When Grace Sings

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Clete reached out and offered her a few clumsy pats on the shoulder. “It’s very unselfish of you to open one of your rooms to Anna—Grace.”

  Grandmother blew out a short huff and muttered, “Unselfish, and more than a little nuts.”

  Cautious laughter rumbled around the table, and Alexa battled a wry grin. Grandmother was right. She must be out of her mind. Could she really sacrifice her peace of mind and let Anna—Grace—Grandmother’s biological grandchild—stay under this roof? She pulled in a slow breath to calm her jangling nerves and said in a raspy whisper, “She’s family. You don’t close the door on family.”

  Shelley hung her head. Sandra and Derek exchanged a telling look. Tanya blinked rapidly, as if battling tears.

  Alexa tapped Sandra’s wrist. “When is Anna—Grace coming to Arborville?”

  “She’ll arrive the twenty-fourth.”

  Two weeks … “All right then. I’ll have a room ready for her.”

  Grandmother aimed an approving smile at Alexa. Alexa managed a wobbly smile in reply, but inwardly she cringed. She hoped no one searched beneath the surface of her words. If they did, they’d realize the motivation for her unselfish act was anything but selfless. She wanted their approval, their acceptance, their affection. And if it took inviting Anna—Grace Braun to the B and B to gain it, then she’d welcome her mother’s biological daughter with open arms.

  Briley

  Briley stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. The worn straps of the aluminum folding chair creaked as he adjusted his weight to the edge of the seat. He hoped he wouldn’t fall through the sagging old chair. He’d thought it chivalrous when Paul Aldrich offered the seat and moved to the opposite side of the pond, but now he suspected the man had the better part of the deal. As stiff as his muscles had grown during his two hours of sitting beside the pond not catching fish, if the chair collapsed he probably wouldn’t have the ability to free himself from the rusty contraption.

  He angled his gaze toward Danny, who sat as still as a statue in a similar chair about ten feet away. “Do you and your dad really do this every week?”

  “Just about.” Danny’s mouth barely moved to release the answer. No other muscle in his body even twitched. He seemed completely absorbed in watching the plastic ball—what Aldrich called a bobber—floating on the water’s surface.

  Briley sighed and looked at his own red-and-white bobber. Stupid name. The thing never bobbed. It just sat there. He looked at Danny again, marveling at his focus. How could the kid be so still and attentive for hours on end? Briley had battled tossing his pole aside for the past hour and a half. Of course Danny’d caught and released six fish in that amount of time—the same number as his father. Briley glanced at his floating bobber and stifled a snort. Fish in a Mennonite pond must only bite worms touched by Mennonite fingers. He should drop the pole and go back to the B and B. What a waste of time …

  He braced himself to rise, and the red half of the bobber suddenly plunged beneath the surface of the water and bounced up again. Briley stiffened. Had he imagined that?

  Danny sat up straight, excitement lighting his face. “You got a bite!”

  Briley nodded. He curled both hands tight around his pole’s handle and stared at the bobber. It went under again, this time the entire ball disappearing and the tip of his pole bending downward with the force of whatever had hold of the bait.

  Danny crowed, “Yank it, Mr. Forrester! Yank it!”

  So Briley yanked. His pulse galloped into wild double beats as he felt resistance. He’d caught a big fish, for sure! But then the line snapped free and the hook—empty of either a fish or a worm—flew over his head and sprinkled him with cold pond water. He glared for a moment at the fishless hook swaying at the end of the line and then flung the pole to the ground.

  Danny drew back, his eyes round. “What’s the matter?”

  Didn’t the kid have any sense? Briley snorted. “What do you think? I lost the fish, that’s what’s the matter.”

  The boy shrugged. “That happens sometimes.” He squinted against the sun, his gaze never wavering from Briley’s face. “Or it might’ve been a turtle and not a fish at all. They like the worms, too.”

  Briley balled his hands into fists and held back a growl of frustration. Danny’s logical explanation irritated him worse than losing the fish had. “Don’t placate me.”

  “What’s ‘placate’?”

  Words from his trusty thesaurus fell from his tongue. “Pacify, soothe, mollify …”

  The boy’s expression didn’t clear.

  Briley sighed. Why was he picking on Danny? It wasn’t the kid’s fault the fish had bailed. He’d probably knocked it off with his overzealous yank on the line. “I mean don’t try to make me feel better.” He forced a grin. “It won’t help. I’m mad.”

  Danny shrugged again. “Getting mad won’t make the fish bite. Want another worm?”

  Briley was tempted. He’d seen how Danny lit up when he pulled a fish from the water. It’d looked like fun to clamp the pole between his knees, catch hold of the fish dancing at the end of the line, and then work it free of the hook before giving it a toss back in the water. Part of him wanted to experience it himself. But the bigger part of him—the impatient part—was done. He let the bigger part win. “No, thanks.”

  “Okay.” Danny pulled his line from the water, wiped the soggy worm free of the hook against a rock, then set his pole aside. “I’ll quit, too, then.” He leaned back and propped his ankle on his opposite knee, as relaxed as a person could get.

  Briley shook his head, chuckling. He eased into his chair and imitated Danny’s pose. Head back, eyes at half-mast against the sun, he mused, “You’re sure one laid-back kid. Don’t you ever get riled about anything?”

  He’d meant to tease, but apparently Danny took him seriously. The boy pinched his forehead into a thoughtful pucker. “Sure I do. Everybody gets mad sometimes. My dad tells me, ‘Be angry but sin not.’ He said that means I shouldn’t let my temper make me do things I’ll regret later on. He says if I pray when I start feeling really mad, God will help me not sin.”

  Briley squirmed in his chair. The word sin made him feel as though bugs crawled under his flesh. He wanted to change the topic, yet he realized he was being given the chance to pry into the inner workings of the Mennonite faith. He could push past his discomfort for the sake of his article. He feigned a yawn. “Can you gimme an example of what you consider ‘sin’?”

  “That’s easy.” Danny bounced his sneaker-covered foot. “Don’t worship anything except God. Don’t use God’s name as a curse. Don’t be disrespectful to your mom and dad. Don’t kill anybody. Don’t take stuff that isn’t yours, and don’t wish you could take stuff that isn’t yours. Don’t tell lies.”

  “Phew.” Briley blew out a short breath. All those “don’ts” had jarred him. With the exception of killing somebody, he’d pretty much done them all. “That’s quite a list.”

  “But that’s not everything. That’s just some of the Ten Commandments—the ones I need to know for now. There are other ones that are more for grownups.”

  From across the pond a whoop sounded. Briley and Danny both looked up. Aldrich held his line high, showing off his catch. His grin spread from ear to ear.

  Danny punched his fist in the air. “Way to go, Dad!”

  The man waved, then he released the fish from the hook and gave it a gentle heave back into the pond. He swished his palms together, reached into his bait can, and began threading another worm onto his hook.

  Danny settled into the chair again and turned to Briley. “You can ask my dad about the other ones. He knows all of them.”

  When Danny talked about his dad, his voice changed—became proud and subdued and respectful all at once. Briley couldn’t imagine speaking proudly of his old man. He didn’t even like thinking about the man who’d fathered him. He formed a snide question. “So what happens when you slip up?”

  “Well, when I sin, I
get in trouble.”

  The boy’s sheepish expression tickled Briley. He chuckled. “Oh yeah? Get a walloping, do you?”

  “Sometimes.” Danny dropped his foot to the ground and scuffed his toe against the sand. “But that’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is when I sin, I make my dad sad and disappointed. That hurts a whole lot more because I love my dad and I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.” He peeked at Briley out of the corner of his eye. “You’re all grown up now, but didn’t it make you feel bad when your dad was upset with you?”

  Briley linked his hands behind his head and used his thumbs to massage the knot forming at the base of his skull. “To be honest, I couldn’t care less what my dad thinks of me.”

  Danny gawked at Briley. “You don’t care?”

  “Nope.”

  “But … but …”

  The kid might self-combust if Briley didn’t explain. “My dad’s not like yours, Danny. Mine didn’t stick around. I haven’t seen him since I was three years old.”

  Danny’s eyes grew round. “He left you?”

  Amazing how much it still hurt even after all these years. “He sure did.” The sun slowly slunk toward the horizon, taking its warmth with it. Briley pulled his jacket closed and slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “Did your mom help you feel better?”

  Briley had very few memories of his mother, but he couldn’t say she’d ever made him feel better. Not about anything. “Afraid not.”

  “Wow …” Danny chewed his lower lip, gazing at him with round, sad eyes.

  Briley didn’t care much for the turn the conversation had taken. And the start of a headache throbbed in his temples. Even though he was collecting some good information for his article—wouldn’t Len get a kick out of Danny’s recitation of the “kid” sins?—he was ready to go. He pushed to his feet, cringing at the complaining creak of the old chair.

  Danny bounced up, too. “You leavin’?”

  “Yeah.” Briley zipped his jacket and picked up the fishing pole. “Where do you want this?”

  “The back of Dad’s pickup.” Danny snatched up his pole and trotted alongside Briley as they moved toward the vehicles parked near the pond. He hollered over his shoulder, “Dad! Mr. Forrester’s leaving!”

  “Be right there!”

  Briley paused. “You don’t have to leave just because I am. Stay and fish if you want to.”

  Danny shrugged. “Getting close to suppertime. We’d be leaving soon anyway.” A hopeful grin broke across his face. “Wanna eat supper at our house? We had lunch at the Earlichs’, and Mrs. Earlich sent home a big pot of ham and beans. Dad says it’s enough to feed an army.” The boy looked Briley up and down, his gaze admiring. “Betcha you can eat enough for an army.”

  Briley was tempted. He hadn’t had ham and beans since he lived under Aunt Myrt’s roof. She often stretched their food dollars with beans. He’d never minded. He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It’s nice of you to invite me, but you probably should check with your folks before inviting people over.”

  “Dad won’t mind.” Danny darted toward his father, who ambled in their direction. “Dad, can Mr. Forrester have ham and beans with us tonight? Huh? Can he?”

  Mr. Aldrich laughed. Briley did, too. The boy reminded him of an overexcited puppy. The man curled his hand around the back of Danny’s neck. “I’d say that’s up to Mr. Forrester whether he wants to eat ham and beans or not.”

  “And I’d say,” Briley said, “it’s up to your wife whether she wants a stranger brought home without any warning.”

  Danny ducked his head. A sad smile formed on Mr. Aldrich’s lips. “Well, you see, my wife passed on. So it’s just Danny and me.” He tugged the boy tight against his hip. “And you are more than welcome to join us.”

  Danny peered up at Briley. His puppy-dog eyes begged. “Please, Mr. Forrester? Dad hasn’t told you all about sin yet.”

  Aldrich sent a startled look toward Danny. “What?”

  Briley chuckled. The boy would be shocked if he knew just how familiar Briley was with sin. He said, “Never mind.” Curiosity about how the man and boy managed without a woman in the home compelled him to accept their invitation. “Ham and beans sounds pretty good right about now. So I’d like to accept that invitation, if you don’t mind.”

  Danny whooped.

  Mr. Aldrich laughed and shook his head, amusement mingling with affection in his smile. “Well, then, let’s load up and head home before the sun goes to bed and we’re left standing out here in the dark. Can’t believe how short the days are getting already.”

  Briley followed the Aldriches to their house. While he drove, he used his voice recorder to capture the essence of his conversation with Danny and his thoughts about their afternoon by the pond. He found himself adding, “I feel a little like a fish out of water in my sports car when their vehicle blends so well with all the others in town. It doesn’t seem to bother them, though. Amazing how many invitations I was given today.”

  He clicked off the recorder as he pulled behind Paul Aldrich’s truck in his gravel driveway, then killed the engine. Danny burst out of the side door and galloped to Briley’s car. He danced in place, waiting for Briley to get out. Laughing, Briley slung his arm across the boy’s shoulders and entered the house through the front door.

  “I’ll get the beans heating. Make yourself at home.” Aldrich headed around the corner.

  Briley stood in the middle of the living room floor and sent a slow glance around the room. He’d left his camera in the car, but there wasn’t much to photograph anyway. The room was plain—brown carpet, white walls, brown-and-tan plaid sofa, green chair. Danny’s beaming smile provided the only cheerful thing in the entire space. Briley shook his head, stifling a snort. He was a bachelor, but he’d at least thrown around a few pillows on his matching black leather sofa and love seat and hung pictures on the walls to decorate his living room. He should suggest inviting Alexa over to offer a few ideas to spruce this place up.

  Danny hooked his jacket on a stand near the door. “Gimme your coat. I’ll hang it for you.” Briley shrugged out of the jacket and handed it over. Danny carried it as proudly as a server might carry a prince’s robe and placed it carefully over a hook. Then he spun around and held both arms toward the sofa. “Wanna sit?”

  All he’d done that day was sit, but he moved to the sofa and perched at one end. Danny started to sit at the other end, then he jolted upright. “I’d better go change my clothes first. I smell fishy.” He darted through a hallway before Briley had a chance to say anything.

  With both Danny and his father occupied elsewhere, Briley had the chance to explore. He pulled the recorder from his shirt pocket, intending to peek through doorways and describe his surroundings. He needed to snoop. He needed to discover if the sad-looking room indicated sad lives. But he didn’t move. Something indefinable held him in his seat. Snooping would betray their trust.

  Danny bounded into the room from one direction and his father entered from another doorway. They spoke at the same time. “Mr. Forrester—” Then they both stopped and looked at each other.

  Briley stood. “I’d really rather be called Briley, if you don’t mind.”

  “I want Danny to show respect to his elders, so I prefer he calls you Mr. Forrester. But I’d be pleased to use your first name. Please call me Paul.” The man sank into the green chair. It seemed he fit perfectly in the cushion’s indentation. “It’ll be a little while before the soup is ready. Sit down, and let’s talk a bit.”

  Danny scurried to the sofa and settled in the way he had before. Briley remained standing, however.

  “Actually, if you could point me to your bathroom, I’d like to wash my hands.” He looked ruefully at his grimy palms. “For not touching any fish, they sure are dirty.”

  Paul laughed. “Second door on your left in the hallway. Feel free to grab a clean towel from under the sink because I’m pretty sure Danny’s already scented the one on
the towel bar with his fishy hands.”

  Danny grinned and hunched his shoulders.

  Briley gave the expected laugh and headed for the hallway.

  The man’s voice followed him. “When you get back, I’d like to know why you chose to write an article about Arborville.”

  Briley managed a grin. “Sure thing. Be back in a minute.” He closed himself in the bathroom and cranked the spigots on high. While he lathered his hands, he planned an explanation that would satisfy Aldrich’s curiosity. “Don’t tell lies.” He cringed as Danny’s childish voice rang in his memory. But what choice did he have? He didn’t dare tell the truth.

  Sommerfeld

  Steven

  Steven crossed the yard, squinting against the bright morning sun, and settled the last box into the backseat of the new-to-him crew cab pickup truck. He snapped the driver’s seat backrest into place and then stood for a moment, admiring the gray and black interior. He’d been satisfied with his old pickup, which he’d bought shortly after his sixteenth birthday, and had balked a bit at trading it in. Letting it go was almost like losing a friend.

  But now he was glad Dad talked him into it. His old truck had over two hundred thousand miles on it. He’d feel a lot more secure heading off in this model, which had less than seventy-five thousand miles logged on the engine. Still years of life left in it … and with its shorter bed it didn’t look so much like a farmer’s truck.

  Dad approached, his hands deep in the pockets of his work jacket and his boots scuffing up dust. “Got everything?”

  Steven glanced at the boxes filling the truck’s bed and rear half of the cab. Even if he didn’t have everything, there wasn’t room for one more item. He’d just have to do without. He nodded.

  “Well, then …” Dad rocked on his heels, looking everywhere except at Steven.

  Before he’d carried out this last load, Mom caught him in a nearly strangling hug and stained his shoulder with a few rare tears. Now it seemed as though Dad was fighting against sorrow. Fury and compassion warred in Steven’s chest. It pained him to see his parents in such agony about him leaving, but this move was all their idea. Why did they have to turn morose and make him feel even worse about the situation?