by Nancy Mehl
“I wasn’t sure you would welcome the news, Father. That’s why I spoke to Mother first.”
“So you crept into town like a thief?”
That did it. I stood up, pushing my chair back. “No, Father. You see, I’m not a thief, so there’s no reason for me to act like one—or feel like one. I’m more than willing to talk to you and to let you see Charity while I’m here, but only if you can refrain from threats and intimidation. I won’t put up with it anymore. The choice is yours.”
Ruth, who’d been standing off to the side, walked up next to me and took my hand. “I will not have anger or violence in my home, Elder Engel,” she said, addressing my father. “I do not mean to be disrespectful, but I will determine what is allowed in my house, not you.”
Father swung his menacing eyes toward the small woman who held my hand. Expecting him to unleash his full fury on her, I squeezed her hand tighter. But to my surprise, her words seemed to ease his rage.
“There will be no such actions today, Sister,” he said. “And I am no longer your elder, so you do not need to address me as such.”
Ruth bobbed her head slightly. “I understand the church procedures, but I will still show you the respect due your previous appointment until I deem it is no longer appropriate.”
His features softened further. “Thank you, Sister Ruth. I appreciate that.”
His eyes locked on mine. “Your mother informed me that a stranger has come into town who has ill intentions toward you. This matter has been turned over to the elder board, and the man will be dealt with. You have no more reason to fear him. I came here to tell you this. Now I will take my leave.”
I’d asked my mother to wait on approaching the elder board. Obviously she’d gone against my wishes. Apprehension filled me. I wasn’t convinced this was the way to handle things. Instead of helping me, the action could actually lead the man in the red cap right to my doorstep.
“Have they talked to him yet? I . . . I’m not sure this is what I want.”
He shrugged. “I have no idea, but the situation is now out of your hands. We have a responsibility to protect this town. It is distressing that one of our own put us in an unsafe position. I hope your rebellion against God will not cause further peril to our good citizens.”
I opened my mouth to fire back a sharp retort when suddenly Charity spoke up.
“Mama,” she said softly, “who is this man?”
I had a choice to make, and I had to make it quickly. Taking a deep breath, I said, “This is your grandfather, Cherry Bear.”
The uneasiness on her face melted. “My grandfather?”
I nodded.
She got down from her chair and scurried up to my startled father, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Do you know my grandma?” she asked him. “She’s a very nice lady who makes good cookies.”
I cocked my head to the side and stared at my father, challenging him to respond to his granddaughter. He stood there like a statue, his mouth quivering as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally Charity let him go and eased back toward her chair, looking quizzically at my father’s face. Then she turned toward me.
“Is Grandpa mad at us?” she asked.
I shrugged. Let him deal with his own attitude.
“I have said what I came to say,” he said in a low voice. “Now I will leave. Thank you for your hospitality, Sister Ruth.” With that, he whirled around and stomped out of the house.
Charity watched him walk out, confusion on her little face. I went to her and wrapped my arms around her. “Honey, Grandpa is mad at Mama, not you. You’re a wonderful little girl, and I don’t want you to feel bad. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
She squeezed my neck. “Why would anyone be mad at you, Mama? You’re the nicest person I know.”
I chuckled and hugged her tighter. Then I helped her back into her chair and slumped down in mine. I felt completely drained. Ruth silently warmed up my coffee. I could tell the confrontation with my father had disturbed her.
“I’m sorry, Ruth,” I said. “I had no idea he was coming over tonight.”
She shook her head. “It is not your fault, Lizzie. I must confess that I do not understand Matthew.” She put the coffeepot back on the stove and slowly took her seat. “He has not seen you in all these years, yet his heart appears to be just as hard as when you left.” She let out a long, slow sigh. “He has been instrumental in bringing strife into our church, and it worries me. I believe in being submissive to authority, but I cannot disagree with those who say change must occur. It is not an easy time for any of us.”
I took a sip of coffee and put my cup down. “It would be unfair for me to comment since I’m no longer a member of the church. But I could never understand why the Jesus in the Bible was so different from the Jesus my father presented to me. Jesus loved people, spent time with sinners, and forgave. My father used to tell me that Jesus was disappointed in me—and that He would punish my sin.” I shrugged and picked up my cup again. “I couldn’t live up to that kind of expectation, so I finally gave up. If Jesus is only looking for perfect people, I’m not his gal.”
Ruth reached over and put her age-spotted hand on mine. “Our Lord is not looking for perfection. He loves us with grace and mercy. These are not qualities you found in your father, I am afraid. Your father’s love has been conditional, based on your actions, but God’s love is not so. His love never changes. He accepts you unconditionally.”
I shook my head. “But He’s a holy God. Father says He cannot abide sin, and won’t commune with those who have sin in their hearts.”
“My dear girl, is Charity perfect? If she does something wrong, will you reject her?”
I felt tears spring to my eyes. “Of course not. I would never do that.”
“Why do you think your heavenly Father’s love is less than your own? He is love, liebling. Without Him, you would not know love at all. You are His beloved child, and He will never turn a deaf ear to you. Many people before us have fallen short of the mark. Adam, Eve, Cain, King David, even the apostle Peter. Where does it say in His word that He could no longer hear them? Where does it say He would not speak to them?”
I stared at her. “But . . . but I’ve always heard . . .”
Ruth chuckled softly. “I am afraid that we hear many things that are not true. You must learn to hear from God yourself, my Lizzie. Through His Word and through His Spirit. Then man will not be able to twist the truth and cause you pain.”
Ruth’s words struck deep in my heart as I thought about my love for Charity. Why was it hard for me to believe God could love me the way I loved my own child?
Charity, who’d been concentrating on eating the last of her dessert, noticed me looking at her. “Are you okay, Mama?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, Cherry Bear. I’m sorry about Grandpa. Did he scare you?”
She shook her head. “No, but I have a question.”
“And what is that?”
“Mama, is Grandpa your daddy?” Her frown made it clear she was still bewildered by the confrontation with my father.
“Yes, Cherry Bear. He’s my daddy.”
She pondered this for a moment. “Does he love you, Mama?” she asked slowly.
I wasn’t sure how to answer this question and hesitated. “I don’t know. I hope he does, but I’m not sure.”
“So some daddies don’t love their children?”
Oh boy. Where was this going? “I guess some of them don’t. But most of them do, sweetie.”
She blinked several times as she stared at The Princess, who sat on the table next to her. “My daddy doesn’t love me, does he?”
I looked at Ruth, whose eyes flushed with tears. I scooted up my chair next to Charity and put my arm around her. “If your daddy knew you, he would love you, honey. I’m sure of it.”
I wasn’t the least bit confident of that, but I couldn’t allow Clay’s selfishness to hurt my daughter. My half-truth seemed to work.
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“He would?” she responded, a small smile causing the corners of her small mouth to turn up.
I hugged her tightly. “Yes, he would.”
This seemed to mollify her. “Mama, I’m very tired. When are we going home?”
“We’ll leave in a few minutes. Why don’t you take The Princess into the living room and play with her there. I’ll say good-bye to Ruth, and then we’ll go . . . home.” It still felt odd to call our makeshift apartment over the restaurant “home,” but it was the closest thing to a home we had.
“Okay, Mama.” Charity grabbed her doll and skipped into the other room.
“Ach, liebling,” Ruth said, “I am so moved by your strength and courage. You have done such a wonderful job raising Charity. She is very blessed to have you for a mother.”
“I’m afraid I’m the one who’s blessed. But I dread the day I have to explain the truth to her about her father. What will she think of me?”
“She will know that in a world where babies are so casually torn out of their mother’s womb, a place that should be the safest place in the world for them, her mother bore her, took care of her, and loved her with a great and godly love.” Ruth’s voice caught, and she sobbed into her napkin.
I reached over and put my hand on her arm. “Ruth, that means more to me than I can say.”
She took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. “I know that boy and his family tried to get you to take the life of that precious baby, but you stood your ground, even though your father rejected you both.” She put her other hand over mine. “I am so proud of you, Lizzie. So very proud. I want you to know that. If you ever need anything, anything at all, I want you to come to me. Perhaps I can help to take the place of a father who should know better. Who should love better.”
Now it was my turn to get weepy. “Thank you, Ruth. You’ve always been such a good friend. I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”
“I wish I could ask you to live here with me,” the elderly woman continued, “but my small house only has one bedroom, and I am afraid you would not be comfortable. Nevertheless, anytime you need a place to go, you are always welcome. I have a couch and a cot that can be used as a bed.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you so much. For now, we’re quite comfortable at the restaurant. We have nice rooms, and Avery Menninger gave us some very fine furniture. Please don’t worry about us.”
“All right. But never forget my offer, liebling. It is good as long as I am alive.”
I thanked her again, and we went into the living room, where Charity was playing quietly on the couch.
“Are we going now, Mama?” she asked when we entered.
“Yes, Cherry Bear. Let’s get your coat on.”
She walked over to the chair where we’d put our outerwear when we came in, picking up her small coat and handing it to me. She held out her arms, and I helped her wiggle into it. Then I pulled her stocking cap over her dark curls and wrapped her scarf around her neck.
“You put your mittens on while I say good-bye to Ruth,” I said.
She nodded but grabbed my sleeve. “I hafta say good-bye to Ruth too. You go first, Mama.”
Ruth chuckled. “I am blessed to get two good-byes.”
I put my coat on and then hugged my old friend. “Thank you so much for the wonderful meal. Maybe next time you can come to our place.”
“Ach, I would love that, liebling. Thank you.”
Charity, now with her mittens on, waited patiently for me to finish with Ruth. Then she went up to the old Mennonite woman who bent down as far as her aged body allowed. My daughter wrapped her arms around Ruth’s waist. “Thank you very much for the good cheeseburgers,” she said solemnly. “And thank you for having a very nice potty.”
Ruth laughed jovially as she gave Charity a hug. “You are quite welcome, liebling. And I, too, am happy for a very nice potty.”
We left Ruth’s house with a promise to see her again soon. On the drive back to the restaurant, I turned the events of the evening over in my mind. I was thrilled to reestablish a relationship with Ruth, whose acceptance of me and my daughter meant more than words could express. And I’d made it past Charity’s questions about her father—for now. But the most significant incident was that I had confronted my father and refused to be bullied. And I had every intention of keeping it that way. For my sake and for my daughter’s.
However, I was still bothered about Father’s revelation concerning the man in the red cap. What would happen if the elders actually confronted him? Would he accuse me of thievery? Would the elders abandon me and Charity? One part of me felt angry with my mother for going against my wishes. Another part was hopeful that confrontation would drive the man away for good.
But the loudest voice in my head warned me that circumstances could be combining together to create an inescapable avalanche of disaster that could end up burying me alive.
CHAPTER / 12
Cora was right about Fridays being the busiest day in the restaurant. Weekends were seen as family time by the citizens of Kingdom, so Friday was the last chance to eat out for almost everyone except the single folks who liked to gather together on Saturday mornings. The day started off busy, and the pace kept up all the way through lunch. Cora warned me more than once that dinner would be a challenge, and I’d begun to worry. Would I be able to keep up? The last thing I wanted to do was to let Cora down.
Because of the increased business, she offered only four dinners on Fridays, which made things a little easier. The menu consisted of her famous meatloaf, roast beef with oven-browned potatoes, chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and of course her wonderful fried chicken dinner. The meatloaf and roast beef were cooked ahead of time and kept warm, but Cora had to fry the chicken and steak as it was being ordered. That meant she wouldn’t be able to help wait tables. I’d be on my own. By three o’clock I was already tired and fairly confident that by the time the restaurant closed, I’d be thoroughly exhausted.
Keeping up on orders and taking care of folks in the restaurant helped to keep my mind occupied, yet a cloak of fear enveloped me the entire time. Where was the man in the red cap? Would he suddenly burst in and have me arrested? Accuse me of stealing money from my employer while all our customers looked on? Would he bring the elders with him, all of them convinced I was guilty?
Besides the apprehension that clutched at my heart, I was also filled with an overwhelming sadness. Though we’d been in Kingdom less than a week, it was beginning to feel like home. Strange, because when I’d left five years ago, it hadn’t felt like that at all. To say I was surprised by my reaction was an understatement. If given the chance, could we actually be happy here? Even with my father’s rejection?
Ebbie Miller came in for a late lunch, and we talked some. He was as concerned as everyone else about the church, but he was convinced that prayer was the most important tool in bringing peace.
“I’m uncomfortable with the resentment I see building between brothers and sisters in the Lord,” he said softly. “How can Christ be honored through it?” I could see the pain in his dark brown eyes. “I appreciate the mediators who are trying to establish a dialogue and work this out, but I’m convinced my place is one of prayer. God can do what man cannot.”
Although I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, I walked away thinking what a nice man he was. Maybe an arranged marriage with Hope would work after all. I certainly wasn’t any expert on wedded bliss, so I intended to keep my opinion to myself. Watching their relationship evolve should prove to be very interesting. For Hope and Ebbie’s sakes, I prayed it would work. However, it would take something a step beyond an orchestrated marriage to bring me a husband. Especially in Kingdom. No man in this town would ever be interested in damaged goods. Noah’s face floated unbidden into my mind, and I pushed it quickly away.
A little after three thirty, Mother walked in the door. I motioned toward an empty table, where she took a seat. I went to get a pot of coffee and to warm up s
ome leftover coffeecake from breakfast. Mother loved the desserts at Cora’s, and it tickled me to share them with her. Partially because of the knowledge that my father would be upset to learn she was enjoying something he didn’t allow.
“Are you angry with me?” Mother asked as I put our food on the table.
“I’m not really angry,” I said, “but I wish you’d held off until I was sure that was the right thing to do.” I poured coffee into both our cups and sat down.
She sighed as she reached for her cup. “I did not mean to speak to your father about your situation, but he could tell I was upset and insisted that I explain why.”
“Just because he insists doesn’t mean he always has to get his way, you know.”
She gazed at me, a frown deepening the fine lines around her eyes. “I know that, Daughter. But I felt he would do the right thing. And I believe he did.”
As I reached for my napkin, I could see my hand shake. “So . . . did the elders find the guy? Did they speak to him?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I do not know, but they did go to look for him. Your father was gone for quite a while last night. I believe he may have driven to Washington to see if the man was staying in a local motel.”
“He rode there in this weather? In the snow?”
Mother silently prayed over her food while I waited for her answer. I couldn’t see my father putting out much effort for me. Especially when the roads were so bad.
“Yes,” she said when she lifted her head. “He came back very late, and I did not have a chance to ask him about his journey before he left this morning. He had to shoe two of Aaron Metcalf’s horses. I stopped by the shop before coming here, but he was not there.”
I quietly sipped my coffee, trying to quell the queasy feeling in my stomach. Had Father confronted my stalker? What would happen now?
