When Mercy Rains (29 page)

As a child, Suzanne had sat on the third bench from the front, first beside Mother and then, with the arrival of little sisters, beside Shelley. Mother had moved farther toward the center to open up space for the younger girls. Sandra, Shelley with Ruby and Pearl, and Tanya with Julie and Jana now occupied the familiar bench. Clete, Jay, Harper, Derek, and little Ian filled the bench directly across the aisle where Dad had always sat with Clete during Suzanne’s growing-up years.

Behind the Zimmerman bench was Paul’s family bench. He still sat on the aisle. Back in her teens, she’d found it easy to peek over her shoulder at him. Every time she looked, she found him focused on her rather than on his Bible or the one preaching.

From her place in the back, she had a view of Paul’s broad shoulders and short-cropped hair. His suntanned neck looked even darker against the thin band of his crisp white shirt sticking up above the collar of his suit coat. Memories carried her backward. How many times had she been scolded for sending smiles in his direction during worship? Maybe if she’d heeded her parents’ warnings about flirtation, she wouldn’t have ended up in trouble. But then, if
she hadn’t gone with Paul that night, she wouldn’t have been sent to Indiana, wouldn’t have been gifted with Alexa, so how could she wish away that evening?

As she sat, gazing at the back of his head, he turned and caught her looking. Her face flooded with heat, and red streaked his fresh-shaven cheeks. For several seconds they stared past everyone and everything else into each other’s eyes as if they’d turned into blocks of ice. Or pillars of salt.

Rattled, she forced her gaze aside as the song leader stepped to the front and invited everyone to rise for the opening hymn. She stood but she didn’t join when the others began an a cappella rendition of “Just as I Am” in four-part harmony. Her throat felt tight and raw. No words would escape it. Like a magnet, Paul’s sturdy form once again drew her attention.

Although others blocked her view, if she shifted her head slightly, she could glimpse him standing with his hand on his son’s shoulder, his chin high as he sang. He sang tenor, and she’d always loved listening to his clear, resonant voice, but she couldn’t detect it above the others all joined together. The realization disappointed her.

“ ‘Just as I am, though tossed about, with many a conflict, many a doubt …’ ”

Although the beautiful music reverberated from the rafters, her chest began to ache. The words stung, their meaning far too accurate. She looked at Mother and then at Alexa. They both sang—Alexa in a sweet soprano and Mother in her familiar alto. They appeared content, the way she’d felt when she first settled onto the bench this morning. But one lengthy exchange of glances had pulled the rug of contentment from under her feet and left her floundering again.

How, after so many years, could Paul still affect her? He’d asked for her forgiveness. She’d given it. Shouldn’t she be able to set her memories aside and let go? If she couldn’t move past the memories—if they would always haunt her—how could she remain here in Arborville?

The congregation sang two more hymns, and then one of the deacons presented an hour-long message. Suzanne listened respectfully, keeping her focus on the man at the front or following along in her Bible when he read
Scripture. She didn’t allow herself so much as a peek in Paul’s direction. When the sermon ended, everyone except Mother shifted to kneel at the benches for prayer. The same deacon who’d delivered the morning’s sermon led them in prayers of gratitude for blessings, confession of sin, and finally petitions.

All across the room, whispered voices mingled, prayers finding their way from the lips of men to the ears of God. Suzanne prayed, but she kept her words inside rather than allowing them to escape even on a whisper. She wouldn’t risk either Mother or Alexa overhearing the burden of her heart.
Let me forget, Lord. You’ve forgiven me. You’ve forgiven him. I’ve forgiven him. Now please … please, let me forget
.

With the deacon’s resounding “Amen,” the service ended. The quiet ended, too, as people rose and began visiting. Suzanne shook her head in wonder at the cacophony of voices. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they hadn’t had opportunities to catch up with neighbors during the week. But she did know better.

Being out away from town, Mother was isolated from the town’s interactions. On the other Sundays Suzanne had attended, Mother demanded to be rolled out of the church immediately following the service, claiming the clatter made her head pound. Suzanne automatically reached for the handles of Mother’s wheelchair to take her outside.

Mother reached back and patted her hand. “See if you can push me over there to Fonda Loepp. I want to talk to her about the quilting group.”

Suzanne searched the milling throng for Mrs. Loepp. She located her near the front of the church in the center aisle, speaking with Paul and his son. Suzanne gulped. “Um … Alexa?” She shifted aside and gestured for Alexa to take hold of the handles. “Your grandmother wants to talk to Mrs. Loepp. She’s the one—”

“Don’t tell me, she’s the one wearing a white cap with black ribbons,” Alexa said, a teasing grin on her face.

So many times her daughter’s humorous comments had pulled her from the doldrums or moments of worry. Had Alexa sensed her gloomy thought and
chosen impishness to erase it? Whatever the reason, the tension in Suzanne’s shoulders eased as she released a short laugh. “Very funny. She’s the one in the orange-and-green-flowered dress, talking to Mr. Aldrich.”

“All right.”

Mother grabbed the rubber grips on the wheels and held tight. “Suzanne Abigail Zimmerman, I didn’t ask Alexa to take me to Fonda, I asked you. Why are you dumping me on Alexa?”

“I’m not dumping you!” Suzanne’s conscience pricked. The prick became a stab when Mother turned a knowing look on her. She sighed. “All right, I admit, I was dumping you.”

“Why?” Alexa asked the question. Given Mother’s smirk, she already knew the answer. Before Mother could contribute her thoughts, Suzanne answered.

“Never mind. Here.” She plunked the car keys into Alexa’s hand. “Bring the car around so we can load Mother when she’s finished talking to Mrs. Loepp. We’ll be out soon.” At least she hoped it would be soon. Mother had been using every excuse imaginable to put her in proximity with Paul over the past week and a half.

She inched Mother’s chair between people, excusing herself as she went. Was Mother really interested in the quilting group, or was she only trying to throw her into Paul’s pathway again? Although she didn’t want to destroy the fragile peace they’d established with each other, she needed to have a talk with Mother concerning letting the past remain in the past.

Suzanne eased Mother within a few feet of Mrs. Loepp and Paul, intending to let them finish their conversation rather than interrupt. But Mother caught the rubber grips on the chair’s wheels and closed the gap between them. Suzanne scurried along behind, uncertain what else to do. But she kept her gaze on Mother’s mesh cap. No sense in locking eyes with Paul while Mrs. Loepp looked on. The quilting circle had loved to gossip back when Suzanne lived in town, and she didn’t imagine the practice had changed.

“Fonda,” Mother blared, pulling the woman away from whatever she was saying to Paul. “Do the quilting ladies still meet on Tuesday mornings?”

Mrs. Loepp tipped her face toward Mother. “We do. Why?”

“I’d like to join you.”

Mrs. Loepp bounced a look of surprise at Suzanne. “You would? But—but—”

Mother laughed. It seemed a bit forced, but no one else appeared to notice. “I know my legs don’t work, but my hands still do. Do you need another quilter?”

“Well, Abigail, of course we never turn down a pair of willing hands.” Mrs. Loepp turned businesslike. “We want to finish two more quilts before the Relief Sale quilt auction in September. But …” Color climbed the woman’s cheeks. “We meet in the basement. How …” She looked pointedly at Mother’s chair.

“Suzanne knows how to get me down the stairs, don’t you, Suzanne?” Mother cast a glance over her shoulder, beaming.

Suzanne, aware of Paul’s steady gaze on her, swallowed. “Yes, I do, although I’ll need some help.”

“Alexa can help you.”

“Yes, she can.” Suzanne spoke calmly even though her pulse raced as if she’d just finished a marathon. “But I’m not sure how long we’ll be in Arborville. So you can’t depend on us indefinitely.”

Mother laughed again. The same oddly strained laugh she’d emitted a few minutes ago. “Well, now, we know you’ll be here at least another month, yes? Didn’t you take a two-month leave of absence? So you’ll be here four or five more weeks.”

Suzanne came close to groaning. Fonda Loepp had no need for the information, so obviously Mother wanted someone else to know how long she’d be in town. And that
someone else
and his son both seemed to be listening intently. She would definitely have that talk with Mother.

“So plan on me being with you Tuesday. I’ll even ask Alexa to bake a treat to share with everyone. She’s a marvelous baker.” Mother blathered on, almost sickeningly cheerful. “Just ask Paul and Danny here—they’ve sampled some of her baked goods.”

Mrs. Loepp looked at Paul, who nodded. She turned back to Mother. “That sounds wonderful, Abigail. Of course we’ll be happy to have you … and your daughter and granddaughter … join us.” She offered a brief, warm smile to Suzanne before looking at Paul again. “Will you let me know when your schedule is clear? Ted and I are eager to make use of that shed again.”

“Of course, Mrs. Loepp.” Paul curled his hand loosely around the back of Danny’s neck and aimed him for the front doors.

Mother jerked her wheelchair directly into Paul’s pathway. “Lunch at Sandra’s today, remember?”

Paul rubbed his chin, his dark-eyed gaze flitting in Suzanne’s direction, then landing on Mother. “I remember, but I think Danny and I are going to go home instead. Be lazy this afternoon.” He released a laugh that sounded as tight and forced as Mother’s had been. “We’ve earned it after the hours we put in at your place the past few days.”

With Danny out of school, Paul had changed his working hours from eight in the morning until five or six in the evening instead of leaving at three. He had reason to enjoy a day of rest, but Suzanne suspected he had another reason for avoiding lunch with them.

“But, Dad—”

Mother cut Danny off. “I thought we agreed—”

“I appreciate the invitation very much, Mrs. Zimmerman.” Paul spoke firmly, aiming a stern look at his son. “But you’ve been providing too many meals for us lately. I’ve nearly forgotten how to make a sandwich. So thank you, but we’re going home. Come on now, Danny.” He ushered his reluctant son up the aisle.

Mother scowled after him. “That is a stubborn, stubborn man.”

Suzanne raised one eyebrow and peered at her mother. “And you are a stubborn, stubborn woman.” She bent down and chose a gentle tone. “You can’t force something that no longer exists, Mother. It’s over. You need to accept it.”

Her mother stared at her for several silent seconds, her lips pursed tight. Then she huffed and gave the wheels of her chair a push. “Let’s get to Sandra’s
before Shelley throws a fit. You know how she has to keep to her schedule.” Suzanne, relieved to drop the subject, followed Mother.

Clete and Harper were waiting on the porch, the brims of their hats blocking the noonday sun. Clete frowned. “What took you so long?”

“Don’t fuss at me,” Mother snapped, sounding like Shelley again.

Clete set his lips in a firm line and gestured for Harper to grab the other side of her wheelchair. The men carried the chair down the stairs and set it gently in the grass. Clete pushed Mother across the yard to her car, which Alexa had running with the air conditioning on high. Suzanne sent up a silent thank-you for her daughter’s consideration. She and Mother both needed to cool down.

“I’ll transfer her—thanks, Clete.” Suzanne smiled at her brother, but he only grunted in reply and strode off toward his pickup truck where his family waited. Suzanne helped Mother into the seat, fastened her seat belt, then started to back out.

Mother grabbed her hand, holding her in place. In a voice so whisper soft Suzanne might have imagined the words, she said, “You two created life together. It will never be over.
You
need to accept
that
.”

Paul

Until that morning if someone had asked him, “Paul, are you a coward?” he would have emphatically answered, “No.” But now? He wasn’t so sure.

Danny scuffed along beside him, his head low and his toes kicking up dust as they walked home. His son’s dejected pose made Paul regret his decision to eat sandwiches at home rather than joining the Zimmerman family, but not enough to change his mind. He needed some distance between himself and Suzy—no matter what she said, he couldn’t think of her as Suzanne—until he managed to sort out his feelings toward her.

Strange that he still had feelings for her. Marriage to Karina, raising Danny, building a business, just the act of living—shouldn’t all of that have erased those old feelings? Especially since she’d forgiven him? She’d said they were young, it was so long ago, they didn’t need to think about it anymore. And he’d agreed. So why had he found himself staring at her this morning? He sure wasn’t a teenager, but he acted like one, getting lost in the depths of Suzy Zimmerman’s crystal-blue eyes.