4

Hayley bit into the still-steaming muffin, and her eyes widened at the burst of berry goodness melded with tangy citrus. “Lydia, this is fantastic.”

“I thought you deserved something special after your long day yesterday. Did you sleep OK?” Lydia sat next to her at the granite island.

Deserved? No, she didn’t. As for sleeping, she had been awake much of the night, but that was normal. “The bed’s comfy, thanks.”

“I hope the doorbell didn’t wake you.” Lydia gestured to a large box on the table. “Your textbooks arrived early this morning. Dave offered to carry them downstairs when he gets back from the church. Have you always wanted to be an accountant?”

Accounting didn’t thrill her, but numbers behaved. You could count on them. Her lips curved upward at her silent, unintentional pun. “Not always, but I enjoy working with numbers. And the bedroom’s study area is perfect.” She sipped her tea. Earl Grey, her favorite. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me come here. I don’t want to impose.”

Lydia placed her mocha-coloured hand over Hayley’s. “It’s our pleasure to have you here, my dear. And our duty.” Hayley’s face must have shown her confusion because Lydia chuckled. “Enjoy your muffin, and I’ll explain as soon as I get some more coffee. How’s your tea? Did you want cream or sugar? Or maybe lemon?”

“No, thanks. This is fine.” She took the last bite and savoured it. “That was the yummiest muffin ever. I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.”

“You haven’t been eating much lately, have you?” Lydia’s concerned look transformed into a confident smile. “We’ll work on that.”

Hayley looked at her scrawny wrists and hands. “I never thought I’d want to gain weight.” She tugged her sleeves over her wrists and swiveled her stool towards her host. “So how is letting me live here your duty? Does it have anything to do with my parents? I know I’ve been a burden.” Her lower lip trembled, but she compressed her mouth and lifted her chin. She would not break down.

Lydia closed her almond-shaped, brown eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they shone. “No, Hayley. This isn’t about your parents. This arrangement is between you and us. And God.”

A jolt of surprise straightened Hayley’s back. “What’s that mean?”

“God loves you, and we believe He sent you here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When our youngest child left home, Dave and I considered selling this big house. But God showed us, through prayer and His word, that He wanted to use this house—and us—for His kingdom.” She pulled her Bible between them and opened it. Her fingers flipped pages. “Look at this. 2 Corinthians 5. Paul talks about God’s plan to reconcile people to Himself through Jesus. Here, read verses nineteen and twenty.” Lydia pointed to the verses.

“God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting men’s sins against them. And He has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.” Hayley lifted her gaze to Lydia’s. “Oh, wow. So you and Dave are ambassadors? For God?”

Lydia beamed. “Exactly. And since we are Christ’s ambassadors, this home is His embassy. We want our home to be a place of refuge and hope.”

The picture on the nightstand appeared in Hayley’s mind. “Like the verse in my room about the God of hope. Is that why you put it there? For anyone who comes here?”

“I put it there for you, dear. Everyone needs hope, but I sense that’s especially true of you.”

Unbidden tears tracked down Hayley’s cheeks. She wiped them with the sleeve of her housecoat. Her throat tightened, squeezing her voice to a whisper. “How did you know?”

Instead of answering, Lydia slipped off the stool and opened her arms. Hayley leaned into the shorter woman’s embrace. Lydia’s arms tightened as Hayley’s sorrow trickled down her face. She’d craved comfort without judgement for such a long time. She swiped at her eyes. Judgement was what she deserved. Hayley stiffened and pulled away, avoiding Lydia’s warm brown eyes.

Lydia stepped back, accepting her withdrawal. Hayley carried her dishes to the sink and turned toward the stairs, but Lydia’s voice halted her.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told Nila you were coming. She said to tell you she can’t wait to see you and catch up. She’s waiting for your call.”

Catch up with Nila? Warmth filled her but was quickly replaced with cold regret. That would mean either pretending to be fine or confessing. She trudged down the stairs. No, she couldn’t call. Not yet. She was too much of a coward to face the risk.

~*~

Trevor’s father cracked eggs in to a bowl. “How many eggs you want?”

“With toast?” At his dad’s nod, Trevor pulled the toaster out of the cupboard and plugged it in. “Two will do.” He rummaged in the freezer. “Where’s the homemade bread? All I can find is this store-bought stuff.”

“That’s all we’ve got. I should have known something was wrong when your mom quit making bread.”As Dad poured the eggs into the hot pan, his shoulders drooped. “Said it wasn’t worth the effort, but I know she enjoyed it. I sure did.”

“Yeah, me too.” Trevor got two plates from the cupboard and cutlery from the drawer. His mom would bounce back. She had to.

Dad scraped scrambled eggs onto the plates while Trevor buttered the toast. They sat at the table, and Dad held his hand out. “Pray with me.”

The moisture in Dad’s eyes turned it into a heart-felt request. He took his father’s gnarled hand.

“Father God, we thank You for this day. Thank You for watching over Laureen and for giving the doctors wisdom. Thank You for Trevor, for his strength of character and compassion. Help him with the decisions he faces. And bless this food You have provided for the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Trevor ate quickly, barely tasting the food. He needed to get to the bike shop, but first he needed to hear what his father had in mind. He pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in the high-backed oak chair. His right knee began to jiggle. He stilled it and hoped his dad didn’t notice. As soon as his dad swallowed the final bite, the question burst out. “So what’s your plan? How can I take over this farm when I’m in Toronto? I don’t have the money to buy you out yet, and I can’t be in two places at once. No matter how I juggle things, I can’t see a solution.”

Dad‘s steady gaze was calm. “We don’t expect you to buy the farm, son. It’s your inheritance. Your mother and I talked to our accountant while you were in Toronto, and he suggested that at some point—not necessarily now, but whenever you can—you pay the original price we paid, $45,000. For tax purposes. Land was pretty cheap back then. Until then, you’d live here and do what you want with the place. No rent, just day to day costs. If you want it.”

Trevor’s mind spun. A lump had lodged in his throat. He’d never imagined such a scenario. Sure, Franklin and Laureen Hiebert had adopted him when he was fifteen, but to will him their farm? It didn’t make sense. His eyes teared up. “I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed his jaw. He really needed to shave.

Dad placed his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “I have an idea that may help. If we can find someone to help Laureen until her arm heals and help a bit with the chores, we may be able to delay our move for a few more years and give you time to decide. Or if necessary, we can rent it out. But we won’t sell unless you’re sure you don’t want it. Son, time has a way of slipping away. Don’t let opportunities get away from you. The decisions you make now could change your life. Take my advice and pray about it.”

Pray about it? He wished he could. “Can I have a few days to think about this? You’ve blown me away, you know. I asked for a week to make up my mind on Toronto, and now I’m more undecided than ever.”

A slow smile softened the deep wrinkles on Dad’s face. “We haven’t even started the search for a home in town. You take all the time you need. Meanwhile, we’ll manage here, but I’d sure welcome your help when you have time.”

“Sure, Dad. Anything you need, call me, and I’ll get here as soon as I can.”

He got up, put the dirty dishes in the sink, and squirted dish soap under the spray of hot water. When washing dishes with his mom, she’d turned the chore into a splash-filled competition. Fear stilled his hands. “What about Mom? What if…”

His father pulled a towel out of the drawer. “God knows what’s going on with your mom and this whole situation. Trust Him, son.”

Trevor looked out the kitchen window, seeing only his memories. He envied his parents’ faith. He wished he could experience the peace they got from trusting God. But as far as he was concerned, their God hadn’t earned his trust.

~*~

Hayley removed her accounting books from the box and placed them in alphabetical order on the shelves above the built-in desk. When she lifted the last one, it uncovered a note in her father’s familiar scrawl.

Hayley, work hard to finish this course in good time. Once you have your degree, I’ll make an opening for you here. And if you earn your CPA certification, we can talk about a partnership. Don’t waste this opportunity. Dad.

A pang of homesickness surprised her. Her father was always reserved, but he cared. That he was willing to look past her failures and offer her a position said a lot. Hayley hugged the note to her heart. She’d finish the online accounting program. She’d prove she could succeed and finally earn her parents’ approval. But her heart sank a little as she pictured a desk in a cubicle or office, staring at numbers day after day.

She selected a textbook, found her calculator, pencil, and paper, and opened her laptop. Within minutes she was engrossed in the world of accounting principles. The light tapping on her door didn’t register at first. She dragged her attention from the balance sheets to the present. “Come in.”

Lydia poked her head into the room. “Are you ready for a break? Lunch is ready. If you’re busy, I could bring it down.”

Almost 12:30 PM according to her computer. Hayley pushed upright. “Sorry, Lydia, time got away from me. I should have helped you.”

“That’s not necessary. If you’d like to cook or help in the kitchen, fine, but we don’t expect it.”

“Then I’ll be up as soon as I finish this page. I could use a break.”

When she got to the kitchen, Dave was seated at the table, and Lydia was scooping a savory, thick soup into three bowls.

Hayley pulled out her chair and sat. The creamy soup held bits of carrot, peas, and some other chopped vegetables, with a sprinkling of cheese on top. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. If Lydia kept tempting her with such tasty fare, she would regain weight in no time.

Lydia sat and held out a hand to Hayley.

Dave followed suit. “Father God,” Dave prayed, “Thank You for this meal, for providing everything we need for life and godliness. Thank You for bringing Hayley to this home. Bless and guide her, in Jesus’s name, amen.”

“Thank you,” Hayley whispered as she met Dave’s tender look.

“You are most welcome. Try the soup. It’s one of my favorites.”

Her first taste brought a smile to her face. “Delicious. I wish I could learn how to make this.”

Lydia patted her smiling mouth with her napkin. “We could arrange a cooking session. I love sharing recipes and my kitchen.”

Hayley’s face heated. “I’m afraid I’m no good in the kitchen. Toast and scrambled eggs is the best I can do from scratch.”

“Then we’ll have even more fun. When would you like to start? I’m baking chocolate chip cookies this afternoon around two. If you have time, we could make them together.”

“I’d love that. I’ll be finished with my homework by then.” Hayley got up and impulsively hugged Lydia’s shoulders. “Thank you. You’re the best. I always wanted to learn to cook. Really cook, not just defrost and heat.”

Lydia patted Hayley’s arm. “It’ll be my pleasure, sweetie.”

Hayley gathered the lunch dishes, placed them in the dishwasher, and headed back downstairs to her studies. For the first time in many months, a flutter of anticipation quickened her steps. But she faltered on the bottom step when she heard an echo of her mother’s shrill voice. “What are you doing?”

Hayley’s memory crystallized. She’d been fifteen and had wanted to impress a boyfriend by baking a treat for him. But the finished cookies didn’t look anything like the picture in the cookbook. Her mother had stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a lumpy cookie, and popped it into her mouth. Hayley would never forget the look of disgust on her mother’s face as she spat it into the garbage. Then she’d stalked out of the kitchen, but not before her words plunged deep into Hayley’s heart.

“Dump that garbage, and clean up your mess. I’m showing a house in half an hour. I don’t have time for this.”

Hayley fought the dark memory. Lydia wouldn’t respond like that. Would she?

~*~

“Good job.” Lydia patted Hayley’s back as she switched off the powerful mixer. “Do you want to fold in the chocolate chips and nuts? The batter is stiff, so this last part has to be done by hand.”

Hayley reached for the wooden spoon Lydia offered. “Sure, I’ll give it a try. This isn’t as difficult as I’d thought.” She moved the mixing bowl to the granite counter and plunged the spoon into the batter. “Oh, this part is hard.”

Lydia dumped measured amounts of chips and nuts on top of the batter.

Hayley strained to push the spoon around and through the stiff mixture. “I never knew baking was such good exercise.” She paused, breathing hard.

Lydia pulled baking sheets from above the refrigerator. “Do you want a break? You’re doing fine, but I don’t want to overtire you.”

“No, thanks. I can finish it. I think I’m almost done.” Push, stir, lift, repeat. Little by little, the chips and nuts melded into the mixture. “How does it look?”

Lydia peered into the bowl. “Perfect.” She handed Hayley two teaspoons and pulled a baking sheet toward her. “These are drop cookies, so we scoop up a spoonful of batter with one spoon, and scrape it onto the sheet with the other. Like this. Try to keep them a consistent size.”

“Looks simple enough. I wish you’d been my mother.” Hayley cringed. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Lydia slipped two filled trays into the oven. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her low voice pulled at Hayley’s heart.

How could she explain her relationship with her mother? And what good could it possibly do? “No, but thanks anyway.” She pulled another baking sheet over and began to fill it with precise, rounded blobs of cookie dough.

A few minutes later, the aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen.

Hayley inhaled deeply. “Mm-mm. Those smell wonderful.”

“Once they’re cooled a bit, we’ll have to sample them.” Lydia winked. “Make sure they’re as tasty as they smell.”

Hayley’s smile faded. What if they weren’t? What if she’d messed up again? Then what would Lydia say?

“Coffee or tea?” Lydia’s calm voice soothed Hayley’s nerves.

“Tea, please. Coffee hasn’t tasted right ever since the accident. Not sure why.”

Moments later they sat at the counter with a steaming cup and still-warm cookie each. Hayley’s first, tentative bite reassured her, and her smile returned. “It’s good!”

Lydia tilted her head. “You sound surprised. We followed the directions, so why wouldn’t they be good?”

Hayley’s memory of her previous baking attempt poured out of her. Bitterness laced her words as she told the story to Lydia. “I never tried baking again. Until today.”

Lydia didn’t respond for several heartbeats, her eyes closed. When she looked at Hayley, the warmth in her expression and the touch of her hand brought a lump to Hayley’s throat. “Thank you for sharing, my dear. May I ask you something?”

Hayley nodded.

“Was that typical of your interactions with your mother, or was it an isolated incident?”

Hayley’s stomach clenched. The cookie she’d just enjoyed settled like lead. “Open up to people who care for you. Take the risk. It’s the only way to develop healthy relationships.” Her therapist’s voice echoed inside her head. She didn’t know Lydia well, but love radiated from the woman’s face. Hayley would risk it. “Typical.” She gulped. Her hands knotted into white-knuckled fists. “Lydia, my mother never wanted me. I was an accident.”

Lydia gave a soft gasp.

“I heard her telling a friend. I was seven years old, and she’d sent me to my room so she could visit in peace. But I sat at the top of the stairs and eavesdropped. I wish I hadn’t.” Tears plopped onto her fists.

Lydia’s chair scraped as she scooted closer. Arms enveloped Hayley, and she leaned into the hug. “You are God’s precious daughter,” Lydia said. “He has always loved you, and He anticipated your birth and your life.”

Tears ran down Hayley’s cheeks as a slender root of hope penetrated her defenses. Was it possible? Could God love her even after what she’d done?