Troubled waters, p.30
Troubled Waters, page 30
Macey stared at her feet. If only she could believe it.
“You’re probably wondering about that little baby gown,” Evelyn said, pointing to it.
While stroking its sleeve, Macey said, “I went to Madeleine’s, found out Dad bought it there on the very same day I . . .” Macey covered her mouth. To say it in front of her mother was an impossibility. “That same day. But I have no idea what it all means.”
Her mother looked at the gown. “Your father felt so bad about what he said to you when you first told him you were pregnant. He had reacted out of anger, and as he prayed and thought about it, he knew that God’s forgiveness was abundant, just like He’d promised, and that it would extend out to you no matter what. He told me what had happened, and he decided he’d go and get a baby baptism outfit. He certainly wasn’t in favor of any child being born out of wedlock, but he believed a child raised with the principles of the Lord, one raised in the church and with love, would be a child blessed.” Evelyn paused. “So he went out and got that outfit. Paid a lot of money for it, too. It was . . . a gesture—” Macey glanced up at her mom as she fought for words—“a gesture of love, a way for him to ask for your forgiveness.” Evelyn tried to smile away the tears. “Your father was a proud man, as you know, and not one to admit he was wrong very much. Most of the time he wasn’t.” She chuckled softly. “So the baptism outfit was a way that he could tell you he was sorry and that he had accepted the situation . . . that everything was going to be okay.”
Macey fought her own tears. “So he went out and bought this the same day I . . .”
Evelyn blinked at her. “Yes.”
Macey stared at the gown. “I remember he was holding a box when I told him what I’d done. He was in the living room, in his chair. I didn’t know then what was in the box, and then everything went so crazy after I told him.”
“He did go crazy,” Evelyn agreed. “I was upstairs in the bedroom and I heard everything. I was so scared, for the both of you.”
A quietness settled as they both gathered their thoughts. Then Macey said, “He hated me so much that day, Mom. I was the apple of his eye one day, and the next the spawn of Satan.”
“I know it seemed that way. You’d never seen your father’s temper. Directed at you, anyhow. He said some horrible things, I know he did. But when it was all over and done with, when you’d left and the house was quiet, your father and me, we both knew that he was more angry with himself. He told me so,” Evelyn said, glancing at Macey. “He told me it’d all been his fault. If he hadn’t overreacted as he did, if he hadn’t said those things, then you wouldn’t have gone and done what you did. He was devastated, completely devastated.”
Tears flowed down Macey’s cheeks, and she doubled over with a heart-wrenching cry. Her mother’s hand rubbed her back as Macey wept long and hard. After several moments she finally was able to stop sobbing long enough to sit up and look her mom in the eye.
“Noah told me that Dad used to sit at the bus station and wait every Christmas and Thanksgiving. Was he waiting for me?”
Evelyn nodded. “Every night he prayed you would come home. I don’t suppose he ever really thought you’d get off a bus, but it was his way of expecting the Lord to do the impossible.”
Macey shook her head and aggressively wiped away the tears. “I don’t understand. If he was so sorry for everything, why didn’t he come find me? Why were you the only one I ever got a card from?”
Evelyn held Macey’s hand. “It’s hard to explain. I think mostly he felt guilty, afraid that if he made that attempt, you would reject him. I’m not sure he could’ve gone on if that had happened. That’s also why I didn’t contact you as much as I should have. I sent a few cards, hoping you’d come home. And then when you moved, we didn’t know where to find you. So we figured—” Evelyn sighed—“we figured you didn’t want to be found.”
Macey shrugged. “I guess I didn’t. I was angry. Very angry.”
“Understandably so. It just fell apart, and neither of us knew what to do. We’re farm people. We go day by day and live a simple life. What happened was, well, it was complex and difficult, and I don’t think your father and I knew what we were supposed to do. Especially your father. He felt he’d failed as a father in all respects. He felt he hadn’t done a good enough job teaching you the Bible. Maybe he hadn’t loved you enough, made you feel secure enough. What happened all those years ago he considered the biggest mistake and the biggest regret of his whole life.”
Macey nodded, trying to take it all in. All these years it had been a mystery. And now she had the answers. The thought consumed her, and she found herself not knowing what to say.
“If there’s anything for you to know, it’s that your dad loved you—always.”
Macey nodded, bowed her head, and began weeping again. The finality of her father’s death left her heart aching. If only she’d come home. If only he’d found her. She covered her eyes with a trembling hand. If only God had answered his prayer.
Twenty-Nine
I sure hope this thing thaws in time,” Evelyn said. She dropped the roast to the counter and it landed with a thud. Macey couldn’t help but smile. It delighted her mom to cook. And, she had to admit, she herself was beginning to enjoy the home cooking. “What time is it?”
Macey glanced down at her wrist and then laughed. “I have no idea.”
Evelyn moved to the kitchen entryway and looked at a clock in the living room. “In this heat the thing’s bound to not only thaw but cook itself! Boy, I love a good roast.”
“Potatoes and carrots, too?” Macey asked.
“What’s a roast without ’em?” Evelyn went to the pantry and started digging around.
Macey sat perfectly still, her eyes puffy. The coolness of the house let her breathe more slowly. For once in her life she wasn’t on a schedule and she didn’t care what happened next.
“Should we have Noah and the girls over for dinner?”
Macey hesitated in answering her mom. She had to think on it. When she left Noah earlier, she’d been angry. Though she doubted he was the type to hold a grudge, she didn’t want there to be any awkwardness. “Let’s keep it to just you and me tonight, Mom.”
Evelyn turned and smiled warmly, nodding with satisfaction.
While thankful she’d learned the truth about her father and what had really taken place those terrible days so long ago, for Macey the knowledge was accompanied with a sadness, the kind that would stick with her, it seemed, for a very long time. It wasn’t despair. Just sadness, plain and simple. Nothing could bring her father back, and nothing could make things right. She would just have to live with the consequences of what happened, which for her was hard even to think about.
“Oh, I’m such a klutz!” her mother cried, causing Macey to shake off her somber thoughts. Her mother bent over as if in pain.
“Mom, you okay?”
“Fine, fine,” Evelyn grumbled. She stood with a pair of broken eyeglasses in her hand. “Knocked ’em off the counter, then stepped on them.” Her mother tossed the glasses back on the counter. “Those were my good pair, too.”
Macey rose to her feet. “Let’s go into town and get you new ones.”
Evelyn sighed. “Maybe another time. I’ve got another pair upstairs. They’re not as fancy as these, but they’ll do.” She headed toward the stairs.
“Let me,” Macey offered. “Where are they?”
“In the drawer of my nightstand. Should be right at the front.”
“Be right back.” Macey climbed the stairs and went toward her mother’s bedroom, her feet scooting across the wood floor. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, but her mind was clear, the exact opposite of her life before she came home. Before, she was physically fit, able to go around the clock, but beyond that, things were fuzzy. She never quite knew why.
And something else had entered her soul—a lack of rage. It felt strange. She’d been so temperamental and moody before, always on edge, never knowing when she was going to explode. The tension that so often rocked her world had mysteriously vanished. She smiled at the thought as she opened the door to her mother’s room.
She sat on the edge of the bed and for a moment took in the room’s atmosphere. She’d spent endless nights under the covers of this bed during storms. Her father had shown her their new puppy in this room. She oftentimes would take naps here, because it was cooler than her room. There was always the distinct smell of night cream and baby powder near the bathroom.
She remembered that her mother was waiting for the glasses, so she pulled open the little drawer of the nightstand and found them. Just for fun she tried them on, something she would’ve done as a little girl. To her surprise, everything was clearer, the edges and lines in the room having become more in focus. She chuckled. She’d have to look into getting glasses when she got back home.
She hopped off the bed when something caught her eye. If she hadn’t had the glasses on, she might not have seen it. In the small trash can beside the nightstand was an envelope, addressed to her father. On the top left-hand corner of the envelope was written Macey Steigel with her former San Antonio address.
What is this? she wondered.
The flap of the envelope came unstuck easily, as if it might not have been completely sealed. She removed her mother’s glasses, pulled out the letter, and began to read.
———
The click click click of the potato peeler was the only sound filling the kitchen. She’d probably peeled too many potatoes and carrots, but no matter. She planned on having a feast. She would bake fresh bread, put together a simple salad, and even make an apple cobbler if she had enough apples. She chopped the potato she’d just peeled and threw the pieces into a large pot. Behind her, she could hear the familiar thump of someone coming down the stairs. For years it had been Jess. He’d often skip the last step and hit the floor a little hard. With Macey, the thumping sounded lighter and quicker.
“Did you find the glasses?” Evelyn asked, picking up another potato, promising herself it would be the last. When no response came, she turned to find her daughter standing near the kitchen’s entrance, her eyes upset and bloodshot. She held a white envelope in one hand, a piece of paper in the other. At first, she didn’t put it together. But when she read the expression on her daughter’s face more closely, she knew. The potato she was holding dropped to the kitchen floor and rolled several feet before coming to rest against the wall. Neither of them looked down. Macey’s eyes stayed steady on Evelyn, and Evelyn reached out for a chair at the breakfast table and sat down.
“It was in the wastebasket in your bedroom,” Macey said, not moving a muscle.
Evelyn’s eyes lowered in shame. How could she have been so careless? Yet how could she have imagined her daughter would return home? She covered her mouth, unable to speak.
Macey finally walked over and sat at the table with her. “This looks like my handwriting.”
Evelyn nodded but couldn’t look her daughter in the eyes. “I used one of your old school papers from high school. I tried to copy it as exact as I could.”
“The moth and the butterfly,” her daughter breathed. A brief pause was followed by “You wrote an apology on my behalf? You tried to express to Dad how I might be feeling? What I was thinking? Why I had stayed away so long?”
Evelyn couldn’t keep herself from trembling. Everything had been so good just minutes ago. And now this. “I . . . I thought, I just thought—” Evelyn stumbled over her words—“your father was dying, and I knew how much he grieved the fact that you two had never made amends. It saddened him more than I can tell you.” Evelyn’s voice shook with each word. “I couldn’t bear to see him die with his heart so broken.”
She finally glanced up at Macey, whose face appeared expressionless. Evelyn almost screamed as she waited with bated breath for some reaction from Macey. Then, to Evelyn’s astonishment, a small but warm smile spread across her daughter’s lips. Evelyn’s eyes widened. What was she smiling about? Wasn’t she angry?
Macey looked down at the letter, shaking her head and smiling even more. “I guess I should be mad, Mother. I mean, you lied. You deceived. But you did it with the best intentions. I can see that.” She looked her mom in the eyes. “And for some reason, it brings me great peace to know that Dad knew how much I loved him, that maybe things were made a little more right between us before he died.” Macey’s face brightened. “Just to know that he didn’t die wondering makes me feel happy.” Evelyn shook her head and started to say something, but Macey continued, “Yeah, maybe it wasn’t true at the time. When this was written, no, I didn’t feel this way, but now I do. Now I know things I didn’t know before. Everything’s changed.” Macey reached across the table and took Evelyn’s hand. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you for doing this.”
Evelyn pulled her hand away, rose slowly from her chair, and stood facing the counter and shaking uncontrollably. Now what? Should she tell her daughter the truth? Tell her that she hadn’t sent the letter? She’d let her husband die believing Macey would never love him again. Could she let her daughter believe the same?
“Mother?” She could feel Macey behind her. “What’s wrong? I said I’m not mad.”
Evelyn shook her head and waved her daughter away. This was too much for an old woman to take. She scolded herself for ever writing the letter and then not being more careful in discarding it. She grabbed a potato and started peeling it. It was the only thing she could think to do. But two firm hands turned her around, and soon she was staring into the bewildered face of her daughter.
“What’s the matter?” Macey demanded.
Evelyn pressed her lips together and resolved to tell Macey the whole truth. No matter how painful, she knew it was the right thing and that the future of their relationship depended on this moment. “Dear, your father never saw that letter.” She said it more matter-of-factly than she intended to, but she was glad it had come out at all.
Macey stared at her as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. “What are you talking about? I have it in my hands. It’s addressed to Dad. It even has a stamp. . . .” Macey’s voice trailed off as she looked again at the envelope. “There’s no postmark.”
Evelyn took a step back and set down the peeler. “I had intended to mail it. A couple of days before I thought your dad would pass on. I was even worried it might not make it here in time. But as I stood at the mail drop, I realized how deceptive it all was. I was trying to answer the prayer I had prayed. I was trying to play God. So I didn’t send it. I wanted to so badly. I knew your father ached at the idea that you two would never see each other on this earth again. But I had to trust the Father more. It’s hard when God says no to your prayers. I took comfort in knowing He had a reason.”
Tears streamed down Macey’s face now. She said through gritted teeth, “What possible reason could He have?”
“I don’t know, dear. I wish I did.”
Macey turned and buried her face in her hands. Evelyn let her cry. She didn’t know what else to do and suspected Macey didn’t need the comfort of two human hands right now. She needed something more divine than that.
Finally Macey turned back to Evelyn. “I thought this was my answer. I thought God had come through, that He’d somehow connected me and Dad across the divide and pulled us together again.” Her daughter rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in an attempt to keep more tears from falling. “I don’t understand this. I don’t even know why I’m back here when I should be in New York getting the job of my dreams.”
Evelyn bowed her head. She had no answer for that, either. She could only pray that her daughter’s being here was part of God’s plan.
“I’m going for a walk,” Macey said, though she looked so tired Evelyn thought it would be better for her to lie down for a while.
Evelyn took a step toward her. “Are you sure? Where are you going?”
Macey opened the back door. “Somewhere where I think Dad might be.”
———
The walk wasn’t quite a mile but it was uphill, and the heat made it feel more like three miles. She finally reached it, out of breath and sweating profusely, yet she was mindful of neither. She stood on the lawn and stared at the old chipped-up wood, the delicate stained glass, and the steeple that rose toward the heavens. When she had come here for church, she’d hardly noticed the structure. With all the people milling about, it had been insignificant. But now, with it empty, it truly seemed to be a house of God—reverent, noble, pure.
Macey walked up the narrow sidewalk, ascended the steps, and stared at the front door, a deep burgundy-colored heavy oak. In the center was fastened an ornately carved wood cross. Macey looked around. There wasn’t another soul in sight. In the pasture across the way, a few cows grazed on scorched grass. The wind whistled by her, but that was it. She was totally alone.
It didn’t surprise her that the front door was unlocked. No one here ever locked their doors and certainly not the church. It creaked as she pushed it open. She turned to shut it and found herself standing in the small darkened lobby. She moved into the sanctuary, which was ablaze with myriad colors from the sunlight filtering in through the twelve stained-glass windows, six on each side of the church. The dust in the air hovered in each beam of light, creating a hallowed scene close enough to reach out and touch. And she did, grasping nothing but air.
She walked forward, her body moving through the warm light with ease, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her pants. At the pulpit, a ghost of her father stood, and she distinctly remembered the time Pastor Lyle had been ill and her father had given the sermon. It was on unconditional love. She smiled at the memory. It had been one of the most exciting moments of her father’s life. Macey recalled how proud she’d been of him and how perfectly natural he’d looked standing behind that pulpit, with his leather-bound Bible and his small reading glasses. He’d even bought a new suit for the occasion, and her mother had made herself a new dress. He’d started out with a joke, and everyone had laughed.
