Easter Blessings (18 page)

E
mily grinned, amazed at how good she felt today. Her therapy had gone well, her legs stronger. Soon she’d be walking with the cane. Being free from the chair and walker pumped her spirit.

But it wasn’t only her legs that cheered her. After the pastor left Sunday afternoon, she’d had a heart-to-heart talk with herself. Everything Pastor Ben had said was true and her own attitude was all that kept her from being the person she wanted to be. If God’s will brought her and Greg together, God would solve her problems and calm her fears.

And children? That problem sat like a weight on her soul, but she prayed the Lord would give her wisdom. He would guide her when the time came to do what was best.

She watched the physical therapist climb into his car. Then hearing the telephone ring, she turned and made her way to the kitchen.

When she answered, happiness permeated her voice.

“Emily?”

Greg. Her heart dipped to her stomach. She swallowed
back her old ways and tugged out her new confidence. “Hi, you’re back.”

“Yes, late last night. You sound wonderful.”

“I do?” She shrugged. “I guess, I do. My
other
physical therapist just left. He makes me laugh.”

Kicking herself, she’d already ruined her new resolve.
Lord, keep me focused on trust and give me confidence.

“I thought of you so much while I was gone,” he said. “But let’s not talk about that. I’m back now—hear the drum roll—and I’m not going anywhere…at least in the near future.”

She pushed away the negative thoughts slithering into her mind—like why shouldn’t we talk about it or what do you mean by the “near future”? She hated those prodding questions.

“I’m glad, Greg.” Pleased, she knew she’d given an honest response. Being truthful about her feelings took too much work…and left her open for hurt. But she wanted to stick to her self-made promise and keep her mind focused on God’s assurance.

“How’s your physical therapy going?” Greg asked.

“He tells me I’m doing wonderfully. Almost ready to jog.”

Greg’s chuckle rippled over the line. “Do I hear a touch of sarcasm in your voice?”

“Just a smidgeon.”

“I can handle a smidgeon.”

His voice sounded lighthearted and she could imagine his dimple flickering as he spoke. She pictured him in his white smock with the hospital logo on the pocket, his broad shoulders and ready smile warming her heart.

“I’m coming to see you later,” he said, though he faltered as if waiting for her response.

“Okay,” she said.

Emily kicked herself for not saying she was thrilled or
she couldn’t wait. “I’m anxious to see you.” She felt better saying it.

“I’m glad, Em. I’ll see you about six and don’t eat. I’m bringing dinner for all of us.”

“All of us? Are you bringing friends?”

A light chuckle struck her ear. “I meant for Marti, too.”

“She’s busy tonight.”

“Okay. So it’ll be an intimate dinner for two.” His voice sounded warm.

“I can’t wait,” she murmured, speaking from her heart.

Greg appraised the safety of the paper bags propped on the passenger seat, pleased that they were still standing. The aroma filled the car, and if the food tasted half as good as it smelled, he’d be happy.

He’d never tried gourmet carryout before. Emily would be surprised. She’d most likely expect him to arrive with pizza or burgers. But he wanted something special for tonight.

In Denver, Greg had spent many hours trying to sleep but instead thought about Emily and their situation. He loved her. He’d settled on that fact before his airplane had left Detroit Metro Airport. The other dilemma—never having children—still left an ache in his chest, but he’d agreed to put it in God’s hands.

Who was he to question God? Who was that doctor who made the prognosis? What right did either of them have to predict the future? From the moment he’d faced that, Greg’s spirit had lifted and his decision had been made.

In her driveway, he gathered the two sacks in his arms and headed for the porch, his pulse surging. Tonight he wanted to be open and honest with Emily…if he could rouse his courage.

She greeted him at the door with a smile, and her ex
pression shifted to surprise when she saw the bags. “No pizza?”

“I hope you’re not disappointed?” He slid an arm around her waist and brushed his lips against hers.

Her face brightened. “Not a bit.” She tilted her head, trying to read the black script emblazoned across the silver paper. “What’s that say?”

“Go Gourmet.” He chuckled at the logo. “One of my co-workers said it’s great food.”

“Sounds interesting.” She arched a teasing brow, pushed the door closed and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. “Look how fast I’m walking.”

“Whoa! Hold it,” he said. “You wait in the living room. When I’m ready, I’ll call you.”

She did a double take and turned the walker around toward the wide archway. “Yes, sir, Mr. P.T.”

Her voice rang with an easy warmth. The sensation settled in his chest, expanding to joy. What had happened while he was gone? He sure wouldn’t ask. No sense in ruining the blessed miracle.

Standing in the kitchen, he eyed the cabinets and drawers. He found white table linen in her pantry, snatched out a crystal candle holder and spotted a package of pale yellow candles.

He set the table with Emily’s best china, then stood back, amazed he had created an attractive table setting alone. He’d noticed a radio on the kitchen counter and snapped it on, then found a gentle jazz station. He gave a final look. A view. Pushing back the curtains, he brought the late-afternoon garden into view.

Within moments, he’d warmed the entrée and garnished the plate with sprigs of rosemary, lit the candle, then snapped off the light and headed for the living room.

As he stepped through the archway, she greeted him
with a sweet grin. He beckoned, and she boosted herself from the chair and met him in the doorway.

“It’s great to see your eyes sparkle. You’re a lovely woman, Em.”

A pale flush colored her cheeks, and she tilted her head shyly. “Thanks. You’re pretty handsome yourself.”

“I bet you say that to all the men,” he said, echoing her typical response. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Thrilled with her breathy admission, his stomach tightened. She’d opened her heart and said the words he’d longed to hear.

Resting his palm against her cheek, Greg noted a faint tremor. He yearned to kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, but he controlled the racing emotions. Emily needed tenderness and assurance. She needed to trust again—both him and God—and he had promised himself to move slowly.

“We’d better eat before dinner gets cold,” he said, brushing a kiss across her lips.

She released a sweet sigh and walked ahead of him down the hallway. She hesitated when she reached the kitchen and gazed at him over her shoulder. “Greg, you found everything. I can’t believe it. It’s so pretty.” She faced him with a chuckle. “I’m not sure I could remember where the candlesticks were.”

“It’s amazing what a person can do when they’re determined.” His thought moved with swift transition to her knees. She’d clung to her wheelchair with incredible determination. Now he prayed she would be as persistent about walking…and loving again.

She used the table and his arm for support as she settled into the chair. He joined her and clasped both her hands for the blessing. When he raised his eyes, he caught a glint of moisture on her lashes.

Bewildered, he studied her. “Are you okay?”

With a speedy swipe of a freed hand, she brushed the tears away. “I’m more than okay, Greg. I’m touched.”

“Because I brought you carryout?”

“Because you’re so thoughtful and you made everything so pretty.”

He caressed her hand. “It looks wonderful on you.”

“My tears?” Her face twisted to a silly smile.

“Not your tears, but your frankness. Your honesty.”

With his hand still in hers, Emily lifted it to her lips and pressed a kiss against his fingers.

Warmth radiated up his arm and blanketed his heart. His own tears pushed behind his eyes, and he sensed God’s loving presence surrounding them.

Emily shifted her attention to her plate, drawing in a lengthy whiff of the tempting meal. “It smells delicious and even looks as good.” She slivered a piece of the meat and slid it between her lips. She savored the flavor. “Luscious.”

He plied his fork and tasted the creamy potato concoction. “It is,” he agreed.

“Should I ask what I’m eating?”

“I couldn’t pronounce it if I wanted to.” He recalled the French titles that the clerk had to translate into English. “Chicken with rosemary and chives, potatoes in some kind of cheese sauce, white asparagus with…only heaven can remember what, and herbed bread. And don’t ask which herbs.”

She clasped his hand. “And my best china, white table linen, candlelight, music and you.”

The glowing flame shimmered across her fair skin and glints of gold flickered in her copper-colored hair. He had prayed all the while he was in Denver that tonight would be like this…that the cocoon that bound Emily’s life for
so long would open and the love she’d kept wrapped in silken threads would come to life again.

His gaze drifted from her fiery tresses to the colorful garden glimmering in the rays of the setting sun. Everything was perfect except…

His promise. He released a ragged breath. He’d promised to tell her about Aaron.

Emily gazed across the candlelight. Though disturbed by her nagging feelings, she longed to give her heart free rein. For too long she’d tethered her emotions with anger and guilt. With new knees she could walk again, pain-free, and if Greg truly cared for her, she could love again, guilt-free. Children? Could she leave that problem to God? She ached with her question.

From the corner of her eye, colors glinted from the yard, not only flowers, but the sunset sky spread with all the spectrums of the rainbow. God’s natural paint box.

A final thought edged to her heart. With a new perspective and her growing love for Greg, she could fully love the Lord again. The thought eased her mind, and peace spread through her as warm and lovely as the setting sun painted across the heavens.

“You’re quiet,” Greg said, ending the silence.

“Just thinking. Thanking God for the glorious sunset.” She slid her hand across the table and touched his arm. “And for you.”

“Emily, I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long.” He pressed his hand against hers. “And without holding back. Being with you feels good and comfortable.”

“I know.” Good and comfortable. His words were hers. The rich sensation of contentment and peace eased down her back and through her limbs. For a moment, even her knees felt as if they were her own.

“Would you do something for me?” Greg asked.

The tone of his voice coaxed her to agree. “What?”

“Walk with me in the garden.”

“Walk? Me?”

“With your walker. But it won’t be long, Emily. A couple more weeks, and you’ll be using the cane.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

A mixture of anxiety and hope flooded her thoughts. She wouldn’t rush. When she felt steady and secure, then she would use her cane. But now, he’d asked her to walk with him in the dusky evening. “I will if you’ll help me down the back steps.”

He rose and offered his arm to help her stand. She pulled the walker toward her, and they moved to the doorway. Greg opened the door wide and held it back until she was on the porch. Then she took one step at a time to the grass.

Through the tree branches, a wash of gold and coral rested on the lilac horizon. With caution, she measured each step across the grass until they had reached the pathway. The fragrance of roses hung on the air. The last rays warmed her bare arms.

Greg ambled beside her, not hurrying, but moving in her slower gait. They talked about the gardens and his trip to Denver. Conversation about everyday things floated into the air and cushioned in her chest like coming home.

In the middle of the flower-bordered path, a butterfly flitted past and rested on a faded purple coneflower. Its wings paused a moment, the dusty design yellow and brown against the grayish petal. Her memory drew back to Easter and the butterfly banners reminding her of the rebirth and resurrection.

Emily’s gaze sought Greg’s. He took her hands in his. In silence he searched her face. But for once, she didn’t fear his quiet demeanor. She felt as she hoped he did—companionship and oneness.

“On the phone, you mentioned that when you come home we would talk, and it made me think. While you were away, I did a lot of soul-searching myself.” Hiding her nervousness, she directed her gaze to his. “I’d like to tell you about it.”

G
reg’s expression wavered with confusion. “Is something wrong, Em?”

“No. Not really.” Emily braved her apprehension. “Pastor Ben came by, and I talked about a lot of feelings and fears I’d never faced before.”

The confusion faded and a new look rose to his face. “I was ready to say the same thing to you. While I was in Denver, I struggled with a few things myself.”

Her stomach tightened. “What kind of things?”

“Nothing that affects us, Em. It’s about me, things I’ve never told anyone.”

“Things you’ve never to—”

“Please, don’t worry.” He motioned to the garden bench. “First tell me what you thought about while I was gone.”

Emily lowered herself to the wooden slats, curiosity niggling in her mind, yet determination propelled her. She had to tell him what she discovered about herself.

Greg sat at her side, his fingers gripping the edge of the bench seat.

“You already know a lot of this,” Emily began. “We’ve talked about the grief I felt over Ted’s death and my frustration that God didn’t answer my prayers.”

He didn’t speak, but gave a single nod.

“As I thought about our relationship, ready to toss it off as a bad effort, I realized that I was taking my frustration out on you. The truth is, I was angry at myself. Angry for expecting miracles and having God respond with His will and not mine.”

“It’s not easy.”

“It isn’t. But most of all, I think that I’ve felt unworthy all this time. I called it God’s betrayal, but I felt I was being punished. Retribution for my unforgiving heart. And I transferred my frustration to our relationship.”

“You thought I was punishing you?”

“Punishment, no. I gave God all the credit for that. But, Greg, I was punishing myself. And my greatest fear was…” She faltered as tears rose to her eyes and rolled to her cheeks.

“What, Em?” He captured her hands in his.

“My greatest fear was that I would love again and God would take that love away.”

“You mean you were afraid I might die?”

“That…or you really didn’t love me at all.”

“But—”

“Or that you might stop loving me. I know how wonderful you’ve been, but I guess deep inside I feared you might be acting out of pity.”

“
Pity?
Emily, I’ve never…” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. Honesty, he reminded himself. “Maybe at the beginning I was saddened by your life in that chair. I couldn’t bear to think that’s how you’d spend your life when it wasn’t necessary. But not pity, frustration that you would choose to stay there. But it only took minutes before I loved you.”

“I realize that now, Greg. I was pushing you away before you pushed me away. Snapping at you, making snide
remarks, thinking ridiculous things. But then I faced what was really happening.”

She paused, searching his face and wishing she could tell him the rest. But she’d said enough. It was his turn to talk. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

For a long time his eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”

The question sifted into her consciousness, but she could tell him no more now. And the look in Greg’s eyes said he needed to tell her what was on his mind. “I’m sure.”

Greg studied the look of curiosity on Emily’s face. He didn’t want to ruin the special night with his admission, but if they were speaking from their hearts, he had no choice.

“I’m glad you told me what you’ve been through, Em. Because something happened when I was young that I’ve hidden from everyone…even my mom. I promised myself, I’d get it off my chest. So here goes.”

He drew in a long, deep breath. “I don’t know if I’ve told you why I became a physical therapist.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with concern.

He rested his elbows on his knees and knitted his fingers together. “I wanted a job helping people keep whole, healthy bodies. To help damaged limbs become strong. I wanted to be a part of helping someone walk again.”

“It’s your gift, Greg.”

He grimaced. “A gift for some, but for me it was penance.”

“Penance?”

“A self-punishment for my sin.” His heart thundered and throbbed in his temple. “I wasn’t an only child, Emily. I had a younger brother, Aaron.”

Emily’s eyes darted to his. “What happened?”

“He died. And I—I’ve spent my life feeling responsible.”

“Oh, Greg.” She caught his hands in hers. “But why?”

“Like all little brothers, I loved him, but he was a pain. Whatever I did, he wanted to do the same whether he was
old enough or not. He died one winter during a sledding accident.”

Greg swallowed to control the rising emotion that knotted his throat and tore at his heart.

“I loved to sled on the hills near my house, but one, in particular, was too dangerous. At the bottom was the highway. But I’d taken chances and learned to control the sled. On that day, Aaron followed me up the hill, whining that he wanted to go sledding, too. I took him down some small hills, then told him to wait while I rode down the other.”

“But he wanted to go with you,” Emily said.

He nodded. “He bugged me until I agreed. ‘Only once,’ I said. ‘Then I’ll go down alone.’ I’d planned to overturn the sled before we reached the bottom.” He kneaded the tension knotting in his neck. “You can imagine what happened.”

“Was it a car or…” She paused, then studied him. “Were you hurt, too, Greg?”

“I tilted the sled and fell off, but Aaron didn’t. The sled flew down the hill and he had no idea how to control it. It shot out into the highway and…”

Greg covered his face with his hands. “I can still see the cars swerve and hear the crash,” he whispered.

Weighted silence hung on the air. Emily sat unmoving, except for her thumb caressing his fingers.

“Aaron’s legs and pelvis were crushed. He lived only a few hours. My parents assumed he took the sled without asking, and I could never tell them the truth.”

She lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. “But what is the truth, Greg? You see one truth, but what would the world see?”

Confused, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Em.”

“You see an older brother who should have been more careful—who should have known better and said no. But what do I see?”

He could only shrug, sorting out what she was saying.

“I see a boy who loved his kid brother so much that he
couldn’t say no. Even adults dote on their kids, not always with their best interest at heart. You loved your brother, so you agreed out of love, not out of common sense. And a child’s common sense on top of everything.”

“I’ve tried to convince myself of that, but I die a little inside every time I think about it.”

“It’s natural. But not because of your guilt, but because of your loss.”

“But why does God allow those things to happen? No matter how hard I try to understand, I never will.”

“We can’t understand. We’re not God. The Father sees the bigger plan. Would you have become a therapist if that accident hadn’t happened?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be a truck driver.” He managed a faint smile. “I liked science, but I probably would have gone into engineering or something.”

“And now, have you helped people use their arms? Have you taught injured children to walk again? Have you given people with little hope a new life?”

“You know the answer.”

“Then could that be God’s plan for you?”

“But did he have to take my little brother?”

“What did life have in store for Aaron? We’ll never know. But God knows.”

A ragged sigh shuddered through him. Emily was right. He didn’t know. Only God knew. And, he supposed, that was enough.

“I’m not saying you won’t grieve,” Emily said, “or that you won’t feel guilty you lived and Aaron died. But I think God takes charge to save us from something worse.”

She paused, rubbing her fingers across her forehead. “I suppose it’s the same with Ted’s death. I’ve not been able to understand that, either. And here I am explaining the same thing to you.”

Greg slid his arm around her shoulders and nestled her
to his side. In time, even if they didn’t fully understand, they might both come to accept God’s will in their lives.

Emily stood beneath the glorious leaves, taking in the myriad of color and the crisp scent of autumn. “Thanks for suggesting this, Greg. It’s a beautiful way to spend a Sunday.”

With a quiet chuckle, Greg rested his hand on her shoulder. “And look at you. Can you believe it? Walking in the park.”

She lifted the hand-carved cane he’d given her. “Walking with this, but closer every day to doing it on my own.”

A scarlet leaf drifted on the breeze and caught in Emily’s hair. She raised her hand and withdrew it from her tresses. “Pretty,” she said, showing it to Greg. “A sugar maple.”

“Pretty, maybe, but not as beautiful as you.” He curved his arm around her waist, and they ambled toward the picnic tables under the sun-kissed trees.

When she sank to the bench, a contented sigh left her. “Could anything be more perfect?” She laid her cane on the rough-hewn table and patted her knees. “Even these things are beginning to feel as if they belong to me.”

“And where would you be without them?”

She shook her head. “In my chair.” She turned to him. “God has the most wonderful way of fixing things. I had expected the worst and I got the best. You.”

He brushed her cheek with his finger. “Look at the color in your cheeks and your smile. My life is as close to perfect as it can get without being in heaven.”

Her pulse skipped then galloped along her limbs, remembering the one thing she hadn’t talked about. She lifted her eyes to his, wanting so badly to tell him that she may never have children. Her shoulders slumped at the thought. He’d never mentioned marriage so she’d soothed herself with his precious friendship, knowing the horrible prognosis could remain unspoken.

“Sad?” Greg asked, a scowl growing on his face.

“No. Why?” She straightened her spine, realizing her mood had taken a downward spiral. “I guess my thoughts slid back to my time spent in that wheelchair. It’s hard to believe I wanted to stay there.”

“People are willing to stick with what they know, because the unknown scares them.”

“I was so afraid I’d go through the surgery and end up worse than I was.” A sad chuckle left her. “But what could have been worse? I suppose lots of things, but I don’t want to think about them.”

Greg ran his hand across her back and slid his fingers to her hairline, caressing the nape of her neck.

“I know. I lived with Aaron’s accident for so long, and since I told you about it that day, a peace settled over me I never thought I’d feel again. Sometimes just telling someone helps. But lately, Em, the good feeling isn’t sitting as well.”

“Why?” She observed his growing frown.

“Because the other person I should’ve told is my mother.”

She nodded. “How do you think she’d take it?”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I really don’t. We’ve been close, and I suppose that’s why. Without admitting my part in the accident, I’ve tried to make up for Aaron’s death.”

He was silent for a long time.

“I don’t know how she’d feel or what she’d say,” he said finally.

“You need to tell her, Greg. It’ll make everything right.”

“It took so much courage to tell you…I wonder if I can.”

“Why did you tell me?”

He touched her chin, drawing his finger along her lower lip. “You don’t know?” He looked deeply into her eyes. “Because I love you, Em. That horrible experience af
fected my life. It made me who I am with all my fears and idiosyncrasies, with all my drives and motivation. I want to spend my life with you. And…I needed to tell you.”

Her breathing faltered and she swallowed a gasp. I want to spend my life with you. She’d sensed it, but he’d never said it. The reality caught in her throat. If he asked her to marry him, she had to refuse. No matter what he said, she had to say no.

“I needed your forgiveness and understanding,” he continued. “Now I need my mom’s.”

“Greg, there’s nothing to forgive. I told you the day in the garden. You’ve suffered too long for a child’s mistake. A misjudgment based on love. No one could be angry at you for that. No one.”

She’d suffered, too, with her fear of never having a child. Would Greg forgive her for not telling him? For not stopping him from loving her?

In the hush of the afternoon, she turned her eyes to the heavens. Autumn hues splashed the dying foliage, and tears rose in her eyes, blurring the landscape while the burnished leaves flowed together like watercolors on a sky-blue background.