The Days of Redemption (23 page)

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Lorene tilted her head to one side, looking at her more carefully. “Viola, did you want to speak about something? Is something bothering you?”

She didn't want to ruin Lorene's
wonderful-gut
news. She didn't want to burden her aunt with problems that she wasn't even sure she had.

That wasn't the type of person she wanted to be. That, at least, was something she was sure about.

“Nothing's bothering me.”

“I fear you're lying.”

“If I'm lying, it's because what's on my mind is nothing of importance. And it's nothing that a good long walk won't take care of. I think I really need the fresh air to clear my head.”

“I can understand that,” she said slowly. “But even small problems can be difficult to solve by yourself. I'm happy to help.”

“And I know that. But I'll be fine.” Reaching out, she gave her aunt a fierce hug, then turned away before she gave in to temptation and shared too much.

And, as she began the long walk home, Viola realized she'd been correct. She needed the time to clear her head and to think. To imagine a life with Edward Swartz. And to contemplate a life without him, too.

Later that afternoon, Lorene got in her buggy and went to Peter's. She was still thinking about Viola. She felt sure Viola was feeling conflicted about something and she had a feeling it was Edward Swartz. What could she do to help Viola not make the same mistakes that she had? Surely all her years of feeling afraid could be used to help Viola not make the same mistakes?

When she arrived on the property, Lorene drove the horse straight to the barn. Thankful that it was empty, she unhitched Bonnie and walked her to a stall. She needed a few extra moments to gather her thoughts and figure out how to help Viola.

And, she realized, to try to find a way to forgive her mother. All the negative feelings she'd been holding tight to her heart weren't good for anyone. Even seeing the
dawdi haus
caused tension to rise up in her chest.

For almost ten years, she'd held tight to her worry and distress, afraid to let even the tiniest bit of her sadness come to light. Admitting disappointment never did anyone a bit of good. It didn't make the memories easier, or the sadness dissipate.

But hiding it also didn't remove the pain. It was still there. Festering.

But perhaps the past didn't matter so much anymore. It was over, and had only really affected her life and John's. Not the whole family's. No, all that had happened was that she'd become resigned to a lifetime living alone. And now, things would be different.

Roman entered the barn just as she was about to walk to the house. “Aunt Lorene, I would've unhitched Bonnie for you.”

“I didn't mind.”

“Will you be spending the night? If so, I'll go ahead and brush her and give her some feed.”

“That's kind of you. I don't think I'll tackle the snowy streets in the dark tonight.” Raising her chin so she could gage his expression a little easier, she realized that she'd been so focused on her nieces that she'd hardly spared a thought for her nephew. And it was Roman's way to let others claim the majority of the attention, too. “Hey, since we're alone, maybe you could tell me how you're doing.”

“I'm fine,” he said quickly.

“Of course you are, Roman,” she teased. “I've never heard you say different.”

“That's because it's the truth.”

“I've noticed you haven't said much to anyone about what's been going on with your grandparents.”

“Oh, that they're liars?” He pulled his hat lower on his head, shielding most of his expression from her view. “I'm glad I'm not involved. I don't really care what my grandmother was or used to be.”

“You don't?” She found that hard to believe. She'd found herself thinking about her parents' deception almost every waking moment, and she knew her siblings felt the same way.

Lorene stayed by his side. “I'm afraid I can't say the same,” she admitted. “Whenever I think about all the times my mother made me feel so worthless, I want to scream.” She paused, then delved deeper. In for a penny, in for a pound. “And how are you doing with your
daed
's revelation?”

“That he's been secretly drinking in the bathroom of the house?” He rolled his eyes. “I don't have much to say about that, either—except that it came as a surprise. I couldn't make up all this turmoil.”

“Turmoil is a good way of describing it. But, I feel sure things will get better. We're all communicating now. That's a big improvement.”

Roman shrugged. “The Bible says forgiveness is a virtue. I suppose I'll do my best to follow those words. They have to mean something, right?”

Both dismayed and a mite irritated that her nephew was quoting the Good Book to her, she nodded. “Of course.”

“Then that's what we need to do.”

Her nephew was one of the most gentle Christian men she'd ever met. “I have a lot to learn from you.”

Grinning, he shook his head in that self-deprecating way of his. “I don't know about that. I'm simply trying to do my best.” Picking up a curry comb, he began brushing Bonnie. “Viola told me about you and John Miller. It seems we've got a wedding to throw as soon as possible.” His smile grew. “Now that's a story I was mighty interested in.”

“I just told Viola my news this afternoon! How in the world did she have time to already share it with you?”

“Oh, she managed. You know Viola. She doesn't have a shy or hesitant bone in her body.”

“I believe the Bible talks about that, too,” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “I'm sure it does. But Aunt Lorene, I think Viola had a good point.”

“And what was that?”

“That it's good to have something to celebrate. Why be shy with good news?”

“I suppose you're right,” she said. After all, they'd more than had their fair share of bad news lately!

“I know I am! You're a nice lady, Aunt Lorene. You deserve some happiness and romance. I'm glad you and John came to your senses. I mean, you sure didn't want to wait much longer.”

“Yes, it would have been awful to wait until I was forty.”

“Oh, to be sure.”

The idea that he thought of forty years old as almost ancient amused her, though she recalled feeling much the same way when she was Roman's age.

“Lorene, are ya teasing me?”

“Only as much as you're teasing me.” They shared a grin, reminding Lorene of how blessed she was to have Peter's children in her life.

“Well, I suppose we should go into the house. We can stand together if Elsie or Mamm starts to tell us about their secrets!”

“I hope we'll be strong enough to bear the news well.” Unable to stop herself, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed lightly. Roman did lighten her spirit. “It has to get better. I guess we'll see.”

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the barn,” Roman joked.

“Oh, I hope it wouldn't come to that. You can always stay with me or Sam. We'd all do whatever it took to make sure you three kids are happy.”

He turned back to her, all traces of humor gone from his expression. “But that's the problem, Aunt Lorene. See, we're not kids anymore. And we haven't been for a long time.”

She was starting to realize that.

Staring out her kitchen window, Lovina watched her grandson walk his horse through the back field. Two years ago, a local farmer had fallen on hard times and had asked Roman if he'd accept the horse as a gift. The farmer could no longer afford to feed the gelding, but was so attached to him that he worried more about the horse having a good home than getting any money for him.

Which, Lovina had privately thought, was a fitting example for why the farmer had been in financial trouble. If he'd simply sold the horse and moved on, he would have gotten rid of the animal and had some money in his pocket, too.

She'd mentioned as much to Peter. Though he said he agreed, he didn't stand in the way of Roman's gift.

“My boy loves animals, and has always wanted a horse of his own.”

She had thought that was a rather poor reason to take on the expense of another horse. “Is it a worker?”

“Oh,
jah.
Chester will make a fine buggy horse. And he'll most likely ride it a bit, too. But that horse will also give him a lot of pleasure.”

“An expensive way to make him happy.”

Peter had simply shrugged. “Life is expensive, ain't so? Having
kinner
, paying for animals. And fuel, and food. One more horse won't make that much of a difference.”

No matter how many times she'd try to make him see that he should be harder on his son, Peter had refused to yield to her point of view.

Now, as she watched Roman lead Chester by his bridle through the snow, stopping every now and then to rub a hand down his neck, Lovina had to admit that she hadn't seen anything as calming and peaceful as that in a long time. The horse seemed to appreciate the chance to stretch its legs, and the boy—who wasn't much of a boy anymore—looked just as happy to be away from the chaos of their house. It was obvious that the horse and that boy needed each other. Even to her.

Which, of course, brought her to thinking about what else she'd been wrong about over the years. Too many things to count.

The only thing she'd never regretted was leaving behind her old ways and adopting Amish ones. That had always felt right.

Turning away from the window, she leaned her head against the hard back of the wooden chair and tried to recall the moment she and Aaron had decided to keep her past a secret.

Had it been when she joined the church?

Or earlier?

Maybe it had been when they'd both realized they'd done things that could never be erased. That seemed to be the far more reasonable explanation, she mused. Even as she realized she was lying to herself.

Here in the solitary confines of the small kitchen, she knew exactly when they'd decided to rewrite her past . . . when they moved from Lancaster County to Holmes. They'd decided when they moved to Ohio that they would reinvent her background, so as to not invite questions.

She'd been all for that. She had wanted to move to Ohio as Mrs. Aaron Keim, not as Lovina—a.k.a. Lolly—Johnson. She wanted to be known as the perfect Amish wife. Who always did the right thing.

The woman whom Aaron was proud to call his own.

Not Lolly, the impulsive, self-centered, vain girl she'd been.

It had been hard work, pretending to be something she was not. Early in their marriage, when she was particularly irritated with Aaron over something, she'd yearned to pick up the phone and cry to her mother.

Not that her mother would've been understanding at all. She'd disagreed with just about every decision she'd made about Aaron Keim. “You're going to regret this, Lolly,” she warned. “You have no real idea about what is in store for you. The Amish aren't like us.”

“Mom, you have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know a single person who's Amish.”

“I know Aaron.”

“Aaron is a good man.”

“He's far older than you.”

“So?”

“He's had another life, Lolly. Pretending it doesn't exist doesn't change things.” Her tone had held a thick note of frustration. There was much she wasn't saying, but that they both knew—that his first wife and child would always be in his heart. “A man can't help but compare the present with the past.”

She'd secretly feared that, as well. Though no one else talked of it, Aaron had sat her down and told her the truth. All the truth.

During that hour, he'd encouraged her to be as nosy as she'd wanted. He wanted her to ask as many questions as she could. Because, he warned, when that hour was over, he didn't intend to ever discuss it again.

So she'd asked. And she'd smiled. And she'd pretended to herself and her mother that the mere hour Aaron had allotted her had been enough.

But it hadn't.

A timid knock on her door jerked her to her feet. “Yes?” she called out.

“Mommi, it's Elsie.”

“Come in, child.” Her heart softened as she watched her granddaughter quietly enter the room. As always, Elsie had on her thick glasses. The heavy lenses magnified her brown eyes, but didn't seem to help all that much. Though Elsie bore her disability stoically, Lovina feared that it was just a matter of time before she lost her eyesight completely. “And how are you today?”

Elsie wore a wry smile. “Truthfully? Not so well. I'm worried about Daed.”

“I am, too. Come sit down.” Hesitantly she reached out to her granddaughter to guide her to the chair.

Elsie shrugged off her hand. “I'm not blind. Yet.”

“I know.”

She sat down and waited. Lovina wasn't too good at this. She'd raised her six children by being strict and firm. She'd always thought no good came from coddling them.

She treated Viola and Roman much the same way.

But with Elsie? The girl brought out a tenderness from deep inside her that she hadn't realized existed. Or, truth be told, she'd more likely hidden it deep inside herself. With Elsie, she wanted to protect the girl, and comfort her, too. And it wasn't just Elsie's disability that caused her to be like this. No, it was more Elsie's calm demeanor. It was soothing and gentle, as if God had given her all the best qualities from the rest of the family to make up for her failing eyesight.

“Mommi, I don't know what to think about Daed.”

“I suppose not.” She opened her mouth to relay once again how disappointed she was in Peter, but held her tongue. Her criticisms wouldn't ease Elsie's mind. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”