'm just worried.”

“Why? He is finally getting help. You should be relieved.”

“I'm worried that the center won't be able to help him,” she admitted, hating to even say the words out loud. “Or I fear that Peter will lie about his progress, that maybe everyone will think he's cured but he won't be. Or that it will take even longer than we thought.” She worried about his faith, too. Was he clinging to it, like she was? Or was the program encouraging him to compromise—or to even set aside his beliefs in order to heal?

“I'm sorry,” Marie said. “I sound hateful and selfish, don't I? I do believe in him. And I do love him. It's just, well, at night, I find myself wishing for the way things used to be.”

“When he was keeping things from you?”

That was an apt question. Wryly, she said, “I want things to be like I
thought
they were, like I wanted them to be. I'm sorry, Lovina. I hate to burden you with this.”

Interrupting her thoughts, her mother-in-law spoke again. “You're not burdening me, Marie. Your worries are justified.” Hesitantly, she added, “I have also thought the same things a time or two.”

So thankful that Lovina wasn't berating her for not being more positive, she said, “I suppose you don't know what to think of any of us.”

Lovina laughed. “If you're thinking that, you would be wrong. I think you've been doing the best you can during a challenging time. Your sister-in-law is practically eloping, she's in a such a rush to get married. Your daughter is engaged and will likely move out of the country, and your husband is in a drug treatment facility. Then, Aaron lets it slip that he was married before. It's a lot to have on one's plate, I think.”