A Sister's Forgiveness (39 page)

“Geoff? Talk to me. What happened when you went over to Emma’s?”

He swung around and faced her for the first time since she’d entered the room. He laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. “You mean Emma didn’t call to give you a full report? Or more likely you called there and the two of you commiserated about poor, dear Sadie.”

“Stop this and talk to me,” Jeannie demanded, her voice tight with fury that he was being so rigid. But now his assumption that his way was the only way was wearing on her. How could he even think of deciding that they needed to go through this separately without discussing it? She might agree in the end, but she’d like the opportunity to be heard.

“Geoff, you know that all I want is the same thing you want—for us to find a way through this horror that we did not cause and cannot change.” He looked so haggard and exhausted that her heart went out to him in spite of her anger. “Please, we have to get through this somehow. Wouldn’t it be better if we did it together?”

“I can’t, Jeannie. “He sat down on the edge of the bed so hard that the suitcase and its contents tumbled onto the floor.

Jeannie remained by the doorway until she saw his broad muscular shoulders start to heave as he buried his face in his hands. In an instant, she was beside him, holding him as she had held Tessa whenever she was distraught over something. “We’re going to get through this, Geoff,” she said and realized that the words had become like some kind of Gregorian chant, she had repeated them so many times over these last terrible weeks.

He looked up but not at her. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I have to go. It’s the only way I can see that either one of us is going to survive. I love you, Jeannie, but…”

She placed her finger against his lips, shushing him. “No ‘buts’—not where loving each other is concerned.”

But instead of holding out his arms to her as he had in the past whenever they had argued, he stood up and set the suitcase on the one chair in the room and began filling it with the clothing that had spilled onto the floor.

“I have to go,” he said, and now with his back to her, he sounded so certain.

Jeannie rummaged through her brain, searching for the right words she could say to make him stay, but she found nothing. She shut her eyes and silently prayed for God to intervene, to make him see that this was not a solution. But nothing changed, and she had no words.

“I’ll be downstairs,” she said softly, hoping that maybe if she left him alone he would see the folly of this solution.

But a few minutes later, he came downstairs carrying the suitcase and a garment bag.

“Where will you stay?”

He shrugged. “I’ll stay in my office tonight and then start looking for a room tomorrow.” He set down his belongings. “About the bills…”

“They’ve waited this long,” she said. “But Geoff, that’s something to consider. I mean, paying for the house plus a place for you to live makes no sense. If you really think we need some time apart, then let me be the one to go.”

“Go where, Jeannie? To Emma’s?”

“I was thinking about my parents’ house. They have a spare room,” she said quietly.

“That’s a good idea. But I’ll be the one to go home to Mom. After all, this is my idea.”

“You know, this place is big enough that…”

“This place is haunted,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper. He picked up the suitcase and garment bag, filling his hands with things—instead of with her, Jeannie thought. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “We can work out some arrangement so that you’ll have use of the car during the day while I’m at school.”

“I have Tessa’s bike,” Jeannie reminded him.

They were talking to each other as if this were any normal day when they needed to work out transportation. Why was she being so nice to him? Why wasn’t she ranting at him to come to his senses and see that she loved him and that without him she was completely lost? Why wasn’t she begging him not to go?

Chapter 41

Emma

I
t was Olive Crowder who brought the news the following morning that Geoff had moved out of the house. “Now Jeannine is all alone in that big place,” Olive said, clucking her tongue in disapproval. And when Emma said nothing, she added impatiently, “Well, Emma, what are you going to do about this matter?”

She had made herself at home, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and plopping herself down while Emma prepared lunch for the meeting with Rachel Kaufmann.

“Jeannie is a grown woman, Olive. She has lost her only child. We need to respect the way that she and Geoff may choose to mourn that child whether or not we approve.”

“Pshaw! Your sister needs you, Emma. She’s not only lost her child. It would seem that she’s lost her husband as well.”

“Don’t even speak of such a thing,” Emma scolded. “Jeannie and Geoff may not be of our particular branch of the faith, but they are Mennonite, and if you are for one minute suggesting that they would even consider—” She could not even bring herself to utter the
D
word.

Olive did not lift so much as an eyebrow. “Geoffory converted,” she reminded Emma.

“From Catholicism,” Emma reminded her, “where I believe they also believe in the vow of ‘until death do us part.’”

“Don’t lecture me, Emma.” Olive took out an envelope and left it on the table. “I understand that there was quite a substantial hospital bill.”

Emma eyed the envelope. “Geoff won’t accept that,” she said softly. “He thinks of it as charity.”

“Well, of course, it’s charity. Does he not know the meaning of the word?” Olive tapped the envelope. “I am leaving this in your care. I assume that at some point Jeannine and Geoffory will come to their senses and permit those of us who truly care about them to offer what help we can.” She pushed away from the table. “I’m working at the thrift shop today. May I assume that you will not be joining us?”

“No. We have a guest coming for lunch.” Emma hoped that would be enough information to satisfy Olive. She could not help but feel relieved when the older woman walked to the back door.

“Emma, you should call Jeannine,” she said. “Today.”

She did not wait for Emma’s response. With a sigh, Emma picked up the envelope to put it away in a safe place. It was quite heavy and fat, and in spite of telling herself that whatever amount Olive had given was no business of hers, she gave in to the temptation to count the bills.

Inside the unsealed envelope was five thousand dollars in cash. Emma was so stunned that she counted the money four times before she hurried out to the workshop to tell Lars.

“Olive is a generous woman,” was all that Lars said. He seemed distracted and barely glanced at the envelope.

“But where shall we keep it?” Emma asked.

“Keep it?” He blinked in the sun that was flecked with fine particles of sawdust. “The money was given to Jeannie and Geoff. They will have to decide where best to keep it, Emma.”

“They won’t take it—at least Geoff won’t.”

“Then give it to Jeannie.” He turned back to his work, measuring a board twice before starting the cut.

“Olive says that Geoff has moved out of the house.”

Lars paused in midstroke, but he did not look up. “Do you think that she and Geoff will ever forgive us, Emma?”

She knew what he meant. There was so very much to forgive—certainly they could have taken possession of Sadie’s learner’s permit until such time as they approved. And in spite of her youth, they had taught Sadie better than to give in to the temptation of impressing a young man when she knew her actions were wrong. And perhaps Emma’s greatest failing was the one thing that she had finally confessed to Lars a few days earlier—that she had accused Jeannie of being the cause of all the trouble because she been the one to help Sadie get her permit in the first place.

“I don’t know, but I need to do something about that. I’ll be back in a bit,” Emma said.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take this to Jeannie—and I’m going to try to apologize.”

“What about our lunch with Rachel?”

“Ask her to wait—better yet, have Sadie make lunch and get started. I’ll join you if I can, but for now…”

She had mounted her bicycle and pedaled off before Lars could stop her or she could reconsider. If Jeannie had been guilty of overstepping when she’d taken Sadie for her permit, then how was that any worse than what Emma had been guilty of since their argument at the bay—keeping her distance, refusing to make the first move toward reconciliation?

She pedaled as fast as she could, and by the time she arrived at Jeannie’s house, she was breathing hard and intent on her mission. She knocked on the kitchen door even as she peered in through the lace curtain that covered the side glass window. “Jeannie?”

Through the window she could see cardboard cartons, some of them taped shut, others spilling over with contents. The kitchen counters, normally cluttered with the small appliances that Jeannie favored—a coffeemaker, bread machine, blender, and such—were bare.

Unnerved, she tried the handle and found the door unlocked. “Jeannie?” she called out as she entered the kitchen and eased around the boxes on her way to the den where she could hear noise.

Jeannie was on a stepstool taking books down from the built-in shelves that lined two walls of the den. Already half the shelves were empty.

“Jeannie, what are you doing?”

Her sister did not look at her as she flipped through the top book on the stack she was holding. “Do you know how many of these we never got around to reading?” she asked. She was dressed in a plain brown cotton skirt that came to her ankles and a shapeless tan top. Her usual crown of flaming red curls had been tamed into a tight little bun under a white starched prayer covering. “Take these, will you?” she asked, handing Emma the stack before turning to gather more books.

“Are you moving?” Emma asked.

“I am cleansing,” Jeannie corrected. “Simplifying. Getting back to basics—and my roots. I am starting over, Emma. It’s really the only way I can see. That and surely all of this stuff will bring enough money so that we can at least make a dent in the bills we owe.”

“You’re going to sell these things?”

“Not just these. I already took a load of my clothes to that consignment shop on Bahia Vista. They only take clothing and maybe a few knickknacks, but there are shops around town that will take all sorts of things—books, cookware, dishes, even furniture.” She came down from the step stool and deposited her armload of books into a box. “Of course it will take time, but it will be a start.”

“What does Geoff say?”

“He doesn’t know.” She said this almost as if it had just occurred to her. “I think he might be pleased. He was always fussing about how much stuff we had.”

“When did you decide…?”

Her smile was like a beam of sunlight—brilliant and warm. “After Geoff left last night, I was determined to find the journal that we gave Tessa the night of the picnic, but then once I started, it felt as if she was here helping me, encouraging me. It was the most incredible feeling, Emma.”

“Did you find the journal?”

“Not yet.” Jeannie frowned. “I can’t imagine where it might be. I’ve been through everything in her room several times.”

“It’s got to be here,” Emma said.

Jeannie shrugged. “How about some iced tea?”

“That would be nice.” She followed her sister into the kitchen and saw that when Jeannie opened the cabinet where before there had been at least three sets of glasses, there was now only one set of six glasses. While Jeannie took out the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator, Emma moved two boxes from kitchen chairs and sat down. She was still holding the envelope from Olive.

She waited until Jeannie sat down then slid the envelope across the table to her. “Olive stopped by. She asked me to bring you this.”

Jeannie fingered the envelope with a half smile. “I’ll put it with the rest,” she said.

“The rest?”

“Never try to talk a bunch of Mennonites out of wanting to do their part. Charity or not, all morning the money has shown up in a variety of ways—slipped under the door, left in the mailbox, given to Mama.” She shrugged.