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Love Bears All Things
An Amish Secrets Novel
By Beth Wiseman Thomas Nelson
Copyright © 2016 Elizabeth Wiseman Mackey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-529-11977-3
CHAPTER 1
Charlotte leaned her head against the high-back chair in Dr. Levin's office. She closed her eyes, breathed in the familiar scent of lavender, and forced herself to relax the way Dr. Levin had taught her. She wondered why relaxation should take so much effort.
"Tell me again about this vision you keep having." Maureen Levin was good at peeling back the layers of Charlotte's psyche, and most of the counseling sessions had been helpful. But one thing continued to niggle at Charlotte. She slowly exhaled, then opened her eyes.
"I've told you everything I can remember. And it's not really a vision. More like a secret. A secret that I'm hiding from myself." She shrugged. "Maybe I dreamed it and just can't shake the images."
"Do you think you dreamed it?" Dr. Levin took off a pair of red reading glasses and rested her hands on a stack of files.
"No. But every time I try to focus on it, I get a headache and my chest hurts."
Dr. Levin gazed across her desk at Charlotte. "Do you think the child in the vision is a younger version of yourself?"
Charlotte had already put herself through a vigorous round of diagnostics without success. "Maybe."
"What do you think younger Charlotte may be trying to tell you?"
Sighing, Charlotte searched her mind, trying to bring forth something that might help her understand why a midnight trip to the store for ice cream had left her with such an unsettled, anxious feeling the past few weeks. She'd already told Dr. Levin all this, but she suspected her therapist was hoping she'd recall something else by retelling it. "I was still upset about the breakup with Ryan, and I couldn't sleep, so I went to get some ice cream." She paused as the weight of the vision, memory — whatever it was — settled into her chest, sending waves of thunder to her temples. "I saw the little girl and the woman."
"And you said the woman resembled your mother?"
Charlotte nodded. "Yeah. Maybe. From what I remember of her." She cringed, wanting to stop but knowing Dr. Levin would keep pushing. "I just don't know if remembering is good. Maybe I should work at forgetting instead."
Dr. Levin put her glasses back on and stared down at a yellow pad in her lap. "You told me a couple of weeks ago that this woman and child at the store reminded you of something, but that you didn't know what. You also said that the woman was wearing a dark green dress and the little girl was wearing a purple dress, correct?"
Charlotte took another deep breath. "I hate the color purple." Her bottom lip trembled as a chill ran up her spine.
Dr. Levin lifted her eyes to Charlotte's. "This is the first time you've mentioned this, that you dislike the color purple. Perhaps you associate that color with something unpleasant that happened when you were young, and seeing those people triggered a memory."
"I think I would like to stuff that memory back where it came from if it's going to cause me this much aggravation."
"What upsets you more, the recollection itself or the frustration that you can't remember the details?"
Charlotte wanted to curse Ryan for setting up these sessions with his aunt, but she had to admit she liked Dr. Levin. A lot more than she liked Ryan these days. "Both," she finally said. "It scares me that something I don't even remember has this kind of effect on me."
"Charlotte, you've been through a lot. Your brother's suicide, the breakup with Ryan, and ... didn't you say money was an issue right now?"
Charlotte felt her cheeks flush, wishing she hadn't mentioned her finances during a prior visit. "I lost some clients, and several are behind in paying me. But I feel like it will get better soon."
"I know that your situation with Ryan has changed, but he offered to keep paying for you to come see me weekly." Dr. Levin was writing on the pad in her lap. Charlotte wondered what level of crazy Dr. Levin had assigned her. "And I hope you know, his being my nephew has no bearing on anything," she added without looking up.
"I know." Charlotte believed her, but she didn't want Ryan's charity. She'd already decided that this would be her last session, but she nodded anyway. Dr. Levin had served her purpose. She'd helped Charlotte work through some straggling issues about her childhood and her brother's death. This recent and unexpected recollection had come out of nowhere, and Charlotte hoped it would scurry back to where it came from soon. "I remember something else." Charlotte's voice hitched in her throat as she recalled another detail. "They — the lady and the girl — were barefoot."
Dr. Levin continued to write for a few moments before she looked up at Charlotte. "Okay. To summarize, you've said that you ran into a woman and child while on a random trip to the convenience store for ice cream. The woman looked like your mother, from what you can recall, and she was wearing a dark green dress. The little girl had on a purple dress with white trim. And they weren't wearing any shoes." Dr. Levin glanced at her pad. "And this scene was somehow familiar to you and has left you feeling unsettled since then."
"We've been through all this," Charlotte said softly. "Maybe it means nothing. It's just a vague memory or something that isn't pertinent to my life."
Dr. Levin stared long and hard at Charlotte, even though her eyes shone with a kindness Charlotte had noticed on her first visit. "Do you believe that?"
Not for a minute. She thought about the promise she'd made to herself — and God — awhile back. That she would never tell another lie. But as much as she'd meant to keep that promise, she looked directly at Dr. Levin and said, "Yes, I do." Maybe if she convinced herself that the memory was unimportant, that would trump a potential lie.
Dr. Levin locked eyes with Charlotte, and in that moment, she could see the resemblance between her and Ryan. Those seemingly transparent, grayish-blue eyes that blazed the distance between two people, searching, wondering, trying to understand Charlotte.
"You told me you spent time with the Amish people in Pennsylvania not too long ago." Dr. Levin lightly tapped her pen against the pad of paper. "Don't the Amish people go barefoot a lot? Have you associated this recollection with your time in Pennsylvania in any way?"
Charlotte let the thought swim around for a few moments. "No."
Not until now.
* * *
Following a Sonic drive-through lunch, Charlotte couldn't shrug the feeling that maybe her session with Dr. Levin had peeled back another layer. She'd blocked out so many things about her parents and her time in foster care. In her effort to be normal, maybe she'd dreamed up this woman and child in Amish clothes as a way of self-comfort — a way to live the peaceful life she'd never had, where a loving mother and daughter stepped out for ice cream. But at midnight?
She slurped the last of her chocolate shake as she walked the long corridor to her apartment, slowing her steps when she noticed an envelope taped to the door. It was the third one this month. The first two were warnings that her rent was past due, which she was acutely aware of. She stuffed it in her purse and hurried back to her mailbox downstairs, disappointed that the only thing inside was an electric bill. On her way back up to her apartment, she called the client she'd done the big editing project for — the lady who owed Charlotte the most. No answer — again.
She'd barely opened her front door when Buddy made his way across the living room and squatted on all fours next to her. "Hi, baby." She scratched the Chihuahua's ears as she slipped out of her flip-flops, tossing her purse on the couch. Then she padded across the carpet to her bedroom, returning with a shoe box tucked under one arm. She set it right inside the entryway and stared at it on the floor.
After a few moments, she held her left hand at arm's length and admired the two-carat tennis bracelet Ryan had given her. It would be the last time she'd see the gorgeous piece of jewelry. A token of his love for her, he'd said.
Recoiling her hand, she unhooked the latch and put the bracelet in the shiny white container it had come in, then placed it into the box with Ryan's other things — a striped tie and three dollars in change he'd left on her kitchen counter.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
Buddy laid his head on one of Charlotte's bare feet. Her sweet pup's droopy eyes stared up at her as his tongue swept gently across her toes. Even her faithful companion was sad.
Her cell phone rang three times before she scooped Buddy into her arms and forced herself to walk across the living room. Maybe Ryan was calling to say he wasn't coming over after all. Charlotte took her cell phone out of her purse, but when she saw the caller ID, she just stared at the number. Hannah.
As much as she loved Hannah and her family, just hearing her Amish friend's voice would bring a river of tears, and now was not the time for crying. She wanted Ryan to see that her life would go on just fine without him. Which, of course, it won't. Charlotte didn't think her eyes had been dry for more than an hour over the past week.
She eyed her phone and watched it vibrate with a new voice mail. Hannah rarely called. Cell phones in Amish families were mostly for emergencies — at least that's the way it was supposed to be. She put a hand to her chest and sucked in a big gulp of air when there was a knock at the door. God, give me strength. She'd been praying, but the Lord must have deemed her unworthy of a life with Ryan.
Charlotte set Buddy on the couch and shuffled across the living room, stopping short of the front door. She released her breath, picked up the small box, and reached for the doorknob.
As she stared at the man she'd hoped to marry someday, she fought the urge to rush into his arms and beg for forgiveness. Again. But somewhere deep in her soul, she knew it was over between them. Everything that could be said had been said, and there was no recovering what they'd once had. But it was a reality she didn't want to face, so she clung to the tiniest bit of hope in an effort to stay sane.
Ryan looked past Charlotte when Buddy scurried across the floor toward them. "Hey, Buddy." He picked up the dog as a smile lit his face. It wasn't so long ago that Ryan greeted her with the same enthusiasm. He nuzzled Buddy for a few moments before he set him down, then he found Charlotte's gaze and held it for a long while before he said, "Did you find a letter from the landlord taped to your door?"
"Um ..." She turned toward the couch where her purse was. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago, but I haven't opened it yet. I know I'm late on my rent. I've already gotten two notices, but I'm waiting on a check."
Ryan held his position just inside the front door as he sighed. "You've been evicted, Charlotte."
"What?" she answered in a squeaky voice, her heart rate soaring.
"What did you think would happen if you didn't pay your rent or communicate with the apartment manager?" He spoke in a tone that made Charlotte feel like a child. "They've tried to call you and also serve you with papers twice, and that's all that's required by law. And since I'm listed as your emergency contact, they were knocking at my door this afternoon. I just happened to be working from home today."
"They probably called the number for my landline, the one I gave them when I moved in. But I don't have it anymore. I just have my cell phone." She lowered her eyes as a knot built in her throat. "I thought I had more time, and —"
"Charlotte, I want only good things for you, but you need to figure out a way to get off this financial hamster wheel you've been riding." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As much as I'd like to help you, I can't this time."
"I'll be okay. Really." She blinked back tears and lifted her chin as she tried to maintain a tiny bit of pride. "When my checks finally arrive, I'll be fine." She picked up the box with Ryan's things and held it out, trying hard to smile, but trying even harder not to cry.
"I told you I don't really need that stuff." He scooped Buddy into his arms again and scratched behind the dog's ears, not even looking at Charlotte, as if shattering her life had no lasting effect on him.
Charlotte shrugged. "Well, what am I going to do with a tie?" She pushed the box at him until he finally put Buddy down and took it. "The bracelet's in there too."
"Charlotte ..." Ryan sighed and finally looked her in the eye. "It doesn't have to be this way. We were friends for a long time before this. I still want you in my life."
"Are you kidding me?" She regretted the outburst right away. Her plan had been not to react, no matter what, to remain detached. But tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and as she attempted to blink them away, she added, "I don't want to be your friend."
Ryan lifted the lid from the box, pulled out the small white jewelry box, and eyed the bracelet. "I told you to keep this. If you don't want to wear it, you should sell it."
Charlotte bit her bottom lip and shook her head, even though she suspected the bracelet would bring in enough money to catch her up on rent. It didn't feel right.
Ryan sighed again as he snapped the white box closed and put everything back as it was, tucking the shoe box under his arm. He eyed the dog at his feet, and Charlotte wondered who Ryan was going to miss the most — her or Buddy. Ryan probably deserved joint custody of Buddy. They'd picked him out at the shelter together, and Ryan loved the dog as much as Charlotte did. Ryan had paid for all of Buddy's shots and medications at the vet's office. She wished he didn't know her financial situation. It just added another layer of humiliation.
"Anyway, it doesn't have to be like this," he repeated, ignoring her comment about not wanting to be just friends.
"How should it be, Ryan?" She bit her bottom lip again as she recalled the scene in his living room two weeks ago, her screaming as he tried to defend himself. Charlotte knew she'd gone too far when she heaved a candy bowl at the fireplace, shattering it to pieces while Hershey's Kisses rolled across the floor amid shards of glass.
"I don't know how it should be, honestly. I just know that I want you in my life in some capacity." He said the words as if he were giving a presentation for work.
"Just go," she said as a tear slipped down her cheek. Plan foiled. This was not how she wanted to present herself, as the pitiful girl who got dumped, whose heart was broken. But that's exactly who she was, and she was starting to think that was who she'd always be. The girl with a broken heart who was abused as a child, whose brother had killed himself, whose parents were MIA — and now the one man she'd pinned all her hopes and dreams on had kicked her to the curb.
He turned to leave but hadn't gotten far when Charlotte said, "Ryan?" He slowly turned around.
Don't do it. Stay quiet. Maintain a little dignity.
"Is there any ... any way that ..." The dam broke, and tears poured down her face. "... that maybe we could try ... to ..." She held her breath, feeling a sliver of optimism when Ryan's eyes filled with tears too. That should have made her happy, to see him hurting. But it didn't.
He shook his head, and without saying anything, he turned and walked away.
Charlotte closed the door and stared at it, the scent of Ryan's cologne lingering. After a few moments, she shuffled back across the living room and threw herself onto the couch so she could continue her meltdown. But her eyes went back to the door, where Buddy was still standing, staring the same way Charlotte had.
"He's not coming back, Buddy," she said softly as she straightened her dog's favorite blue blanket, patting it until she finally got his attention. With his head hung and his tail between his legs, Buddy made his way to her. Even though she and Ryan hadn't lived together, he'd been at her apartment a lot. As she stroked Buddy's back, she wondered how much an animal felt such a loss. "It's my fault, not yours," she said as she continued to love on him. Apparently, I have trust issues.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Love Bears All Things by Beth Wiseman. Copyright © 2016 Elizabeth Wiseman Mackey. Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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