Easter Blessings (10 page)

“W
ell, at least Granny got her wish,” Mariel told Heath the next night as they sat in the hospital waiting room.

Heath held his head down as he stared into the ice left from his soda. “What’s that?”

“All of the family is here.” Mariel knew she sounded bitter. “They had to get into a nasty argument, right there in front of her. I don’t know what provoked Aunt Bree—”

“Jealousy,” Heath replied, the one word a whisper.

Mariel glanced down the hall where her relatives were gathered in a tight cluster. They’d been taking turns at visiting with Sadie the few minutes they were allowed. “But what could she possibly be jealous of? She has everything!”

“Except Sadie’s respect,” Heath said. He reached a hand toward Mariel, and grateful, she took it.

“I’m so tired,” she told him. “Tired of trying to keep them together, tired of trying to make them see. Aunt Bree
has always had a spiteful streak. I just never knew how much she resents my mother, until last night.”

“Well, at least Evelyn held her ground.”

“And her dignity,” Mariel replied. “I can’t believe how well she’s handled…everything. She even accepted Aunt Bree’s apology with good grace. Maybe she has changed. Maybe this will change all of them.”

“They do seem a bit more somber,” Heath said. “This has scared them.”

Mariel gave him a halfhearted smile. “It sure shut up Aunt Bree. She’s being very sweet.”

“We all tend to get mellow with age, and your aunt Bree looks as if she’s aged overnight—and matured.”

Mariel had to laugh at that. Heath was in the prime of his life, handsome and healthy. He looked as if he’d been born mellow and mature. “Thank you,” she said, tears misting in her eyes.

“For what?”

“For being here. For holding my hand.”

“Even if you don’t want your hand held?”

“You noticed that?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you.”

“And yet, you’ve stayed.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t sure you would.”

He didn’t seem shocked by her admission. “I figured that out the day we met.” Then he added, “Okay, Dutch explained a few things to me, too.”

“Poor Dutch.” Mariel shook her head. Dutch sat alone in a chair, his scruffy face in a perpetual state of worry. “He loves my grandmother so much, but he shouldn’t go around telling our family secrets.”

“No secret—it’s pretty obvious. You have some issues with…trust, right?”

“You could say that.” Then she turned to face Heath.
“I just always wondered…why he left without even telling me goodbye.”

“Your father, you mean?”

She nodded, knowing she didn’t have to explain to Heath. “But let’s not get into that.”

“Okay.” He set down his cup, then pulled her back against him on the cold blue vinyl sofa. “But can I say something?”

She nodded, burrowed her head against the warmth of his cotton shirt.

“I’m not going to leave you, Mariel. I’ve decided I want to be wherever you are.”

Mariel couldn’t look at him. Her heart escalated into a wobbly beat. “Why?”

His arms tightened around her. “Because from the moment I saw you standing there on the edge of the lilies, I knew I had to make you mine.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just caught up in Granny’s matchmaking scheme?”

“If I am, then I like being tangled.”

She felt his smile. And sank against the warmth of his touch. “She needs all of us now. A heart attack. Bypass surgery. And all she asked for… She only wanted her family around her for Easter.”

“She’s going to be okay,” Heath said, his hand stroking Mariel’s hair.

“But you can’t promise me that.”

“No. I just know that Sadie has accepted that she might not make it.”

Mariel shot up, started pacing. “Well, I haven’t accepted it. I want her home and safe. I want her standing in her kitchen, baking tea cakes and making lemonade. I want…I want…so many things.” Closing her eyes, she fought tears and her own glaring insecurities. “I finished
the painting—I was going to give it to her on Easter Sunday.”

She felt him beside her. “I can’t promise that Sadie won’t die,” he said, his arms around her. “But I do know God is watching over your family. And you have Sadie to thank for that.”

Mariel lifted her head. “So you believe that her faith will be strong enough for all of us?”

“Yes, I do. Her faith will carry her home, healed, into the arms of the Lord.”

“I’m not ready to give her over to Him yet.”

Heath held a finger to her chin. “Well, then, that’s where your own faith will have to come in. You have a portrait of your grandmother, but…you’ve also found what’s important again. You can stop spinning, Mariel.”

Mariel’s heart felt as if it were in a tug-of-war. “Will you be here, if the worst happens? Will you help me?”

“Yes.” He nodded, kissed her tears away. “That I
can
promise.”

A couple of days later, Mariel walked out of ICU to find her mother standing in the hallway with a tall, tan-skinned man. Evelyn looked up, her eyes laced with a wild fear. “Mariel?”

“What’s wrong?” Mariel asked, her gaze flying from her mother’s face to the man beside her. “Is something wrong with Granny—something the doctors didn’t tell us?”

“No, no,” Evelyn replied in a strained voice. She glanced at the man. “This is your father.”

Mariel had to reach for the nearby wall railing. Leaning back against the sturdy wood, she stared at the man who’d walked out of her life all those years ago. Vincent Evans looked gaunt, a thin pallor showing clearly through his olive complexion. His hair, once dark brown, was now
tinged with streaks of gray. But his eyes were a vivid blue-green, and right now, they looked misty.

“What do you want?” Mariel asked, her voice raspy.

“I—I wanted to see you,” Vincent said. “Your mother and I—we ran into each other in the cafeteria downstairs. We’ve been talking for hours.”

“I told him about Jeffrey,” Evelyn said.

“That’s nice.”

Evelyn touched an arm to Mariel’s sleeve. “Vincent and I have made our peace, Mariel. At last.” She almost smiled, but Mariel saw the old pain cresting in her eyes.

“Am I supposed to be happy about that?”

“I’d like you to…consider it,” Evelyn replied. “And I think you need to listen to what your father has to say.”

Mariel watched as Evelyn headed for the double doors of the ICU. The swishing of those doors sounded like wind over flowers. Then there was only silence.

“What do you want?” she asked her father again.

She heard the shuffling of his feet, heard a soft, trembling sigh. “I love you,” he said. Then he turned to leave.

“So…that’s it?” she called after him. “You love me, and yet, you’re leaving again?”

He turned, his hands in the pockets of his khaki work breeches. “I don’t want to leave. I want to get to know you.”

“Better late than never?”

“Yes,” he said, coming back to stand in front of her. “Sadie told me you were home. Sadie said better
now,
than never.”

Tears pricked at Mariel’s eyes. Her grandmother had just said almost the very same words to her. “Let Heath love you, Mariel. Better to take a chance now, than never at all.”

“Granny is very sick. She wants everything neat and tidy—”

“She’s right to want that. I don’t want her to…pass on…thinking I didn’t love you.”

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“I’m not being thoughtful. I’m being honest.” When Mariel didn’t respond, he said, “You Hillsboro women—always stubborn to the end.”

Mariel thought about her mother, about the change that had come over Evelyn. That her parents had held a civil conversation was a miracle in itself. Maybe it was time for her to start trusting again. Sadie would tell her to use faith as her guide.
Help me, Lord.
Mariel heard the silent plea inside her head. Then she turned to face her father. “I do need some answers.”

He nodded, cleared his throat. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee.”

Easter morning dawned in bright hues of watercolor pinks and yellows, reminding Mariel of tiny chicks and brightly painted eggs. Unable to sleep, she’d gotten up to stare at her grandmother’s finished portrait just as the first rays of light had come over the eastern horizon. Now, in a floral sundress, she stood at the edge of the lily field, searching for that one perfect fully opened blossom that would herald Easter’s coming. She wanted to take Sadie a fresh cutting.

Mariel listened as she stood.

So much had happened in the month she’d been home. Her mother had found a new life, while her grandmother had almost died. Her uncles had found some humility, and their children had rediscovered their precious grandmother. One of her aunts had held tight—Aunt Dee being pragmatic and loving as always—and one of her aunts had finally let go, Aunt Bree becoming more compassionate and civil. Mariel had found her passion for painting again, and had found forgiveness in her heart for her father, too.

And…Mariel had fallen in love.

She could see that now. She could see this plan had been set in motion the minute she’d seen Heath standing
there in the lily field. She loved him. She didn’t understand this love, but she accepted it.

And now, she stood, waiting, watching, hoping, for a sign, an answer to the dilemma that was her mixed-up life.

“You’re here,” she heard Heath say as he hurried up to her. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” she asked, her words breathless with knowing.

“I don’t know—I thought maybe you’d leave.”

She saw the awe in his eyes, saw the love and tenderness in his smile. “I can’t leave now. Granny will be home soon. She needs me.”

“
I
need you,” he told her as he tugged her up the path. “And I want to give you something.”

Mariel hesitated, still searching for that one perfect lily to cut and take to her grandmother’s hospital room. That one perfect lily to show her that God was truly watching over her.

Heath pulled her into the shed beside the gift shop. “I’ve had this for a week now. I planned on giving it to you on Palm Sunday.”

“We were supposed to have a date that night.”

“Uh-huh.” His white shirt glistened in the muted early-morning light as he whirled around. “This is for you.”

Mariel’s gaze moved over the exquisite white flower he held up to her. “That’s not an Easter Lily.”

“No.” He gave her that little half smile. “This is a Casablanca lily, very rare and very delicate. But they do grow in Louisiana. I wanted you to have this—to start your own lily field.”

Mariel took the potted lily, sniffed its rich scent. “Heath, it’s beautiful.”

He stood there, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes an early-morning-sky blue. “You know, Mariel, some lilies have to be nurtured and forced to bloom.”

She moved her head. “I understand.”

He stepped closer. “And then, there are the wild lilies
that grow at random—part of the beauty of God’s world—his gift to us.”

“They take longer to bloom sometimes,” she said, wondering what he was trying to say.

“That’s right. We have to be patient and wait for them.”

“And they don’t last forever.”

“But we cherish them when they’re here.”

“Which kind is this?” she asked, touching a finger to the ruffled petals.

“Well, now, that’s up to you.” He took the lily from her, pulled her close. “I want you to take all the time you need. And when you come to me, I want you to be in full bloom. I want you to be sure.”

“How can I know?” she asked, the gentle whisper sounding like a plea.

“Trust, Mariel. Trust in yourself, trust in me, but especially, trust in God.”

She pulled away. “Heath, about the lilies—I don’t know if I can listen.”

“Will you try, for me?” Then he turned away to stare at the brilliant white flower sitting there. “Or have you already made up your mind to leave?”

Mariel knew the answer to that question, but her heart was afraid to speak it. So she turned and ran…out into the lily field. Just as she’d done when she was a child. As she ran, she remembered hearing the rustle of the sweet stalks moving against her legs, remembered the whisper of the blooming, trumpet-shaped blossoms as they splashed out into the wind.

And she remembered something else, too. She remembered the Bible lesson from Luke her grandmother had taught in Sunday school on an Easter morning long ago. The last Easter Mariel had shared with both her mother and father.

“He called her by name,” Granny had said. “The Lord said ‘Mary.’ And then Mary Magdalene knew it was Him
there in the garden. Our Father had left the tomb where they had taken Him after He was crucified. He had risen.”

Mariel stopped running, her heart pounding to a steady rhythm. She stopped…and she listened.

And she remembered. “One day, Mariel, you’ll hear the Lord calling. He will call you by name, too. And then you will give your heart to His care and follow Him always.”

Mariel’s hand came to her mouth as tears fell down her face. The wind lifted through the tall, elegant lilies. The breeze whispered her name.

Mariel looked up, her eyes scanning the vast, sloping field. Brilliant piercing rays of sunlight glistened off the dew on the lilies, making it look as if the lush petals were crying.

Mariel cried, too. She remembered coming here, running through this field, after she’d found out her parents were getting a divorce, after she’d found out she had been the only reason they’d married.

And on that day, she’d hid away here among the lilies.

But she remembered hearing that sweet voice, calling to her on the wings of the snow-white flowers.

“Mariel.”

Had it been the wind, calling her name? Or her grandmother, searching for her? Or had it been her own hurting heart, seeking out God’s mercy and grace?

Mariel looked around now, her heart, like a new blooming flower, bursting with overwhelming memories. Somehow, she’d found comfort here that day so long ago. She hadn’t been alone back then. God had been right here with her.

And He was here now.

As she stood, she saw the blossoms bending toward her, understood at last what being resurrected was all about. And she understood the powerful significance of these beautiful flowers. At last, she could hear their message lifting out on the morning breeze.