Blessings (7 page)

“I’ve talked about my interest in animals, Graham.”

“Interest, yes.” He slumped, twisting his head to meet her gaze. “But you’re talking about having a
career
, Trina.”

She had never applied that word to her dream. Suddenly the barrier between her and school seemed to double in size. Who was she fooling? They’d never let her have a career.

“But. . .” The word squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It would be worthwhile to the community. There isn’t anybody in town who can doctor animals. We have to go clear to Lehigh, and Dr. Groening is getting older. He’ll retire before too much longer. Surely—”

The look on Graham’s face silenced her. She pushed the car door open. “Thank you for the ride, Graham. If you—if you want to get me tomorrow, make sure you check with Mama first.”

His eyebrows rose, and even she realized the ridiculousness of her statement. She was planning to attend an institution of higher education, which was unquestionably against her parents’ desires. Accepting a ride home from work carried significantly less importance than enrolling in college. He didn’t respond, and she slammed the door. He drove off without a backward glance.

Heart aching, Trina stared at the house. She didn’t want to go in. Turning, she headed for town, but she passed the café and went around to the back door of the stained-glass studio instead. Andrew’s truck still stood in the alley. Relief flooded her. Of all the people she knew, Andrew should be the most sympathetic to her desire for something more.

She reached for the door handle, but the door swung open before she could connect with the silver knob. Andrew stepped onto the small concrete slab. When he spotted her, a smile lit his face, and he gave her an affectionate little pinch on the chin.

“Hey, Trina! How did your first day at Dr. Groening’s go?”

To Trina’s chagrin, she burst into tears.

S
EVEN

G
raham pulled his car into the shed behind his house and shut off the ignition, but he didn’t get out. He sat behind the steering wheel, images of Trina filling his vision. Her expectant, hopeful face as she shared her desires crushed him. She didn’t want him. She didn’t want a home and family. She wanted. . . He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. It was wrong what Trina wanted! He wouldn’t give credence to it by letting it invade his mind.

He got out of the car and slammed the door hard—harder than necessary. It didn’t help. He stomped across the grass to his own back door. Once inside the house, he stood in the little mudroom and peered through the open doorway into the kitchen. How many times had he stepped through his back door and imagined Trina in his kitchen. At his stove, stirring a pot. At his sink, her hands submerged in sudsy water. At his table, serving a meal.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to walk through the kitchen to the living room. He sank onto the sofa and closed his eyes. The silence of the house pressed around him. The house was less than four months old. He and the men of the community had built it. The ladies—including Trina—had provided meals to keep the men going during the working hours.

The house still smelled new. New wood, new paint, new rubber from the purchased throw rugs he’d dropped here and there on the floor. Even some new furniture. What there was of furniture. Only a sofa in the living room. The bedroom he’d claimed had the familiar full-size bed, bureau, and bedside table from his old bedroom at his parents’ home. He’d deliberately put off purchasing furniture, knowing his wife would want a say in what to buy.

Trina would want a say in what to buy.

Now he’d heard Trina’s say, and he wasn’t sure whether she’d ever choose furniture to fill his house. The house he’d meant to be theirs. He groaned, covering his face with his hands. When he’d fallen in love with Trina Muller, he’d never imagined she would hurt him like she had today.

“Dear Lord, why does she want something else instead of me?”

Trina covered her face with her hands, clamping her lips together to silence the sobs that jerked her shoulders in uncontrolled spasms.

Warm, broad hands curled around her upper arms, drawing her forward, into the shop. Then those hands slipped to her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. She peered into Andrew’s concerned eyes.

“Trina, what’s wrong? Didn’t your day go well?”

“Oh, Andrew!” For a few minutes, she gave vent to the frustration that bubbled upward. As she’d learned to appreciate over the years, he didn’t tell her to stop crying but just stood by and let the tears run their course. When she finally sniffed hard, bringing the raining tears to a halt, he gave her a tissue.

“Here. Clean up.”

She rubbed her face clean. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Sometimes a person just needs to cry.” He put his hand on her back, guiding her to the tall stools beside the worktable. She climbed onto one, and he leaned against a second one, resting his elbow on the tabletop. “You aren’t one to cry over nothing. Do you want to talk about it?”

The sweet concern in his voice nearly sent her into another bout of weeping, but she took a few deep breaths and kept control. While Andrew’s attentive gaze remained on her face, she poured out every event of the day, from cleaning up doggy doo and dusting shelves to the car ride home and facing Graham’s disapproval.

“I want him to understand, but he doesn’t. I know my parents won’t, either.” She twisted the soggy tissue in her hands. “Why is it wrong for me to want to go to school and learn how to take care of animals? Why would God give me this desire if I wasn’t meant to pursue it? Why can’t Mama and Dad and Graham let me be the person I want to be?”

To her surprise, Andrew didn’t immediately validate her questions. Instead, he walked slowly around to the opposite side of the table and braced both palms against it. “Why are you asking me these questions, Trina?”

She blinked in confusion. “Who else would understand? Your father wanted you to be a farmer like the rest of your family. But you wanted something else. Surely you know how I feel!”

“But I didn’t break any fellowship rules to become a stained-glass artist, Trina. What you’re talking about—going to college—that’s different.”

Trina stared at him in amazement. The one person she felt would be completely, 100 percent on her side seemed to distance himself from her. Tears threatened again.

Andrew went on quietly, his gaze lowered. “Being a wife. . .and mother. . .is the highest calling for any woman. If you didn’t have Graham wanting to marry you, I’d probably say keep learning what you can about animal care from the Internet or books and help out the way you did with Regen. But not at the expense of a family.”

Trina slammed her fist against the tabletop. “Oh, this is so aggravating! Why can’t anyone understand?”

“And why can’t you understand what you’re throwing away?”

At Andrew’s angry tone, Trina drew back, gawking at her cousin. “Th–throwing away?”

“Yes.” He glared at her, his lips quivering. “You have a man—a good man—who wants to marry you. You could become a wife and then a mother, but you’d rather take care of sick kittens. What’s wrong with you, Trina?”

Of all the people she’d feared might attack her, Andrew was at the bottom of the list. She sat in silence, too hurt to respond.

“Don’t be selfish.” He held himself stiffly erect, his chin high. “You have an opportunity Livvy would kill to have—the opportunity to be a mother. And if you throw it away over some ridiculous idea about—” The last words came out in a growl; then he seemed to crumble. He spun, leaning his hips against the table with his back to her.

Trina slipped from the stool and rounded the table. She touched Andrew’s arm. “Andrew? Is something wrong with Livvy?”

Tears winked in her cousin’s dark eyes. His chin quivered. “All the trouble she’s been having with. . .female issues?”

Trina nodded. The family had been praying for Livvy’s difficulties.

“She got her tests back today. The doctor says she won’t be able to. . .”

Although he didn’t finish the statement, Trina needed no more explanation. She tightened her fingers on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” His voice had lost its hard edge, but it still lacked his usual warmth. He placed his hand over hers and looked directly into her eyes. “Trina, think carefully about what you want. Going to school, getting a degree—people do it every day. But not everybody has the opportunity to build a family. Don’t throw something so valuable away over a childish dream.”

Trina pulled her hand back, stung by his simplification of her desires. But she didn’t argue. She nodded. “I’ll think about it. And pray about it.”

“Do that.” He headed for the door, cupping her elbow and pulling her along with him. “I need to get home to Liv. I’ll talk to you later, Trina.”

After he drove off, Trina started for the café. But she didn’t want to face her mother after the two emotionally exhausting conversations she’d just had. But where to go? Since Andrew’s opinion was now colored by his personal conflict, who else might be able to offer support and sympathy?

“Beth,” Trina whispered. Beth wasn’t Mennonite. She would have a different viewpoint from everyone else in town. Trina would ask Beth. She set off in the direction of the little bungalow on Cottonwood Street.

The door opened to Trina’s knock, and Sean McCauley stood framed in the doorway. He smiled, his mouth half hidden by his mustache. “Well, hello. It’s Trina, right? Come on in.”

Trina stepped over the threshold and stood on the little square of linoleum in front of the door. A television set blared from the corner, the screen showing a close-up image of a man holding a microphone and pointing to a building behind him. Sean quickly shut off the noisy box then headed toward the back of the house, still talking. “Beth and I were just getting ready to sit down to dinner. Come on back and have a bite.”

Trina shrank against the door. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think about the time. I’ll come back later.” She grabbed the doorknob.

“Trina, wait.” Beth hustled into the room and caught Trina’s hand, pulling her away from the door. “Don’t run off. Tell me about your first day at the vet clinic. Andrew said you were very excited to finally get to work with Dr. Groening.”

“But your dinner. . .” Trina flapped her hand in the direction of the kitchen, where Sean disappeared around the corner. “It’ll get cold.”

“Sandwiches don’t get cold.” Beth grinned. “Sandwiches and canned fruit—that’s what we’re having, and it’ll keep. Fill me in.”

Trina couldn’t imagine her mother putting such a simple meal on the table for supper. Beth was so different. She twisted a ribbon tie around her finger. “Well, it was nice to finally be there, but it wasn’t what I expected. I mostly just cleaned up.”

Beth tipped her head. “Cleaned up?”

“Yes. Floors, cages, exam tables, kennels, shelves.” Trina made a face. “I knew I wouldn’t be doing surgery, but I had hoped to at least work with the animals a little bit.”

“Oh, Trina, I’m sorry.” Beth offered a brief hug. Trina savored the touch of sympathy she’d been seeking. Beth continued. “But surely it’s just because you’re new. Don’t you think, after you’ve been there awhile and have proven yourself capable of handling the little tasks, he’ll give you something more challenging to do?”

Trina considered the question. When she’d started at the café with Miss Koeppler, she’d run the dishwasher and mopped floors. Gradually, the owner had increased Trina’s responsibilities until she finally became a waitress and handled the cash register. “Maybe you’re right.” Her heart leaped with hope. “Maybe I just need to prove myself.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Beth said, her smile encouraging. “Hang in there. You’ve wanted this for too long to give up now.”

“Oh, I’m not giving up!” Trina heard the determination in her own voice. No matter what Graham or Andrew or Mama said, working with animals was in her heart. She wouldn’t set it aside.

“Good for you.” Beth gave Trina another hug. “Come see me again on Friday and let me know what you’re doing by then, okay?”

“Thanks, Beth.” Trina glimpsed Sean peeking out from the kitchen doorway. Beth might not be in a hurry to eat, but it appeared he was. She backed up to the door, her positive spirit restored. “I’ll see you Friday with a great report!”