The Days of Redemption (71 page)

Then she turned around and started for the door. She took care to walk carefully, to grip the handrail as she went up the two steps to the front porch. But inside? Oh, but she was far from feeling staid or stiff.

Inside, she felt as if she were floating on air.

And since no one was standing in front of her to see, she was also wearing the biggest smile ever. She had a tremendous secret that was hers alone.

Well, hers and Landon's.

The very best kind.

“Are you sure you don't want to knock on anyone's door?” Aaron asked as they took a turn around the park where Lovina played as a child. “Now's your chance.”

“To be honest, I had thought I would want to talk to Jack's parents, but now I realize that isn't something I want to do.”

“And why is that?”

“All this time, I've been thinking that Jack had meant more to me than he did. But once you and I started talking, I realized that he was but a moment in a very long life that I've been blessed to enjoy. Only that!”

Aaron looked skeptical, and she didn't blame him for it. But what she'd begun to realize over the last few weeks was that she had no regrets about becoming Amish. She'd had a nice life with Aaron. Together, they'd built a strong and solid legacy that their children and grandchildren would enjoy.

None of that would have been possible if she hadn't been forced to grow up and reexamine herself that summer after high school. If she'd still been clinging to childish dreams, she never would have looked twice at Aaron.

She certainly wouldn't have fallen in love with him and been willing to give up everything for a life with him.

“Aaron, I think I kept all those mementos in the attic because I didn't want to completely forget my childhood. I had a nice one, you know.”

“I do know.” Smiling at her old house, he said, “You had a childhood filled with camping trips and neighborhood barbecues. With slumber parties and dances and Ed Sullivan on TV.”

She looked at him in surprise, touched by the soft tone she heard in his voice. “I haven't talked about any of that in ages!” Probably not since they'd married and she'd tried so hard to be Amish.

“But I still remember, Lovina.”

With a burst of awareness, she realized that she still remembered, too. “I've never regretted becoming Amish,” she said. “I had a happy childhood, filled with love and many friendships. But I've never regretted my choice to become Amish.”

His gaze continued to search hers. Looking for signs that she was concealing her true feelings.

But she wasn't.

“Lovina, you told me that before,” he said, “but I don't think I ever really believed you.”

She wasn't shocked by his revelation. “I don't know if I ever really believed it myself,” she joked. “Now, being back, it makes me smile, remembering the girl I used to be . . . but not nostalgic.”

As they continued to walk along the neatly manicured walkways, Lovina smiled at a few curious children who couldn't seem to help but stare at her kapp and at Aaron's beard. She pointed out several lovely roses and a thicket of bright yellow daffodils and lilies. “I do love spring, Aaron.”

“I know you do.” He cleared his throat. “I bet your garden at home is starting to bloom.”

Imagining the pretty garden that they'd both designed and nurtured over the years, she nodded. “I think it must be. When do you want to head back?”

“Is tomorrow too soon? I want to see Sara and her family one more time, but then I'll be ready to go home. I'm anxious to sleep in our bed.”

That was how things were, wasn't it? All of the things that used to seem so familiar now felt vaguely uncomfortable. Like they'd put on someone else's clothes that were the same size and the fit was right, but they didn't feel as comfortable as the clothes hanging in their closet.

“That suits me fine.” She smiled at him then, and was surprised to see him gazing at her with an expression filled with affection. “I love you, Aaron,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, Lolly,” he murmured right back, giving her a little tremor of delight up her spine.

Here she was, in her sixties, and her man could still make a shiver run down her spine!

She was embarrassed and delighted, all at the same time. God was so good. God was so very, very good indeed.

L
andon couldn't quite get over how much he enjoyed sitting in the Keim kitchen. At the moment, Elsie was holding Regina on her lap and sharing a few chocolate chip cookies. Across the kitchen, Regina's mother, Amanda, was making taco soup, and Viola and her mother were putting together a layered salad. Goldie was sitting near Viola, looking hopeful for scraps.

Next to him, Roman was studying house plans. He and Amanda had decided to build their own cottage on the other side of the barn. It was to be a small house . . . a cozy place for the newlyweds to spend a few years before moving into the main house.

Landon was interested in the house plans, but he couldn't help but let his gaze stray to Elsie's every few minutes. She looked so content and peaceful, sitting with a little girl on her lap. He could only imagine how she would look when she held a child of their own.

Roman must have thought the same thing, because he said, “Elsie, when are you going back to the eye doctor?”

“I don't know. In a few months, I suppose.”

Before he thought better of it, Landon blurted, “How come he doesn't want to see you any sooner?”

Gently, she helped Regina hop off her lap. When Regina went into the other room, Goldie at her heels, her voice turned sharp. “Landon, why would you ask that?”

Landon was stunned. “Well, I mean . . .” he sputtered.

Little by little, all the action in the kitchen came to a standstill. Anyone could see that they were all on pins and needles, waiting for Elsie to tell them what was going to happen next.

But she was obviously waiting for him to complete his thought. Feeling vaguely apprehensive, he finally continued. “Well, you've got to set up your next appointments, right?”

“For what?” Elsie's eyes narrowed. She looked more than a little confused. And, perhaps, defensive?

He felt that way, too. “Don't you need to get ready for your transplant surgery?” he blurted before he reminded himself to merely listen like his mother had.

Obviously as at sea as he was, Roman chimed in. “You didn't forget that I talked to the bishop about it and he gave his blessing, did you, Elsie?”

“Of course I didn't forget what the bishop said.”

But Landon also noticed that she didn't seem as if she cared about the blessing, either.

“Elsie?” her mother asked, turning slowly toward her. “You made your decision?”

“Jah.”

“I see,” her mother said, then turned back to the stove.

Feeling confused, Landon glanced at Viola and Roman. They were obviously as uninformed as he was because they were staring at him with the same expression.

“I don't see,” he finally said.

“I, uh, decided not to have the corneal transplant surgery after all.”

Viola spun toward her sister, her expression incredulous. “Why?” she asked.

As Elsie took her time answering them, Landon felt his heart beating faster than normal. He was disappointed and confused. He even felt a little angry. He wanted her to be able to see.

Even more than that, he wanted
her
to want to be able to see.

As he waited, Elsie seemed to measure her words. He hoped she would offer some kind of reason that he could understand.

If he could understand her thinking, he knew he would support her.

But to his dismay, Elsie simply shrugged. “I just decided that I didn't want to do it. That's all.”

His heartbeat slowed. There was his answer.

“That's no answer,” Roman blurted. “Mamm, do something.”

“It's not my place, Roman. Nor yours.”

Elsie lifted her chin. “After a lot of thought and prayer, I decided that it would not be the best decision.”

“Because?” Roman prodded.

“Well, for one, a surgery like that is expensive. Thousands of dollars.”

Viola shook her head in dismay. “Elsie, we're talking about your eyesight!”

“There's more to it than just that,” Elsie said softly. “I didn't want to have a part of someone else's eyes in mine. It didn't seem right. And, well, I also realized that I'm at peace with going blind.”

Roman looked incredulous. “But, Elsie, the bishop said—”

“I respect Bishop Coblentz,” she interrupted. “I do. But these are my eyes, not his, and I think that means my opinion weighs more than his.”

Her brother scowled. “It's not a matter of who is right and wrong.”

“It doesn't matter now, anyway. I made my choice, and my decision is that I don't want to have the surgery. I already called Dr. Palmer and told him.”

“What did Dr. Palmer say?” Viola asked.

“He thought I should get the surgery, but he also admitted that lots of things could go wrong in a transplant surgery. Lots of things.”

“And you're scared of that?” Landon asked softly.

“
Jah
. It could make things worse,” Elsie said. “There's a chance that I could find myself seeing nothing at all—not even shadows or light. That I would just be in complete and utter darkness.” She winced.

Though his mind was still reeling, he tried to offer her some support. “I wouldn't want to live like that, either.”

“I know you wouldn't,” she said.

Then, to Landon's dismay, Elsie smiled sweetly. “But that's why it's so
gut
that we've found each other, Landon. You made me realize that I don't have to be perfect to have a perfect life.”

Roman turned to him with a scowl. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

“You must have told her something.” Roman glared.

Landon knew Elsie was waiting for him to respond to her statement.

But he didn't think he had any words in his head. Not any that were coherent, at any rate.

He was so stunned, it took everything he had to keep his expression blank. To keep his mouth shut.

Because inside, he was yelling and cajoling. And wanting to say that he'd only been so forward because he'd thought she was going to have the surgery.

He'd thought they'd actually be able to do everything he'd wanted to do in life; that he could make good on his plans. If she could see, he could still have his job with Daniel. He would still be able to devote fifty to sixty hours a week on their business because Elsie would be home taking care of things, raising their children.

If she couldn't see, none of that could happen. He'd have to give up some of his dreams for success. He'd have to tell his brother that he couldn't do his part in their company. Afraid to make a scene or to make the situation worse, he stood. “I need to go.”

“But, Landon, don't you want to stay and talk about things?” Elsie asked.

“Not right now. I can't. I, ah, just remembered some forms I told my brother I'd take care of.”

“I'll walk you out then.”

He didn't want her to. He didn't want to have a private conversation with her until he had time to get his emotions better under control.

She walked to his side, seemingly oblivious to the rest of her family's stunned expressions.

Once outside, she turned to him and rested a hand on his arm. “I'm so glad you were here when I told my family the news, Landon,” she said, her voice light. “You don't know how I've been dreading the moment when I had to tell everyone that I wasn't going to have the surgery. I needed there to be at least one person in the room who agreed with me. Who understood my feelings.”

He hated what he was about to say. But this time, he knew he couldn't hold back his thoughts. It would be cruel if he led her to believe he supported her decision. “Elsie, your news was a big surprise to me, too.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Really? At your brother's house you didn't seem to mind my disability. Actually, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.”

“Elsie, I thought you were going to get your operation.” As she stood there staring at him, he forced himself to continue. “I thought you were going to be able to see one day. I thought you were going to be normal.”

The moment he said the words, he ached to take them back.
Normal
wasn't the right word, and it wasn't what he meant.

But it was too late.

She took a step back from him. “And right now, you do not think I'm ‘normal.' ”

“That wasn't exactly what I meant,” he said, scrambling. “Elsie, I only meant that if you could see, it would be much easier for you. Everything would be much easier. And better.”

“And for you, too,
jah?
” Her voice turned accusing. “You don't want to have a wife who can't see, do you?”

Though he felt guilty about it, he couldn't lie. Not about something so important. Not about this.

His mouth went dry. He ached to tell her something different. He ached to be the type of person who could look at problems in his life and shrug them off instead of dwelling on them.

But he wasn't that type of man.

While he'd thought that he was getting used to courting a woman who was going blind, as soon as the possibility of surgery came up, he realized how much hope it had given him. How happy it had made him.

So it was with regret but not surprise that he answered. “I don't. I need a
frau
who can
see
. Who will be there for me, and for our
kinner
. Who can take care of a
bopli
. I need a woman who I can depend on.”

Before she could interrupt, he held up a hand. He needed to tell her what he thought, even if it was painful to hear. And hard for him to say. “This . . . This is nothing personal, Elsie. It's just that I have plans. I've worked a long time to prepare for them, worked a long time to put everything into place. It's too late to change, you see. . . .”

“Too late?”

“I know I sound rigid. Maybe I am. But if I am, that's even a better reason why we shouldn't see each other anymore. I wouldn't be the right man for you.” He felt almost justified. Perhaps that was the way to look at things—not that she was lacking, but that they weren't suited. Feeling a bit better, he added smoothly, “I wouldn't be able to be the husband you needed, and that would be wrong.”