Sarasota Dreams (19 page)

A flood of unfamiliar emotions washed over Mary as she looked up into Grandma’s stunned eyes. They remained transfixed until Grandma’s shoulders began to shake as tears rolled down her cheeks.

J
eremiah pulled the car up to the front of Abe’s house. “I hope I don’t blow things for you with Mary.”

Abe opened the car door but remained sitting. “Mary is a very complex woman. Until recently I thought we might be making progress in our relationship, but there’s something about her I can’t figure out.”

“You might never figure it out.”

“Maybe you’re right, brother.”

“Women.”

“Ya.” A flurry of emotions swarmed through Abe. “I care about her too much to forget about her, but I’ve reconsidered trying to make her my wife.”

“Wife? Dude. That’s serious.”

“You’re right. It’s very serious. But when the Lord calls me to do something, I know I’m supposed to submit to His ways. I have to admit, lately I haven’t been sure what He wants me to do.”

“I’m probably not the one to tell you this, Abe, but you might be over-thinking your relationship and trying too hard with Mary. Even if she is the one for you, try just letting things happen.”

Abe swung his legs out, then stood. “Thanks for the ride, Jeremiah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Hey man, I appreciate all this time you’re spending with me, but don’t risk your relationship with Mary just for me.”

Abe bent over to look at Jeremiah. “If doing the Lord’s calling and helping you get back into the church hurts my relationship with Mary, it’s clear the relationship isn’t right for me.” He started to turn and walk inside, but he stopped. “Oh, and Jeremiah, you need to apologize to Mary soon.”

“I will.” Jeremiah smiled and lifted his hand in a wave. “See ya, Abe.”

After Jeremiah pulled away from the house, Abe went inside and looked around at the sparse furnishings. His mother’s feminine touch had long since been replaced by utilitarian design. Everything in the house had a purpose. It was all easy to maintain.

But it seemed so empty—like Abe’s heart.

He rinsed his coffee mug from earlier before walking back to his bedroom, where he got ready for bed. The sheets were slightly cooler than the air that had already started getting muggy from the humid Florida heat. He pulled the blanket off and slid beneath the top sheet. As his eyes closed for his evening prayer, images of Mary flitted through his mind.

He thought about how the softness of her face weakened his knees when they were together, but the abrupt changes frightened him. He thought about Jeremiah’s words. Had he been trying too hard? Had he assumed the Lord’s intentions for him and Mary, just because he’d always had those feelings for her? Feelings like that were temporary while the Lord’s plan was eternal.

As Abe prayed for guidance, he tried to push everything else from his mind. His upbringing had taught him to rely on the Lord and not his own desires. Now he needed to follow the path God set before him.

It had been a long day full of emotional highs and lows, creating an exhaustion that was stronger than any physical tiredness Abe had ever experienced. As sleep came, he kept his thoughts on the Lord.

Mary awoke the next morning feeling like a weight had been lifted off her. Her mother’s kapp lay on her otherwise bare dresser. She got out of bed, walked over to the dresser, and stared down at the pristine white kapp that would forever remain a symbol of her mother’s desire to return to her faith.

After Mama’s death, Mary realized that all this time she had blamed herself and Grandma for everything. If it weren’t for her, Mama would still be alive and living in the faith she’d grown up with. Now, after hearing Grandma’s side of the story, she wasn’t sure about anything. It was so easy to blame Grandma for Mama having to struggle so hard, but Mary remembered the stubborn streak that had been the main source of conflict between her and her mother. Mary suspected Grandma’s words held a stronger ring of truth than Mama’s version.

After dressing, Mary went into the kitchen, where Grandma stood in front of the stove frying bacon. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said. “You didn’t eat much of your supper last night.”

Mary still wasn’t all that hungry, but she didn’t tell Grandma. Instead she poured herself a cup of coffee and asked what she could do to help.

“Nothing. I told your grandpa you might be a little late this morning.”

“Why would I be late?”

Grandma shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel after last night.”

The soft side of her grandmother was disconcerting to Mary. She’d grown used to her sternness, but she’d seen Grandma smile more, show sorrow through tears, and express her feelings, all in the last few days. Maybe those sides of Grandma were there before, but Mary chose not to notice. That revelation hit Mary hard.

“Grandma,” Mary began, “you and Grandpa have been very good to me. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything.”

“We love you, Mary.” Grandma didn’t look up from the pan as she dabbed at her cheek with her sleeve. “After your mama left, we felt as though the sun would never shine on our house again. People from the church talked to us and assured us that the Lord was watching over your mother, but we doubted that.”

“I think the Lord understands. What you went through must have been terrible.”

“It was.”

“Mama was good to me,” Mary said, hoping to comfort Grandma—at least a little. “She didn’t always know what to do, but she let me know she loved me.”

Grandma swiped at her cheek with her sleeve. “This will be the first time I ever said this aloud, but during that time, we let our grief swallow up our faith.”

“I understand, and I’m sure the Lord does, too.”

“Ya, He is much wiser than any of us will ever be. For that I am grateful. And I’m thankful He brought you home to us. Your mama might have conceived you in sin, but you’ve turned out to be a precious child of the Lord.”

When Grandma handed Mary a plate filled with bacon and eggs, Mary looked at it. “I’ll eat as much as I can, but this is a lot of food.”

“Don’t go to work hungry.”

Grandma sat down with her mug of coffee. “I know this is difficult for you, but it’s time we talked about something.” Mary put down her fork. “About Mama?”

“Neh, this is about Jeremiah. He has asked Abe to pray with him. Abe told us that Jeremiah said some things to you that were upsetting.”

Mary tried to hide her feelings, but she knew Grandma could see right through her steely expression. “Do you believe Jeremiah?”

“It’s not up to me to believe him, but I do know that God is forgiving. If Jeremiah is sincerely repentant, the Lord will welcome him back into His fold.” Grandma reached for Mary’s hand that had stilled on the table. “Just like He would have welcomed back your mama.”

Grandma’s point hit hard. “It’s not easy,” Mary said.

“I know. It’s never easy for us, but we have to hold on to our faith and trust Him. As long as we’re right with the Lord, His plan, which is greater than anything we might want, will prevail.”

After breakfast, Mary washed her plate and left for the restaurant. Grandma had some shopping to do, and she said she wouldn’t be able to get there until right before the lunch rush.

Shelley was gathering an armload of plates when Mary arrived. “Oh good. You’re just in time to give me a hand with these.” She nodded toward a couple of plates on the counter. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Mary pulled a clean apron from a hanger, slipped it on, and tied it before lifting the plates. “I’m right behind you.”

Once Shelley’s customers were served, Grandpa asked Mary to help finish up with the biscuits before taking over her station in the dining room. She was used to the chaos, and today she was happy she didn’t have time to think. That would come later.

Mary had just finished rolling and cutting the last pan of biscuits when Grandpa came back to the kitchen. “There’s a strange man out there asking about you.”

“A strange man? What did he ask?”

Grandpa lifted his hands. “He wanted to know if I knew Mary Penner. I told him you were my granddaughter.”

“Did you ask his name?”

“Ya. He gave me this.” Grandpa pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “Jimbo.” He tilted his head in confusion. “Do you know anyone by that name?”

Mary’s heart thudded. The only Jimbo she knew was Jim Jr., son of Big Jim, the man who owned the bar where Mama had worked. She had only a few vague memories of Jimbo, who was about four or five years older than her.

The first time she saw him was when Mama had just gotten the job working for his dad. He had a foul mouth, and he told her his dad was the most important person in town—that she needed to be nice to him or her mother wouldn’t have a job. Another time he’d pressed her against a wall and touched her in places that made her cringe. She managed to get away, but he told her if she ever mentioned it, he’d make sure her mother was fired. Mary managed to avoid him after that, except the few times he’d been in the bar when Mary went with her mother to pick up her paycheck. And that night when his dad, Big Jim, had given her the bus ticket to Sarasota.

“Mary?” Grandpa asked softly as he placed his hand on her arm. “Do you want to go see what he wants?”

“No,” she said. She had to grab hold of the counter for balance as her awful memories threw off her equilibrium.

“Who is he?”

Mary pulled her lips between her teeth as she tried to find a way to let Grandpa know without going into too much detail. Finally she blurted, “He’s the son of Mama’s old boss.”

Grandpa’s forehead crinkled. “Then why don’t you want to see him? Did he do something to hurt you?”

Shame prevented her from telling everything. “He’s just not a very nice man.”

“That was a long time ago, Mary. Maybe he’s changed.”

She doubted it, but she’d seen much stranger things. Her thoughts flew back to her mother’s kapp on her dresser. “Maybe.”

Grandpa frowned and shook his head. “If he’s dangerous, I don’t want you talking to him yet.”

Shelley charged through the doorway. “It’s a zoo out there. Looks like tourist season has hit hard this year.” She clipped her order to the board. “Are you almost finished with the biscuits, Mary?”

“I’ll be out there in a minute,” Mary said. After Shelley went back out to take more orders, Mary turned to face Grandpa. “Where is he sitting?”

“Over in the front corner by the window.” He paused then strode toward the door. “I’ll have Shelley wait on him. You take the other side.”

“Thank you.”

After Grandpa left the kitchen, Mary bowed her head.
Lord, give me the wisdom and strength to handle whatever is about to happen
. She opened her eyes then shut them again.
I pray that nothing happens
.

Mary sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched out into the dining room. She tried hard not to look at the man she wanted to forget.

The crowded restaurant was a blessing for Mary. All the tables between her and Jimbo were filled, and a couple of tall customers blocked her view from most angles. But still, his presence loomed and brought a sense of foreboding.

Mary scurried around the dining room, trying to focus on her customers, but the one time she allowed a glimpse in Jimbo’s direction, she caught him staring at her. Her mouth went dry. He hadn’t changed much—just a few extra pounds, a few lines on his face, and some stubble on his chin. He had the same sinister look in his eyes that had always given her a creepy feeling.

Grandpa caught up with Mary in the kitchen. “I see him watching you.”

Mary shuddered. “I can only imagine what he wants.”

“I’ll go talk to him and tell him you’re too busy.”

“I doubt that will matter to Jimbo.” Mary snorted. “Mama used to say he would grow up to be a thug, and it looks like she was right.”

“You can’t judge a man by the way he looks, Granddaughter.”

Shelley brushed past Mary. “Some guy out there is determined to talk to you, Mary. Every time I pass him, he asks how much longer.” She hesitated a few seconds then added, “Some of the other customers are starting to get annoyed.”

Mary pressed her finger to her temple. Jimbo was disrupting business for her grandfather and making Shelley’s job more difficult. “I’ll talk to him then.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Grandpa said.

She started to tell him no, she’d deal with it on her own, but a flashback of last night’s conversation with Grandma stopped her. “Let’s go then.”

Mary charged right up to Jimbo’s table and stood in front of him, arms folded and feet shoulder-width apart. “What do you want with me, Jimbo?”

He glanced up at her and started cackling. “You are one ridiculous-looking chick, Mary.”

“What do you want?” she repeated.

Jimbo’s gaze darted behind her, where she suspected her grandfather stood, then he looked back at her. “I don’t need an audience.”

“Too bad. You came here and said you wanted to talk to me. Now talk.”

“Not with the old man staring at me.” Jimbo leaned back in his chair and extended his legs across the space between his table and the next one. “I’ll just wait right here until we can have a private conversation.”