The Days of Redemption (69 page)

She turned and left them, stumbling a bit on the edge of a chair before she climbed the stairs and slowly made her way to her bedroom.

Finally, she realized. Finally, she'd grown up. It had only taken twenty-two years.

“Nice of you to show up today,” Daniel said when Landon entered their office a little after three in the afternoon.

After his adventure with Elsie, Landon had gone home and taken a short twenty-minute walk around his property. He needed some time alone to decompress and think about everything that had just happened. And to give thanks to the Lord for the many blessings He'd given them.

He was still amazed that Elsie could one day be perfectly fine.

And now that he was certain she was going to see one day? That erased the last of his doubts about marriage. Elsie was most definitely going to be the perfect wife for him.

Eager to discuss Elsie and the doctor's news, he'd hitched up his buggy and drove to the office.

But obviously his brother wasn't quite ready to hear his good news. “I'm not that late, Daniel.”

“Late enough. Landon, you said you'd only be gone the morning. It's almost closing time.”

“We rarely work nine to five. Don't act like I don't put in my time at other hours. What can I help you with?”

Daniel held up a stack of folders. “All of this. I've been trying to settle accounts and schedule jobs. It's making me crazy.”

Landon hid a smile. His brother's strengths centered on working with his hands and organizing teams—not numbers or the hundred details that needed to be double-checked before each job began or was billed.

“Hand it all over. I'll work on it here for a while, and take home the rest.”

“Danke.”
Looking a bit sheepish, Daniel said, “Sorry. You know how much I hate paperwork.”

“I know.” Taking a seat at their long conference table, Landon began organizing the folders by date. “Sometimes I wonder how you got so much done before I got here.”

“Edith helped.”

“Your Edith is a good woman.” Landon opened the top folder, picked up a pencil, and began carefully reading about the job, what materials had already been ordered, and what still needed to be taken care of. He enjoyed the work, and enjoyed making sense of so much that his brother considered gibberish.

“So, what did the
doktah
say?”

“That her eyes have gotten worse, but there's a chance she could see much better with surgery.”

“Truly?”

Daniel's surprise was palpable and he scooted back from his work.

“
Jah
. God is so
gut
! I was trying to make sense of having Elsie as a wife even though she would always be visually impaired, but now it seems that may not be the case.”

Daniel slapped him on the back. “I'm pleased for ya. This is mighty
gut
news, indeed. When is the operation?”

“I don't know.” Feeling a bit awkward, he added, “Actually, she hasn't decided to move forward with the operation a hundred percent. She wanted to talk to her family first.”

“That makes sense, but surely they would be all for the operation. I imagine it will be costly, but I bet everyone we know will help pitch in for the bills.”

Roman nodded. “We can do a charity auction, too. Maybe even a couple of bake sales.”

“We'll all do what we can to make things as easy as possible for her and her family, for sure.” Grinning, Daniel slapped him on the back again. “This is truly a blessing for ya, Landon. Why, if Elsie can see, she won't be a burden for you.”

Something about his brother's words sounded too harsh. “It's not quite like that. She's not a burden now.”

“You know what I mean. I meant that she'll be a normal woman now.”

That sounded even worse—partly because Landon realized that he'd thought just about the same thing. “She is normal.”

Daniel looked like he was about to argue, then took a long look at him and held up his hands in mock resignation. “Sorry. I can see that you're not going to be happy with anything that I say about this. I'll just say that I hope to meet her soon. Remember that we asked you to bring her over?”

“I remember. How about tomorrow night, if it's okay with Elsie? Will that work for Edith, do ya think?”

“It should be fine. Hey, who would have thought that we'd end up like this? Here we are, having to check with our women to even plan a meal!”

Put that way, Landon had to agree that it was something that would have sounded far-fetched even five years ago. “Mamm and Daed would get a bigger kick out of this than we are.”

“I'll say. Mamm spent half her time trying to get us to come inside for supper.”

Feeling better and more at ease, Landon went back to his paperwork. Finally, he felt that he was getting everything he'd dreamed about when he'd started to make plans to come to Berlin. He wanted to work beside his brother, have his own little plot of land, and find a woman to have by his side for the next twenty or thirty years.

Now it seemed as if it was all coming together better than he'd ever imagined.

L
ovina felt as if they were long-lost celebrities in their own hometown. No matter where they went, once their names were given and their connections recalled, she and Aaron were greeted with hearty handshakes, slaps on the back, and welcoming smiles.

She'd been stunned, as had Aaron. They'd had many talks, imagining how everyone had either forgotten them or still held on to bitter feelings about the way they'd left their community and had chosen to stay out of touch.

Little by little, they'd found themselves sharing more about their lives. Talking about Ohio and their six children. Proudly talking about their many grandchildren.

And reaching out to others, too.

By her side, Aaron seemed to smile more. She'd occasionally glimpse a side of him that she'd first been enchanted with all those years ago.

But now, as they exited the taxicab and walked toward the front walk of Karl's house, Lovina knew it would be difficult to say who was more nervous or uneasy.

“I sure wish we had a way to leave easily,” she joked. Since the taxi had left, they were going to have to walk several miles if no one at the Swartz house was willing to give them a ride back to the inn.

“
Jah,
this visit puts a whole new perspective on putting faith in others, don'tcha think?”

“Do . . . Do you wish you would have asked someone to join us?”

“
Nee
. This is between me and Karl. And you, of course.”

Aaron would probably never have any idea what his words meant to her. For most of their married life, she'd felt disconnected from Aaron's first life. He kept silent about his first wife and child, but she knew he harbored regrets and feelings that he kept from her. But lately, it seemed like they were growing closer to each other, culminating in this very moment, where they were standing together, ready to meet his worst fears head-on.

With that in mind, she stepped forward and knocked. “Let's get this over with then.”

A step behind her, he eyed the door like it might bite him. “It is time.”

Before they could say anything more, the door was opened by a man almost as old as them.

She didn't recognize him, of course. But by Aaron's sudden tensing of muscles she knew that the man had to be Laura Beth's brother.

After a few seconds' pause, it was obvious that he knew who Aaron was. A brief intake of air was followed by a look of surprise and disbelief.

And quickly followed by an ugly scowl. “Aaron Keim. I never thought I'd see your face again.”

“I wanted to see you, Karl.”

“Why?”

“Because we have a lot to talk about.”

“I don't think so.”

To Lovina's amazement, her husband smiled. “Karl Swartz, you've sent me letters for well on forty years, blaming me for Laura Beth's death. Did you never think we'd meet again?”

Karl didn't say anything. Instead, he gripped the side of the door more tightly, as if he was considering shutting it in their faces.

Lovina felt herself aching to say something, to say anything to ease the tension between them. But for the life of her, she could think of nothing that would make Aaron's job easier to bear.

“I didn't kill Laura Beth and Ben, Karl.”

“You were driving the buggy.”

“I was.”

“And you were arguing. You were yelling at her.” He was visibly upset. The skin covering his jaw tightened, turning his haunted expression into something more pained. “That is the last memory I have of my sister, Aaron. And of my nephew. Of her cringing while you yelled at her. Of your boy sitting silently, watching the exchange. That is not how their last moments on earth should have been.”

“I agree,” Aaron said quietly.

Karl blinked. “What? You're not going to deny what you did? You're not going to deny what happened?”

“I can't. It was a terrible thing. Those last moments will continue to haunt me, just as they always have. But what happened was an accident.”

“Are there such things as accidents?”

“I hope and pray so,” Aaron replied solemnly. “I couldn't bear the idea that Laura Beth and Ben were meant to die that day.”

Lovina noticed something flicker in Karl's eyes, right as the door opened wider behind him.

“What is going on?” a man asked before narrowing his eyes at the two of them. “Aaron Keim, is that you?”

“
Jah
. And this is my wife, Lovina.”

“New wife,” Karl grumbled.

As the newcomer's eyes widened, Lovina noticed that Aaron looked even more uncomfortable. “Um . . . How are you, John?”

“I'm surprised to see you, that's how I am. But happy, too.” After shaking both their hands, he turned to his brother. “Karl, why are Aaron and Lovina standing out here on the front porch?”

“They aren't welcome inside.”

“That's nonsense!” Looking confused, John opened the door and shuttled them all inside. “What in the world are you talking about? Aaron is family.”

“He is not,” Karl snapped.

As they walked into a small, neat living room with several sheets covering the furniture, Lovina bit her lip so she wouldn't say anything, but she ached to tell John the whole story.

Her husband looked completely stunned. “John, do you not share Karl's anger?”

“About what?”

“You . . . You don't still blame me for Laura Beth's and Ben's deaths?”

“What? That was forty years ago. And they were your son and wife! Of course, we don't blame you. I can't imagine that you would think we would hold such a grudge.” He rubbed a hand along his graying beard. “Is that why you haven't stayed in touch?”

Now Karl remained silent, but Lovina could tell he disagreed with his brother completely. And, she realized, it was becoming obvious that he'd been writing to Aaron secretly all this time.

Lovina couldn't hold her tongue any longer. “For forty years, Karl here has sent Aaron hateful notes, reminding him about their deaths.”

John's eyes widened. “Can this be true, Karl?”

“They weren't hateful. There were merely reminders of what happened.”

“As if I could ever forget,” Aaron said dryly.

When John stared at her again, Lovina said, “Every year on the anniversary of their deaths, he's sent my husband the news clipping of the accident, along with a note that says it's all his fault.”

John visibly paled. “Please sit down. We need to talk this out.” When Aaron hesitated he said, “For what it's worth, we haven't kept in contact because you never answered our letters.”

“I never got any letters from you. I only received Karl's. I thought all of you felt the same way.”

A shadow appeared in John's eyes. “It sounds like Karl has done some things we never knew about. Aaron, I, ah . . . I promise you, we all grieved with you. The whole family did. We knew how happy you were together. We knew how happy you made Laura Beth. And you were a wonderful father to Ben.”

Lovina noticed that John was looking very determined to not look at his brother. She hoped that Aaron was noticing it, too. Goodness, could the impossible be true? Had Laura Beth's family really not been aware of Karl's hateful notes?

Had they not been feeling the same way as Karl at all?

When she glanced at her husband, she realized that he was stunned.

Well, perhaps it was time to help a bit. “
Danke
. We'd enjoy visiting with you.” She took a seat on a sofa.

After a moment, Aaron followed. He looked like he was in a daze, but she knew what that was like. It was hard for a man to look at his ghosts up close and personal. And this moment was everything he'd looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.

And after such a long time, there was no choice but to feel awkward and hesitant.

But that was why they'd come on this journey together, she decided. After all this time, it was still possible to face the past. Even discovering that everything hadn't been quite the way they'd envisioned it to be was worth everything.

The truth always was.

Still groggy after tossing and turning all night, Elsie stayed in bed when her sister rose at dawn.

She lay with her eyes closed as Viola got dressed, neatly plaited her hair, and pinned on her kapp. She didn't even move when her sister paused at her bedside.

Only when she heard the door close and Viola's footsteps fade away did Elsie dare to open her eyes.

There, in the hazy light of dawn, she met her imperfections head-on. Almost everything in the room was blurry and out of focus. It was uncomfortable and a bit disconcerting to notice that there was a part of her that still hoped her eyesight would somehow miraculously get better.

Sitting up, she pulled the quilt up around her chest and tried to imagine a different life, or at least a different way of viewing it.

Would she be happier if everything she looked at was perfectly clear?

She wasn't sure. Did one need perfection for happiness? Or was she simply thinking about things the wrong way? Maybe she should concentrate on the operation itself.

Should she take advantage of science and the doctor's medical knowledge? God had given scientists and doctors the ability to heal the problem with her eyes. Was it wrong to not want to take advantage of it?

But what if she was afraid to have a transplant surgery? Was that a bad thing? She just didn't know.

She was still weighing the pros and cons of it all when her door opened and her mother poked her head in. “Elsie?”

“I'm here, Mamm. Just being lazy.”

“I was hoping you'd still be in bed,” she said as she closed the door behind her. “I wanted the chance to talk to you, just the two of us.”

“Oh?”

She sat on the side of Elsie's bed. “Are you still upset with everyone?”

“I wasn't upset. I simply wanted to be heard.”

“That seems to be our downfall, ain't so?” her mother mused. “We are a family of talkers.”

“Some of us are,” Elsie said dryly.

Her mother smiled. “Perhaps. Elsie, there's no sense in me beating around the bush. I wanted to talk to you about the transplant surgery.”

“Yes?”

“What have you decided to do?”

Surprised to be asked instead of told what to do, Elsie said slowly, “I haven't made a decision yet.”

“You haven't?”

She didn't want to ask her mother for her opinion. After all, she'd just told everyone that she needed to decide this for herself.

But this was her mother, and now that they were sitting alone together, Elsie realized that she needed to hear her mother's thoughts. “Mamm, what do you think?”

“You know what? I think you were right to say what you did yesterday. In the end, it doesn't really matter what I want or what I think.”

“I'm sorry I was rude yesterday.”

Her mother laughed softly. “Perhaps you were. But we weren't listening, you know. Sometimes even the best of us has to lose patience every now and then.”

“I'm ready to listen to you now.”

Fingering the diamond pattern stitched neatly in Elsie's quilt, her mother murmured, “Well, I will tell you that I have a whole new appreciation for people who struggle with a part of their body that doesn't work like it should. Having pneumonia made me realize that none of us are as strong as we think we are. I tried to do too much, even when I knew I didn't feel good.”

She crossed her legs. “And even when I knew I should rest or at least try to get some medicine . . . Instead of doing those things, I pretended I was okay.”

“I've done that,” Elsie blurted.

Her mother stilled. “You've done what?”

“I've pretended that I could see better than I could. I've also pretended that I don't mind not being able to see,” she confessed.

“Here's the million-dollar question: Does your failing eyesight bother you?”

“Of course it does. And it scares me, too. I get sad when I think about living the rest of my life in the dark.”

“Anyone would feel that way,” her mother soothed. “That is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“I don't want to live being sad or depressed, Mamm. I want to be the type of person who shows the rest of the world her best. Even if my best is being visually impaired, I don't want to hide behind my insecurities. I want to shine through in spite of them.”

“It sounds like you'd rather live at peace with your disability than constantly wish for things to be different. ”

Slowly, Elsie nodded. “I've spent almost ten years preparing for Dr. Palmer's diagnosis, Mamm. I had pretty much made peace with it. I mean, I thought I had.”

“Until this very moment, I don't think I ever truly realized how strong you are, Elsie. You make me so proud.”

The praise was gratifying. But it didn't change the fact that she had so much to overcome, both inside herself and with her disability.

But perhaps God was showing her yet again that there was no need to be so impatient for everything to be “right.” Here, her mother was patiently listening to her discuss the pros and cons of her future—not pressing her to make a choice right away.

“Elsie, no matter what you decide to do, please don't forget that you have a whole family who is eager to lend a hand. Not to
do
things for you, but to
help you do them
. There's a difference, you know.”

“I hear you, Mamm.”

She got off the bed and stretched a bit. “Goodness, but I can't wait until I get my full strength back. I seem to always be so tired.”

“Perhaps you, too, shouldn't forget to let us help you.”

She chuckled at that. “It seems I need to learn to listen to my advice!”

When Elsie was alone again, she crawled out of bed, then looked around the room, straining her eyes to see through the blurriness. Then, she closed her eyes and turned in a circle, trying to determine how much she would one day miss what little sight she had. For the first time, she relaxed and quit fighting her fear.

As she became more aware of what she could hear, of the air brushing against her bare ankles, she realized that she wasn't as flustered or upset as she imagined she would be. It was as if her body had already accepted that her eyes didn't work well and had begun to make up for it in other ways.

She was going to be okay.

With that knowledge came a curious sense of relief. Instead of concentrating on the pressure around her eyes, instead of feeling frustrated and disappointed that she couldn't do something most others could, she felt curiously free.

Liberated.

As if she'd finally delivered herself into God's hands.

A
fter they'd left the Swartzes' house, Lovina and Aaron had gone back to their hotel. For most of the evening, Aaron had stayed particularly quiet, and Lovina let him have his peace.

She imagined it was difficult for him to match the reality of their visit to Karl with what he'd dreaded all this time.

In the morning, over a breakfast of hot biscuits and sausage, eggs and cinnamon rolls, they discussed it some more. “I still can't believe Laura Beth's whole family doesn't hate me,” Aaron confided with a shake of his head. “On our way there, I was prepared to have the door slammed in our faces.”

Lovina thought about that. “You know, Aaron, when you first told me about Laura Beth and Ben, I don't remember you saying that her whole family blamed you. Was that really the case?”

Looking surprised, he shook his head. “I don't remember any of them blaming me. Of course, I was so grief-stricken that it was all a blur. But, Lovina, I truly didn't feel like I had caused the accident.” He paused to sip his orange juice. “You know, it was only after I had received Karl's letters for years that I began to feel that all of Laura Beth's family blamed me.”

“Folks say time heals all wounds, but that ain't always the case, is it?”

“
Nee
. Sometimes it seems to make those problems even more pronounced and difficult to handle.”

Lovina thought about that. Then she thought about Jack. About how much that boy had meant to her for a brief amount of time . . . and how she'd made his memory into something much different from the way he'd really been.

She knew why she'd exaggerated his good points and minimized his faults over the years, too. She'd needed him to be a better person than he was in order for her to feel better about herself, too.

If she had faced her own faults—that she'd made foolish choices with a boy she hadn't really known all that well, she'd have to come to terms with the fact that she couldn't blame anyone other than herself for her pain.

When her husband finished his eggs, he pushed his plate aside. “Are you ready to visit your old neighborhood now?”

“Not especially. I don't think it will serve any purpose since my parents are in Wisconsin. Plus, the friends I did have drifted off long ago when they discovered the lifestyle I chose.”

“I still think we need to stop by, if for no other reason than you should see your old house.”

“I suppose I would like that,” she mused. “It was a nice home for me.”

Aaron's gaze softened. “You know, Lovina, I don't think I ever truly realized the sacrifices you made to leave everything behind. Leaving Pennsylvania and your family was difficult.”

“Leaving it all wasn't a sacrifice. At least it didn't feel that way at the time. I wanted to be with you, Aaron.”

“Did you love me back then?”

“I think I did.”

When his eyebrows rose in surprise, she chuckled. “It was a long time ago, Aaron. And, to be truthful, we didn't know each other all that well. Did you love me when we first married?”

“I wanted to.”

Almost as soon as he said the words, his cheeks started to pinken. He looked embarrassed about his honesty.

But she thought that was probably one of the kindest things he'd ever told her. “This probably won't make sense, but I feel better about our past now.”

“Really?”

“
Jah
. Before, I was always sure that I could have done things better, that I could have been a better wife and mother. That I could have made my parents learn to accept me and my decision. But now? I am starting to believe in myself. I'm starting to realize that I really did do the best I could all those years ago. I did my best, and that is all anyone can ever ask for.”

“You were asking for more of yourself than you were able to give,” Aaron said.

“Yes. I was asking for too much from myself . . . and not enough from others.” It was a surprising comment for her to make. But it felt right, too.

“Let's go see my old
haus
, Aaron. I'm ready to see it . . . and then to go home to Ohio.”