Inescapable (18 page)

A burst of laughter bubbled up out of her. “Oh, Lizzie. You have a way of making me laugh when I have no plans to do so.”

I smiled at her. “And of course you're right, Mother. I'll have to work on my attitude, I guess.” I felt as if I'd turned a corner the other night when I'd prayed, but my mother was correct in her assessment. I still had a deep and abiding bitterness toward my father. Forgiving him would be difficult, but I knew it was necessary before I could heal completely.

“It makes me happy to hear you to say this, Lizzie. I hope our church members will join me in praying for your father. He needs all the help heaven can give him. Even with everything he has done, I feel the man I married is still somewhere inside him. Trapped, but wanting to come back to me. I've seen it in his eyes.”

She pushed her cup toward me. “Now, I would like another cup of coffee, if you don't mind. And I believe I would like to have a rather late lunch with my daughter and granddaughter.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said “but first I need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course. What is troubling you?”

“Have you heard about the man they found dead on the road to Kingdom?”

She nodded. “Terrible. I understand he pulled his car off the road and then tumbled down the ravine. It is such a dangerous place. Our citizens know how treacherous it is. But this stranger did not and paid dearly for his mistake.” Her forehead furrowed. “But what does this have to do with you?”

“Mother, that was the man who was following me. The man who stalked me in Kansas City.”

Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. “I had no idea. But what does this mean, Daughter?”

“I wish I knew. The sheriff was here. At first he acted as if there might be some kind of foul play. Then suddenly he seemed to change his mind and said that the man likely slipped down the ravine and struck his head on the rocks. That his death was accidental. But I don't know . . .”

“Any man's death is a tragedy,” Mother said, a strange look on her face. “But you are concerned that something untoward occurred in this instance?”

“Maybe. I . . . I don't trust the sheriff. I got the feeling he wasn't really interested in finding out the truth.”

Mother nodded. “He does not have a good reputation among our citizens. We try to involve him as little as possible in our affairs.” She frowned at me. “Is there any other reason you have to doubt his conclusion?”

I hesitated a moment before blurting out my concerns. “That man died not long after the elders were informed about his pursuit of me.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn't respond.

I hesitated a moment before shaking my head. “I'm sorry, Mother. Now that I say it out loud, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. I know there are some in the church who may think differently than others about certain things, but all Mennonites are committed to peace. And the Ten Commandments are followed without exception. I was foolish for allowing something so silly into my thoughts. I guess I was just concerned by the timing.”

Mother was silent as she stared at her coffee cup. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was keeping something from me. But what was it?

“So now what will you do?” she asked finally.

“Nothing. I've thought about taking Charity and leaving town. Afraid this man will be linked to me in some way and that his death will lead the police in Kansas City here to Kingdom. But the truth is, I have no way of knowing if they're even looking for me. Or if this incident will turn up on their radar. As awful as is sounds—”

“This unfortunate event may be your way out? Because of this terrible situation you may be able to stay here?”

Even though Mother said the words softly, they still sounded dreadful. Yet they were exactly what I'd been thinking. I nodded slightly. “I hate to think I might profit from the death of another human being, but the truth is, it's entirely possible. His harassment of me is definitely over.” The newest note popped into my mind, but I decided not to mention it to my mother. She didn't need anything else to worry about.

“But he could have reported your whereabouts to someone else. Is that not correct?”

“Yes, but no one's shown up. It's been days since I first saw him here. Why hasn't anyone come?”

Mother shook her head. “Is there no way you can find out what is going on in Kansas City, Lizzie? No one you can call? No one you can trust?”

“I . . . I thought so, but since that man showed up, I have to admit that I'm not sure anymore. How did he know I was here?” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don't think it's smart to contact Meghan. She may have said something that led him here. I can't take any chances. The only other person I trust is recovering from a heart attack, and I won't bother her about this. It might impede her recovery.”

Mother sighed. “Then all we can do is pray that this is finally at an end, and I will certainly do so. I do not want you to leave me ever again, Daughter.” Her voice broke. “I could not bear losing you and Charity a second time.”

I wanted to promise her we would stay, but I couldn't. Not yet. “Well, we're here for now, Mother. Let's enjoy our time together. All right?”

She nodded, but the look on her face made me ache inside. When I'd left Kingdom five years ago, my concerns had been for myself and my child. I knew my mother would be hurt, but I hadn't fully counted the cost of her loss. I felt a strong desire to see joy on her face again. With God's help, I hoped I'd get that chance.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Mother asked as she took another sip of coffee.

“Yes.” I tried to gather the courage to tell her something she wouldn't be happy to hear. “Clay came to see me, Mother.”

She almost dropped her cup. It hit the table with a thud, spilling coffee over the side. “Cl-Clay Troyer? He . . . he's back?”

I quickly told her about his visit while I wiped up the spilled coffee. “I haven't called him yet. He said if he didn't hear from me by tonight, he'd leave and never come back.”

“Oh, Lizzie. His parents . . . I mean, they actually asked you to destroy your child. For money. The evil that resides behind a request like that . . . I cannot advise you to let these people back in your life.”

“You don't have to worry about that. Clay's father is dead, and even though his mother wants to see Charity, I have no intention of allowing it. Clay seems to want to do the right thing, Mother. How can I deny him the chance to prove himself?”

She shook her head. “I was very disappointed in him when he deserted you, Lizzie. Yet deep in my heart, I rejoiced that he and his family were out of our lives. I can't advise you here. You need to seek God's wisdom in this matter.”

“I have.”

My mother's eyes widened. “You are praying again, Daughter?”

I smiled at her. “I am praying again, Mother.”

Tears filled her eyes, already reddened by weeping. “This is the best news anyone on this earth will ever give me,” she sobbed. She reached out and took my hands. “God is so faithful. Please do not judge Him by the mistakes your parents have made. I could not bear the guilt in my soul for your decision to turn away from Him. A mother's heart cannot bear this responsibility.”

“You were never responsible for that,” I said softly. “Quite the opposite. You and Grandmother planted the seeds in my heart that whispered to me in the night. If you both hadn't laid a good foundation, I may not have ever found my way back to God. Please never doubt that for a moment.”

She scooted her chair closer and put her arms around me, crying quietly. Finally she straightened up. “My soul exceedingly rejoices.”

I smiled at her. “I'm glad.”

She finally let me go, a look of happiness on her face. I cleared my throat and hesitated, not wanting to chase away the moment, but I had to know the truth. “Clay told me that he wrote to me, Mother, not knowing I wasn't here anymore. Is that true?”

She didn't answer right away. I hoped against hope that Clay hadn't lied. If he really had sent letters, it would be the proof I needed to believe he was sincere.

Finally she nodded. “Yes, he wrote to you. I never actually read the letters, Lizzie. Your father took them. As far as I know, he did not read them either.”

“So Clay was telling the truth,” I said slowly, letting this new revelation sink in.

“This does not mean it is God's will for you to take up with this man again,” Mother warned. “You must turn this over to God and ask His counsel. Do not jump into anything without His wisdom. Please, Daughter. I worry about your happiness as well as Charity's.”

“I understand,” I said, although I truly believed my mother had just delivered the answer I'd been seeking. Clay cared about me. He'd always wanted to be with me. Maybe Charity would finally get the father she wanted. I stood to my feet. “I'll get lunch ready right away. Charity has already eaten, so we'll let her sleep a little longer. If she's not up soon, I'll wake her so you can spend time with her before you leave.”

“Can I help you?”

“No, it will only take me a minute.” I was on the way to the kitchen before I remembered my other news. I stopped and turned back to look at her, catching her distressed expression. Obviously, my news about Clay was as unwelcome as I'd suspected it would be. “Mother, I almost forgot to tell you. Cora's left town. Her sister is ill, and she's gone to be with her. I have no idea when she'll be back. She suggested I ask Callie Hoffman to help out in the restaurant until she returns. Do you know where the Hoffmans live? Can you contact Callie for me?”

“Oh, Lizzie,” Mother said. “Will you be all right? Can you keep the restaurant going without Cora?”

I shrugged. “I don't have much choice. Cora can't lose the income, and I need a place to live and food to feed Charity. So for as long as it takes, I'll be running things.”

“I wish I could help you,” she said.

I chuckled. “Yeah, Father would really like that. Might be all it takes to really make him blow his top.”

“Well, perhaps I can help you indirectly in some way.”

Her offer touched me, but she was already defying my father by stepping foot in the restaurant. “Let's wait and see what happens. I don't want to do anything that would cause further strife between you and Father.”

The look of disappointment on her face distressed me. “How about this? When you come to visit, you can watch Charity. Keep her occupied. I can't tell you how much that would help.”

“I would be happy to do that, Daughter, and on the way home I will stop by the Hoffmans and inform Callie that you need her assistance.”

“Thank you, Mother. I'll have lunch ready in a jiffy.”

“Lizzie,” she said, drawing out my name slowly.

“Yes?”

“That man. The one who died?”

I waited for her to finish, but as I stood there, I realized that my mother was afraid of something. I'd seen it in her eyes ever since I'd told her that the dead man had turned out to be my stalker.

“Wh-when did the man die?” she asked.

“I don't know. The sheriff didn't say. Why?”

She shook her head and wouldn't look at me.

A cold chill ran through my body. “Mother, I must know why you're asking.”

“I do not want you to jump to conclusions.”

I walked back toward the table where she sat. “You're scaring me. Tell me what you're thinking.”

“The other night when your father drove to Washington to see if the man who was following you might be staying there . . .”

“Yes? What about it?”

She clasped her hands together and leaned her forehead against them. “When I washed the clothes your father wore that night I found . . . something.” She put one hand loosely over her mouth and stared at me, fear in her eyes. “Oh, Elizabeth. There was blood on his clothes. I am so afraid. Could your father's anger have led him to actually take a life?”

My mother's question shocked me.
I'd determined my own suspicions to be ridiculous only minutes earlier. But now my mother was expressing her own misgivings, and no one knew my father better than she did. Was it possible? Could he be involved?

“Did you ask him about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nodded, her eyes still wide with panic. “He told me he found a dead deer in the middle of the road when he drove back from Washington. And that when he moved it, his clothing was stained.”

“Well, that certainly sounds reasonable. Deer get hit by cars a lot around here. Is there any reason for you to doubt him?”

She sighed, her body shaking. “I don't know. When I told him about the man from Kansas City, he was so upset. He said something about putting a stop to the situation.”

I smiled at her, my chest feeling tight. “That doesn't sound too ominous. Father didn't say he was going to put a stop to the
man—
just to the situation.”

Her mother's eyes narrowed as she turned this thought over in her mind. “But if you could have seen his face. It was so . . . dark. I have seen his anger many times, but this was something beyond that. It was . . .” She shook her head. “I do not know how to describe it.”

I patted her hand. “I can't believe Father is capable of murder.” Even as I said the words, the constriction inside me tightened. Although I didn't think my father cared enough about me to take a life, rejecting the core belief of his Mennonite faith, I felt uncertain. I'd seen his anger. Was it possible? Feeling protective of my mother, I tried to push the fear away. If I suspected him of something so heinous, it would certainly frighten her.

“You do not understand the depth of his feelings for you, Daughter. You have always mistaken his harshness for a lack of affection for you, but the opposite is true. I think he is afraid of how much he loves you.”

“So what are you saying?” My tone was sharper than I intended, but her insistence that my father had some kind of deep devotion toward me made me angry. It just wasn't true. My mother flinched at the harshness in my voice, and I immediately felt bad.

“I see I have upset you,” she said gently. “That was not my intention.”

I waved her comment away. “I'm the one who's sorry. I know I'm sensitive when it comes to Father. In many ways I've allowed my bitterness to twist my past experiences.

“On the way to Kingdom, I began to remember some of the good things that happened here. And the wonderful people who were in my life. For some reason, I'd shoved all those memories into a closet in my mind, refusing to acknowledge them.”

I frowned at her. “But when it comes to Father, my memory is sharp and precise. The spankings for no reason, the cruel punishments, the unkind comments. They're not embellished by my imagination. They're very real.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she nodded. “You are right, Daughter. There is no excuse for his treatment of you—or for my acquiescence to his behavior. All I can pray is that you will one day forgive us.”

“I've already forgiven you, Mother. Maybe you were wrong in allowing Father's behavior, but you were afraid. And your intention was to be a submissive wife. I may not agree with your choices, but at least I understand them.” I sighed. “I know I must forgive Father, and I'll work on it. Understanding his actions will be hard, though. As a parent, I just can't excuse his behavior.”

“Forgiveness is a decision, Daughter, and is not based on our ability to excuse it. However, I will pray that one day you will see your father through eyes of compassion. Perhaps then you will be able to understand him too, but I see it will take the grace and help of the Almighty to accomplish it.” She held up her hand when I began to protest. “What is the popular phrase people in the world use? I guess we will have to ‘agree to disagree'?”

“Yes, that's it,” I said, my displeasure at her statement dissipating at her use of such a “modern” phrase. “But wherever did you hear that?”

She chuckled. “I have a friend who goes to Washington and buys the newspaper once a month. She hides it from her husband and children, but the ladies and I look at it when we quilt. You will understand if I do not reveal her identity. We are . . . flying under the radar.”

Even though I was frustrated with my mother's attempt to downplay my father's abusive behavior, her revelation made me laugh. The idea of a group of old-fashioned Mennonite women giggling over a newspaper while they quilted was just too funny. The tension between us broke, and we spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening enjoying each other's company and playing games with Charity. My mother had never seen a manufactured child's game before, so explaining Candy Land to her was not only challenging but extremely comical. Charity and I giggled at her obvious confusion, but no one was more amused than Mother. Even funnier was Charity taking Mother by the hand and leading her to see the bathroom in the restaurant, accompanied by my daughter's patient instruction as to what a proper potty should be.

By the time my mother left, she seemed much more relaxed, but I suspected she was still bothered about the blood on Father's clothes. As was I. The coincidence was troubling, but I had no real reason to suspect anything else. I tried to put it out of my mind, but for some reason the thought seemed to sit in my psyche, refusing to be banished.

Charity went to bed early, worn out after our fun but busy afternoon. As I said good-bye to Mother, I checked the time. If I was going to call Clay, I'd have to do it soon. I went upstairs, plopped down on the couch, and thought about my choice. Clay and I hadn't been together in years. Was it too late for us? Even if we could never be a couple, was it fair for me to keep him out of Charity's life? Didn't I owe my daughter the chance to get to know her father? I found the piece of paper with his number on it and hurried downstairs to the wall phone in the kitchen. As I dialed the number on the old rotary phone, I prayed I wasn't making a mistake. When the phone rang, for some reason the sound made me jump. The front desk put me through to Clay's room.

“Lizzie?” he said after I said his name. “It's late. I was beginning to worry.”

“Listen, Clay,” I said. “I can only do this one day at a time. And I don't want to tell Charity who you are until I'm sure this will work out. But if you could stay awhile . . .”

His warm, gentle laughter drifted through the phone. “I can stay. Until you tell me to go.”

“Okay, if you're certain you really want to.”

“I am. I definitely am.” He cleared his throat. “When can I see you?”

I explained the situation with Cora and told him I would be really busy all day tomorrow. “I'm pretty sure I'll be wiped out by tomorrow night. Would you mind waiting until Tuesday? You could come in around six. I'll close early, make you dinner, and you can spend the evening with Charity and me.”

“That sounds perfect. I have some business to take care of, so I'll spend tomorrow getting that done. See you Tuesday. And Lizzie?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome.” I hung up the phone, feeling cautiously positive about having Clay back in my life. For Charity's sake. But I couldn't help thinking about Noah. As I stood there, I chided myself for even allowing him into my thoughts. We had no future together. For now I just needed to concentrate on building my relationship with Clay. Perhaps I could finally give my daughter the one thing she needed most. A family. If that was ever going to happen, it would probably only happen with Clay.

I tried to feel happy about the possibility, but for some reason, there was an odd sadness stirring deep inside my heart.