Her brows pinched together. “I thought it was kind of strange that Alexa was so supportive of the man who’d once spurned her mother. Or maybe her mother spurned him. I don’t know. Either way, there had to have been some hurt feelings. But she still told me to be nice to him.”
“That’s always good advice.”
“I’ll be nice. But I also plan to keep my distance from him. Truthfully, Steven, he made my skin crawl.”
Steven chose his words carefully. “If you intend to work over here, you won’t be able to stay away from him. The house is pretty small, and he isn’t going anywhere else until everything here is done.” He remembered the man’s request to bring his son along on Saturday. “When there’s no school, he’ll have his son, Danny, with him. It will probably bother the boy if he sees you being standoffish with his dad.”
Anna—Grace tipped her head. Her eyes seemed to berate him. “You know I wouldn’t be intentionally unkind. Especially not to a child. And I would appreciate it if you would support me and my feelings instead of sticking up for the carpenter who’s working on your house.”
He caught hold of her shoulders and drew her into his embrace. She didn’t wrap her arms around him, but she allowed him to hold her close. He rested his chin against her temple. The mesh of her head covering felt abrasive against his flesh. “I didn’t mean to make you think your feelings don’t matter. Of course they do. But the carpenter has to be here every day until the work is done. If you’d rather not be around him, then you’ll have to stay at your gra—” He bit the tip of his tongue to stop the word grandmother from escaping. “… great-aunt’s house until his part of the renovation is finished.”
She shifted slightly to look up at him. “But if I do that, it’ll prolong doing the painting and wallpapering. I said I would help.”
“It’ll keep.” Steven formed his next words carefully. “What about other people in town? You’ve been here almost a week now. Has anyone else made you feel uncomfortable?”
Her face formed a thoughtful pucker. “No. Not especially. A few have looked at me funny—questioningly, I guess. And sometimes I get the feeling Alexa doesn’t really want me around. But no one else makes my skin crawl.”
Steven couldn’t decide if her answer made him happy or sad. He pulled her close again, his thoughts racing. Should he tell her why Paul Aldrich stared at her? It might ease her mind if she knew the reason he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. Better yet, it might send her running back to Sommerfeld, and he could follow. One thing he did know—if he told her now it would be more for himself than for her. As difficult as it was to keep the information a secret, he wouldn’t tell her until he was sure it was something she wanted to know.
Once again he took her shoulders and set her aside. “I’m going to take you back to the B and B. It isn’t wise for us to be here alone like this.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong.”
In the fellowship’s eyes being alone together was wrong because it could lead to sinful behavior. The fact that Anna—Grace now stood before him proved at least one Old Order Mennonite boy and girl had given in to temptation. Although he’d always surmised his fiancée had been born to an unwed mother, knowing her birth parents were Old Order—just like he and Anna—Grace were—increased his determination to remain above reproach.
He offered a gentle smile. “And I want to keep it that way. Come on. Let’s go.” He helped her into her coat, then escorted her to his pickup. He opened the door for her and took hold of her elbow to give her a little boost into the cab.
As she settled on the seat, she turned to him. A sad smile tipped up the corners of her lips. “I know how much this farmstead means to your family. I won’t let my feelings about Mr. Aldrich keep me from being open-minded about living in Arborville. Don’t worry.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I’m not worried.” He closed the door, then blew out a breath. Not worried? A blatant lie. His biggest worry was he’d be stuck on this farm for the rest of his life, wishing his brother had stayed around to inherit this land instead. As he rounded the truck, his thoughts turned into a prayer.
Lord, forgive me for fibbing. And for withholding the truth about Paul Aldrich. Reveal it to Anna—Grace when the time is right. And, Lord? He paused with his hand on the driver’s door handle and looked skyward. Not even a wisp of cloud hid him from his Father’s view. Let her decision about staying or not staying be the right one. For both of us.
Briley
Friday morning Briley asked for a second helping of Alexa’s special pumpkin pancakes. The first serving—three dessert plate–sized fluffy cakes with thin slivers of raw apple and chunky walnuts between the layers, smothered in warm, cinnamon-laced maple syrup, and served alongside sausage links—was enough to satisfy the heartiest appetite, but they tasted so good his mouth insisted on more. He’d just skip lunch later. Besides, he needed to get his fill of Alexa’s good cooking before he returned to Chicago.
As he dug into the second stack of pancakes, Mrs. Zimmerman shot him a serious frown.
“Alexa tells me you’re leaving us soon.” She held her coffee cup beneath her chin but didn’t take a sip. “Does that mean you’ve finished your article?”
Briley swallowed and swiped his mouth with his napkin. He noted both Steven and Anna—Grace paused in eating to turn attentive gazes on him. He answered cautiously. “Not quite. I still have one more loose thread to tie up.” He shrugged. “Even so, I’ll probably head out Monday morning.”
“Well, I will tell you now, young man, I wasn’t too sure about hosting you when you first showed up here.” Mrs. Zimmerman spoke in her brisk, straightforward manner, but he detected a hint of apology in her expression. “If it hadn’t been for Alexa needing the money your stay would bring in, I would have sent you right on down the road the first time you flirted with her.” An impish twinkle brightened her faded blue eyes. “You are something of a scamp, Briley Forrester.”
Her comment raised memories of Aunt Myrt. His lips twitched into a grin.
“I also worried your worldly wise ways might cause problems with some of our young people, but I’ve watched you with Alexa, with young Danny Aldrich, and now with Steven and Anna—Grace, and you know …” She lowered the coffee cup and pointed at him. “Instead of stirring discontent, I think you’ve made us examine our lifestyle and consider it through an outsider’s eyes. You’ve given us a chance for self-examination. That’s a good thing.”
Alexa entered the room but remained near the doorway, seemingly unwilling to interrupt her grandmother.
“Of course, outsiders come to Arborville frequently to shop for hand-crafted items or just to gawk at the Amish buggies, but none of them stay long enough to really understand how and why we live the way we do. Having you live among us gave us an opportunity to share every facet of our faith, and maybe let you discover we aren’t so different from each other after all, hmm?”
Mrs. Z held her hand toward Alexa, and the young woman hurried across the floor to take it. She smiled up at her granddaughter for a moment before turning to Briley again. “As for me, you’ve let me see how Alexa’s decision to turn my old farmhouse into a bed-and-breakfast inn is more than giving Arborville a hotel of sorts. It’s a means of ministry. So thank you for staying here.”
Briley stared at the wheelchair-bound woman. Oddly, a comment Paul Aldrich had made weeks ago tiptoed through the back of Briley’s mind. Something about not being able to make the fish bite—you could only throw out the bait and wait. The cynical side of him tried to tell him she was toying with him. Misleading him. Even tricking him. But his deepest scrutiny uncovered not a shred of insincerity. Her honest admission impacted him deeply. Even so, he set his jaw to avoid clamping down on a dangling hook.
“Will you send us a copy of the article when it’s printed?” The older woman raised one gray eyebrow. “We don’t receive Chicago periodicals here in Arborville, you know.”
Briley h
oped they never saw the article. He needed a change of subjects, and he grasped the first question that entered his mind. “Why is this place called ‘Grace Notes’?”
Mrs. Zimmerman and Alexa exchanged fond smiles. Still holding her grandmother’s hand, Alexa answered. “First of all, God’s grace is a precious gift. I think grace is the purest form of mercy, offered even when it’s undeserved or rejected.” She spoke with a seriousness that captured Briley’s attention so thoroughly, he almost neglected to breathe. “We humans are so imperfect, and we mess up so many times—”
Mrs. Zimmerman released a throaty chuckle and nodded.
“But God continues to give us grace. So that’s part of it. The other part comes from one of my favorite verses. Zephaniah 3:17 tells me the Lord takes delight in me, and that in His love He rejoices over me with singing.” Tears winked in Alexa’s dark eyes, turning the irises a deep chocolate brown. “I wanted the name of the inn to honor God for what He does and what He gives. Grace Notes just seemed to …” She shrugged, a trickle of soft laughter leaving her throat. “Fit.”
The pancakes soured in his stomach. He pushed his plate aside. “Steven, are you ready to put me to work?”
Steven gave a jolt, as if he’d fallen asleep at the table. Red streaked his clean-shaven cheeks, and he jerkily pushed from his chair. “If you want to work today, I’m sure Mr. Aldrich and I will find something for you to do.”
Briley headed around the table, eager to escape the strange pressure in his chest. “Then let’s go.” Before he made it to the front door, Alexa’s soft voice brought him to a stop. He turned to find her near, his lunch box in hand.
“You’ll want this. Your last box lunch from Grace Notes.”
Did she have any idea how much her statement bothered him? He took the lunch box and gripped the handle so tightly the fibers dug into his palm.
“And I asked Grandmother about going to Wichita with you this evening. She approved it, so I’ll be ready at six thirty if you still want to go.”
Briley closed his eyes for a moment. What was wrong with him? He needed the evening with Alexa. Without the nitty-gritty details of her illegitimacy, he couldn’t finish the article. But he was sorely tempted to cancel. To forget the whole thing. Her simple statement—“grace is the purest form of mercy, offered even when it’s undeserved”—taunted him. They’d been kind to him. Opened their lives to him. Trusted him. And he intended to repay them by exposing their imperfections.
“Briley?”
He opened his eyes.
Amusement showed in the quirk of her lips. “If you changed your mind, it won’t hurt my feelings.”
If he didn’t change his mind, he’d definitely hurt her feelings. Hers, and Mrs. Z’s, and every other person in this town who’d made him feel welcome. He shook his head. “I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll ring the front bell at six thirty, like a true gentleman would do.” Even though he was no gentleman.
“All right.” She backed slowly toward the dining room, her smile sweet. “Enjoy your day.”
He headed onto the porch and turned his face toward the cool breeze washing from the north. He blew out a breath of aggravation. At himself. At her. At Len. At circumstances. He flicked a glance at the sky as he headed for his car. Would that grace Alexa talked about cover someone who deliberately hurt people who lived to serve God? Probably not. The realization made him sadder than he wanted to admit.
Steven
Friday morning Steven drove Anna—Grace to the hardware store in town to buy wallpapering tools before going to the house. Paul Aldrich had offered the use of his tools, claiming Alexa had borrowed them when working in the B and B, but Anna—Grace declined the offer. She gave the excuse that if she broke something, she’d feel guilty, but he suspected she just didn’t want to be beholden to the carpenter. He considered refusing to buy new. After all, she only intended to put up paper in the dining room and bathroom. They might never use those tools again. But twenty dollars was a small price to pay for her comfort.
As the cashier tallied up the purchases, the man said, “So you’ve got the walls all prepped for paper already, huh? I got a look at the place when we came out and repaired the barn. There was a lot of patching to do. You must be working nonstop to have them patched and primed so soon.”
Steven frowned. “Primed?”
He placed the trimmer and stiff brush inside the plastic water tray and slid it across the counter. “Well, sure. Wallpaper won’t stick to unpainted plaster. And it sure won’t stick wherever you’ve got Spackle. You have to prepare the walls with either paint or primer.”
Steven grimaced and looked at Anna—Grace. “I wish Mr. Aldrich had said something about primer.”
The cashier chuckled and scratched his chin. “He probably assumed you already knew. It’s pretty common knowledge.”
Gritting his teeth to hold back a growl, Steven cupped Anna—Grace’s elbow and led her to the corner of the store where a freestanding metal shelf held gallons of ready-mixed paint. He picked up a can of flat white primer and read the label. “This says a gallon will cover two hundred square feet. Do you remember how big the dining room is?”
She nodded. “Fourteen feet long by eleven feet wide.”
Steven tapped the can with one finger and muttered, “So twenty-eight and twenty-two equals fifty, times ten feet high comes out to five hundred square feet, which would mean two gallons plus two quarts of primer. But if we take away the door, the built-in cabinet, and window openings, two gallons should cover it all.” He reached for a second gallon and then turned to find Anna—Grace staring at him, open mouthed. “What?”
She released a short huff of laughter. “You’re so smart. I would never have figured that out in my head.”
He snorted. “Smart, huh? I didn’t even know we had to prime the walls first. ‘Common knowledge,’ the man said.” The embarrassment still stung.
“Common knowledge for a carpenter. Not for a farmer.”
Her words did little to comfort him. A teacher should know things that were considered common knowledge. “Let’s get this paid for.”
In the truck Anna—Grace reached across the console for his hand. He took it and she squeezed hard. “Thank you for buying everything. I know you think it was frivolous.”
He thought it more foolish and prideful than frivolous, but he didn’t say so.
“But it shouldn’t be wasteful. After all, we might decide to paper the other rooms someday. Or if we end up living somewhere else, we’ll have what we need to decorate those walls with paper if we want to. The tools will be used again someday, I’m sure.”
Steven eased the truck off the highway onto the gravel road. “Will it be hard for you to think of living somewhere else after putting work into this house?”
She sat in thoughtful silence for a few seconds. “Maybe. I don’t know. It was fun choosing the wallpaper and the paint colors, and the kitchen is so nice. I found myself imagining cooking in it. It felt … comfortable.”
He wished he could feel comfortable. Mrs. Zimmerman had told Briley that his time in Arborville gave the Mennonites a chance for self-reflection. She was right. Meeting the reporter from Chicago had brought him face to face with the root of his dissatisfaction. People outside of Old Order communities could choose whatever career they wanted. They had freedom where he had none. Spending time with Briley had only served to magnify Steven’s frustration.
He jammed on the brakes, nearly sending Anna—Grace into the windshield. He ignored her cry of surprise, slipped the gearshift into Park, and whirled on her. “I was thinking last night about the Zimmermans. They’ve rented my grandfather’s farmland for more than twenty years. Now that I’m here, they have to find land somewhere else to plant crops. It’s a hardship for them. I feel guilty taking the land away from them. Clete had already put in a winter wheat crop, and I’ve told him to plan to harvest it for himself. But if we aren’t going to stay here—if I’m going to sell the house and the land—it wo
uld probably be good for them to know soon. Before they find some other land to rent. They should have first chance at my acreage since they’ve put so much work into it.”
Anna—Grace gazed at him, her blue eyes wide. “Are you asking me to decide now whether or not I can live in Arborville?”
“I’m asking you to decide quickly. For the Zimmermans’ sake.” And for his sake, too.
She shook her head, the ribbons from her cap gently swaying beneath her chin. “I can’t, Steven. I haven’t even attended service with the local fellowship.”
If he told her they were taking farmland away from her biological uncle, aunts, and grandmother, would she make up her mind more quickly? He was twenty-three—the age when English students graduated from college and began their adult vocations. The impatience to do, as Andrew Braun had phrased it, what he was meant to do nearly turned him inside out. And if you’d just come right out and tell her you don’t want to live here, you could end this frustration now. His lips parted, the words ready to escape.
“I have to be sure, Steven, before I ask you to give up the land your parents gave you.”
Her simple statement sent his desires scuttling into the shadows. How could he have forgotten his parents? He couldn’t dishonor them by throwing their gift back in their faces.
She looked at him, confusion evident in the pinch of her brow. “I thought you were going to let me have time to decide. Do you really need to know right now?”
He hung his head. “No. Take the time you need. I’m sorry I pressured you.”
She leaned across the console and placed a kiss on his jaw. “It’s all right. I’m sorry things are so uncertain.” She smiled, her expression hopeful. “But one thing I know for sure—I love you, and I want to be your wife. Wherever we decide to live, I know I’ll be happy.”
When Grace Sings Page 27
