by Nancy Mehl
I nodded. “Did . . . did I yell?”
“I wouldn’t call it yelling. More like a bloodcurdling scream. Almost scared me to death.” He pushed past me, looking over the room. “I thought you were being murdered.”
I lowered myself down onto the couch, my body still trembling. “No. Just another dream about my brother.” I pushed the hair out of my face. “Do you think Esther heard me?”
“I doubt it. I noticed she wears a hearing aid. Besides, I believe she’s sleeping. I went down a few minutes ago to get some lemonade, and she wasn’t around. The door to her room was closed.”
“Good.”
Zac studied me carefully. “You didn’t tell me these dreams of yours were so scary.”
I shrugged. “Sometimes they’re not. But there have been some doozies. This was one of them.”
“I’m sorry, Wynter. I really am.” He started to leave but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “You’re not alone, you know. Thanks for telling me the truth about Ryan. You won’t be sorry. I intend to do everything I can to help you.”
“Thank you, Zac.”
I locked the door behind him, though I wasn’t certain why. The dream made me feel weak and frightened. I checked the time. Thirty minutes until dinner. I grabbed some fresh clothes and hurried to the bathroom. A short, cool shower helped. I dried my hair and quickly braided it. By the time I left the bathroom, I felt a lot better. After putting my dirty clothes back in my room, I hurried out to the hall and found Zac waiting for me. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were greeted by the aroma of something wonderful. My stomach churned with anticipation.
“Oh no,” Zac mumbled. “Here we go again.”
As we entered the dining room, we found Reuben already waiting.
“Good evening,” he said with a smile. “Hope you’re hungry. Esther’s been cooking up a storm.”
His rugged good looks were accented by a black sweater and jeans. My breath caught when I saw him. I tried to cover up my reaction by coughing lightly.
“I wasn’t hungry until I smelled dinner cooking,” Zac said. “What are we having?”
Reuben shook his head. “A Mennonite dish, Zac. Not sure you’ll like it.”
Zac plopped down at the table. “Since we got here, I’ve eaten enough for four people. And liked every single thing.”
Esther came into the room carrying a plate. “Reuben King, just what are you telling Zac? Shame on you.” She sat the dish down on the table. “We’re having fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Nothing to fear.”
Zac grinned. “I’m not afraid of your food, Esther. My only fear is not being able to get into my clothes. Usually I don’t eat much. Fruit, yogurt, granola bars—whatever’s handy.” He let out a long sigh. “When I get home, I may have to learn to cook. Don’t think I can go back to the way things were.”
I patted him on the back. “Women love a man who can cook. You’ll be a catch.”
Zac frowned. “I’ll have you know I don’t have any problem getting dates. So far, no one’s questioned my culinary skills.”
I laughed. “Esther, let me help you.”
“Thank you, Wynter,” she said with a smile. “If you would carry in a few things, I would appreciate it.”
“I’ll help too,” Reuben said, standing to his feet.
Esther waved her hand at him. “You sit down. Wynter and I can get it.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, and I followed her into the kitchen. For someone who lived a simple life, Esther’s kitchen was pretty modern, except for the old gas stove across from the kitchen sink. I’d seen pictures of those ancient appliances. Huge, with two doors below and a large cooktop. Esther caught me looking at it.
“That stove belonged to my grandmother, and then my mother. Now it’s mine.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t use anything else. In my opinion it does a much better job than any modern appliance available today.”
“I believe it. You know, my mom used to be a good cook too.”
Esther put a large platter of fried chicken into my hands. “Did you tell me she’d passed?”
“No. She’s still alive. She just doesn’t cook much anymore.”
“Oh?”
Esther studied my face as if waiting for an explanation. I couldn’t come up with anything except a lie—or the truth—and I wasn’t willing to share either.
“I-I’ll take this in and come back,” I said quickly. When I walked into the dining room, Reuben jumped up and took the huge platter from my hands and set it on the table. “I’ll be back,” I said. When I whirled around, I almost knocked Esther down.
“Just a couple more things,” Esther said, “and we’ll be ready to eat.”
“Are you sure Zac and I can’t help?” Reuben asked.
Esther smiled at him. “Thank you, Reuben, but we’re fine. Maybe you and Zac can clear the table later.” She sat a big bowl of mashed potatoes down on the corner of the table. “You know, I was taught that women should serve the meals without help from the men.”
“Do you still believe that?” I asked, slightly horrified by her statement.
She shook her head. “No, but I love preparing and serving food for my friends. I have more trouble with some of the other traditions that were taught to me as a child.”
“Like what?” Zac asked.
“Like excommunicating members of the church for disobedience.”
“I thought Mennonites didn’t shun people,” I said.
“We don’t,” Esther answered. “Shunning means a member is not only expelled from church but also rejected by his family and friends. Mennonites don’t do that, but the church used to be harsher when I was young. Now we try to work with members who are struggling. And we pray.” She shook her head. “I have to be careful though. Some of those old judgments find their way into my mind sometimes. I fight them, because more than anything, I want to please God. I know now that God desires mercy and not judgment, so I try hard to be merciful. Some of my friends have a tougher time changing their old habits. They stay in comfortable patterns instilled in them many years ago. But I want God to challenge me. To reveal truth to me. The more I seek His wisdom, the more I know Him. And to me, knowing Him is everything.”
Her voice softened to a whisper by the end of her statement, and I found myself both touched and bothered by her words. I remembered being passionate about God when I was young, but it had been a long time since I’d felt that kind of devotion. Ever since Ryan was abducted.
Esther and I went back to the kitchen and retrieved two more dishes. Then we joined Zac and Reuben at the table.
“Reuben, will you say grace?” Esther asked.
He nodded and bowed his head. Zac and I did the same. While Reuben prayed, I opened one eye and snuck a peek at Zac. This time he actually had his eyes closed and his head bowed. Was this town getting to him too?
After Reuben said, “Amen,” we began to help ourselves to the wonderful dinner Esther had prepared. The fried chicken almost melted in my mouth, and the mashed potatoes were rich with butter and cream. Zac, who’d been complaining about eating too much, had three helpings of everything.
Reuben was telling us about some of the people he’d lined up to speak to us when I asked whether Elijah’s parents had okayed his interview.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but Elijah and his family are gone.”
I dropped my fork, and it clanged against my plate. “What? What do you mean gone?” I couldn’t keep a note of hysteria out of my voice.
His eyes widened with surprise. “I mean they left town for a while.”
“Do you know where they went?”
Reuben put his fork down and stared at me. “Wynter, why are this boy and his family so important to you? Ever since you got to town, you keep bringing them up. We have several other people who’ve agreed to be part of your feature. Why does Elijah matter so much?”
“He . . . he doesn’t. I just wanted an interview with someone more
conservative. I thought a young person’s point of view would be interesting.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not stupid, you know. You’re not being completely honest with me. I’ve felt it ever since you arrived in Sanctuary. If you won’t tell me the truth, I don’t think I can help you anymore. It’s not that I think you mean us any harm, but until I understand your hidden agenda, I can’t take any chances.”
Zac caught my eye and gave me a warning look. My out-of-control emotions were going to cost me everything if I didn’t rein them in. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.
“I’m sorry, Reuben. We’re here for a limited time, and this feature is really important to my career. So far, we don’t have anything on tape.”
“Important to your career?” he said. “What do you mean?”
I told him about the new station owners and how I might be in line for the anchor chair. “You see, if this doesn’t go well, it could cost me a promotion that means a lot to my future.” As I talked, I assuaged my guilty conscience by reminding myself that everything I was saying was true, even if it wasn’t the complete story. I was relieved to see the tension in Reuben’s face lessen.
“Thank you for being honest with me. You know, there’s nothing wrong with ambition—as long as it’s kept in perspective and your priorities are in order. But using other people to get ahead is wrong.”
“I know that. I promised we wouldn’t jeopardize anyone in Sanctuary. Nothing’s changed.”
“Reuben King, you need to trust this young woman,” Esther said firmly. “And no more arguing at the table. Josiah and I had a firm rule: Manners were required during meals. He’s been gone almost thirty years now, but I swear I can still hear his voice sometimes.” She blushed and shook her head. “You probably think that’s silly. The fancies of an old woman.”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “The people we love never really leave us.”
“You know, Wynter,” Esther said slowly, “I realize I’m not young, but I’ll let you interview me if it would help.”
“Wouldn’t that get you in trouble with the people in your church?”
Esther chuckled. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bent the rules, and it won’t be the last. I’ll run it by our pastor, but I don’t think he’ll mind. He’s a lot more progressive than people give him credit for.”
“Thank you, Esther. That would be wonderful. And we can always blur your face if it helps.”
She smiled. “I don’t know how much it would help me, but it might make your viewers happier.”
We all laughed at her self-deprecating humor.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Reuben asked. “I know you don’t like TV.”
While Esther and Reuben discussed the merits and downfalls of television, I tried to listen, but the knowledge that Elijah was gone had shaken me to the core. How would I find the truth if he wasn’t here? Why had the Fishers left? Were they hiding something? Were they trying to keep Elijah away from me?
The television debate continued through the meal and into dessert. Over coffee Reuben brought up some interviews he’d arranged. He mentioned several names I didn’t know, and a few I did. I was happy to hear that Martha was still willing to talk to us. And Jonathon Wiese, the pastor of Agape Fellowship, had agreed to be on camera as well.
“What about Rae—what was her name? Buettner?” I asked. “Might be interesting to have her input as an outsider.”
“She’s not an outsider,” Esther said. “She’s one of us.”
“I meant that she doesn’t go to church. Since this is such a religious town, I thought maybe talking to someone who doesn’t fit the mold might add another perspective. Besides, she’s certainly colorful.”
“I can tell you right now that Rae won’t do it,” Reuben said. “She’s a very private person. I once wrote an article for the paper in Fredericktown about how she saved my dog. Thankfully, I showed it to her before I mailed it. I thought she was going to have a stroke. Refused to let me send it.”
“She saved your dog?” I asked. “How did that happen?”
“A couple of years ago, Abner Ingalls, who runs the hardware store next to Randi’s café, was visiting family in Bonne Terre. They were at a local park, fishing and cooking out, when they saw someone throw a bag into the lake. Abner heard a sound coming from the bag and ran over to where it had been tossed. He dove in, found the bag, which was already under water, and swam to shore. Inside was a small golden Lab puppy, almost dead. He got the puppy breathing and brought it back to Sanctuary so Rae could take a look at it. She X-rayed the puppy and actually found a bullet in his chest.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I said, unable to stop the tears that sprang into my eyes. “Who in the world would do something like that?”
Reuben shook his head. “I can’t explain it, Wynter. Some people have ways of looking at things that I can’t begin to understand. Anyway, Rae operated on the puppy, removed the bullet, and treated him. Then she called me. I’d just lost my old black Lab, Buford. At first I said no, but Rae brought the puppy over and sat it down in front of me. ‘This dog needs a home, Reuben King,’ she said, ‘and you need a dog. That’s all there is to it.’ Then she walked away and that was that. I named him Lazarus—”
“Because he was raised from the dead,” I finished for him. “Great story.”
“Yeah, I thought so, but like I said, Rae wouldn’t let me tell it. She does so many good things, but she shuns attention and thanks.”
“Sounds like a humble person,” Zac said.
Reuben laughed. “Maybe. But when it comes to her work, she doesn’t have much humility. Martha’s son, Fred, took his cat, Gabe, to a vet in Cape Girardeau when they were on vacation, and Rae had a fit. Told him he should have brought Gabe back to Sanctuary so she could treat him. Rae thinks our animals belong to her—and to her alone.”
“Sounds committed.”
Reuben grinned. “She is. I’m afraid to take Lazarus anywhere else. And I mean that literally.”
“Okay, I won’t ask her,” I said. “Thanks to you and Esther, we have plenty of people to interview. But I would still like to have a young conservative Mennonite person to talk to. Off camera is fine. If you think of anyone else, let me know.”
Reuben’s eyebrows met together in a deep frown. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that. You’re not doing an exposé, Wynter. From what you told me, this is supposed to be an informational piece. So why is it important to interview someone like Elijah? Are you trying to find something negative? If so, you won’t find that here. No one lives in Sanctuary because they have to.”
“It’s not that. I just wanted this to be something more than a puff piece.”
“But that’s what it is, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t answer his question because he was right. Thankfully, Zac took up the slack and saved me from having to cover my true intentions.
“Why did the Fishers leave town?” Zac asked. “Was it because we wanted to talk to their son?”
Reuben shook his head. “No, not at all. Nathan has a brother who lives outside of Fredericktown. He goes there frequently to help him with his farm. His brother, Samuel, does the same for Nathan.”
We finished dinner, Reuben left, and Zac and I headed upstairs. As I lay in bed, Clyde cuddled up next to me while I stared at the ceiling and wondered about Elijah’s departure. Were the Fishers really at Samuel’s, or were they in hiding? I tossed and turned for a while before falling into a troubled sleep.
Chapter
Eleven
The next morning, Zac made it through the entire church service without any outward signs of trauma. He stood off to the side and filmed Jonathon as he preached. We had gotten permission to film, but the elders and Jonathon had requested that we try not to disrupt the service. Zac did a great job. I doubted that most of the people in the sanctuary even noticed him.
The praise service was enthusiastic and moving. We sang songs t
hat were new to me, but there was something about them that felt personal, as if those singing them really knew God. I glanced at Zac a couple of times, and although he remained stoic, it was obvious from his expression the worship touched him.
For a young man, Jonathon exhibited a confident presence in the pulpit. I noticed that some of the women in the church seemed to be interested in more than just the sermon. Jonathon had startling blue eyes and thick black hair that framed an interesting face. His looks weren’t cookie-cutter handsome, but he was certainly appealing.
The sermon focused on Philippians chapter three, verses thirteen and fourteen. Jonathon encouraged his parishioners to follow the apostle Paul’s commitment to forget the past and concentrate on the future.
“Too many people are changed by one or two events in their lives. Something that colors their perceptions and alters the course of their existence on this earth. Usually the event is traumatic, something painful. But our lives are made up of many moments—good and bad. One incident should never define us, because God has already defined us. He calls us His beloved children. Victors—not victims. He calls us overcomers not overcome. We are new creations.”
I felt like God was speaking directly to me. I thought about the changes that occurred in my family after Ryan went missing. All of us were altered by his disappearance. Not only in our emotions, but also in the way we reacted to one another. I couldn’t help but wonder why we hadn’t pulled together instead of allowing ourselves to be torn apart. What was it in us that had driven us to become weaker instead of stronger?
Jonathon went on to say that no one ever won a race by running backward. Instead, we need to keep our eyes forward if we ever hope to find the destiny that God has for us. His words struck a chord in me, and I knew I would remember them for a long time.
Outside the church, I talked to several people about Sanctuary and actually interviewed a couple of them for our report. Jonathon was happy to talk to us and was very articulate about the town’s strong spiritual foundation.
After a quick lunch at Esther’s, Zac and I took off. Before we left, I made a phone call I didn’t want to make. I needed help and there was only one person I knew who might be able to provide it. Jonathon’s sermon had given me the courage I needed to take a step of faith.
