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Come Back to Me

Page 2

by Debbie Macomber

“But he…” Valerie began when Norah hesitated.

“He what?” Steffie prompted. Although she was thrilled with the news that her father had survived the crisis, she couldn’t help wondering why both her sisters seemed reluctant to continue. “Tell me,” she insisted. She didn’t want to be protected from the truth.

“Apparently Dad had a near-death experience,” Norah finally said.

“Isn’t that fairly common? Especially during that kind of surgery? I’ve been reading for years about people who believe they traveled through a dark tunnel into the light.”

“I wouldn’t know how common it is to talk to someone in the spirit world, would you?” Valerie snapped.

“Dad claims he talked to Mom.” Once again it was Norah who supplied the information.

“To Mom?” Steffie felt numb, unsure of how to react.

“Which we all know is impossible.” Valerie hurried barefoot across the kitchen floor to pour boiling water into the teapot. She placed three mugs, three spoons and the sugar bowl on a tray; when the tea had steeped, she filled the cups, obviously preoccupied with her task. Carrying the tray to the table, she served her sisters, then leaped up to get a plate of Norah’s home-baked cookies. “I think Dad needs to talk to a counselor,” she said abruptly.

“Valerie.” Norah sighed as though this was a well-worn argument. “You’re overreacting.”

“You would, too, if Dad was saying to you the things he says to me.” Valerie stirred her tea without looking up.

Norah sighed again. “Dad honestly believes he spoke to Mom and if it makes him feel better, then I don’t think we should try to discount his experience.”

“What was Mom supposed to have said to him?” Steffie asked, intrigued by the interplay between her two sisters. She helped herself to a couple of oatmeal cookies as she spoke.

“That’s what worries me the most.” Valerie raised her voice, clearly unsettled. “He’s got some ridiculous notion that we’re all going to marry.”

“Now, that’s profound.” Steffie couldn’t hide her amusement. The three of them were of marriageable age; it made sense that they’d eventually find husbands.

“But he claims to know who we’re going to marry,” Norah said, grinning sheepishly, as though she found the whole thing amusing.

“He’s been wearing this silly smile for two days.” Valerie groaned, dropping her forehead onto her arms. “He’s been talking about a houseful of grandchildren, too. The ones we’re supposed to present him with—and all in the next few years. If it wasn’t so ludicrous, I’d cry.”

“Has he said who I’m supposed to marry?” Steffie asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Valerie lifted her head to glare at Stephanie, and Norah chuckled. “That’s something else that irritates Valerie,” she explained. “Dad hasn’t told any of us, at least not directly. Not yet.”

“He’s acting like he knows this wonderful secret and he’s keeping it all to himself, dropping hints every now and then. I swear it’s driving me crazy.”

“I don’t mind it,” Norah said. To someone else, she might have sounded self-righteous, but Steffie recognized her younger sister’s compassion and knew that it edged out any hint of righteousness. “Dad’s smiling again. He’s excited about the future and even if he’s becoming a bit…presumptuous about the three of us, I honestly can’t say I mind. I’m just so glad to have him alive.”

Valerie nodded, her argument apparently gone. “I guess I can put up with a few remarks, too.”

“This is the first time one of us hasn’t stayed all night at the hospital,” Norah said, her mouth curving into a gentle smile. “Dr. Winston insisted there wasn’t any need. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be fooled by that guy,” Valerie muttered under her breath. “He may look like your average, laid-back country doctor, but he’s got a backbone of steel.”

He must have, if Valerie was reacting like this, Stephanie thought with sudden interest. It seemed that her sister had finally encountered a will as strong as her own. So, either Valerie had changed her ways or she had—could it be?—a soft spot for this Dr. Winston.

“In other words,” Steffie said quickly, “I missed the worst of it. Dad’s out of danger now and will eventually recover?”

“Yes,” Norah said cheerfully. “Everything’ll be back to normal.”

“Not exactly.” Valerie shook her head. “In a few weeks Dad will be the picture of health, but the three of us will be pulling out our hair after listening to all his talk about marriage, husbands and grandchildren!”

* * *

Bright sunlight poured through the open window of Steffie’s bedroom when she woke. The house was quiet, but the sounds of the day drifted in from outside. Birds chirped merrily in the distance and a spring breeze set the chimes on the back porch tinkling and rustled the curtains lightly. She could hear work crews in the orchard—spraying the apple trees, Steffie guessed.

After those long days of struggling to get home, she exulted in the sensation of familiarity, wrapping the feel of it around her like a warm quilt. The crisis had passed. Her father would survive, and all the world seemed brighter, sweeter, happier.