by Nancy Mehl
“You’re right about that,” Papa said. “But friendship bread isn’t like regular bread. It’s more like dessert.” He laughed. “Just you wait. You’re in for a real treat.”
“Well let’s get outta this hot sun and cool off inside,” Sweetie said, taking Papa’s arm. “The food’s ready and the company’s here. Can’t ask for nothin’ better than that.”
I noticed my dad watching Papa and Sweetie climb the stairs together.
“Papa seems like his old self today,” I said to him in a low voice. “You’d never know there was anything wrong.”
Dad nodded. “He’s been swinging back and forth like this for the past month or so. He seems confused and upset, and then suddenly he’s Papa again.” My father put his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t get too excited, Gracie. We’ve been through this before. In an instant everything can change.”
“I know, but this is nice. I really never thought I’d get more time with him. Whatever’s going on, I’m grateful.”
He was silent as we went into the house. I saw my mom take his hand. I couldn’t imagine what my dad was feeling. Watching his father suffer through this insidious disease had to be incredibly hard on him. Hopefully Papa would be alert for the rest of the day.
“Come on in and sit down,” Sweetie called out as we came down the hall. “We’re eating in the dining room tonight.”
Usually when I come over for supper we eat in the kitchen. Sweetie’s beautiful dining room is reserved for special occasions. The walls are a lovely shade of deep red with white wainscoting almost halfway up. Crown molding accents the ceiling, which supports a large, intricate brass chandelier with small bulbs that flicker like candles. The long windows along one wall let in the light, and cream-colored valances with red flowers sit atop each one. Over the large white-marble fireplace, a gorgeous painting portraying the outside of the house gives the room a unique feeling of history. The dark mahogany furniture could easily overpower the room with its size and design, but instead it fits perfectly. It’s certainly hard to believe that the rough-edged and sometimes unkempt Sweetie Goodrich lives in this house. But anyone who judges her by her physical appearance or her misuse of the English language will miss seeing her for who she really is. There is depth, intelligence, and beauty in the heart of this rugged woman. The dining room table was covered with her fine linen tablecloth and matching napkins. And her good china, an incredible blue-and-red-designed pattern called Bird of Paradise, sat waiting for dinner. I had no idea how much it was worth, but I knew it was expensive and very collectible.
“Your home is beautiful,” my mother said. “I have to admit I was a little nervous about seeing this house again. When we left Harmony, Bishop Angstadt lived here, and my visits were never pleasant.” She gazed around the room. “But there’s not a trace of him left, Myrtle. You even painted the outside red. It changes the entire look of the place.”
Sweetie grunted. “That was surely my intention. Ain’t no hint of that man here no more.”
“Beverly is right,” Ida said, adjusting her long black skirt under her as she sat down. “This is the most attractive home I have ever seen.”
“Why, you’ve been here before, Ida,” Sweetie said. “Many times.”
The old woman smiled. “Yes, and every time I come, I think the same thing.”
I knew Ida meant every word she said. Even though she lived a much simpler life than Sweetie, there was no judgment, no condemnation toward others who didn’t choose her lifestyle. Ida had taught me many things, but one of the most important was the grace God has toward His children. That even though some of us may choose different paths in our lives, our roads all still lead home—to Him.
Sweetie excused herself and left the room. When she returned a few minutes later, she carried a large china soup tureen in her hands. Sam jumped up and helped her place it in the center of the table. She took off the lid and the wonderful aroma I’d caught when we’d come in, filled the room. “Schaubel Zup,” she proclaimed with a smile. “Sam, why don’t you help me bring in the rest of the food?”
He followed his aunt to the kitchen. They returned with homemade rolls, Sweetie’s wonderful, creamy coleslaw, and peach marmalade made from the peaches they grow on the farm.
“Joe, I wonder if you’d ask the blessing,” Sweetie said when she sat down.
I cast a quick glance at my father, wondering if Papa Joe was capable of handling the task Sweetie had just given him. When he was younger, he could “pray the devil back to hell” as Sweetie would say. But could he do it now?
“I’d be happy to, Myrtle.” Papa reached out and took my hand and my father’s hand. I reached for Sam. Feeling his strong fingers cover mine gave me a sense of security.
“Dear Lord,” Papa prayed, “we thank You for family and dear friends. We thank You for this wonderful food and ask that You bless the hands that prepared it. May God, who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food, supply and multiply our seed for sowing and increase the harvest of our righteousness. Amen.”
Everyone around the table echoed Papa’s “Amen.” I opened my eyes to see my father’s mouth quiver with emotion. He probably hadn’t heard Papa pray for a very long time. I picked up the pitcher of iced tea sitting next to me, filled my glass, and gave the pitcher to Sam who got up to make sure everyone who wanted iced tea was served.
“If you’ll pass me your bowls,” Sweetie said, “I’ll fill ’em up with soup.” While we did as she’d requested, my mother started asking Ida about the changes in Harmony since they’d left.
“Oh my, Beverly,” Ida said, shaking her head. “So much has changed. Since Bishop Angstadt died, we have become a new town.” She put her hand on her chest. “Please understand that I am not his judge. What I say is only what I have seen since his passing. Perhaps we were not as understanding of Bishop Angstadt as we should have been. I do not know, and I do not presume to know his heart. There is one Judge who will decide at the end of time what our deeds deserve. I am content to let Him determine those things. But I can certainly tell you that when the bishop was gone, it was as if our little town emerged from the shadows.” She paused as Sweetie spooned soup into her bowl, thanking her when she finished. “Many of the women, including me, gathered together and prayed for Harmony—that it would deserve the name it had been given from that moment on. We asked God to bless our town with peace. And He has.” She picked up her soup spoon and paused. “I hope you will see us with new eyes. Surely there are also good memories from your life here.”
My mother laughed lightly. “I have wonderful memories of Harmony, Ida. You certainly are one of them.” She leaned her head against my father’s shoulder. “And, of course, I found true love in this town. It gave me my husband and my child, as well as the best mother- and father-in-law any woman could have. And now Gracie is here, and she loves it. She has found her soul mate here just as I did.” She nodded. “Yes, there are many good memories—and more to be made, I’m sure. Besides, it was never Harmony that was the problem. It was the bishop.”
“There were others in the church who should have stood up to him and didn’t,” Dad said, frowning.
“I wonder if you mean me,” Ida said. Her eyes searched my father’s face.
“Oh my goodness no, Ida,” he said quickly. “You were always so supportive of us. I can never thank you enough for your constant love and encouragement. And Herman.” Dad shook his head. “What a good man he was. I miss him.” Herman Turnbauer had been Papa’s best friend. They worked in the fields together and lived like brothers. My father smiled. “Herman always had a story for Benjamin and me. Stories from the Bible. He really made the Bible come alive. I still remember learning about Joseph. A man who wouldn’t turn his back on God or feel sorry for himself, no matter what happened to him.”
Papa Joe chuckled. “When times were hard, Herman would call me by my given name, Joseph, just to remind me that we couldn’t give up, and that circumstances never change God’s plan.” He smi
led at Ida. “I still hear him sometimes. ‘Joseph, don’t give up. Stand up straight. God has deliverance in His mighty hand!’”
Ida gave a soft cry and put her napkin to her face. When she lowered it, there were tears in her eyes. “Oh Joe. Sometimes I swear I hear him whisper to me in the dark before I go to sleep. I miss him so.”
“I know, Ida, I know. There are moments when I’m sure Essie is sitting right beside me. Or she comes up behind me and puts her hand on my shoulder.” Papa stared down at the table the smile gone from his face.
“Goodness gracious,” Sweetie said, loudly. “You all are gonna turn this celebration into a sobfest if you don’t stop it.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the bottom of her apron. “Now, let’s get to eatin’ this good food before it gets cold.”
“Sounds good, Myrtle,” Papa Joe said, pasting a smile on his face with effort. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” He winked at me. “Gracie, do you know what made the pony cough?”
“No, Papa. What made the pony cough?”
Papa looked around the table as if he was getting ready to tell the funniest joke ever written. “Because he was a little horse,” he said chuckling.
Everyone laughed. “Oh Joe,” Ida said, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “I must admit that I have missed your jokes. Essie and I used to giggle together every time you told a new one.”
Papa pointed a finger at her. “You told me you laughed because they were so bad. I remember that.”
I snorted. “Well, don’t worry. They’re just as bad as they used to be.”
Papa’s smiled widely. “I take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Sweetie said with a smile. “‘Cause that’s about the only one you’re gonna get for a joke like that.”
After another round of laughter, we began eating Sweetie’s soup. I had no idea if she’d ever made this dish before, but I’d certainly never had it in all the times I’d eaten dinner at her house. Big chunks of ham, fresh green beans, carrots, and potatoes floated in a creamy broth. I filled my spoon and brought it to my mouth. An explosion of flavor greeted me. The ham was tender and the vegetables perfect. And the broth combined creaminess and spice at the same time. It was absolutely delicious.
Papa Joe took his first taste. “Goodness,” he said dreamily. “It’s wonderful.” He smiled at Sweetie. “You’ve outdone yourself, Essie. You really have.”
His words caused my stomach to clench. My father’s face fell, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. But Sweetie didn’t miss a beat.
“Why thank you, Joe,” she said, her tone upbeat. “I’m so happy you like it.”
“I do,” he said, holding up another spoonful. “Now Daniel, you and Beverly eat your soup. We won’t wait for Benjamin. He knows better than to show up late for supper.” He shook his head. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve told that boy to be home before your mama puts food on the table. He may find himself missing his meal tonight. I just might send him to his room hungry.” He turned toward Ida. “And where’s Herman tonight, Ida? I know he doesn’t like to miss Essie’s cooking.”
Ida nodded. “You are right about that, Joe. He would have loved to be here, but unfortunately he could not get away.”
Papa patted her arm. “He’s such a hardworking man. Why don’t we send some soup home with you? You can heat it up for him later.”
“Thank you, Joe. I would appreciate that.”
Papa looked over at me. “Now who is this young lady again? I’m sorry. I just don’t seem to remember your name.”
“That’s okay, Papa,” my mother said. “I may have forgotten to introduce you. This is Gracie. She’s a friend of mine.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but I just couldn’t. Sadness overwhelmed me, and I sat there, trying desperately to hold back a flood of tears. How could he go from the Papa I knew so well to this confused man? Mumbling out a lame excuse about needing to check on something, I fled the room. A few moments later, my dad opened the door to the screened-in back porch where’d I’d escaped to cry.
“I–I’m sorry, Daddy,” I said tearfully when he sat down next to me on the white wicker love seat. “I tried, I really did. I just couldn’t … couldn’t …”
“Pretend?” My father stroked my hair. “It’s okay, Snicklefritz. I know exactly how you feel. I’ve had to walk away many times myself.”
“How could God let this happen?” I asked, wiping my face on my arm. My father reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Outside of Harmony, he’s one of the few men I know who still carries one.
“Oh Gracie. God doesn’t let it happen. Disease and illness were never His plan, but sin and destruction came into the world. Again, not His plan and certainly not His will.” He smiled at me. “Believe me, God hates what’s happening to Papa even more than we do. I think we always need to remember that there is no sickness or destruction in heaven. That knowledge should help us to know who God really is, and what He really wants for His children.” He shrugged. “And remember people get healed all the time. I’ve seen people wonderfully delivered from disease. Of course I’ve also known some who weren’t.”
“Why doesn’t everyone get healed, Dad?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, honey. It could be for a variety of reasons. We aren’t going to understand everything in this life, but I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?” I sniffed, blowing my nose into his hankie.
“That whether we’re delivered from our circumstances or we have to walk them out, God is with us every step of the way. His love never changes, and it never fails. He’ll always find a way to bring us through every trial of life if we trust Him.”
“Seeing Papa Joe like this makes me feel so sad.” I leaned against my father’s shoulder.
“It makes me sad, too.” He put his arm around me. “But you know what? Most of the time, Papa’s very happy. When he’s with us and when he’s not. The times he drifts away he almost always goes to happy places where my mother is still alive and where his life was good.”
“What about the other times?”
“Well, when he quit talking we thought he’d left us forever. When we’d go to visit he’d just stare at us—as if he had no idea who we were. He’s verbal now, and we’re grateful. But there have been a few times when he’s gotten terribly upset. It’s as if he’s trapped between reality and the disease. I’m sure it’s horribly confusing to him, and he lashes out.”
“He’s not violent, is he?”
My father was quiet for a moment, and then he hugged me tight. “A couple of times he’s been rather physical.”
“That’s not Papa at all.”
He kissed the top of my head. “No, it’s not. I think the darkness begins to come over him, and he simply tries to fight his way out. It has nothing to do with anyone around him. The first time it happened, I took it personally. But I’ve learned to let him get it out of his system. When he calms down he’s fine.”
“So what will happen to Papa now?”
“I don’t know. When he stopped talking we assumed the end was near. But now that he’s communicating again, we’re not sure what to expect next. My guess is that at some point he’ll fall silent once more.”
“W–will Papa die here?”
My dad sat up straight and gazed directly into my eyes. “No, Gracie. If he gets too bad before we leave for home, Mom and I will get him transferred to a hospital or nursing home nearby. After the wedding, we’ll take him back to Nebraska.”
“Okay.” I wiped my face once again and handed the handkerchief to my dad.
He smiled. “You keep it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay. I’ll wash it and then give it back to you.”
“I would appreciate that very much. Now let’s get back in there before Papa sends me to my room. I didn’t like it when I was a kid, and I doubt I’d like it any better now.”
I giggled. “I think I’d enjoy seeing that. Pay
back for all the times you did it to me.”
He grunted. “Yes, I’m sure you would. Hopefully I can spare myself the humiliation.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Now get going, young lady. And no more tears in front of Papa, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
My dad and I went back to the dining room together. Mom grabbed my hand as I walked past. “You okay?” she whispered.
I nodded. Papa Joe was busy eating his soup, smacking his lips with delight. I sat down next to Sam who reached over and gave me a quick hug. It seemed that my grandfather hadn’t noticed my unexplained exit. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sweetie was telling us about the girl who’s missing, Gracie,” my mother said. “Isn’t Hannah the one you took to Wichita?”
I nodded. “Yes. We’re not sure if she just ran away or if something else happened.”
“Oh honey. I’m sorry. You must be very worried. I know you care a great deal about her.”
“She’s very special to me. Everyone’s concerned.” I launched into the story of Hannah’s reaction to Wichita and how she seemed to change.
“I hope you’re not blaming yourself,” my dad said. “It’s certainly not your fault. Take it from two people who know what it’s like to want a different kind of life.”
I glanced over at Ida who smiled at me. “I did at first. But a dear friend straightened me out.” I pointed my soup spoon at my father. “This situation isn’t the same as yours, Dad. You and Mom wanted to get married, and Bishop Angstadt wouldn’t allow it—ever. But Hannah knows she can go to art school in a year. I can’t believe she’d leave her parents and her home just because she’s impatient.”
“You could be right,” he said. “But when Mom and I lived here, there were other people our age who left for the same reasons you said Hannah gave. It happens.”
“Well maybe.” I turned his comment over in my mind. Was I wrong? Had Hannah really run away because she saw a future beyond Harmony? As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t believe it. I started to say that when the doorbell rang.
