A Sister's Forgiveness (26 page)

Jeannie was the first to arrive at the coffee shop. She chose a table outside, away from the street traffic and other customers. She pulled a third chair over from an adjoining table and sat down to watch for Hester and her friend. Moments later she saw Hester’s car across the street, and then Hester and a petite woman of about Emma’s age got out.

She was dressed plain and wore the simpler white kerchief prayer covering common among the younger conservative Mennonite women. Her caped dress was a light lavender, and the color worked well with her dark hair. Her skin was very pale and completely unblemished. Jeannie couldn’t help but think that she would need to invest in some sunblock if she was going to move to Sarasota. Jeannie got up and waved to Hester.

“Over here,” she called, and the two women hurried across the street, dodging traffic on their way.

“Jeannie Messner, meet another dear friend, Rachel Kaufmann,” Hester said.

“Hester and I were college roommates,” Rachel explained. “She used to rave about Pinecraft and everything it had to offer, so I finally decided to come down and see what all the fuss was about.”

“You two get acquainted,” Hester said. “I’ll get the coffee.”

“Tea for me,” Rachel said.

“Got it. Two coffees and one tea.”

Rachel and Jeannie took chairs opposite each other. Rachel leaned back and looked at her surroundings. “It’s all so very… tropical,” she said and then laughed. “Well, duh. But this is certainly what it feels like midsummer in Ohio where I come from.” She fanned herself with her hand. “Are you from here originally, Jeannie?”

“Born and raised right in Pinecraft,” Jeannie said. She could see Hester standing in line inside the small shop. “It’s wonderful that you and Hester have stayed in touch over all this time.”

“She’s a terrific letter writer,” Rachel replied. “Me? Not so much. But I’m good at calling, so between the two, we made it work.” She leaned forward. “I met Hester’s John. He’s wonderful, isn’t he? And they are so perfect together.”

Jeannie found herself smiling as she recalled the rocky start that Hester and John had had. “Well, now they are. In the beginning…”

“Oh, I know. You should read the letters I was getting from Hester back then. But I knew the way it was ‘John Steiner this’ and ‘John Steiner that’—I mean, after the first three dozen times his name came up in a matter of a couple of weeks—she was in love with the guy.”

Jeannie laughed, and it felt odd—like something she used to do a lot in the past and then had given up on.

“Coffee for you. Tea for you, and coffee for me,” Hester said as she arrived with three mugs of steaming liquid. She doled them out before taking the third chair.

“Hester tells me you just took a job here, Rachel,” Jeannie said. “Do you have a family?”

“Yes. My husband was killed a year and a half ago. We have a son, Justin. He’s twelve. When I was laid off from my job a few months ago, Hester suggested that I look for work here.” She smiled at her friend. “I’m going to be working at the new hospital that just opened out on Cattlemen Road.”

It seemed like it had been such a long time since Jeannie had allowed herself to think about the suffering of others. She felt ashamed and selfish. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

Rachel gave her a grateful smile. “It’s been a journey, but every day Justin and I realize that we are a little further along the path of healing. Of course, staying busy helps—work for me and school for Justin.”

“Are you a nurse like Hester?”

“I have my degree in nursing but—perpetual student that I am—I went back to school and got my master’s in psychology. I’ll be working as a chaplain and spiritual counselor.”

Was this the real reason for Hester’s call and sudden invitation to meet her friend? She shot Hester a look. “Subtle,” she murmured as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Coincidence,” Hester corrected, and suddenly the lighter getting-to-know-you environ shifted to one that was filled with questions and suspicion—at least on Jeannie’s part.

“What’s this really about?”

Hester sighed and set down her mug. “Rachel, tell Jeannie about the program that you and Justin took part in back in Ohio after James was killed.” Hester focused all of her attention on Jeannie and added, “Just please keep an open mind, because the minute I heard about it, I wanted you to at least know that such an idea exists in other communities. Seems to me that it’s something that could work here.”

Jeannie relaxed a little. This was the Hester that everyone knew and admired. She was a woman always looking at her surroundings and thinking about ways to make things better. “Okay, I’m listening. What’s the new program?”

“Actually, it isn’t all that new,” Rachel said. “At least not in some communities.”

“It’s called VORP,” Hester interrupted.

“Which stands for…?”

“Victim Offender Reconciliation Program,” Hester replied, her eyes locked on Jeannie’s. “Rachel’s husband was killed by a drunk driver.”

“At first,” Rachel said, picking up the story, “I didn’t know what to do, how to react. I was so angry and devastated, and our son was really at a loss. He and his father did everything together.”

“What happened?” Jeannie’s mouth had suddenly gone dry.

“The driver was a young man, out of work, with two small children of his own. He’d hit rock bottom and started drinking early one afternoon and kept it up. Then he got into his truck, and on his way home, he crossed over the median and struck my husband’s car.”

When tears welled in Rachel’s eyes, Jeannie reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I understand.”

“Sorry,” Rachel murmured. “Anyway, we were in the midst of the trial when I read something about VORP, and I thought maybe it could work. Maybe it would be a way for Justin—and me—to find some peace with this senseless loss.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I contacted the organization, and they sent out a mediator to talk with me and with Justin. There were several steps along the way, but the upshot was that eventually we sat down with the young man. We met his wife and his children. It’s a complex program, but in the end we came up with a contract—things that Justin and I asked the young man to do for us and himself and his family. He still went to jail, but he’s following through on his end of things, and I think he’s going to be all right.”

He’s going to be all right? What about you and your son?
Jeannie wanted to ask.

And then as if reading Jeannie’s mind, Rachel added, “And we’re going to be all right as well. We’re starting fresh—new job for me, new school for Justin.” She looked away for a minute, gathering her memories. “Going through the program allowed us both to talk openly about how much we were hurting to the very person whose action had brought us that pain.”

“Think about it, Jeannie,” Hester said. “If we could get the justice system here in Sarasota to hear us out, it could be a way to help Sadie.”

“Who’s Sadie?” Rachel asked. Jeannie knew by her expression that she genuinely was unaware of the circumstances that had taken over her life and the lives of all of her family.

“Jeannie? Is it okay?” Hester asked, seeking permission to tell her friend what had happened. “I’m sorry. Sadie’s name just popped out. Is it okay if…”

Jeannie shrugged and picked up their mugs. “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll get refills for you.”

“And you,” Hester urged, “you’ll come back and sit with us so we can talk, right?”

“I’ll come back, but, Hester, I’m making no promises.”

“None expected. Hearing us out is huge. I appreciate that. Thanks.”

Inside the coffee shop, Jeannie took her time getting the refills. She did not want to be present for any part of the recounting of the accident that had taken Tessa’s life and landed Sadie in jail. She could see Rachel and Hester through the window of the shop. Rachel was facing her, and Jeannie knew the exact moment that Hester must have given her the news.

She put her fist to her mouth and just sat there staring at Hester and shaking her head, as if by denying what she was hearing she might change the story. Jeannie recognized that reaction. It was a milder version of the one she had experienced when Dr. Morris told her that Tessa had died on the operating table.

Here was a woman who had experienced firsthand the kind of loss that Jeannie and Geoff had. Jeannie thought about how Geoff was so certain that if he could just testify, things would be better—at least for them. But what if what they both really needed was to speak out for themselves instead of against Sadie? She picked up the refilled mugs and returned to the table outside.

“So now that you know my story, can you honestly tell me that this VORP or any program like it can possibly make any difference at all?” Her words were laced with skepticism.

“It won’t bring your daughter back, Jeannie. But I really do believe—in fact, I know from our experience—that if you and others who have been victimized by this horror are willing to try, it could be a new beginning.”

“For Sadie?”

“For her,” Rachel agreed, “and for you and your sister and your husband if they are willing to take part.”

Jeannie released a bitter laugh and stood up, prepared to leave. “Wow, sounds wonderful. Where do I sign up?”

Hester frowned and glanced nervously at her friend, but Rachel just nodded. “I know it sounds like some kind of magic pill, but Jeannie, the program does work.” She pulled Jeannie’s chair a bit closer to her and patted the empty seat. “Will you let me explain?”

Jeannie hesitated for a moment then perched on the edge of the chair and waited for Rachel to regale her with stories of past successes—victims who had embraced their offenders and forgiven them wholeheartedly. But she was not at all prepared for Rachel’s opening question.

“Jeannie, knowing that Tessa can’t come back to you, what is the single most important and positive thing that you would want to come of the event that took your child’s life?”

Images of Geoff, then Emma, then Sadie flitted across Jeannie’s mind. Memories of Geoff and Matt tossing a football back and forth, of making marmalade with Emma and the girls in their large modern kitchen, of shopping with Sadie because both Emma and Tessa detested shopping. Memories of better times—times when they had laughed together and worked toward the same goals together and prayed together.

“Jeannie?” Hester said, covering Jeannie’s hand with hers. “Are you all right?”

Jeannie realized that tears were sliding down her cheeks. She swiped them away with the back of her hand and looked at Rachel. “I want our lives back—the way things were before. I know it will be without Tessa, but surely for those of us left behind, we could find our way back to some semblance of the love and caring we shared before.”

And having said it aloud, she realized that this was what she had been wrestling with through all the long days and nights since the accident. How could they be a family again?

“I know,” Rachel said. “That’s exactly what I wanted, for my son and me.”

“Do you really think that you can help us?” Jeannie asked.

“I’ll do my best,” Rachel promised then hesitated a moment before adding, “Hester mentioned that you were thinking of visiting your niece. You might want to postpone that, Jeannie. My guess is that she won’t be able to handle your visit—and more to the point, in my experience you’re not quite ready for that meeting yet either.”

Chapter 28

Emma

O
n Friday evening the family had just finished saying grace when someone knocked on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Matt said and was up from the kitchen table and on his way to the front door before Lars or Emma could stop him. They heard the muffled exchange of male voices, and then Matt was back, followed by Joseph Cotter.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your supper,” he said.

“Not at all. Join us,” Lars invited at the same moment that Emma got up to set another place.

“We have plenty.”

Joseph sat down in the fourth chair at the table—Sadie’s chair. There was a heartbeat when Emma, Lars, and Matt all looked at each other, but they said nothing.

“I have sweet tea and lemonade,” Emma offered.