In Search of Eden, page 37
“I’ve met with the subcontractors, and we’ve come up with a tentative plan.”
She nodded.
He opened the folder and took out a detailed drawing, like an architect’s plan. “These are the existing buildings,” he said as she listened carefully, “and I’ve marked the areas that would need replacement or repair, and alongside I’ve put bids by three companies.”
She briefly scanned the paper work and did some crude calculations in her head. Well, it was certainly more than she had on hand. She listened carefully as he outlined all of the projects and the work necessary. When he finished speaking he slid a piece of paper across the table to her. “Here’s the final estimate, using the low bid for almost all of the contractors, except two that I felt did inferior work after checking their references.”
She looked at Johnny. “You’ve done a very careful job here.”
He lowered his eyes. “It was the least I could do. But before you move forward, it’s time to count the cost,” he said.
She met his gaze. “I think you’re right,” she said.
He nodded and handed her the entire sheaf of papers. “You take these home and think about them. If you decide not to go ahead with it, there will certainly be no second guessing on my end. I’m grateful for having had the chance to know you and to stay here at this beautiful place.”
“Johnny, I’ve already counted the cost. I feel settled in my mind that this is the right thing to do,” she said, looking around her and smiling. “If I opened the camp again, would you consider staying on as caretaker?”
Again he ducked his head. “I’m not worthy,” he said, and his use of the word surprised her.
“None of us is worthy, Johnny. That’s the meaning of grace.”
He raised his head and took a deep breath. “If the camp opens, I will stay,” he said.
She nodded and rose to her feet. “Thank you for all your work,” she said. “Call me when the papers are ready to sign.” She was aware of his eyes on her as she got into her car and drove away.
Miranda breathed deeply and prepared herself. Fortune had smiled on her in at least one thing. She had seen David and Eden downtown. Ruth had been at home when she’d called, though she was breathless from having just walked in the door. She had told Miranda she was welcome to come and talk. Miranda walked to Ruth’s front porch now and knocked softly on the door. No one answered, but the door was unlocked. She pushed open the screen door and stepped in. “Ruth?” she called softly, “where are you?”
She found her in the kitchen, sitting quietly at the table, a stack of papers in front of her. Her face looked a little melancholy, and Miranda wondered if she should ask the question she’d come to ask.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Ruth looked up and shook her head. “Nothing, really. I’m just thinking about the cost of love.”
Miranda gave her a quizzical look and Ruth smiled. “I was thinking about David and Sarah and you and Joseph and Grady and his father, and it seems to me that in all of these instances there’s a love path and a safe path.”
Miranda sat down at the table and dropped her purse onto the floor.
“The love path is reckless and dangerous, and there are thorns and briers and a chance of complete destruction. The safe path is . . . alone. You don’t have to trust or risk. Which would you choose?” she asked, staring directly into Miranda’s face.
Miranda wondered if she somehow knew why she had come and was giving her some cryptic answer. “I don’t know,” she said flatly.
Ruth set the papers facedown on the hutch and smiled. “You didn’t come to hear me ramble,” she said. “You said you needed to talk to me. What is it?”
Suddenly Miranda was seized with insecurity. She suddenly saw it the way it would look to Ruth. To Joseph. They would never believe she hadn’t known. They would think she had wormed her way into their family for the purpose of stealing back her child.
“Miranda?” Ruth asked.
There was no easy way. She looked up and let the truth come spilling out of her mouth.
“When I was fifteen I got pregnant,” she said.
Ruth’s face registered surprise, then compassion.
“My mother said the baby wasn’t coming back to her house. She thought the best thing to do was to put the baby up for adoption, so that’s what she arranged.”
Ruth was looking at her intently and had become very still.
“I had the baby. They took it away. I was told nothing. Not the weight or length or even the sex. That was eleven years ago.”
Ruth’s face had blanched white.
“My mother died a few months ago and left me one clue. A picture, taken when the baby was one year old and postmarked from Abingdon, Virginia.”
Ruth’s eyes were filling with tears. So were Miranda’s.
“I came here to look for my baby,” she said.
The two women faced each other across the table, and no one spoke for what seemed like a long time.
“And you found her,” Ruth finally said softly.
“But I don’t understand,” Miranda said. “I can hardly believe it, even though I know it must be true. I don’t understand how it could be. No one has ever told me anything, and I need to know. Would you please tell me the truth?”
Ruth wiped her eyes and nodded. She took a napkin from the holder on the table and gave one to Miranda. She began speaking quietly.
“My sons took it hard when their father died,” she said. “Especially David. He had always been jealous and competitive of Joseph. Whatever Joseph did, he wanted to do. Whatever Joseph got, he had to have one, too. Natural brotherly rivalry but taken to an extreme. I watched them hurt each other, especially after their father died, but I didn’t know how to stop them.
“When Joseph left for college, that’s when the trouble came. I watched it, but I didn’t know how to stop David. I didn’t know if I should tell. I’ve always felt guilty for that. I should have done something.” She paused for a moment, then went on.
“Joseph came home. Sarah was pregnant with David’s child.”
Miranda shook her head in confusion. Ruth continued talking.
“Oh, it was horrible—the hatred, the murderous hatred between them.” She was weeping now. “Joseph went off to the marines, and I was so afraid he’d die with that hatred on his heart, but the Lord spared him. Not so with Sarah’s baby,” she said softly, and Miranda felt a chill.
“She miscarried in her seventh month. It was a girl. They named her and buried her up there in Fairfax. I wept and cried for them, for Sarah, especially. She was so wracked by guilt. Have you ever been torn up with guilt?”
Miranda paused, then nodded. Every day of her life as she wondered where her baby was.
“There was nothing I could do except pray. And I did. For all of them. I interceded before God and begged Him to make a way. And then one day the telephone rang. It was your mother.” She smiled at Miranda.
“She said, ‘Mrs. Williams, this is Noreen Gibson. Do you remember me?’ And of course, I did. There are a few you remember, and she was one of them, with her sad empty eyes and hard heart. She’d been wounded, terribly wounded, we could tell, but she never opened up to us at camp. Which was why I was somewhat surprised to hear from her. But not so surprised really. The Lord takes His time, but He always gets His way,” she said softly. “But it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. I thought perhaps she was calling to tell me of her spiritual journey, but it was another prayer she was answering. Noreen said her daughter was pregnant. She wanted to arrange a private adoption, and she wondered if I knew of anyone I would trust with her grandchild.”
“She said that?” Miranda asked. “Those exact words?”
“Those exact words,” Ruth affirmed.
“She cared about her,” Miranda murmured.
“She cared very deeply,” Ruth said. “And to me it seemed like a miracle.” She smiled, almost laughed. “I called David and Sarah, and they could hardly believe it. Especially Sarah. ‘He forgives me’ was all she could say, and I knew she didn’t mean Joseph.
“And then the baby came. Your mother called us as soon as you went into labor, and David and Sarah went to Nashville. They brought her back home, and I went up to see them right away. Oh, what a precious baby! That sweet face, and so alert! She looked at you with those big blue eyes, and you just felt like she would give you a piece of her mind if she could talk.” Ruth laughed. “That’s how Eden always seemed to me as a baby, impatient that she couldn’t tear around on her own.” She shook her head. “What a character!”
She sobered. “The only darkness was the secrecy. No one should know. That was shame, you know. Sarah’s shame. She didn’t want anyone to know that God had taken her baby. And she especially didn’t want Joseph to know. In time Eden knew. I knew. David and Sarah knew. Their friends in Fairfax knew, but everyone here thought Eden was the child that Sarah had borne to David. She didn’t want Joseph to have the triumph of knowing.
“Your mother had asked me to send her one picture. That was all. ‘Just let me see that she’s all right, and I’ll never bother you again,’ she said. I didn’t tell David and Sarah,” Ruth said, “although I suppose I should have. I took the picture Sarah sent to me of Eden on her first birthday, and I sent it to your mother.”
“And she hid it and saved it all these years. Then she died. And then I found it. And then I came,” Miranda said.
“And then you came,” Ruth agreed. “And now it will all come out.” And she did not look sad at all but peaceful, even relieved.
chapter 53
*
Eden waited another twenty minutes for Grady, then went to find her dad. The festival had started, and he was sitting with Pastor Hector and Uncle Joseph in the park at the tables where all the grown-ups sat around, and they were laughing.
“Dad, have you seen Grady?”
“No, Eden, I haven’t,” he said.
“He was supposed to meet me here.”
“He’ll probably be along,” Pastor Hector said. “He probably got distracted by something. There’s a lot to look at.” He pointed around him at all the booths with the paintings and pottery and the games and singers, and Eden supposed he was right. Still, she had a funny feeling that something wasn’t right.
She was just getting ready to ask Uncle Joseph if he would drive her to the campground when he got a call that somebody needed to see him back at his office.
Eden went back home and asked Grandma if she’d seen Grady, but she said no. She went back out to the road on her bike and started out for the campground. She was about halfway there and really wishing she’d brought something to drink when a familiar car came toward her.
“Hi, Miranda!” she said.
“Eden, what are you doing?” Miranda looked funny. Surprised, but more than that.
“I’m worried about Grady,” she said. “Can you give me a ride to his place?”
Miranda took a minute to think. “Did you ask your dad?” she finally asked.
Eden hesitated. She couldn’t afford to have Dad say no. “It’s okay with him,” she lied, and she felt terrible, but just as strong was the feeling that Grady needed help.
“I was supposed to meet your uncle ten minutes ago,” Miranda said. “But I suppose I could drop you off, go find Joseph, and then come back for you two. Are you sure it’s okay with your dad?”
“I’m sure,” Eden said. She was glad Miranda was quiet when they drove, and she scrambled out of the car as soon as it stopped.
“Go make sure Grady and his dad are there, then wave at me. I’m not going to leave you here alone.”
Eden agreed and tore down the hill toward the RV park. “Grady!” Eden called. “Grady! You come out here!”
There was no sound, and as she came through the grove of trees, she saw nothing moving around the trailer. Mr. Adair’s truck was gone, but Grady’s bike was there, and if she listened real quiet she could hear snuffling. She went to the door and peeked in and sure enough, there was Grady, sitting at the kitchen table bawling like a baby.
This was serious. She heard a horn honk. She’d forgotten about Miranda. She ran back through the trees and waved goodbye, feeling a little guilty because Grady’s dad wasn’t actually there. It was the second lie she had told, but before she could reconsider, Miranda held up her hand and backed out. Eden hurried back to the situation in the trailer. Grady hadn’t moved.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t even try to hide or pretend he wasn’t crying, which meant things were pretty bad. Eden was really feeling worried now. There were too many people crying this week. First Miranda and now Grady. She was wishing she hadn’t waved Miranda off. There weren’t many times when she needed a grown-up, but sometimes it was nice to have someone who had a driver’s license.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, kinder now.
He shook his head and couldn’t speak for the gulps and sobs. She went to the sink and ran a glass of water and took it to him. He took a few sips. She found a napkin and handed it to him.
He blew his nose with a big honk, and she was going to laugh, but when she saw his face she decided not to.
“I’m supposed to get things ready to leave,” he said.
“You’re leaving?” she asked with disbelief.
He nodded.
“When?”
“Right now. As soon as my dad gets back.”
Eden hadn’t paid a lot of attention, but she had thought that Grady’s dad was working for Grandma. Another secret she wasn’t supposed to know about. “What about the campground?” she asked, and Grady looked even more miserable. He shook his head again.
Eden suddenly got the feeling that something was seriously wrong. “Look here, Grady, you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
“If I tell you, you’ll tell your uncle, and then my dad will go back to jail.”
“Why would your dad go to jail?” Eden asked, feeling truly alarmed. “Has he done something bad?”
Grady nodded. “Real bad. And he’s doing it right now.”
Eden stared at Grady. She didn’t believe what he was saying. Nice, kind Mr. Adair a jailbird? She tried to remember if she’d ever seen his face on a Wanted poster, but nothing came to mind.
Grady struggled for a minute, the tears back again. Finally he seemed to make up his mind. “Here,” he said, going to the bedroom area and opening a drawer. “Look in here.”
Eden looked in, and it took a minute for her to figure out what she was seeing. She picked up the stack of cards. They were driver’s licenses, all with Mr. Adair’s picture but with different names.
“And here,” Grady said, opening the broom closet and showing her a stack of license plates.
Grady looked miserable.
Eden didn’t want to believe it, but she could see he was telling the truth.
“You said he was doing something bad right now,” she said.
Grady nodded again.
“What is it?” she asked, and she had a really bad feeling about it, even before he answered.
“He’s stealing some money,” he said, “from your grandma.”
Johnny smiled and held out a sheaf of papers for Ruth to sign. “These are all the contracts for the roofers and drywallers and plumbers and electricians,” he said. “And one naming me general contractor. If you think I’m up to the challenge.”
Ruth gazed intently at Johnny Adair. “I feel this is the Lord’s project and that He has His hand on it. Don’t you?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
He met her eyes and gazed at her steadily. “I have sensed that myself,” he said.
“Well, then, He’ll watch over every detail, don’t you think?”
She reached for the papers he held out to her, and for the tiniest fraction of a second he didn’t release them. They both had hold, and neither one let go.
“You wanted me to sign?” she asked.
“Oh. Yes.” He let go.
She set the papers down on the table and signed each one by the yellow flag, then handed them all back, this time her check for the deposit on the work clipped to the top one.
He reached for the contracts, but now she held on a second too long as she spoke.
“That camp was a wonderful place, Johnny. It was a place where children and young people could decide what kind of lives they would live. Whether they would follow Christ into the wildness of His journey for them, sometimes leaving everything familiar behind, or whether they would not. I think we all have such a moment, don’t you, Johnny? A time of decision. When we make up our minds what kind of person we’re going to be. I think at those times we can’t think too much. We have to just say yes and trust that if we do right, things will be right.”
He met her gaze. His eyes were dark and unreadable. She let go of the papers, and he must have let go, as well, for they scattered to the floor. They both stared at them; then after a second he stooped and picked them up. He shuffled them together, his head and eyes lowered.
“I’d better get to the bank,” he said, “before it closes.”
“You’d better go, then,” Ruth said and watched him walk out the door.
chapter 54
*
I didn’t know what to do,” Wally said, “so I came to you.”
Joseph looked at the paper in his hand and felt sick. “You did the right thing,” he said.
“It was just odd, you know, her giving me the social security number and then having them say it wasn’t her.”
“Yes, it is odd, but it’s probably nothing,” Joseph said, wishing he believed it.
“That’s what I think, too. Like I said, she’s a real nice gal. Just thought you ought to know.”
“Thank you, Wally,” Joseph said. “I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”
