by Nancy Mehl
“Yes, Papa. In fact, Harmony is full of his rocking chairs, birdhouses, and bird feeders.”
He smiled. “I taught him how to build those things. We used to work on them together. I’m glad he kept at it. He was very clever with his hands.”
“Papa, why don’t you stay there while Sam and I carry our luggage upstairs?” my dad said.
“I’ve got some cider in the refrigerator,” I said. “I’ll get everyone a glass while you’re doing that.”
“Sounds great.” My father looked at Sam. “Maybe you’ll help me get the bags from the car? Then we can get them into the appropriate rooms.”
“Daniel Temple, you are not carrying suitcases up the stairs,” my mother said sharply. “The doctor told you to rest that leg. Sam looks quite capable of getting our luggage by himself.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to,” Sam said with a smile.
My father grunted. “I guess working on a farm means he should be capable of manual labor.” He glared at my mother. “I’ll go out and show him what to bring in if that’s acceptable to you.”
“Of course it is. And maybe you can work on your attitude while you’re out there.”
My dad didn’t say another word, just headed toward the front door. My rather confused fiancé followed behind him, casting a worried glance my way. All I could do was shrug.
In several phone conversations about my upcoming marriage, I hadn’t caught a hint of animosity. His rude comment about Sam was out of character for my usually well-mannered father. I waited until the door closed behind them.
“What gives?” I asked my mother who stood near the kitchen door with her arms crossed. “Is Dad upset about the wedding for some reason?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea what’s going on. He was fine until we started getting close to Harmony. Then suddenly he began complaining about not having time to get to know Sam before you get married.” She sighed. “I think it’s coming back here again. Bad memories. Then there’s the pressure of watching Papa deal with this awful disease. Give your father a little slack. He’s under a lot of pressure. I’m sure he’ll snap out of it.”
“I hope so. All I need is one more person who’s upset with me.”
My mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Who’s upset? Is something wrong?”
I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Let’s talk about it later, okay? I’m really happy you’re here, and I’d rather spend the day catching up. I’ll fill you in on all the Harmony drama tomorrow.”
She hesitated. “Well … all right. But you know I don’t like secrets.”
I chuckled. “Yes, I’m very aware of that, but this has nothing to do with secrets.”
I’d started toward the kitchen when Papa Joe spoke up. “Hey, Gracie. What do you get from a pampered cow?”
I grinned at him. “I don’t know, Papa. What do you get from a pampered cow?”
A big smile creased his face. “Spoiled milk.”
I laughed, although to be honest, I felt like crying. I never thought I’d hear my grandfather tell another one of his awful jokes again. It filled my heart with joy. Unfortunately, that feeling was short-lived, for his next comment reminded me of the cruelty of Alzheimer’s.
His face lost its jovial look, and he stared at me through narrowed eyes. “Now Gracie, whatever you do, don’t forget your grandmother’s wedding present. She’ll be upset if you do.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Papa looked quizzically at me, as if my reaction confused him. Suddenly my mother spoke up.
“Gracie won’t forget, Papa. Thanks for reminding us.”
A look of peace settled over his face, and he leaned back in the rocking chair as if her words had allayed his concerns.
“Let’s get that cider, Gracie,” Mom said quietly. “I’m sure Papa would love some.”
A few minutes later, we all sat in the living room sipping the fresh cider Sweetie had left in my refrigerator. Sam had carried all the suitcases up the stairs under my father’s direction. Dad seemed more relaxed when they came downstairs.
“This is delicious,” Dad said. He smiled at me. “Thanks for putting Mom and me in my old room. I can’t believe how good it looks.” He shook his head. “It’s almost as if I just walked out the door of this house yesterday. Almost everything is the same.”
“Except for the lights and air-conditioning,” my mother said laughing. “That’s one thing about Harmony I don’t miss. Surely everyone has electricity by now, don’t they, Gracie?”
“Just about. There are a few holdouts. Ida Turnbauer doesn’t, but she has a phone. And there are a few families outside of town that still live without the modern conveniences.”
“I can hardly wait to see Ida,” Dad said. “She was so good to me and Benjamin growing up. A truly kind lady. Your grandmother was very close to her.”
I nodded. “She’s become a very good friend.”
“She’s a good friend to everyone in town,” Sam added. “I would say she’s probably the most loved and respected woman in Harmony.”
My dad smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. It means a lot to me to know that she’s happy.” He looked at Sam. “I can hardly believe your aunt is Myrtle Goodrich. She was the most beautiful woman in Harmony when I was a boy. And as stubborn and hardworking as they come. When her father had his accident, everyone pitched in to help her.” He chuckled. “And believe me, it wasn’t an easy task. She had her own way of doing things and was bound and determined not to be seen as needy. We almost had to convince her she was doing us a favor by letting us help with her farm. I’m glad she was able to sell it and buy her new place. I got a glimpse of it on the way here. Incredible. Doesn’t look anything like it did when we left Harmony. I can’t wait to get a closer look.”
“You’ll get your chance at dinner tonight,” I said, relieved that his mood had finally lightened.
“I look forward to it.” He put his glass down and stood up. “I think I’d like to lie down for a bit before supper. And I think you wanted a quick nap, didn’t you, Papa?”
Everyone looked at my grandfather who just stared into the distance, as if no one else were in the room.
“Papa?” I said. “Are you ready for a nap?”
“Never mind, Gracie,” my father said. “We’ll all go upstairs together.” He grabbed his cane and leaning on it, walked over to where my grandfather sat. He helped him to his feet. “Come on, Papa. I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Daniel, let me do that,” Mom said. “Your leg …”
“I can take care of it, Bev,” my father snapped. “I’m not completely useless.”
My mother frowned at him, but she didn’t say anything.
Papa Joe looked at his son as if he’d never seen him before, but my father ignored the lost expression on his face and led him to the stairs like an adult would lead a little child, speaking to him in soft tones and encouraging him to keep going. No one in the room said a word until we heard the door to Papa’s room close.
“You told me he was a lot better,” I said to my mother.
She sighed. “He is. A few weeks ago he suddenly began to have moments of clarity. Then he started talking again. As we told you on the phone, he’s on a new medication. Papa was severely depressed after Mama died. When the doctor started treating him for his depression, Papa got better. His emotional condition could have caused a lot of the symptoms we saw.” She smiled sadly. “I can’t explain why he suddenly has the ability to relate to his surroundings, but it’s important to remember that he still has Alzheimer’s. That hasn’t changed. Several people from our Alzheimer’s support group told us their loved one went through a period of improvement toward the end. I have no idea if the change we’re seeing is the medicine … or something else.” She hesitated. “This may sound silly to you two, but I almost wonder if it isn’t a gift from God—a brief reprieve before he dies.” She smiled sadly at me. “Besides the Alzheimer’s, he has serious heart problems. This may sound
awful, but I hope he dies from his heart condition before the Alzheimer’s robs the last vestiges of his personality.”
“I understand,” I said. “But I still pray for healing. I believe with all my heart that it isn’t God’s will for Papa Joe to suffer.”
Mom smiled. “I believe that, too, Gracie. But to be honest, I don’t think Papa wants to be healed. He misses Mama a great deal. I think more than anything else in this world he wants to be with her.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “Strange though, how he rallied because of this trip. It was so important to him. He said it’s because he wants to see Harmony again, but I get the feeling there’s another reason as well. Something he doesn’t seem willing to share with us.”
“Maybe he wanted to see me,” I said.
Mom patted my hand. “I’m sure that’s true.” She smiled. “Here I am trying to figure out what someone with Alzheimer’s is thinking. I don’t really have a clue why this trip meant so much to him, but he was absolutely determined to come. And you know
Papa when he makes up his mind about something.”
I laughed. “Yes, he’s like a mad dog with a bone. You might as well just give in and forget it. I hope he gets whatever he wants from this visit. I’m certainly thrilled to see him.” I sighed. “Boy, I hate Alzheimer’s.”
“No more than your father and I do,” my mother assured me. “And please understand that we still pray for healing, too. We know nothing is impossible with God.” She choked up. “When his mind seems to clear, every time I hope it’s a sign …”
I got up and went over to her, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Papa is so fortunate to have you in his life. You’ve always loved him like he was your own father.”
“Your other grandparents live so far away, and we don’t see them very often. Papa and Mama were always near us after they left Harmony. They really have been like my very own parents all these years.”
“I know.”
I sat back down and drank my cider while Sam and my mother talked about the fruit farm. My mother is a great conversationalist. I think it’s because she’s really interested in people. Sam had just started sharing about the new pumpkin patch he and Sweetie just planted when my dad came back into the room.
“Papa’s lying down now,” he said. “He’ll be confused sometimes. The best way to handle it is to just go along with him.”
“We learned in our support group that some people try to straighten out loved ones who have the disease when they get confused,” Mom said. “But it only frightens them.” She leaned her cheek on her hand. “One day I pretended to be Essie an entire afternoon. It made him very happy.”
“That makes sense,” I said, but truthfully, none of this made sense at all. I couldn’t comprehend why a man like Papa Joe, who had lived his life as a good, decent Christian man, should have to face something this awful at the end of his life. Where was the justice in it?
My mother rose to her feet. “Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I think I’ll join Daniel for that nap. This has been a tiring day.”
“I’d better get going,” Sam said. He stood up and smiled at my parents. “I’m looking forward to this evening. I know Sweetie and Ida can hardly wait.”
“We’re looking forward to it, too, Sam,” Mom said. “I believe Gracie said we should be there at six, is that right?”
“We’ll eat at six, but you can come early if you’d like, and I can show you the orchards.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to see your farm while we’re here,” my father said. “Six is soon enough. Bev and I need to get some rest this afternoon.”
There was that tone again. I shot him a look, but he ignored me.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Sam said. “Whatever’s best for you.”
He turned to leave, and I followed him. “Let me walk you out,” I said. Once we were on the front porch, I closed the door behind us. “I’m sorry, Sam. My dad is usually so easy to get along with. It’s just stress. Coming back to Harmony, worrying about Papa Joe. And of course his leg …”
Sam grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs. Then he wrapped his arms around me. “I understand, Grace. Really. Don’t worry about it. Tonight he’ll get to see some old friends, eat some good food, and have the chance to relax a little. We’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”
I leaned against him. “I wish we were already married. Maybe we should have eloped.”
He put his hand under my chin, raised my face to his, and gazed into my eyes. His own eyes always reminded me of the gray clouds that paint Kansas skies before a storm. “I disagree. You see, I’m waiting for that moment.”
“What moment?”
He smiled. “That moment when you walk down the aisle. When everyone sees the incredibly beautiful woman who has decided to become my wife. I want to promise before God that I will love you for as long as I live. And I want to put my ring on your finger so the whole world knows you’re mine.” He shook his head. “No eloping for us. I intend to experience every moment of our wedding and keep it in my heart for the rest of my life.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s do this right.” I ran my hand down his cheek. “I love you so much, Sam. I can hardly wait to be your wife. Every day seems like an eternity.”
“But it’s not,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Eternity starts the moment we each say ‘I do.’” I felt his body stiffen. He let me go and took a step back, his gaze locked on something over my shoulder.
I turned to see what he was looking at. My father stared out the window at us.
“Oh great,” Sam said softly. “Now he thinks I’m pawing his daughter.”
“Don’t be silly. He isn’t thinking any such thing.” I grabbed his hand and walked with him to his truck. “I’ll see you at six.”
He opened the truck door and climbed into the cab. “I love you, Grace,” he said as he started the engine.
“I know.”
While I watched him back out of my driveway and turn onto Faith Road, I thought about how blessed I was to have found someone like Sam Goodrich. Then I turned to go into the house. Once inside I found that my father had abandoned his spot by the window, and everyone had already gone upstairs.
After pouring myself another glass of Sweetie’s delicious cider, I went back out on the porch and sat down in my uncle’s rocking chair. I certainly shared Sam’s feelings about our wedding, but Hannah’s disappearance left me wondering if the ceremony would really happen on time. How could we celebrate our new life unless Hannah was home? And if she’d actually been abducted, what would the outcome be? If it was terrible, Harmony would be in mourning, and a wedding would be inappropriate. I hadn’t shared my concerns with Sam because there were no decisions to be made yet. The guilt I’d been fighting against returned to haunt me as I considered the harsh truth that kept invading my thoughts. If I’d listened to Abel and Emily in the first place, Hannah would never have gone to Wichita. And she might not be missing now. If something awful happened to her, I would never be able to forgive myself. And Harmony, as loving as it was, would not forgive me either.
I finished my cider, put the glass on the floor next to me, and prayed.
Chapter Eight
We got to Sam’s a little late. My parents and Papa Joe got out of the car at Ida’s and spent several minutes in the old woman’s house hugging and reminiscing. I was a little worried since Sweetie doesn’t do well when people arrive late for dinner. But surprisingly, when we pulled up to the house, she came out on the porch with a huge smile on her face. Her overalls were gone, replaced by her Sunday church clothes. She looked very nice. I was touched to know that seeing my family was so important to her. Sam came out on the porch behind her.
“Oh my goodness,” Sweetie said as we got out of the car. “Daniel and Beverly. I’m so glad to see you again. It’s been such a long time.” She hurried down the stairs and grabbed my mother’s hand. “Why Bevie, you’re just as pretty as you was the last time I seen you. I would
a knowed you anywhere.”
“Oh Myrtle,” my mother said, “I think you’re stretching the truth a bit, but please keep it up.” They both laughed and hugged each other.
Then Sweetie turned her attention to my father. “If it ain’t Daniel Temple,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Still as handsome as the day you left.” She looked over at me and smiled. “Your father is one of the best people it was ever my pleasure to know. Even as a boy, every last soul in Harmony knowed they could rely on Daniel and Benjamin Temple. They was young men to look up to.” Then she spotted Papa Joe who waited a few feet behind my father. She blinked back tears. “And here’s the reason why. Joe. I can hardly believe it.”
“Why if it isn’t little Myrtle Goodrich,” Papa Joe said with a smile. “Still as beautiful as I remember.”
I figured it wouldn’t be appropriate to point out that Papa’s memory wasn’t what it used to be. I’d seen pictures of Sweetie as a young woman, and if I hadn’t known better, I would never have made the connection. Years of working outside in the sun had damaged her once-flawless skin and aged her beyond her years. But Sweetie beamed like someone who had just been given a million dollars. Sam came over and put his arm around me. He looked pleased to see our families together.
“Why Joe, you always was the kindest man I ever met.” Sweetie walked over and gave Papa a hug. “I remember you used to love green bean soup with ham. Essie cooked up some for my father, and she gave me the recipe. I made it for dinner hopin’ you’d enjoy it.”
Papa chuckled. “Schaubel Zup! Oh my goodness, Myrtle. I haven’t had Schaubel Zup since I lost Essie. I can hardly wait to taste it again.”
“And I got friendship bread warmin’ in the oven. I hope it’s as good as Essie’s, but I wouldn’t bet my farm on it.”
Papa smiled at me. “Your grandmother made the best friendship bread in Harmony.”
“I thought Mama didn’t make bread.” The story I’d been told was that because her parents had put such an emphasis on bread making when she was young, Mama refused to do it after she got married.
