by Nancy Mehl
“No, it’s not Sam. It’s Sheriff Taylor.”
As my vision cleared, I realized it really was the sheriff who stared at me, not Sam at all. “Wh–what happened?”
He grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. The orchard spun around me. “You got hit on the head,” he said gruffly. I realized with a start that the orchard was on fire.
“The trees are burning,” I gasped.
“Yes, I know. Can you drive back and get some help?”
I nodded. The action caused pain to shoot through my temples. The feeling was all too familiar. A good strong helmet might have to be added to my clothing list if this kept up. “Th–there’s a walkie-talkie in the truck. I can call Sam.”
“Do it, and then go back to the house. Alert everyone about the fire. I’m going to do what I can until they get here.” He peered into my face. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I rubbed my head. “Yes, I understand what you’re saying. My head hurts, but my brain is intact.”
I staggered toward the truck while the sheriff went the other way. What was he doing here? As I reached the truck, I turned around to watch him. Could he have started the fire? And if so, would he try to do more damage after I left? In my fuzzy mind, the only thing to do was to get Sam and the other men out here as quickly as possible. I flung the door to Sam’s truck open.
It wasn’t running, even though I was certain I’d left it that way. A quick search revealed no walkie-talkie and no keys in the ignition. I slammed the door shut and had decided to run to the house, even though I felt unsteady on my feet, when I spotted the sheriff’s truck parked a few yards away. I hurried over to it, opened the driver’s door, and saw the keys in the ignition.
The sheriff had disappeared into the trees, so I jumped in, started the truck, and drove as quickly as I could toward the house. As I neared Sam’s, I couldn’t help but wonder if Pat Taylor was the one who attacked me. I looked around the truck cab, trying to see if there was anything he could have used as a weapon. Nothing fit the bill.
I steered with one hand and popped open the glove compartment with the other. I had to turn on the interior light to see what was inside. I pulled out registration papers and a manual for the truck, along with a small personal phone book and a receipt for new tires. As I tried to shove the papers back where they’d come from, something fell out and dropped to the floor. Shoot. I couldn’t reach it and drive with any kind of safety, so I waited until I pulled up in front of the house, quickly picking up what had fallen out and holding it under the light. It was a picture of a woman and a small child. A boy.
Frankly, it startled me. It hadn’t occurred to me that Pat Taylor had a family. I put the picture back in the glove compartment. Then I jumped out of the truck and ran inside the house, hollering at the top of my lungs. It didn’t take long for everyone to come running. When I announced the fire in the orchards, the men began grabbing their coats, hats, and gloves from the closet, and their boots from the front hall where Sweetie had put them on a towel to dry. As they all rushed to get to the orchards, I quickly told Sam what had happened.
“Someone hit you?” he asked, stunned.
“Yes, I have no idea who did it. Sheriff Taylor found me.”
“Sheriff Taylor?” Sam and Sweetie echoed his name at the same time.
“What in blue blazes is he doin’ here?” Sweetie’s tone had raised itself several notches.
Sam grabbed my shoulder. “Grace, could he have done it?”
I shook my head. Ouch. “Maybe. He acted like he was trying to help me. Honestly, I just don’t know.”
Sam looked troubled, but we didn’t have enough time to talk about it any more. The men raced for the door. John stopped and looked at me before he followed them.
“Sit down. Take some aspirin. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll check you when I return.” He sighed. “You know the drill since we’ve been through this before.”
I smiled weakly. “Yeah. But I think this will do it for a while. I’ve been told I’m hardheaded, but I really need to stop testing that out.”
“You’ve got that right,” John said. And with that they were gone.
“Land sakes, Gracie. Get in there and sit down.” Sweetie took my hand and led me into the living room. Sarah followed behind us. She wore my flannel nightgown and her hair was down. She looked like an angel. I sat down on the couch and pulled off my boots. Sweetie held her hand out for them.
“Better put them on the towel,” I said, “or that snow will melt all over the place.”
“I will, but I guess that system didn’t work so well. Someone’s boots left a trail of water and dirt all down the hallway. I’m gonna clean that mess up and get you some aspirin.”
“Some hot tea would be nice, too,” I said, shivering involuntarily.
“Gracie, you need to change clothes,” Sarah said. “You’re wet.”
I’d forgotten I’d been lying in the snow. I jumped up from the couch before I made a mess of it.
“You stay there. I’ll get you something. Do you have another nightgown like this one?”
“Yes, it’s in the drawer in my…I mean, your room.”
“Why don’t you go strip off those clothes in the bathroom, and I’ll bring it to you. Along with some fresh underwear and socks.”
I agreed and walked slowly to the bathroom, still feeling a little dizzy. Man, I was running through socks—and heads—like nobody’s business. Once in the bathroom, I stared at myself carefully in the mirror. I looked like I’d been “rode hard and hung up wet,” another one of Sweetie’s colorful colloquialisms. I had no idea what it meant, but if anyone ever fit the description, it was me. Maybe the first time I’d hit my head it had been my own fault. But not this time. Someone had deliberately attacked me and then set the orchard on fire.
The orchard! I’d been thinking about myself so much, I’d almost forgotten about it.
I stripped off my clothes, which were now soaked. Then I dried off with a towel that I wrapped around my body. My hair was a tangled mess and smelled of smoke. Thankfully there was a brush on the counter. I brushed my hair out the best I could and waited for Sarah. When she knocked on the door, I reached out and took the clothes she held out to me. The warm flannel nightgown felt good on my skin.
There’s something about flannel nightgowns that makes me feel safe. They remind me of the gowns my grandmother used to make for me. Beautiful, soft colors with ribbons sewn into the neckline. Although it was impossible to buy a nightgown as nice as my grandmother’s, I still loved them. I felt like a child when I wore them. And I was. A child of my heavenly Father. I prayed quietly for the men, asking God to help them. Then I prayed that Sam’s trees would survive the fire. I hung my wet clothes over the shower curtain rod and opened the door.
“What’s going on in the orchard?” I asked Sarah, who stood waiting on the other side.
“I don’t know. Sweetie’s on the back porch.”
I grabbed her hand and we hurried to the porch. The windows of the enclosed room faced the orchards. Sweetie stood at the window near the outside door. Sarah and I joined her. Although I could see the fire from the barrels and the smudge pots, I could only see one tree ablaze. I sighed with relief.
“I was afraid the entire orchard would be lost,” I said. “But it doesn’t look so bad.”
Sweetie shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. Even if we lose a few trees, we’ll be all right. As long as the cold snap doesn’t do the rest of them in.”
“Wow, growing fruit is a lot tougher than I realized.”
Sweetie snorted. “It sure ain’t for sissies, I can tell you that.”
I reached over and took her hand. “You’re certainly not a sissy, Sweetie Goodrich. In fact, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I hope I can be even half the woman you are.”
She didn’t respond, but I didn’t care. I’d grown used to her inability to accept praise or personal gestures, so it surprised me when she suddenl
y put her arms around me and gave me a big hug.
“Thank you, Gracie. That means more to me than I could ever say.” She released me and went back to staring outside.
I still felt a little shaky and was in need of that aspirin she’d promised me, but I knew she wanted to keep an eye on her trees. I excused myself and went into the kitchen. There on the table was the bottle of aspirin sitting next to a glass of water. She hadn’t forgotten. Tea steeped on the stove. I took about four pills and poured myself a cup of hot raspberry tea. I took it into the living room and settled down on the couch, covering myself with the same quilt I’d used for Sarah. Although I didn’t mean to, after sipping about half a cup of tea, I promptly fell asleep.
“Gracie? Are you all right?”
Sam’s voice again. I woke with a start. Was I back in the orchard? No. This time it really was Sam, and I was still on the couch. His face was streaked with soot, but he looked happy.
“What happened? Are the trees okay?”
He sat down next to me. “Only a couple burned. The rest are fine.” He shook his head. “You may not believe this, but the sheriff actually saved most of them. He shoveled snow around the bottoms of the trees. When the fire reached the snow, it burned out.” He leaned closer to me. “That fire was deliberately set.” He kept his voice low and his eyes darted around to see if anyone was within hearing range. “Someone poured kerosene around about ten of my trees and sprinkled more on the ground so the fire would spread. Thanks to the sheriff’s quick actions, the plan didn’t succeed.”
“But who—”
“I have no idea,” he said, interrupting me. “But I don’t believe it was Sheriff Taylor.” He sighed and shook his head. “For the life of me, I can’t think of anyone who would want to burn down my orchards. Someone must really have it out for me.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He shrugged. “Not to me either. There aren’t any more buried bodies you haven’t told me about, are there?”
“No, no buried bodies. No murderers trying to keep me from discovering their crime.” I pulled myself up to a sitting position and frowned at him. “Are you sure someone actually set the fires, Sam? Is there any way the smudge pot could have blown over and rolled near the trees? Maybe the kerosene just escaped on the ground.”
He shook his head. “I thought the same thing at first, and to be honest, if the trees had burned more, I would have come to that conclusion. I found the missing pot near the base of one of the trees. But the trail of kerosene was way beyond the path of a rolling smudge pot. Besides, two things make that theory even more unlikely.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not convinced it’s windy enough to blow over those pots in the first place. And someone smacked you on the head. Someone who didn’t want you to catch them. You’re sure you didn’t fall over your own clumsy feet this time, right?”
“Hey, my feet aren’t clumsy. And no, I’m sure of it. I was standing perfectly still.”
He nodded. “I checked all around the area where the sheriff found you, just in case a large branch had broken off and fallen on you. But there wasn’t anything like that.”
“Man, Harmony may be a small town, but it’s always interesting.”
Sam chuckled and ran his fingers down the side of my face. “I need you to stay here. John wants to check you out. Again. I think he also wants to tell you that frequent hits on the head can have a lasting effect. You really need to stop it. I can’t have the woman I love forgetting my name.”
“That will never happen, Seymour,” I said with a smirk. “Now get out of here. You need to sleep. Who’s taking the next watch?”
“If I tell you, you won’t believe it.”
“I have no idea.”
“Sheriff Taylor. He said he’s well rested and pointed out that he has a gun. I took that two ways. Number one is that he is fully capable of watching the orchards and protecting himself. And number two is…”
“Never argue with a man who has a gun?”
“You got it.” He kissed me, and then he rose slowly to his feet. I could see how tired he was. “I’ll get John. Then I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Not if I see you first.”
“Look, I don’t want you out of Sweetie’s sight while I’m gone. Do you understand me?”
I rubbed my head. “Why?”
“Because I’m not sure what’s going on here, and I want you to be safe. Promise me.”
I held up my hand. “I solemnly swear to stay near Sweetie at all times. Like she’d let me get away from her anyway.”
He leaned down and kissed me again. “I happen to love you. Do you know that?”
“I believe I do.”
He left, and I closed my eyes. I’d almost drifted off to sleep again when John came in.
“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” he said with a smile. “I told you I was just a general practitioner. You seem to have confused me with a neurologist.”
I grinned at him. “Actually, I’m just waiting for the day you quit practicing and become a real doctor.”
He sat down next to me on the couch. “I can tell your sense of humor is still operational. Now let’s see if anything else has held together.” He felt my head and then looked into my eyes. “You have a bump. Surprisingly it’s not too far from your previous bump.” He sighed deeply. “The next time could you go for the other side of your head? This one is about used up.”
“Sure. The next time a crazy arsonist approaches me, I will immediately offer the other side of my head to him. No problem.”
“Are you having a lot of pain?”
“No. In fact, it hurts less this time.”
“I think you’re just getting used to it.” He frowned at me. “Well, Gracie, everything looks okay. But now I really want you to drive to Sunrise when the roads clear and get yourself checked out. I mean it. Will you do it, or do I have to forcibly deliver you myself?”
I knew he was serious. And quite honestly, I was beginning to wonder how many times one person could get knocked in the noggin before it caused complications. “You have my word. I will get myself to Sunrise and ask them to check me out for drain bramage.”
“Funny. I’m going to follow up and make sure you do. Now get some rest.”
“Yes, sir.”
He started to rise, but I grabbed his arm. “John, don’t you think this whole thing is a little weird? Why would anyone want to burn Sam’s orchards?” I lowered my voice so no one else could hear me. “And one other thing. If the sheriff hadn’t come along, and if the fire had caught the way whoever started it had wanted it to, what would have happened to me? I was unconscious and pretty close to the kerosene.”
John’s face paled. “I hadn’t thought of that. If you hadn’t been found or if you’d been hit harder, you could have been seriously injured.”
“Just what was this guy after? Sam’s orchards—or me?”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I doubt anyone would have set the trees on fire if you were the target. Wouldn’t they have just finished you off and left? Why start a fire?”
“I don’t know. And the sheriff showing up when he did. Don’t you find that strange?”
He shrugged. “He says he was in the area, trying to make sure everyone was okay, when he saw the flames. Makes sense to me. Doesn’t it to you?”
“I guess so. Still, something feels odd about it.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Gracie. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll shove down some more aspirin and get some sleep.”
“Sounds like a great idea. Good night.”
After John left, I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and some more aspirin. After swallowing them, I sat down at the kitchen table for a while. The house was dark and silent. I took the time to pray for wisdom. I couldn’t help but remember something Ida had said. About having a bad feeling—a stirring in her spirit tel
ling her that something was wrong. I had that same feeling now, and I had no idea why.
Chapter Thirteen
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.’ ”
With that, Gabe closed the Bible and put it on the kitchen table. Instead of sitting down in his chair, he remained standing, his eyes cast downward. After several seconds, he looked up at us. “I haven’t always lived by these scriptures. I guess I don’t really need to tell you people that. You’ve seen the worst side of me. Bitterness and anger ruled my life.” He hesitated a moment and then cleared his throat. “I hope you will all forgive me. I’ve realized that Paul’s admonition to forget the past and press on toward the future must also be my goal. And it starts with love.” He smiled at us, but his mouth quivered slightly. This was clearly an emotional moment for him. “I know that none of us can completely trust human beings. We’re fragile, and from time to time we all fail. But we can always trust God, and His way is the way of love. To leave behind anger, to trust, to hope, and to keep no record of wrongs. I’m afraid I had quite a lengthy ledger of the wrongs that I thought had been done to me. And to be honest, I’ve realized that when others do things that hurt you, they are the ones who should be pitied. I just want to tell all of you, my dear, dear friends, that I am letting go of the past today and intend to press on—with my friends and my God.” He sat down.
