by Nancy Mehl
I smiled warmly at her. “I would love that, Mary.”
“You can call me in a couple of days and let me know what night would work for you.” The coffeeless Harold loudly cleared his throat. “Knock it off, Harold,” Mary hollered. “Or I’ll pour that coffee in a place you won’t appreciate.”
Her comment brought another guffaw from Harold. She winked at me and took off toward the kitchen. She’d just disappeared through the swinging door when Sam reappeared at the table.
“He says he’ll be fine, but I gave him my number and told him to call me anytime I can help.” He scooted back into the booth and picked up his fork again.
“I hope he’s right. There’s something about Rand that bothers me. His daughter doesn’t look well cared for. And she always seems a little…I don’t know, frightened. I hope he’s not abusing her.”
Sam stopped cutting his steak and frowned at me. “Believe me, Gracie, if something like that was going on, someone here would have noticed it. Jessica and Thelma attend Abel’s church.
And Jessica goes to school in Sunrise. If there were bruises or anything…”
“If they’re where they can be seen.” I noticed Sam’s startled look. “I had a friend in school once whose dad beat her. No one knew about it until one day in gym class. When she undressed for the showers… Well, it was obvious something was horribly wrong. The gym teacher immediately notified the principal, and he called in the authorities.”
“That must have been awful for that girl.”
I nodded. “It was. But things turned out for the best. After it was discovered that her mother knew about the beatings and did nothing to help, Caroline was put into foster care. She got placed with a wonderful family who loved her and eventually adopted her. She went to college and married a super Christian man. They just had a baby.”
“You stay in touch with her?”
“Yes. We call each other several times a year. She lives in Michigan.”
“That’s great, but I really don’t think Jessica’s being abused.”
“You know some abuse isn’t physical, right?” I said.
Sam chewed another bite of steak but didn’t say anything. He seemed focused on his food.
“I mean, someone like Rand could easily be verbally abusing his wife and daughter. That would explain Jessica’s demeanor. The only time I’ve seen her smile is when she’s around Hannah Mueller and their friend Leah.”
He nodded at me but appeared to be thinking more about his steak than about what I was saying.
“Sam, did you hear me? Maybe Rand is…”
The front door of the restaurant blew open. I’d been watching the skies darken and could tell the wind was picking up by the amount of dust swirling around in the street. Abel Mueller struggled to close the door with one hand while holding on to his hat with the other. Harold jumped up to help him. Together they pushed the door shut.
I started to call out a greeting when I noticed Abel’s expression. In the seven months I’d known him, I’d never seen him look so upset. He glanced quickly around the room until his gaze settled on me. The way he looked at me sent a shiver down my spine. By now, Sam had also noticed Abel. He looked back and forth between us a couple of times. Finally, he waved Abel over to our booth. After hesitating a moment, the Mennonite pastor walked slowly toward us.
“Hey, Abel,” Sam said when the big man came up next to us, “what’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Is everyone all right?” I couldn’t control the way my voice trembled. “I just saw Ida…”
“No. No, Gracie. I’m sorry. As far as I know, everyone’s fine.” He took off his wide-brimmed black hat and held it in front of him. His eyebrows knit together in a frown. “I—I know this is going to sound odd, but I need to talk to you.” He glanced quickly at Sam. “Alone. I don’t mean to alarm you, but it’s very important.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t begin to figure out what Abel would need to say to me that Sam couldn’t hear, but I could tell the kind pastor was truly upset.
“Why don’t you stay here and finish your lunch,” I said to Sam, who seemed as surprised as I was by Abel’s strange request. “Abel and I can move to another table.” I looked up at him to see if he agreed. He nodded silently, still grim-faced.
I pointed toward an empty table that sat all the way across the room. “Is that okay?”
Once again Abel nodded. I followed him, trying to avoid the prying eyes of customers who wondered why the pastor of Bethel Mennonite Church would call me aside for a private meeting.
Even Harold looked interested. Abel and I sat down, and I scooted my chair around so that my back faced the rest of the room.
Abel suddenly scanned the room as if he hadn’t noticed we were being watched. “Oh my,” he said. “I didn’t realize… Maybe we should go to my office where it’s more private.” He nodded for several seconds. “Yes. That would be better, Gracie. I should have thought of it sooner. It’s just that… It’s just that I was so shocked…”
“Abel, you’re scaring me,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft but firm. “I don’t want to go to your office. Please just tell me what you came to say. You said everyone is okay. No one is ill? No one is dead?”
He laid his hat on the table and studied it. Finally he cleared his throat. “This has nothing to do with anything like that, Gracie.” He reached into his pocket and took out a folded envelope, which he handed to me. “I found this stuck in the door at the back of the church about thirty minutes ago when I arrived to prepare my Sunday sermon. I felt the right thing to do was to bring it to you. I saw Sam’s truck in front of the restaurant and hoped you were here with him.”
Frowning, I reached over and picked up the envelope. Pastor Mueller was written in block letters on the outside. Inside was a folded piece of notebook paper. I opened it up and read it.
Dear Pastor Mueller,
The baby left at the church belongs to Gracie Temple. I saw her put it there.
A Very Concerned Citizen
Chapter Four
I had no idea that emotional shock can hit you just like a physical punch in the gut. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t seem to catch my breath. Who in the world could do something like this? I’d come home to Harmony—my place of safety. A place where I was loved. A place where I belonged. And now this?
“You know it’s untrue, don’t you, Abel?” I finally croaked out. “You know the baby’s not mine?”
Abel looked past me, unwilling to meet my gaze. “Gracie, I’m a pastor. I may not be your pastor, but I still have a pastor’s heart toward you.” He finally looked into my eyes. “If you tell me this isn’t true, I will believe you.”
“It isn’t true, Abel. I’ve never had a baby. And if I did, I wouldn’t abandon it. Ever. How could you…” I didn’t finish my sentence because in a flash of clarity I knew the answer. I was outside the church when the baby was found. Abel hadn’t seen anyone else there. I’d been gone for almost three months, and I’d come back to town thinner than when I’d left. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back an inappropriate desire to giggle. If a deserted baby weren’t involved, this would actually be rather funny. But the look on Abel’s face dispelled any urge to laugh.
“Then that’s that,” he said. He picked up the letter and put it back into the envelope. “I intend to get rid of this. We won’t talk about it again.”
I reached over and put my hand over his. “Abel, I swear to you as your Christian sister that there isn’t a shred of truth to this. Someone is playing a really cruel joke, and I intend to find out who it is. Maybe you should keep the letter for now. It might lead us to whoever wrote it.”
He pushed it back over to my side of the table. “You keep it. I don’t want it.”
“Thank you. If I discover the truth behind this lie, I’ll let you know. Will you do the same for me?”
“Yes, of course.” He smoothed his unruly salt-and-pepper hair with his hand before placing
his hat back on his head. “I’m sorry if this caused you pain. That was not my intention. I felt I had to show it to you. To keep it from you, or to talk to someone else about it before I spoke with you, made me feel… uncomfortable.”
I smiled at him, although it took effort. “That’s because in many ways you really are my pastor, even if I don’t go to your church. And besides that, you’re my dear friend. I know you love me.”
“Yes,” he said gently, his dark, compassionate eyes locked on mine. “Yes, I do.” With that, the gentle giant of a man got up and left the restaurant. I stayed where I was, trying to figure out what to do next. Life really is full of surprises, and some of them aren’t pleasant. Who in the world could be behind this? A small flame of anger began to burn inside me. Starting a rumor like this without proof was irresponsible, even though so much circumstantial evidence pointed to me. I glanced over at Sam, who looked at me oddly. I folded the letter up, stuck it in my jeans pocket, and went back to our table. I looked around the room to see if people were still watching, but everyone seemed occupied with their own business. I guess they’d all moved on.
“What was that about?” he asked as soon as I slid into my side of the booth.
“I—I really don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s wait until we can go somewhere more private.”
Sam put his fork down and stared at me. “Is everything okay?”
I shook my head. “No. No, it’s not. Someone has made an accusation about me that isn’t true. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, let’s finish this wonderful meal.”
Sam didn’t pursue it, but I could tell he was curious. I tried to eat the rest of my lunch, but my steak was cold and everything else seemed tasteless. After a few more bites, I gave up.
Sam finished most of his food but left a few bites of steak and about half of his potato on the plate. We waited for Mary to come back by so we could thank her for the meal.
“Why, Sam Goodrich,” she said when she saw his leftovers. “You always lick your plate clean and ask for more. And Gracie, didn’t you like the steak? Was there something wrong with it?”
“Oh no, Mary,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “It was fabulous. I just couldn’t finish it. Besides, I’m trying to watch my weight.”
She reached over and patted my shoulder. “I can tell you’ve lost quite a bit. You stick to your guns, Gracie. Losing weight is tough, I know. If I didn’t run around this place all day long, I’d weigh a ton.” She turned her attention to Sam. “What’s your excuse?”
Sam grinned and patted his stomach. “Maybe I’m watching my weight, too. Did that occur to you?”
Mary threw her head back and laughed. “Absolutely not. I’ve never seen anyone who can pack it away like you and still stay lean.” She shook her finger at him. “If you ever retire, you’d better watch out. You’ll be as big as Harold over there.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Harold said.
“I know,” Mary shot back. “That’s why I said it.”
“How’s he doing?” Sam asked quietly as Harold chuckled.
“Better,” Mary said in a soft voice. She swung her gaze to me. “Harold lost his wife early in the year. He started hanging out here almost every day. I think facing a quiet house is too much for him. He likes our noise.”
“It’s nice of you to care so much about him.”
Sam started to say something, but I waved his comment away. “I know, I know. Harmony is just one big family.” The edge of irritation in my voice caught Sam and Mary’s attention, and they both looked at me strangely. “Sorry.” I sighed. “This hasn’t been a great day.”
“You just got back,” Mary said. “You’re not allowed to have a bad day yet.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I did my best to smile at her even though I didn’t really feel much like smiling. “It’s not your fault. You’re one of the bright spots. Thank you again for the wonderful lunch.”
“You’re very welcome. Let me wrap that steak up for you. It will make a great sandwich tomorrow.”
I thanked her again before she sailed toward the kitchen.
“Where do you want to talk?” Sam asked.
“I don’t care. My house or yours.”
“Let’s make it mine,” he said. “I have something I want to show you. It was too dark for you to see it last night.”
“Okay.” I watched the kitchen door, hoping Mary wouldn’t take too long. I was ready to leave the restaurant behind. Mary’s plan to present us with a pleasant meal had been ruined by Rand McAllister and that awful letter. While I waited, I examined the pictures lining the walls of the restaurant. Old photographs of former and present Harmony residents. Pictures of the town down through the years. Not many depictions of its German Mennonite roots, but their influence was still strongly felt. I realized that the photograph of Jacob Glick was gone. Good. Emily and Abel Mueller didn’t need to see it, and neither did I. The man had caused enough sorrow. Having to look at him was too much to ask of anyone who’d been affected by his evil. I noticed that more of Hannah Mueller’s paintings were hanging on the walls. Since we’d started painting together, her technique had improved. Her work had taken on a professional quality far beyond her young years. She had the talent to go far, but living in Harmony certainly put limits on her ability to make an impact beyond the town’s borders.
I gazed out a nearby window. The Open sign was in the window of Keystone Meats. John had originally come here to find out who his father was. No son wanted to discover the things John had. Jacob Glick’s legacy was best forgotten by everyone, including his biological son, John. Some folks thought he would take off after realizing his father was a scoundrel, but he stayed. I knew part of the reason was his fondness for Harmony, but what drew him more were his feelings for Sarah. Many folks in Harmony hoped he’d pick up his practice again. Since the nearest doctor was in Sunrise, about ten miles away, the idea of having a doctor here was certainly appealing. Next to John, the closest medical professional we had was old Widow Stegson. Clara lived alone on a run-down farm outside of town. Some of the kids called her “the witch.” Her storehouse of herbs and medicinal concoctions was widely known to make people sick rather than cure them.
I wanted to run over to Ruth’s shop and say hi, but that would have to wait. I had to tell Sam about the note before he heard it from someone else. I knew Abel would never discuss it, but whoever wrote the note could easily spread the story.
“Here you go.” Mary’s voice cut through my thoughts. She handed me something wrapped in tin foil. I reached out and took it. Then I slid it into my purse.
“Thanks again. And you’re right. This will make a great sandwich. I really appreciate your generosity.”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “It wasn’t much. I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re back. You call me in the next couple of days, and we’ll get that dinner set up, okay?”
I put my hand out. She took it. “Deal.”
We left the restaurant and headed back to Ida’s to pick up my car. Sam kept glancing my way during the drive, but I ignored him. For some reason telling him about the letter made me nervous. I tried to reassure myself that he would probably think the whole thing was ridiculous and laugh it off. So why were frantic little butterflies flitting around inside me? Abel’s reaction had left me shaken. He’d seemed relieved when I denied the accusation. Had he actually believed it might be true?
We stopped at Ida’s to get my car. Sam followed me to my house, where I dropped it off and then got back into his truck. I didn’t say much on the way to Sam’s. My mind was filled with a faint but distinct dread.
“Before we get to the house,” Sam said, interrupting my thoughts, “here’s what I wanted to show you.” He slowed the truck down and pointed at some land on the north side of his property. The previously undeveloped plot was now cleared. “We’ll plant our first pumpkins after the spring rains. By September we’ll have lots of big orange pumpkins sitt
ing out there.”
“Oh, Sam. How wonderful. I know this is something you and Sweetie have wanted to do for a long time. Good for you.”
He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. “It will be a lot of work, but I already have several stores in Council Grove expressing interest.”
I reached over and hugged him. “I’m so excited. Maybe I can help out some. I’d love to be more involved in what you do.”
“I’d like that, too,” he said, kissing the top of my head as I rested it against his shoulder. “We’d better get going.” He put the truck into gear and drove up to the house. “Sweetie’s not here,” he said as he pulled into the driveway. “She took some food over to Alma Ledbetter’s house. Alma’s recovering from knee surgery and can’t get around very well.”
I was grateful Sweetie was gone. It would make it easier to talk to him. We went inside, and I followed him into the kitchen.
“I’ll make some coffee to warm us up.” Sam took my jacket and laid it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Have a seat.”
I scooted into one of the wooden chairs that sat around the large oak table. While the rest of the house maintained an authentic Victorian charm, the kitchen was more updated. Gleaming stainless steel appliances, parquet floors, and shiny pots and pans that hung from hooks over the butcher-block kitchen island made it clear that this kitchen belonged to someone who knew a thing or two about cooking. Sweetie shone in this room. She loved to cook, and those who knew her loved to eat her food.
Sam finished filling the coffeemaker with water and pressed the button to begin brewing. Within seconds, the smell of freshly made coffee began to fill the room. He came over and sat down across from me at the table.
“Okay, so what’s going on?”
“Abel found this note stuck in the door of the church this morning.” I took the crumpled envelope out of my pocket and shoved it toward him.
