The Days of Redemption (11 page)

“Perhaps.”

She glanced Ed's way, intending to share a smile. But as she did, she stilled. He was staring at her in a new way. Not heated, exactly. But with a new, fresh awareness.

Her lips parted as she felt an unexpected pull. She was attracted to him; she couldn't deny it.

Not that that was a good thing. They were far too different, and he was leaving. For a split second, she let her impatience get the best of her all over again. Only she would start liking the one man she shouldn't in Berlin.

Then, conscious of everyone's attention, she shook off her regrets. “Edward, what time would you like to eat? I can be flexible.”

“Around noon?”

“You can go earlier if you want,” his
daed
said.

“That's okay,” Ed replied with a grin. “I wanted to spend some time with you first. Nobody's teased me since last time I was here.”

His
daed
grumbled, but Viola could tell he was pleased. She stood up. “I think that's my cue to move on. I've got some other things I need to do before lunch.” She held up the place cards she'd just finished writing names on. “The least of which is to put these in a safe place.”

“But you'll come back to fetch Edward?”

Now it was Edward's turn to be the focus of much amusement in the room. His cheeks flushed, but to his credit, he stayed silent.

“Ed, how about you meet me in the lobby at noon?”

“That sounds good. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby at noon.”

He sounded so certain. Almost like he was eager for their date!

Viola turned away before either man could see the broad smile that threatened to erupt. But before she left the room, she could hear the other residents teasing Edward about having a date.

And how, although they all teased him, he never corrected them.

After Viola left the room—and everyone got tired of teasing him—Edward and his father settled into easy conversation. They talked about his father's trip to the cheese shop, and about one of his friends who'd recently passed away.

His father asked him about the house and if he'd shoveled the sidewalk and if he'd remembered that the back door stuck in the cold.

As the minutes passed and his father's reminders continued, Ed was starting to feel as if he'd become ten years younger since he'd returned home. In Nicaragua, he'd been respected. His opinion valued. Men and women alike had depended on him for advice, and had admired his hard work ethic.

He'd had to grow up fast. He'd made some impressive mistakes and had to bear the burden of fixing his messes all by himself.

Now, though, it was starting to feel like he had never left home. Not only was his
daed
interested in his love life, but he seemed to have forgotten that he was a grown man.

For a moment, he considered speaking to his father about that, but decided against it. There was no point in it, after all. In six months he'd be gone again.

Suddenly, he felt empty.

“Tell me about the house, Edward. Does anything need to be repaired? Do you need to hire someone to come in and help you clean it better?”

“I think I got the cleaning under control.” Briefly, he described his new close relationship with the bottle of Pine-Sol. Then, before he knew it, he was telling his father about the little dog who had wandered into his life. How they had enjoyed a few quiet moments together in front of the fireplace the evening before.

“That's a good spot. I've spent plenty of days in that chair myself, son.”

“It's not too late, Daed. How about you move back in with me for the next six months?”

“Until you leave again?” Some of the spunk ebbed from his demeanor. “I think not.”

“But it will be just like old times.”

“Ah, that's where you are wrong. Nothing is ever like old times, I'm afraid. It's never the same.”

“It could still be good, though. I'd love to live there with you.”

“I appreciate you saying that, but this is where I belong, Edward.” A faint shadow of a secret slid into his expression. “It's where I need to stay, too. I'm happy here.”

Ed had a feeling his father was being completely honest. “I'm glad you're happy.”

“Something that would make me mighty happy is if you continued your courtship of Miss Viola.”

“I'm taking her to lunch, Daed. That's all.”

“Lunch can grow to something more.”

“We both know it shouldn't. I'll be leaving in six months.”

“Six months is time enough to fall in love.”

“Daed—”

“Don't some missionaries travel with their wives?” he interrupted.

“
Jah,
but I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself.”

“Maybe so, but whether we are talking about Viola or another woman, I think it's something to think about.” He eyed Ed intently through his lenses. “Promise me you'll keep an open mind.”

“I'll do my best,” he said dryly. What he didn't want to share was the feeling that he'd already had about Viola. He'd always wanted a woman in his life who wasn't afraid to speak her mind.

But that aside, he wasn't even sure Viola would want a life built around mission work. As it was, he and Viola had hardly had more than a handful of conversations, each one barely less stilted than the previous one. To go from lunch to asking her out for another date was a big enough step. Marriage and traveling together for mission work felt like too much of a gap to even contemplate.

Why was his father so intent on getting him hitched?

A slow steady note of worry threaded through him. “Hey, Daed? Is there something going on with you that I'm not aware of? Are you sick?”

“Certainly not.”

But his father wasn't looking at him. In fact, he seemed to be doing everything he possibly could to avoid meeting Edward's gaze. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am that your pesky questions are beginning to annoy me, Edward. I've been living fine here in Berlin without your constant interfering. You needn't begin fussing over me now.”

“I'm not fussing.” Feeling more confused by the second, he looked around the room for some support. Surely there was someone nearby who could give him a hint of what was going on with his
daed?

But during their spurious exchange, the room had emptied. Now, it was only the two of them in the big room. “Daed, are you supposed to be somewhere?”

Looking as if he were visibly holding on to the last of his patience, his father narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“No one else is here.” He stood and moved behind his father's wheelchair, and took the handles. “Would you like me to wheel you to wherever you need to go?”

“I am not an invalid, Edward!”

He let go of the wheelchair handles and stepped backward. “I know.”

“Good. Now stop getting into my business.”

In a lot of ways, Ed was his father's son. It went against his nature to rely on others, or to be bossed around. He kept his temper with effort. “All right.”

Now that he'd won whatever sort of battle he'd been waging, his father held up a crossword puzzle with a shaky hand—the only sign, as far as Ed could see, that he, too, had been disturbed by their angry exchange of words. “Now, it's time to put that brain of yours to good use, Edward. Help me finish this puzzle.”

There was only one thing to do. Ed sat back down and plucked a pencil from the holder in the center of the circular table and leaned forward. “Which clue are you working on?”

“Two across. A four-letter word for stubborn.”

DAED fit the bill. But he tried for something a little less inflammatory. “How about mule? I think that might work.”

After a moment, his father wrote that in. “It works, indeed.”

They'd been walking in silence since they left the retirement home. Though Viola wasn't a woman who needed constant chatter, the awkward tension between them was so different from their usual bantering that her nerves were starting to get the best of her.

“Was it something I said?” Viola joked.

“I don't follow.”

She noticed that he neither slowed his pace nor looked her way. “I'm not surprised,” she said. “You've hardly looked my way for two blocks. And, you're walking so fast I practically have to jog to keep up with you.”

Immediately, his steps slowed. “I'm sorry. And as for looking your way . . .” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Did you want me staring at you?”

“Of course not. All I meant was that we've hardly spoken ten words to each other since we left the retirement home,” she explained as they stepped around a woman strolling with her basset hound. “Plus, every time I've tried to start a conversation, you've looked distracted. Since this lunch was your idea, I was wondering if I've done something to upset you. Or, did you change your mind and not know how to back out of it?”

Immediately, he looked pained. “Viola, I promise, that's not it at all.”

“Then what is it? Or am I just imagining things?”

“It's . . . nothing.” He paused, looking as if he was tempted to say more, but instead turned and looked straight ahead again. “But no, you're not imagining things.”

It would be good manners to let the matter drop. But he looked so pained, so in need of a friend, she pushed a bit. “Now we both know it's not nothing. Would you like to talk about it?”

Again, whether or not to answer her seemed like it was a monumental decision. “Maybe.”

“Is it about your
daed
? Or your job?” She grasped at straws. “Is there a problem with your
haus
?”

His steps slowed right in front of one of the many gift stores that dotted the area. “It's many things, if you want to know the truth. I realized last night that I might not have come to terms with my mother's death like I had believed I had.” He hung his head. “And though it shames me to admit this to you, I half feel like you were right all along.”

“Right about what?”

“Maybe I really did go to Nicaragua for selfish reasons. Maybe I went down there, thinking I was going to make all these great changes, help all these people, but what really happened was that I was only thinking about myself. I wanted to get away from hurting.”

Viola was shocked. Ed was speaking so honestly about things that she'd never imagined, and she felt guilty. She'd been just as self-centered as he had been, but she hadn't had the nerve to admit it to him—or even herself!

But before she could say anything, Ed sighed and started walking again. “I'm starting to worry about my
daed,
too,” he said as they continued walking.

“Your father? I think he is doing well, Edward.”

“Mentally? I agree. But I'm afraid his physical health isn't near as good as he pretends it is. I'm afraid he's keeping things from me, and that makes me worried.”

He inhaled, as if he was expecting her to brush off his worries. Or worse, that she was going to point out that he had no right to make such judgments because he'd been gone for two years.

She felt his wariness as if it were her own. And yet again, she felt embarrassed for how judgmental she'd been.

But that wouldn't ease his mind. He clearly wanted to talk about his father, so she nodded seriously. “I would have heard if the medical staff had worries about him.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Everyone at Daybreak keeps a good eye on the residents. But that doesn't mean that you're wrong. What have you noticed? What seems off?”

“I'm not sure, exactly.” He shrugged. “Like I said, it's just a feeling, and it's probably nothing.” Then, preferring to get her criticisms out in the open, he added, “Here you've been giving me grief about being away from my
daed
. I hadn't thought you were right. But maybe you were. Perhaps I should never have left. I can't expect everyone else to keep a close eye on him.”

Now that he was saying she was right, she'd never felt more wrong. They were in front of the Johnson's hardware store now, almost to the pizza parlor. As she glanced into the shop's windows, she saw that the owners still hadn't changed their Christmas display.

Which reminded her of the way she'd thought about Edward. Before she'd met him, she'd thought he was a careless son, off gallivanting around the world while his father had to make friends with strangers. But now that she'd met him . . . “I judged you without even really knowing you, Ed. That was wrong of me.”

“Maybe you weren't that off the mark.”

“
Nee,
I was hasty to judge. It was wrong. And as far as feeling like you're running away, well, I think we all run away from our hurts, to some extent.”

“I don't think we all run to another country.”

“Maybe you were running away, but you did good work there! You did something to be proud of. Everyone grieves, but not everyone is willing to help other people while grieving.”

His eyes widened, as if she'd really surprised him. “Thank you for saying that. I never looked at it that way. How did you get so smart?”

“I don't feel smart at all. As a matter of fact, I've been feeling a lot of the same things that you've been feeling. That I was going along in my life, serving others, but really simply keeping myself happy.” Now that she was baring her soul, she felt compelled to continue, even if it didn't paint her in the best light. “Ed, I've been learning lately that appearances can be deceiving. Mighty deceiving.”

“Now I feel like I'm the one who needs to be coaxing information out of you. Are you having troubles, too? Is something going on with your family?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” When she spied his look of confusion, she sought to explain a bit. “I mean, I'm fine, but there are some things that are happening in my family that I'm . . . upset about.”