In Search of Eden (49 page)

She closed the front door, climbed into her car, and made the short drive to the camp, passing under the sign with the same joy she always felt. It had been a valley of blessing, not only for her and her husband and her sons but for hundreds of children who had come there. She had a desire, a holy desire, she believed, to see it happen again.

Johnny and Grady were waiting on the porch of the lodge, sitting in new ladder-backed rockers. She parked the car and got out, waving a greeting their way.

Johnny rose up and greeted her with a hug. “Good day to you, Ruth. How are you?”

“As fine as this day, Johnny,” she said. “Just look what you've done here!” She looked around with joy. The dock had been repaired, and the canoe was actually sitting on top of the water instead of hanging listlessly beneath it. She could see that the roofs on several of the cabins had been patched, and there were new gutters on a few places that had rusted through or fallen down.

“Come inside here and look,” he said, opening the door to the lodge. She followed him through the dining hall and into the
kitchen. “I've taken out this wall here where the dry rot was and replaced it. I put new pipes in this one here. There was a small leak. And I laid new vinyl on the floor.” She looked down and sure enough, there were shiny new black and white squares under her feet.

“It's beautiful,” she said. “How much do I owe you?”

He held up a hand. “Hold on,” he said. “Let's look at the big picture. Will you have a cup of coffee?” he asked. He pointed toward the counter where he had set up a small coffeepot that was bubbling.

“I'd love a cup,” she said.

Grady took the opportunity to go outside and play tetherball, also a new addition. Ruth took the cup Johnny gave her and sat down with him at one of the long tables in the dining hall where he had placed several folders.

“I've met with the subcontractors, and we've come up with a tentative plan.”

She nodded.

He opened the folder and took out a detailed drawing, like an architect's plan. “These are the existing buildings,” he said as she listened carefully, “and I've marked the areas that would need replacement or repair, and alongside I've put bids by three companies.”

She briefly scanned the paper work and did some crude calculations in her head. Well, it was certainly more than she had on hand. She listened carefully as he outlined all of the projects and the work necessary. When he finished speaking he slid a piece of paper across the table to her. “Here's the final estimate, using the low bid for almost all of the contractors, except two that I felt did inferior work after checking their references.”

She looked at Johnny. “You've done a very careful job here.”

He lowered his eyes. “It was the least I could do. But before you move forward, it's time to count the cost,” he said.

She met his gaze. “I think you're right,” she said.

He nodded and handed her the entire sheaf of papers. “You
take these home and think about them. If you decide not to go ahead with it, there will certainly be no second guessing on my end. I'm grateful for having had the chance to know you and to stay here at this beautiful place.”

“Johnny, I've already counted the cost. I feel settled in my mind that this is the right thing to do,” she said, looking around her and smiling. “If I opened the camp again, would you consider staying on as caretaker?”

Again he ducked his head. “I'm not worthy,” he said, and his use of the word surprised her.

“None of us is worthy, Johnny. That's the meaning of grace.”

He raised his head and took a deep breath. “If the camp opens, I will stay,” he said.

She nodded and rose to her feet. “Thank you for all your work,” she said. “Call me when the papers are ready to sign.” She was aware of his eyes on her as she got into her car and drove away.

Miranda breathed deeply and prepared herself. Fortune had smiled on her in at least one thing. She had seen David and Eden downtown. Ruth had been at home when she'd called, though she was breathless from having just walked in the door. She had told Miranda she was welcome to come and talk. Miranda walked to Ruth's front porch now and knocked softly on the door. No one answered, but the door was unlocked. She pushed open the screen door and stepped in. “Ruth?” she called softly, “where are you?”

She found her in the kitchen, sitting quietly at the table, a stack of papers in front of her. Her face looked a little melancholy, and Miranda wondered if she should ask the question she'd come to ask.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

Ruth looked up and shook her head. “Nothing, really. I'm
just thinking about the cost of love.”

Miranda gave her a quizzical look and Ruth smiled. “I was thinking about David and Sarah and you and Joseph and Grady and his father, and it seems to me that in all of these instances there's a love path and a safe path.”

Miranda sat down at the table and dropped her purse onto the floor.

“The love path is reckless and dangerous, and there are thorns and briers and a chance of complete destruction. The safe path is . . . alone. You don't have to trust or risk. Which would you choose?” she asked, staring directly into Miranda's face.

Miranda wondered if she somehow knew why she had come and was giving her some cryptic answer. “I don't know,” she said flatly.

Ruth set the papers facedown on the hutch and smiled. “You didn't come to hear me ramble,” she said. “You said you needed to talk to me. What is it?”

Suddenly Miranda was seized with insecurity. She suddenly saw it the way it would look to Ruth. To Joseph. They would never believe she hadn't known. They would think she had wormed her way into their family for the purpose of stealing back her child.

“Miranda?” Ruth asked.

There was no easy way. She looked up and let the truth come spilling out of her mouth.

“When I was fifteen I got pregnant,” she said.

Ruth's face registered surprise, then compassion.

“My mother said the baby wasn't coming back to her house. She thought the best thing to do was to put the baby up for adoption, so that's what she arranged.”

Ruth was looking at her intently and had become very still.

“I had the baby. They took it away. I was told nothing. Not the weight or length or even the sex. That was eleven years ago.”

Ruth's face had blanched white.

“My mother died a few months ago and left me one clue. A
picture, taken when the baby was one year old and postmarked from Abingdon, Virginia.”

Ruth's eyes were filling with tears. So were Miranda's.

“I came here to look for my baby,” she said.

The two women faced each other across the table, and no one spoke for what seemed like a long time.

“And you found her,” Ruth finally said softly.

“But I don't understand,” Miranda said. “I can hardly believe it, even though I know it must be true. I don't understand how it could be. No one has ever told me anything, and I need to know. Would you please tell me the truth?”

Ruth wiped her eyes and nodded. She took a napkin from the holder on the table and gave one to Miranda. She began speaking quietly.

“My sons took it hard when their father died,” she said. “Especially David. He had always been jealous and competitive of Joseph. Whatever Joseph did, he wanted to do. Whatever Joseph got, he had to have one, too. Natural brotherly rivalry but taken to an extreme. I watched them hurt each other, especially after their father died, but I didn't know how to stop them.

“When Joseph left for college, that's when the trouble came. I watched it, but I didn't know how to stop David. I didn't know if I should tell. I've always felt guilty for that. I should have done something.” She paused for a moment, then went on.

“Joseph came home. Sarah was pregnant with David's child.”

Miranda shook her head in confusion. Ruth continued talking.

“Oh, it was horrible—the hatred, the murderous hatred between them.” She was weeping now. “Joseph went off to the marines, and I was so afraid he'd die with that hatred on his heart, but the Lord spared him. Not so with Sarah's baby,” she said softly, and Miranda felt a chill.

“She miscarried in her seventh month. It was a girl. They named her and buried her up there in Fairfax. I wept and cried for them, for Sarah, especially. She was so wracked by guilt. Have
you ever been torn up with guilt?”

Miranda paused, then nodded. Every day of her life as she wondered where her baby was.

“There was nothing I could do except pray. And I did. For all of them. I interceded before God and begged Him to make a way. And then one day the telephone rang. It was your mother.” She smiled at Miranda.

“She said, ‘Mrs. Williams, this is Noreen Gibson. Do you remember me?' And of course, I did. There are a few you remember, and she was one of them, with her sad empty eyes and hard heart. She'd been wounded, terribly wounded, we could tell, but she never opened up to us at camp. Which was why I was somewhat surprised to hear from her. But not so surprised really. The Lord takes His time, but He always gets His way,” she said softly. “But it wasn't exactly what I'd expected. I thought perhaps she was calling to tell me of her spiritual journey, but it was another prayer she was answering. Noreen said her daughter was pregnant. She wanted to arrange a private adoption, and she wondered if I knew of anyone I would trust with her grandchild.”

“She said that?” Miranda asked. “Those exact words?”

“Those exact words,” Ruth affirmed.

“She cared about her,” Miranda murmured.

“She cared very deeply,” Ruth said. “And to me it seemed like a miracle.” She smiled, almost laughed. “I called David and Sarah, and they could hardly believe it. Especially Sarah. ‘He forgives me' was all she could say, and I knew she didn't mean Joseph.

“And then the baby came. Your mother called us as soon as you went into labor, and David and Sarah went to Nashville. They brought her back home, and I went up to see them right away. Oh, what a precious baby! That sweet face, and so alert! She looked at you with those big blue eyes, and you just felt like she would give you a piece of her mind if she could talk.” Ruth laughed. “That's how Eden always seemed to me as a baby,
impatient that she couldn't tear around on her own.” She shook her head. “What a character!”

She sobered. “The only darkness was the secrecy. No one should know. That was shame, you know. Sarah's shame. She didn't want anyone to know that God had taken her baby. And she especially didn't want Joseph to know. In time Eden knew. I knew. David and Sarah knew. Their friends in Fairfax knew, but everyone here thought Eden was the child that Sarah had borne to David. She didn't want Joseph to have the triumph of knowing.

“Your mother had asked me to send her one picture. That was all. ‘Just let me see that she's all right, and I'll never bother you again,' she said. I didn't tell David and Sarah,” Ruth said, “although I suppose I should have. I took the picture Sarah sent to me of Eden on her first birthday, and I sent it to your mother.”

“And she hid it and saved it all these years. Then she died. And then I found it. And then I came,” Miranda said.

“And then you came,” Ruth agreed. “And now it will all come out.” And she did not look sad at all but peaceful, even relieved.

chapter
53

E
den waited another twenty minutes for Grady, then went to find her dad. The festival had started, and he was sitting with Pastor Hector and Uncle Joseph in the park at the tables where all the grown-ups sat around, and they were laughing.

“Dad, have you seen Grady?”

“No, Eden, I haven't,” he said.

“He was supposed to meet me here.”

“He'll probably be along,” Pastor Hector said. “He probably got distracted by something. There's a lot to look at.” He pointed around him at all the booths with the paintings and pottery and the games and singers, and Eden supposed he was right. Still, she had a funny feeling that something wasn't right.

She was just getting ready to ask Uncle Joseph if he would drive her to the campground when he got a call that somebody needed to see him back at his office.

Eden went back home and asked Grandma if she'd seen Grady, but she said no. She went back out to the road on her bike and started out for the campground. She was about halfway there and really wishing she'd brought something to drink when a familiar car came toward her.

“Hi, Miranda!” she said.

“Eden, what are you doing?” Miranda looked funny. Surprised, but more than that.

“I'm worried about Grady,” she said. “Can you give me a ride to his place?”

Miranda took a minute to think. “Did you ask your dad?” she finally asked.

Eden hesitated. She couldn't afford to have Dad say no. “It's okay with him,” she lied, and she felt terrible, but just as strong was the feeling that Grady needed help.