by Nancy Mehl
A grin erupted on Ida’s face, and we soon found ourselves wiping away tears of laughter instead of sorrow.
“My goodness,” she said once she managed to stop. “What joy you’ve brought to my home today. I am so grateful and happy I read Essie’s letter with you. It made it even more special.”
“She always loved you, Ida.” I followed that statement with a rather loud, high-pitched hiccup.
Ida chuckled. “I think it is time for something to drink, ja? Coffee or lemonade?”
“Lemonade, please.” I tried to stop the next hiccup before it got past my lips. My attempt only made it worse, culminating in a sound that was a cross between a hiccup and a squealing pig.
Ida hurried off to the kitchen, probably afraid I might actually implode before her eyes. She was back almost immediately with a tall, cold glass of homemade lemonade. I swallowed half the glassful in only a few seconds. When I pulled the rim away from my mouth, we both waited in anticipation. Thankfully, my embarrassing bout was gone. Peace reigned once again in my body.
“I–I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess laughing and crying at the same time makes me hiccup. I have no idea why I can’t hiccup like a normal human being. It’s humiliating.”
Ida’s eyes filled with tears once again even though she smiled. “Your grandmother sounded exactly like that. I used to tease her about it unmercifully.”
“You’re right. I’d forgotten.” Sometimes at family gatherings, my father and grandfather would purposely pester my grandmother until she got the hiccups. She would scold them for it, but somehow it just made the situation funnier. Mama Essie had a way of wrinkling her nose when she was amused that reminded me of a young girl. I fought against the emotions the memory brought. There had been enough crying for one afternoon.
“You know,” Ida said in a dreamy voice, staring out the nearby window. “Growing up Mennonite wasn’t bad at all. Oh, there were challenges as a young girl, but the positive things always outweighed the negative.”
“Tell me about it, please. My father never talked much about his childhood.”
“Well, school was the hardest. I grew up in Pennsylvania. We moved to Harmony when I was ten. In Pennsylvania we had our own community school. But when we moved here, I had to go to regular school in Sunrise, a town about ten miles from here. That was hard. We looked different than the other children. And we weren’t allowed to participate when they stood for the Pledge of Allegiance.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, frowning. “What’s wrong with the Pledge?”
“We were taught that our allegiance was only to God and His kingdom. Not to any government.”
“Oh. Did the other kids tease you?”
She nodded. “And not just about that. The way we dressed, the way we wore our hair, and the buggies we rode to school in. There was always something, it seemed. As a child, your heart cry is to fit in. Yet we never did.”
“Do those memories make you sad?”
Ida smiled. “No, child. When I was young, it seemed as if my life was very hard. But now, I’m grateful. I would not want it any other way. Being raised the way I was taught me what is really important in this life. Goodness, God has blessed me so much. I could never repay His kindnesses to me. Why, look at the blessing He has given me through you. I know we are going to be very great friends.”
I started to remind her that I wouldn’t be here long, but I couldn’t get the words out. Of course, driving to Harmony for weekend visits wasn’t impossible. This town had grabbed a piece of my heart, and I knew I’d have to return whenever I could.
We sipped our lemonade in satisfied silence. I could look out Ida’s front window and see Benjamin’s house. The sight of the silent, deserted structure reminded me of a question I wanted to ask her.
“Ida, did you happen to notice any cars at Benjamin’s house on Saturday?”
“Let’s see.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I did see one automobile there. I can’t quite remember what time it was.”
“Do you know who it belonged to?”
“Why, certainly. It was Sam’s.”
Disappointment must have shown in my face, because Ida frowned and reached for my hand. “I’m sorry, my dear. That doesn’t seem to be the answer you were looking for. Were you hoping I had seen someone else?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not important.” I had no intention of telling her about the vase. I felt certain she would believe in my innocence, but I didn’t want her to worry about me.
I heard the rumble of Sam’s truck on the dirt path that led to Ida’s house. The old woman rose to her feet.
“Sounds like I need to cut some pieces of pie,” she said happily. “It is so nice to have company. I—I certainly wish you lived here, Gracie. It would be wonderful to have you close.” With that, she headed toward the kitchen.
“Let me help you,” I called after her.
She turned around and smiled. “Not necessary, child. You stay there and let Sam in, ja? I’ll be back lickety-split.”
I got up and opened the front door. Sam came bounding up the steps. “Hey, there,” he said when he saw me. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was still damp and he’d changed into a clean shirt.
“Hey, yourself. I hate to tell you this, but Ida and I ate all the pie.”
He stopped cold and gaped at me. “I hope you’re kidding...”
I tried to keep a straight face but found it impossible. His shocked expression made me laugh.
“You are in so much trouble.” He flashed me a crooked grin. “I will get you. Somehow. Someway. Somewhere.”
“Wow, watch out. I’m shaking.” I opened the screen door for him, and he stepped inside. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me in a big hug. He smelled of bath soap and cologne. Startled, I pushed him away. He stepped back quickly and tried to smile, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.
“Sorry. I’m just glad to see you.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that. You—you just surprised me.”
“Forget it,” he said brusquely. “I understand.”
He walked away from me before I could say anything else. Regret coursed through me. He’d obviously showered and dressed for me. And in his mind, I’d just rejected him. I chided myself for shoving him away. Why had I reacted that way? For some reason, an uncomfortable tension grew inside me that had nothing to do with Jacob Glick or the stolen vase. There was a war waging in my soul. A war I couldn’t afford to acknowledge.
I sat down in Ida’s chair and listened to Sam and Ida teasing each other in the kitchen. They had a wonderful friendship based on mutual trust and admiration. I wasn’t sure I had that in my life. I had friends, sure, but after spending a few days in Harmony, they were beginning to look more like acquaintances. Maybe it had to do with living in a small town. Whatever it was, I couldn’t seem to put my finger on the difference.
“Here we are,” Ida called out. Sam followed behind her, carrying a tray with three plates of pie and three cups of coffee. Ida wrinkled her nose and laughed. “I told this man I could carry that tray by myself, but he would not let me do it. Thinks I am an old lady, I guess.”
“That’s not it,” Sam said, winking at me. “I just need the exercise so I can keep up with you.”
I smiled at him. Thankfully, the friction between us seemed to have disappeared. Ida moved the flowers off the table next to the couch and pulled it over so it sat between us. Sam put the tray on top of it while Ida carried the vase over to a long table against the wall.
“Did you see the flowers Gracie brought me?” she asked Sam.
“They’re beautiful,” he said, smiling.
She fingered them for a moment and then leaned over to smell them. When she turned around, her eyes were moist. “They remind me so much of Herman. Thank you again, Gracie.”
“I’ll bring you flowers after Grace leaves,” Sam said. “Wish I’d thought of it myself.”
&
nbsp; Ida tottered back over to the couch. “Pshaw. Men don’t understand flowers. Women do though. And my Herman.” She reached over and tousled Sam’s hair. “You show your concern every time you drop by to see if I need anything. And when you fix things that are broken.” She looked at me. “This man completely replaced my roof when it got weak and water began to leak in. He also built new back steps and fixed Zebediah’s barn when it started to rot. I could not ask for a better neighbor.”
“Oh hush,” Sam said good-naturedly. “You know I only do those things so you’ll feed me.”
Ida chuckled as she took the pie plates and coffee off the tray. She handed me the tray, and I set it down next to my chair.
“This table is not very big, but it will hold our pie,” she said. “Now before we eat, will you say grace, Sam?”
We bowed our heads while Sam prayed over the food and asked God’s blessings on his friend. We all said, “Amen,” and dug into our yummy-looking dessert. It was topped with a rich whipped cream, and the strawberries were encased in a flavorful gelatin. All this was supported by a flaky piecrust that practically melted in my mouth.
“This is delicious,” I said after taking my first bite. “My goodness, you definitely would give my grandmother a run for her money.”
“I almost forgot,” Sam said after swallowing a big bite of pie. “Did you read the letter?”
“Yes, we did,” I said. “It was wonderful. We both cried, and I got the hiccups.”
Sam laughed. “Oh, great. Don’t show it to me. I don’t want to cry, and people laugh when I hiccup. I make this strange squeaky sound. Can’t control it.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said. “I’ll try to keep you happy.”
Sam gave me a strange look and shoved another piece of pie in his mouth.
“You two young people talk like you have known each other all your lives,” Ida chirped. “Gracie, didn’t you just arrive here on Friday?”
I nodded. “Yes, I did. But for some reason, it seems like a lifetime ago.”
Ida raised her eyebrows. “My goodness, are we so boring?”
“No, not at all.” I sneaked a quick look at Sam who returned my gaze with an overly innocent look. “I—I guess it’s just that I’ve been learning so much about the town and its people. And about my family. Things I never knew.”
“I understand that.” Ida sat her plate down and picked up her cup. “There is a lot of history in Harmony. Many people have come and gone. In fact, few people are left from Bishop Angstadt’s days. Most of the old folks have passed—and the young ones have moved away. Only a handful of us left. But the town has changed. People stay now. Things are better. More peaceful.”
I was certain she believed what she said, but I knew Harmony still had ghosts. Ghosts that needed to be exorcised. “Abel told me he has diaries and memoirs left behind by past residents. He seems to be an expert on Harmony history.”
An odd look crossed Ida’s face. “Well, he does have some information, but...”
“But there’s nothing like actually being there?” Sam finished for her.
Ida sat her cup down and folded her hands. “People only write down what they want people to know in their memoirs. They tend to leave out the unpleasantness—especially their own failures and disappointments.” She smiled at us. “Now mind you, I am not saying Abel is misrepresenting anything, but he just has written words. He cannot see the hearts behind the words.”
“You’re probably the best source of information in town,” Sam said. “People should come to you when they want to research Harmony’s past.”
“Well, I do not know about that, but folks have come around from time to time to ask about past incidents and residents.”
I caught Sam’s eye, and he gave me a little nod.
“Ida,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, “do you remember a man named Jacob Glick?”
She frowned at me. “Jacob Glick? Now why would you ask me about him?”
“I—I ran across his name somewhere. Seems like an interesting man.”
The old woman grunted. “Interesting? About as interesting as a snake in the grass.” She screwed up her face in a grimace. “The bishop’s sidekick, that’s what he was. But there was no pretense of godliness in that man. Evil intentions. Evil thoughts.” She shook her head. “Herman and I kept our eyes on him. We were determined to keep him away from the young women in our town. Herman confronted him more than once, but Jacob slithered back to the bishop who always protected him.”
“That must have been frustrating,” Sam said. “Why did you and Herman stay here? Why didn’t you leave?”
“Because she felt she had to protect people,” I said softly. “Just like she’s trying to protect Sarah now.”
Ida’s head bobbed up and down. “Ja, ja, that’s one reason. But we also felt Harmony needed us.” She stared past us. “You know,” she said dreamily, “too many people are looking for a place where they feel comfortable. But life is not just about comfort. It is about being in a place where you are needed. Comfortable or not, we all have a special place where God wants to use us. A place where someone is waiting just for us. I belong to Harmony. I belong to the people He sends to me. I may not know why—but I know it’s important to His plan.” She refocused her attention to us. “And I intend to be in the center of His will. That is my calling, you see. Even if He only has me here for one person—it is His plan, not mine that counts.”
Sam nodded as though he understood. I just shook my head. I also believed God had a plan for everyone’s life, but I had no idea what mine was. Sometimes I worried that I’d completely missed it. Maybe I was so far off track I’d never find my way to that place Ida talked about.
“I—I suppose other people felt the same way about Glick that you did,” I said, trying to shift the conversation back to the dead man buried on Benjamin’s property. “I mean, he had enemies, right?”
“Oh my, yes. Most of the parents who had young girls. And to be honest, even though Bishop Angstadt protected Jacob, I got the feeling he did not like him any better than the rest of us. He certainly seemed relieved when he left town.”
“What made Glick leave?” Sam asked.
“It was strange timing,” Ida said slowly. “The last time I laid eyes on the man, he looked like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary. Happy as a lark. Never could figure out why.”
“I’ll bet a lot of people were happy to see him go,” I said. Sam and I had hoped Ida would point to someone who specifically wanted Glick gone. But it seemed that everyone in Harmony wanted him out of town. This wasn’t getting us anywhere.
Ida rose to her feet. “More coffee?”
“Sounds great,” Sam said.
“Let me help you with that.” I started to get up when she waved her hand at me.
“You two sit still.” She picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen. “I’m not so old I cannot fetch three cups of coffee.”
As she toddled away, she mumbled something that I couldn’t completely understand. But before she got much farther, a couple of the words brought me to full alert.
“Ida,” I said, a little louder than I meant to. “What did you just say?”
Sam shot me a concerned look, but I held my finger to my lips, signaling to him to be quiet.
Ida stopped and turned around. “I am sorry, dear. It is nothing. I—I just said that it is odd so many people are interested in that terrible Jacob Glick.”
Sam got to his feet and crossed over to where the elderly woman stood, still holding the tray. He gently took it from her. “What do you mean? What people?”
Ida looked back and forth between Sam and me, a look of confusion on her face. “I guess I should not have said people. Just one person who asked me all kinds of questions about Jacob. I had almost forgotten about it. It was awhile ago.”
“And who was that?” I asked.
“Why, it was John Keystone, the butcher. He visited me not long after he moved to Ha
rmony. Wanted to know about the early days of our little town, but our conversation kept angling back to Jacob Glick. I found it odd at the time. He said he was doing some kind of family research.” She shrugged and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sam and I to stare at each other with our mouths hanging open.
Chapter Sixteen
“Sure didn’t expect that,” Sam said after we climbed into his truck and waved good-bye to Ida.
