A slight smile trembled on Mom’s lips. “Are you okay? You hardly touched your breakfast, and you didn’t see Sunny off to school.”
“Was Sunny upset?” Her little sister loved her morning routine. So far she’d managed to concern Mom and disappoint Sunny. The day wasn’t off to a good start. Stupid envelope, anyway …
“She’ll survive.” Mom stepped fully into the room and crossed to the bed. She rested her fingertips on the rumpled quilt wadded at the foot of the mattress. She didn’t say anything about the unmade bed—something that should have been done before breakfast. “She needs to get used to going off without you standing on the porch and blowing kisses at her. It won’t be long now, and—”
Anna—Grace stood and turned to face her mother. “Should I break my arrangement to marry Steven?”
Mom drew back, her eyes widening. “Why, Anna—Grace Braun, what kind of question is that?”
“An important one.” Her rolling stomach threatened to return what little breakfast she’d consumed. She pressed her palms to her belly. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept … thinking. Steven’s family is from Arborville. My birth parents are from Arborville. Arborville isn’t a very large town. What if my birth family and his are related? He could be my cousin and I wouldn’t even know it. I can’t marry my cousin!” Panic turned her voice shrill.
“Anna—Grace …” Mom stepped forward and wrapped her in a loose hug.
The embrace was warm, familiar, raising countless memories of being comforted, cherished, unconditionally accepted. How could she even consider betraying her parents by acknowledging another man and woman had conceived her?
Mom pressed a kiss on her temple and then cupped her face. Her hands smelled like lemon-scented soap and the onions she’d chopped for Dad’s morning hash browns—a homey scent. “Honey, don’t concoct reasons to worry. Yes, Arborville is a small town, but there are several different families represented there. Your dad and I have already confirmed that you and Steven aren’t related.”
“You did?”
“Of course we did. We would tell you if you two were related by blood.”
Anna—Grace’s chest heaved with little puffs of breath. “So … you know my birth parents?”
Mom nodded slowly, compassion glowing in her eyes.
Anna—Grace stepped away from her mother’s gentle touch and glowered at the offending envelope. “Mom …” She pushed the words past a throat so tight, her tonsils were surely tied into a double knot. “I think I hate them.”
“Oh, honey. You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Mom caught Anna—Grace’s hand and drew her onto the edge of the mattress. “Why do you hate them?”
Anna—Grace sat stiffly, her heart pounding. According to the Bible, hating someone was the same as murdering them. Did she really want her birth parents dead? Of course not. She just wanted them to go away. But no matter whether she opened that envelope or not, they would always be in the back of her mind now—forever taunting her with their presence. “They didn’t want me twenty years ago, and I don’t want them now.”
“That isn’t a reason to hate, Anna—Grace.”
Anna—Grace hung her head.
“Hatred is an ugly emotion, and it leads to bitterness and vengeful thoughts. You don’t want all that inside of you, eating you up, do you?”
No, she didn’t. Her parents had raised her to forgive rather than harbor a grudge. Tears clouded her vision. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just wish …” Did she wish Steven’s parents hadn’t given him the land? Did she wish she hadn’t been given up for adoption? She sighed. “I wish Steven’s land wasn’t in Arborville so I didn’t have to deal with this.”
Mom slipped her arm around Anna—Grace’s waist and tipped her forehead against her temple. “Have you considered, my dear daughter, that perhaps God prompted Steven’s parents to gift him with the land in Arborville so you would have the chance to get to know your birth parents?”
She blinked away a rush of angry tears. “God wouldn’t want me to know the people who gave me away.”
Mom’s soft sigh stirred the ribbon trailing from Anna—Grace’s head covering. “There are many reasons why people give up a child for adoption, and not all of those reasons are selfish. We shouldn’t judge, Anna—Grace. I don’t know why they chose to relinquish their parental rights, but I’m grateful, because I have the gift of calling you my daughter.”
The tears spilled down Anna—Grace’s cheeks. She gave her mother a quavering smile of thanks.
Mom rose. She picked up the envelope and fingered it, her lips pursing into a thoughtful moue. “I’m glad you don’t have to go to work today. You can take a nap, catch up on the sleep you missed last night. And you can spend time in prayer.”
She put the envelope back where she’d found it and faced Anna—Grace. “Your dad and I both think it would be best for you to discover the names of your birth family before you move to Arborville, but we’ll respect your decision if you choose to leave it a secret. But please seek God’s will rather than allowing your own stubbornness or fear to guide you. Will you do that?”
Anna—Grace didn’t want to pray. She feared what God might instruct her to do. But she nodded.
“All right. I’ll leave you to rest … and pray.” Mom delivered another kiss on Anna—Grace’s cheek and then left the room.
For several long seconds the envelope held her captive. She stared at it, unblinking, until her eyes burned. She closed her eyes, but the image seemed imprinted on her retinas, visible even behind her closed lids. God … The prayer refused to form. She flopped onto the bed, pulled up her knees, and buried her face in the pillow. She’d pray later. For now she only wanted to sleep. Maybe when she woke up, the letter would be gone.
But when Anna—Grace awakened hours later, the envelope was still in its spot, teasing her with its presence. She ignored it the rest of the day and went to bed without opening it. Tuesday morning she turned it facedown on the edge of the dresser and pretended it wasn’t there. Steven visited Tuesday evening and asked if she’d decided whether she wanted him to sell the farmstead. She pressed her face against his chest and battled tears. How could she ask him to part with something that had been in his family for four generations so she could avoid facing her past? The request would be so selfish. But could she live in Arborville? She didn’t know what to say, so she mumbled she needed more time—perhaps Friday? He gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead and told her to take all the time she needed, but she saw the tense lines around his mouth and recognized his desire to have the decision made.
Wednesday, after her shift at Lisbeth’s Café, she spent the afternoon at the local school, creating harvest-related decorations for the big bulletin board inside the front door. The teacher asked why she was in such a hurry to redo the board. Anna—Grace usually left the welcome-back decorations up until the first of November, but she needed the distraction now. She offered a weak shrug and hedged. “I suppose this cooler weather and the changing leaves have made me eager for Thanksgiving.” Miss Kroeker accepted the reply.
She accompanied Mom to the church’s quilting circle on Thursday afternoon and then regretted it. The buzz around the quilting frame concentrated on the farmstead in Arborville. If only she could be as excited about the gift of land, which everyone deemed a wonderful blessing, as the fellowship members. She fielded their comments and questions with well-feigned enthusiasm, and by the time she left so she could be home when Sunny returned from school, her head pounded with tension. She had to make a decision concerning the land, and soon.
Steven arrived shortly after supper on Friday. Anna—Grace had spent the entire afternoon closed in her bedroom, praying and seeking God’s guidance, but when she looked into his hopeful face, she still had no answer. She sank onto the edge of the sofa and buried her face in her hands.
Steven sat beside her and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Anna—Grace, you’re making this too ha
rd on yourself.”
An unfamiliar swell of anger tightened her chest. She sat upright and released a huff of frustration. “Well, of course it’s hard, Steven. No matter what I do, the decision will lead to a host of consequences, none of which feel very positive.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Her frustration mounted. Was he really so shortsighted? “Let’s say we move to Arborville, and word spreads that I am the illegitimate child of a man and woman from the local fellowship. Word will get out, you know. It’s inevitable in a small town. People will have a hard time accepting me—befriending me will feel awkward to them—and they’ll start looking at my birth parents differently, too. My birth parents won’t want me there. They gave me away. Why would they want me just showing up again?”
Unintentional bitterness colored her tone. She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to bring her emotions under control. God expected His followers to love even their enemies. She could not continue to harbor these ill feelings toward her birth mother and father.
“Then I’ll sell it so you don’t have to move there.” Steven’s reasonable voice intruded upon her inner battle.
She popped her eyes open and fixed him with a disbelieving look. “That isn’t any better! If you sell the land, your parents will be disappointed because you’re letting go of a farmstead that’s been in your mother’s family for a century. The entire town of Sommerfeld will think you’ve lost your senses, parting with such a generous, valuable gift.”
He took her hand and linked fingers with her. “But I don’t mind. If you can’t live there, you can’t live there.”
His grip felt too tight—almost cloying. She eased her hand free and rose, then took two steps away from the sofa. “You’re willing to do this for me now, but someday you’d regret it, and it would always be a dark cloud hovering over our relationship. I can’t ask you to give up something that is so special to your family.”
“Anna—Grace …” He pushed to his feet and closed the distance between them. The tenderness in his expression melted her irritation in one heartbeat. This time when he reached for her hands, she clung willingly. “You are more important to me than the land.” An odd look flitted through his eyes. He lowered his head briefly, and when he raised it again the strange glimmer was gone. “I promise not to hold it against you if you would rather not live in Arborville. There are lots of places in the United States with Old Order communities. We could use the money and move just about anywhere. Even to Alaska.”
A bubble of laughter pressed upward. “I don’t want to live in Alaska.”
He grinned. “Well, okay then, not Alaska.” He sobered. “The thing is, we don’t have to be tied to the farm in Arborville. Or even to Kansas if we don’t want to be.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and gawked at Steven. “After what your brother did—you’d move away from Kansas and your mom and dad?”
“I wouldn’t be like Kevin, running off without warning and never contacting them afterward. I’d stay in touch.” His brows descended and defensiveness put a bite in his tone. “It’s not the same.”
She shouldn’t have mentioned Kevin. His departure was an ever-festering wound. She squeezed Steven’s hands in silent apology. “Of course it isn’t.”
His stern look faded. He released her hands and slid his palms up her arms to her shoulders. His broad hands were warm and firm through the fabric of her dress. “All I’m trying to say is if the thought of living in Arborville is this hard for you, then we have lots of options. I’m willing to go somewhere else, if that’s what you want to do.”
Anna—Grace leaned into his embrace. He loved her. He loved her enough to give up his grandfather’s farm for her. Her heart seemed to swell and fill her chest cavity, and happy tears pricked her eyes. Steven’s willingness to sacrifice so much for her raised a desire to please him in return. The answer she’d been seeking finally made itself known.
Still nestled in his arms, she whispered, “Steven?”
“Yes?” His warm breath caressed her cheek.
“I’m going to get Mom and Dad.” She stepped from the circle of his arms and moved toward the basement door. Her parents had taken Sunny to the rec room in the basement when Steven arrived, graciously giving her some privacy. “I’ve decided, but I want them to hear it, too.”
Steven
Steven slowly lowered himself to the sofa, his gaze never wavering from Anna—Grace’s face. “Hurry and get them then.” She darted off, and he curled his hand over the armrest of the sofa, his fingers flattening the padding beneath the brocade cover with the ferocity of his grip. For the first time since he delivered the news about the farm in Arborville, she appeared relaxed. Self-assured.
Hope and helplessness warred in his chest. Her decision would bind him to the farm or set him free. Let her say she wants to sell it. Guilt smacked as the prayer left his heart. But if the desire to sell the farm was hers rather than his, his parents would understand. Then he could use the money to—
Anna—Grace, followed by her parents, entered the living room. She came directly to the sofa and sat beside him, but her parents stood side by side near the wide doorway between the living room and kitchen. Mrs. Braun slipped her hand through her husband’s bent arm, and he placed his hand over hers. They looked calm and unworried, the opposite of how Steven felt.
He forced himself to let go of the chair’s armrest and moved his hand to his knee. He chafed the rough fabric of his work trousers with his palm and released a raspy chuckle. “Well, we’re all here …”
Anna—Grace offered him a brief smile and nod, then drew in a long breath. “Mom, you said you and Dad would respect whatever decision I made, right?”
Her father said, “We’ve been praying for you to make the right decision, and we trust your judgment.”
“Of course we do,” Mrs. Braun added.
“Thank you.”
Would she just tell them? Steven gritted his teeth to hold back his demand for her to hurry up.
“I’ve been praying, too, but until just now when …” She turned from her parents and locked gazes with Steven. “You said, ‘If you can’t live there, you can’t live there.’ ”
His pulse thudded hard. He gave a jerky nod.
“All week I’ve been telling myself I can’t do it. But how do I know for sure?”
She was still asking questions. Hadn’t she made up her mind?
She faced her parents again. “I can’t just refuse to move and make Steven give up the land his grandfather left as a legacy to his family. Not without knowing for sure if I can live peacefully in Arborville. And the only way to know whether I can live there is to spend time there. And not just for a day or two. For long enough for me to really, truly know.”
Mrs. Braun tipped her head, a slight frown creasing her face. “What are you saying?”
Anna—Grace stood and crossed to her father. “Dad, would Steven be wasting time and money to fix up the farmhouse in Arborville?”
Mr. Braun’s forehead crunched into lines of deep thought. “Improving a property is rarely a waste because it increases the value.”
“So even if later we decide”—she shot a quick look at Steven before facing her father again—“not to live there, it’s a good idea to repair and renovate the house?”
“I would say so.”
She scurried back to Steven and stood in front of him, her hands clasped at her waist. “When are you going to Arborville to work on the house?”
Slowly Steven shrugged. His dad had been pestering him to get over there and get started, but he’d put it off in hopes of selling the place to someone else. “Probably next week.”
“When you go, I’m going with you.”
Her mother pulled in a startled breath.
Anna—Grace continued as if there’d been no interruption. “The only thing I’m not sure about is whether to open the letter from my birth parents before I go. Mom and Dad, I know you think it’s better for me to
learn their names if I plan to live in Arborville, but I wonder if I should wait until I’ve decided whether to move there permanently.” She shifted to face Steven. “I’ll stay with Aunt Abigail or one of Dad’s cousins, and if I need to, I’ll find a part-time job to pay for my keep. But I have to find out, firsthand, whether or not I can settle into the community.”
Steven gawked at her, too stunned to speak. She wanted to go there?
“Anna—Grace, you can’t just quit your job at the café without giving notice,” Mrs. Braun said.
“I agree with your mother.” Mr. Braun stepped forward and put his arm across Anna—Grace’s shoulders. “It would be irresponsible to leave your aunt Deborah without warning.”
Anna—Grace hung her head.
Mrs. Braun remained in the doorway, hugging herself. “Besides, we need to contact your relatives in Arborville and make sure someone has room for you.”
Anna—Grace, her head still low, sighed. Then she looked at her dad. “You and Mom are right. I’ll tell Aunt Deborah tomorrow that she needs to find another morning waitress. If my last day at the café is the twenty-fourth of this month, I can leave for Arborville the following Monday. Is that a better plan?”
Mr. Braun pulled Anna—Grace against his side in a hug. “Yes.”
Steven stood. His joints felt tight and clumsy from holding himself so stiffly on the edge of the sofa. He looked first at Mrs. Braun, who blinked rapidly as if tears were threatening, and then Mr. Braun. “Other than wanting Anna—Grace to give better notice at the café, you don’t mind her going to Arborville?” Why wouldn’t they tell her no? If they forbade her, she wouldn’t go. She respected her parents too much to go against their wishes. Just tell her no …
Mr. Braun’s expression turned tender as he gazed at his daughter’s upturned face. “Part of parenting, Steven, is letting go. Livvy and I have done our best to raise Anna—Grace to be a responsible, capable young woman.”
When Grace Sings Page 9
