When Mercy Rains (36 page)

Turning, he kicked at the long wild grass growing near the field and then scuffed toward the house. As he passed the summer kitchen, he glanced up and spotted Alexa. A grin formed on his face. He ambled over. “Hi! What’cha doing out here?”

A little embarrassed to be caught spying, she shrugged. “Thinking. Dreaming.” She tipped her head toward the wheat field where Pepper had disappeared. “Did Pepper abscond with your stick?”

“Abscond? What’s that?”

“Steal.”

“Oh.” Danny’s grin turned into a scowl. “Yeah. Crazy dog. It was a good stick, too. I could’ve used it to hit rocks. But I guess I can find another one. There’re lots of trees out here, so lots of sticks.” His grin returned, and he swung his arms, lightly brushing the legs of his trousers with each swing. “What’re you dreaming about?”

Alexa had spent time with Danny already, but now seeing him as her half brother, not just a little boy, made her look at him differently. His thick dark hair, cut short, spiked upward above his left eyebrow with a natural cowlick. He looked a lot like his father, with eyes of brown sugar and a dimpled chin. In his button-up plaid shirt, trousers, and boots—odd summer attire for a child—he was a miniature of Paul Aldrich. And since he’d lived every minute of his life with the man, he would know him well enough to share some information if Alexa wanted to ask.

Two emotions struck simultaneously—jealousy and eagerness. She chose to push the first aside and adopt the second. She smiled and held her hand toward the table where a pair of chairs waited. “Come on in and have a seat. I’ll tell you what I’m dreaming about, and you can tell me what you think of it. Okay?”

Alexa

“Wow, you have good dreams.”

Alexa chuckled. Danny’s comment pleased her more than she could understand. She fiddled with the edge of the paper and shrugged. “I have a good imagination. My mom tells me I have an overly active one.” Was it her active imagination that had conjured the idea of Mr. Aldrich being a less-than-stellar choice as a husband and father?

“I hope you get to do all that.” Danny pointed at the drawings. “Do you think you’ll get it done soon? Because I’d like to come out and play in here when it’s done. My friend Jeremy and me built a fort in his backyard out of blankets and stuff, but this would be a lot better. A wall that moves back and forth?” His eyes glowed. “I like that!”

“Not a moving wall, just a curtain that slides on a track.”

Danny grinned. “Okay. It’d still be neat, though. Would it be all right with you if Jeremy and me played in your cottage? If Dad lets us come out with him, I mean?”

Another idea seemed to drop from the ceiling and clunk Alexa on the head. She gasped.

Danny stared at her. “What?”

She flipped to a clean sheet of paper and began writing furiously.

He leaned forward, squinting at the page. “What’cha writing?”

“Shh. Gimme a minute.”

He froze in place, his arms folded underneath his chest and his gaze following the point of her pencil. When she jabbed a final period in place, he lifted his face to give her a wide-eyed look. “Did you have another dream?”

Alexa tapped the top of his head with her pencil. “I did. And you’re the inspiration for this one.”

Danny bounced in his chair, making the legs squeak. “What is it?”

“Huh-uh.” Alexa rose and clutched the notebook to her chest, grinning at him. “Not yet. I need to talk to your dad first.” She wanted to say
our dad
, and sadness momentarily struck. She pushed the feeling aside. If this worked out, she’d have the chance to get to know—to
really
get to know—her father.

“Aww …” Danny sagged into the chair. “C’mon, Alexa, tell me. Please?”

She fought a giggle. She’d loved interacting with the kids at the grade school cafeteria and had imagined having a younger sibling, but the reality was much better than her imaginings. Danny was adorably personable, and he’d already weaseled his way into her affections. Temptation to share her idea teased, but in the end she decided it wouldn’t be fair to get his hopes up and then crash them if Mr. Aldrich said it wasn’t possible.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, but you’ll have to wait.”

Danny heaved a mighty sigh.

She headed for the door. “C’mon. I baked monster cookies yesterday. We’ll ask your dad if you can have one.”

His face instantly transformed from melancholy to delight. “Okay!”

They walked together across the sunlit yard—Alexa cautiously, her sandals in her hand, and Danny half-skipping, half-sauntering. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Danny was such a happy, well-adjusted, well-behaved, seemingly well-cared-for kid. Watching his joyful progress, Alexa pondered anew why she’d been kept separated from her father all these years. Something didn’t make sense.

Paul

The sound of his son’s giggle preceded the slap of the back screen door into its frame. Paul paused in attaching the new handle to the cabinet drawer and watched for Danny to bounce into the kitchen. Bounce, not walk, because Danny tended to do everything with exuberance. To Paul’s surprise, Alexa entered first with Danny trailing on her heels like a shadow. Seeing the two of them together took his breath away.
My children …

“Dad, Alexa made monster cookies, and she said I could have one if it was all right with you. So is it all right? Can I have one? Please?”

Paul didn’t intend to ignore Danny, but he couldn’t seem to peel his attention away from the way Alexa smiled down at the boy. With affection and indulgence and a hint of amusement. Her expression reminded him of how Suzy used to look at Clete. Even when Paul had gotten aggravated with her younger brother, wishing he’d go away and stop bugging them, she never lost her temper with him. He’d dubbed the special look “big sisterly.” Now Alexa had it, too. What a gift Danny was receiving, and he didn’t even know it.

“It won’t spoil my lunch. Honest. One cookie?”

Danny’s begging finally pulled Paul to the present. He coughed into his hand to open his tight throat before answering. “Sure. If Alexa wants to share, that’s fine.”

She gave him a look he could only define as hopeful. “Would you like one, too? They’re full of oats and peanut butter and chocolate chips and walnuts—really good.”

Although his stomach was still full from the hearty breakfast he’d eaten at the café before coming out to work, he wouldn’t decline a cookie from his daughter. “I’d love one.”

Alexa put down the notebook she’d been carrying and popped open a plastic tub. She held it to Danny first, who eagerly snatched out a cookie and carried it directly to his mouth, then she offered the tub to Paul. He swiped his
hand along his pant leg twice before fishing out a cookie as big as his palm. He aimed a grin at Alexa as he held the cookie aloft. “They look good.”

“Mm, ’ey are good,” Danny mumbled around a mouthful.

Paul shook his head at his son, frowning slightly.

Danny swallowed the bite, then shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to talk with food in my mouth.”

To Paul’s delight, Alexa laughed and tweaked Danny’s nose. “You’re forgiven.” She tucked the container back on top of the refrigerator and lifted the notebook again, resting it in the crook of her arm. “Mr. Aldrich, when you take a break, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Danny gulped, pawing at Paul’s arm. “She’s got an idea, Dad, and I inspired it.”

“Actually, you both did,” Alexa said.

Paul lifted his eyebrows, his interest piqued. “Oh?”

Alexa nodded. “I’m not sure if it will work, so I don’t want to get everybody involved until I know. But I figured you would be the best one to ask. So when you have a minute …”

Paul took a small nibble of the cookie. “I can’t work and eat at the same time. But I can eat and listen.” He bit off another tiny chunk. He intended to make this cookie last. “So go ahead.”

She rocked slightly, the hem of her flowered skirt swaying above her bare toes. “I was thinking about fixing up the summer kitchen—turning it into a little guest cottage for Mom and me. Then Danny asked if he could visit it, too, which made me wonder …” She angled her head and her ponytail slipped along her shoulder in a sleek, dark wave. “Would this farmhouse make a good B and B?”

“What’s a beanin’ B?” Danny asked. He’d finished his cookie, and crumbs ringed his mouth.

“Danny, go wash your face and hands.” Paul waited until his son scooted around the corner before addressing Alexa. “You know, my wife once said something about this being a good spot for a bed-and-breakfast inn.” He’d forgotten
about the conversation until Alexa’s question stirred the memory. Recalling Karina’s comments made him smile. “People who go to B and Bs generally want a peaceful getaway.”

Alexa nodded. “Exactly. And what would be more peaceful than a farmhouse in a Mennonite community? Of course, if they want a little entertainment, bigger cities are a reasonable drive away. There’s parking space out by the barn, and you built ramps so it’s handicap accessible the way places are supposed to be these days, but the house itself … would it work? There are enough bedrooms, I think, but they’re all upstairs except for Grandmother’s, and there’s just that little powder room off the kitchen. So is there a way to add a tub or shower in there? And maybe a bedroom on the first floor? And how much would that cost? What about this kitchen—would it work for cooking for guests?”

Paul started to laugh. He didn’t mean to, but her exuberance tickled him. “Slow down a minute. You’re having one of your gung-ho moments.” He liked that he already recognized when her excitement kicked into a gallop.

Danny careened back into the room, and Paul handed him the uneaten portion of his cookie. “Here, you can have the rest of this. But eat it outside. Then play for a while. I’ll need your help later on.” Danny grabbed the cookie and slammed out the back door. Paul returned his attention to Alexa, who stood with her head slightly downcast and her lip caught between her teeth.

She peeked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So … am I getting gung-ho for no good reason?”

He folded his arms over his chest before he snagged her in a fatherly hug. “I can’t speak to any rules or regulations the state might have about opening a B and B here, but I can say with pretty fair certainty the house could work. Even with just the one bathroom upstairs, it could work if the guests are all housed up there and they know ahead of time they’ll have to share.”

Alexa listened intently, nodding slightly as he spoke.

He hated himself for what he had to say next. But a father wouldn’t let his child walk into a land mine, and he wouldn’t let Alexa blithely make plans
that would crumble beneath her feet. “But your grandmother is in a wheelchair. She needs to be
cared for
, not to be
taking care of
guests. How would she manage it?”

“She wouldn’t. I would.”

Paul jolted. “You?”

In a heartbeat her enthusiasm returned. “Remember when you told me I should be a bakery? Well, not
be
a bakery, but run one. I love to cook, and I think I’m pretty good at it. And I’ve been praying about what I want to do for my job. My mom, being a nurse, ministers to people, and I admire that so much, and I wanted to do some kind of ministry, too. Wouldn’t running a bed-and-breakfast inn be a ministry? Helping people relax, fixing them good meals, serving them … Jesus served His disciples, right? So isn’t serving people a good thing?”

Without conscious thought, Paul reached out and gave her a quick hug. He couldn’t pull her close with the bulky notebook between them, but it didn’t make the embrace any less heartfelt. When he stepped back, her cheeks wore pink stains and wonder glowed in her eyes.

He spoke huskily. “Serving people is a very good thing, Alexa, and I’m proud of you for wanting to be a servant. So many young people today …” He couldn’t have raised her better himself. He swallowed and went on, forcing a light tone. “There would be hurdles to leap, of course, but your plan is doable. It’s a matter of your grandmother approving it.” His heart fell. Abigail Zimmerman wouldn’t welcome guests into her home. And Suzy surely wouldn’t want to let Alexa live so far away. The plan was doomed.