Mark rolled over in bed and thought it might be nice to sleep in this morning. As it was only Thursday and he wasn’t ill, he couldn’t justify staying in bed, but he certainly wanted to try. Things had been a bit chaotic as of late, and he thought taking a day to ponder his situation might be a welcome relief. At home, he was pleased with the blossoming relationship with Layla and loved to watch her dote upon his son. But he was also concerned about her father. His condition seemed to worsen rather than improve, and Mark didn’t know if a doctor would need to be called in soon.
Shifting to lay on his other shoulder, he thought of the woes he was experiencing with his business. He had lost the piece of land he’d believed was as good as his, and now his equipment wouldn’t be here when he needed it. When he listed the clam-shell-shaped shovel, the hole digger he needed to plant the trees in his mind, a frustrated spark simmered under the surface. Mark still couldn’t be sure who had canceled the equipment order. He scratched his chin in an irritated manner.
Can’t be avoided,Mark thought as he forced himself to go about his morning routine. Once he shaved and dressed in a faded pair of black woolen trousers, a sienna-colored long-sleeved shirt, and his trusty old pair of boots, he put on his leather vest and headed out the door. Peeking in on Heath, he was relieved to see that the baby was still sleeping soundly. Just as he was going to the staircase, he noticed that Layla’s door was wide open.
“Layla,” Mark whispered, not wanting to disturb her if she was getting ready. When she didn’t respond, he walked closer to her room and peeked into it. The bed was unmade, and the moccasins she wore around the house were neatly lined up near the door. “Layla,” Mark repeated, a little louder this time. He would have been able to see her if she was in her room, but he didn’t know where else she could be at this hour. He knew she liked to rise early to start her chores, but the sun was just inching up the sky. They typically woke within minutes of each other, so he expected her to be about already this morning.
Maybe she’s in the kitchen, Mark thought. One quick look in there told him she was not, and the lamp she used in the morning was cold to the touch. As Mark was about to circle back to Emmett’s room to see if Layla had gone in to check on him, he noticed that something was wrong in the kitchen. The back door was not entirely shut.
A wave of panic flooded him as Mark strode quickly across the room. He pushed through the door to stand in the backyard. His eyes cast about, searching for Layla, but there was nothing to see. “Layla!” Mark shouted, the heat rising in his voice as fear took hold. He called out her name frantically again and again. When there was no response, he bolted through the kitchen toward the front door. Though he knew it didn’t make sense for both the front door and the back door to be ajar, his mind flashed to the way Trudie had left. Besides,shehad used the front door.
Mark raced onto the porch as his head swiveled quickly. Mark yelled her name, and his heart rate picked up considerably. Smashing his hands on the porch railing, he leaned out to get a better look at the property, but still, he couldn’t find her.
“No,” Mark groaned, his agony stretching the word out. He ran a hand through his dark hair.This can’t be happening. Not again.He didn’t know how long he stood there, calling out with only silence responding. Glaring across the horizon, he addressed his Heavenly Father. “I can’t believe you would let this happen again!”
Pushing away from the railing and going back inside, he slammed the door behind him. He stomped angrily through the house and plopped heavily into the desk chair when he got to his office. “How could you let this happen?” Mark hissed aloud to God. “She came here, and I thought you brought her to me … to us.” His words caught in his throat when he thought of Heath and the way the young boy had taken to calling Layla ‘LaLa’ over the last few days. “He loves her,” Mark said stormily, pounding his fist on the table. “I …” The realization crashed over him like a wave, and he took a slow deep breath.
“I am to blame,” Mark said, dropping his head miserably. “I have developed feelings for her too, but I was blinded by fears. I couldn’t see that she needed my help. I should have assisted her more. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive and rude. I should have done more to make her want to stay with us … with me.” Pitifully, he lowered his head so that his chin touched the table. He closed his eyes, trying to determine what to do next.
When he opened his eyes, he still had no clue how to approach the day, but he knew shouting at God and cursing himself were neither going to help. He stood and went over to the window that looked out onto the garden. Pushing aside the heavy green curtains, he leaned his shoulder against the window frame. The day he watched Layla play with Heath in the garden flashed in his mind, and his heart thudded dully.
“God, I can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t want to believe that Layla would be capable of just leaving us, too,” Mark said softly, almost as if he were praying.
Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Layla and her father. At first, he thought he imagined them, as they seemed to come from nowhere, but Mark knew that couldn’t be the case. This room allowed him a view of the garden but nowhere else. The pair could have easily walked in from the fields but been hidden from Mark until now. His knees buckled as relief and shame for jumping to conclusions flooded him. Though he knew deep down Layla was nothing like Trudie, he couldn’t stop the fear that gripped him tight in its claws whenever he couldn’t find her.
Thrilled at seeing Layla and her father once more, Mark flew from the room. He sprinted through the house and shoved open the back door, ready to greet them. “Layla,” Mark said happily.
Layla smiled at Mark, and his heart skipped. “Hello, Mark,” Layla replied. “If you wouldn’t mind helping get my father to bed …” she asked, nodding toward Emmett.
“Of course,” Mark responded, rushing forward; he was willing to assist Layla in any way she needed. Wrapping his arm around Emmett’s waist, Mark towed him back toward his bedroom. As they walked, Mark expected Emmett to say something, any explanation about where he had been or what he and his daughter had been doing, but Emmett was quiet. Mark wondered when or if Layla would fill in the missing gaps in information as mere moments before, he was devastated by her disappearance.
When Mark put him into bed and pulled the covers up for him, Emmett mumbled, “Thank you,” and fell asleep on the instant.
Mark marveled once more at this uncanny ability Emmett possessed that allowed him to fall asleep so suddenly. Mark often tossed and turned, but Layla and her father were always quick to find their restful reposing states. He wondered vaguely if they were able to sleep so soundly because of their unwavering belief in God.
“I made coffee,” Layla said quietly, meeting Mark in the dining room holding two steaming mugs, and placed one in front of his usual seat and the other in front of hers. She slumped down into her seat and took a grateful sip of the hot beverage.
“What happened, Layla?” Mark asked as he joined her.
“My father was hallucinating,” Layla said carefully, picking up her mug of coffee and taking another tiny sip. “He thought my mother was alive, and she was telling him to meet her out in the fields.”
“Oh, Layla. I’m so sorry. That must have been awful for you. If you had wakened me, I would have tried to help,” he said and took her hand. Though relieved to have her safely by his side again, he regretted that she was continuing to experience woes with her father.
“I appreciate that, Mark, but I didn’t have time to go for help. He ran out the back door, and I had to sprint to catch him. I’m just so glad I did. I’m glad he’s all right,” Layla said, her voice trembling as tears watered in her eyes.
“He is safe now, Layla, and I’m glad you’ve come home, too,” Mark said quietly, squeezing Layla’s fingertips. “When I woke up this morning and couldn’t find you … I thought that maybe … well … I thought that you had left us.” He bit his lip, having made this painful admission.
Layla’s free hand flew to her mouth to cover her shocked expression. “I would never do that, Mark. I could never just leave you and the baby.”
A wave of relief washed through him. Hearing Layla make this vow made him feel infinitely better. “I believe we have many reasons to be grateful to God this morning. He returned your father home safely, and He brought you to this house. I thank God for bringing you into my life, Layla.”
Her hand squeezed his, and for the first time in a very long time, Mark smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Christmas Day came and went with Layla, Mark, and Heath attending a service in town at the local church. Layla made a special meal of roast turkey for the occasion, and Emmett chose that day to begin coming out of his room at regular intervals. A few days later, the family had become quite well-functioning.
“Whew!” Layla said as she finished reading and closed the Bible heavily in her lap. “I thought he’d never get to sleep,” she told Mark quietly as they tiptoed from Heath’s room.
