by Nancy Mehl
“You do look thinner, Sarah,” I said. “Are you feeling all right?”
She blushed slightly and looked down toward the floor. “I think I’ve been working too hard and forgetting to eat. But I promised Papa I’d do better, and I will.” She swung her gaze up to me. “Now, no more talk of how much I weigh. I want to hear all about Wichita.”
Gabe leaned back against the counter behind him. “Of course, we’ve heard about Hannah. The whole town is abuzz. What’s really going on, Gracie? Did she run away?”
I hesitated before answering, torn between keeping folks in Harmony from becoming frightened by the idea of a killer who might target their daughters and an overwhelming desire to warn these people I loved so much. Not certain if Pat was finished talking to the Muellers, I decided not to share everything quite yet. “We honestly don’t know, Gabe. Sheriff Taylor thinks she’s a runaway. A few other people aren’t so certain.” I sighed. “I just wish she’d show up. I can’t help but blame myself some for this situation. If I hadn’t taken her to Wichita …”
“Don’t be silly, Gracie,” Gabe said. “Even though Sarah and I believe in a separated life, we don’t believe that alone will keep us unspotted from the world. People have free will. They have the right to make decisions. Good ones or bad ones. Hannah Mueller has godly parents who taught her right from wrong. Her reaction to what she saw in Wichita was her own.” He shook his head. “It’s unlikely she would have lived all her life here anyway.” He motioned toward my father. “In the old days, young people were expected to stay in their hometowns. Schooling past the eighth grade was not only discouraged, but in many families it was forbidden. Do you remember?”
Dad nodded. “My brother and I were allowed to finish high school and my parents knew we intended to go to college. But my mother and father were rebels in their day.” He smiled at Papa who returned his smile. “But yes, that’s the way it was.”
“Today, children are allowed to go to college even in the more conservative communities,” Gabe said. “I believe the Muellers would have allowed Hannah to leave if she had that desire, so she would have seen life outside our little town eventually. It was something inside her, Gracie, that sparked a fire. It wasn’t you.” He shook his head and his eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Sometimes I wonder, though, if the old ways aren’t better. I worry about the world and its effect on young people.” He smiled at my father. “Of course I’ve changed my mind about many things since your daughter came into my life. I’m sure I’m not through learning, but I thank God all the time for her friendship. I know I’m better for it.”
I felt my face get hot. “Th–thanks Gabe,” I stuttered, surprised by his kind comments.
“I know Hannah will come back, Gracie,” Sarah said reassuringly. “And then she might not want to leave Harmony again. Some people do, and some don’t. Papa and I have seen folks take off, thinking they can’t find happiness here. But after being out in the world for a while, they realize how special this town is and they come home.”
I nodded. “Funny how different we all are. Here I left the big city for Harmony, and Hannah wants to leave Harmony for the big city. I love this place and can’t imagine my life anywhere else.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw my parents exchange looks. I knew they felt differently. They couldn’t get out of Harmony fast enough, but I was learning that we all have a path to follow. One that God has prepared for us. Reasoning has nothing to do with finding the place you belong. He is the only One who knows the way—and my way was in this town. And with this man. I grabbed Sam’s hand.
“Well, we’d love to look around your shop,” my dad said, changing the subject. “Gracie has been going on and on about some stationery you make, Sarah. And we must have some Honeysuckle Grace candles. Gabe, I understand you created these candles as a tribute to my daughter?”
Gabe smiled. “Yes, I did. They’re over here.”
Dad followed Gabe to a large shelf full of candles while Sarah led my mother over to a display table with sets of stationery she’d designed through a procedure called woodblock printing, a craft not practiced much anymore. Blocks of wood are carved with special knives, creating grooves in the wood. One design can actually be made up of several different blocks using various colors. Once the design is carved into the block, paint is rolled over it. The paint fills the grooves and then the paper is placed on top of the wood. A rubber roller is moved back and forth lightly until the pattern emerges. It takes real skill. Too much paint can cause unsightly blobs and an uneven design. Also, rolling unevenly can ruin a pattern. I’d destroyed many sheets of expensive paper before finally gaining some skill. Even still, not everything I did turned out right. Complex designs and colors mean that more blocks are carved, loaded with paint, and the paper that has already been rolled is rolled again. If done right, the second, third, and sometimes fourth blocks will deepen the design and add interesting details. Making a mistake with the last block was frustrating to say the least. The entire procedure would have to be started again. With Sarah’s help I’d created a few patterns of my own, but I wasn’t anywhere close to her level of expertise.
I took Papa’s hand and led him over to a small bench in the corner of the room. We sat next to each other and watched as Mom and Dad looked over all the wonderful items for sale in the shop. Papa took a deep breath, enjoying all the incredible aromas in the room. There’s nothing like a candle shop to excite the senses.
Papa pulled on my arm. “Gracie, who is that man?” he whispered. “I don’t know him.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t, Papa,” I said. I quickly explained that Gabe had moved to Harmony not long before he and Mama left. “You probably didn’t get the chance to meet him and his daughter.”
Papa shook his head. “I understand that, but something is wrong,” he said slowly. “I know this place. But not this man.”
“Oh Papa, I’m sorry. I should have explained. You’re thinking of Levi Hoffman who used to run this shop. But he—he moved away.” No sense in telling him that Levi was in prison. Papa didn’t need to know that.
His expression brightened some. “Yes. Yes, that’s it. I used to come here when Levi ran this store.” He patted my knee. “Thank you, Gracie. I was confused for a moment.”
“That’s okay, Papa. I understand.”
We sat there quietly, but Papa seemed much more relaxed. As she had in several other shops, my mother bought everything she could get her hands on. Funny thing, usually my mother was a very frugal person. I’d never seen her spend money like this.
Finally we left the candle shop, picked up Mom’s purchases from Ruth, and headed home. My dad, who’d wanted to tour Sam’s farm this afternoon, asked for a rain check. I could tell his leg was bothering him. Besides, both my parents looked really tired. Sweetie offered to meet with Hector by herself and get some different ideas for the reception. My mother gratefully accepted. Being outside in the heat all afternoon had drained everyone’s energy. I was grateful we’d have an afternoon to rest. Running around in Sam’s orchards didn’t sound very appealing to me either. When we got to the house, Dad took Sam aside for a few minutes while Mom and Papa went inside the house. I waited until they finished talking, then I walked Sam to his truck to say good-bye. I’d asked him and Sweetie over to my place that night for dinner, but they’d declined.
“You need some time with just your parents,” Sam had said. “We’ll get together tomorrow.”
Instead of getting into his truck, he paused with his hand on the door handle. “Your father just told me he wants some time to visit with me tomorrow while Sweetie and your mom talk about the wedding. I guess we’ll walk around the farm for a while.” His handsome features twisted with concern. “I’m not sure he approves of me, Gracie.”
“Don’t be silly. He just wants to get to know you better. I’m sure he likes you.”
“Well, I hope so. But sometimes I catch him looking at me … I don’t know. Strangely.”
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sp; I laughed. “I look at you strangely all the time, and I like you.”
“Very funny.” He ran his hand through his long blond hair. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tomorrow how he really feels.”
I leaned into his chest. “Don’t worry. If he forbids me to marry you, we’ll change our names, run off to a foreign country, and start a new life.”
I felt him heave with laughter. “And what will our new names be?”
I stared up at him. “Hmmm. Let’s see. How about Grace Marple and Sam Stringer? No one will ever suspect it’s us.”
“Okay. But which one will you be?”
I pushed myself away from him. “I can be Sam and you can be Grace. That should really confuse people.”
“That would confuse me, too. Maybe we should just stay here and work it out.”
I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, but I’m offering you a life of excitement and intrigue.”
He leaned down and kissed my nose. “Trust me. Being with you gives me all the excitement and intrigue I can handle.”
“Good. That’s my goal.”
I kissed him good-bye and sent him on his way. When I got inside, Papa had gone upstairs for a nap, and my mother was busy unloading all her purchases. I glanced over at my dad who watched her with a worried expression. He’d obviously found her uncharacteristic buying spree troublesome. After unwrapping everything, she suddenly announced she was tired.
“I’ll put all this stuff away later,” she said, yawning. “But for now, a nice nap would help get my energy levels back up to normal. The heat really takes it out of me.”
“You go on, honey,” Dad said. “I intend to rest my leg a bit. Think I’ll stay down here and find a way to prop it up for a while.”
“How’s it feeling, Dad?” I asked. “I noticed you left your cane in the car when we had lunch, but you took it when we walked around town.”
He nodded. “It’s a bother, but thankfully, my leg’s feeling stronger every day.” He raised his hand before my mother had a chance to say anything. “I know, Bev. I’m supposed to use my cane all the time. At least I used it most of the day. That should certainly make you happy, so no nagging, okay?”
Mom pointed her finger at him. “This has nothing to do with making me happy. We’ll all be happy if you’ll just be responsible and take care of yourself. And any nagging you get will be well deserved.”
“I know, I know. Now get to bed, young lady. We need to be on high alert tonight. Gracie’s cooking.”
She smiled at me. “I know whatever you make will be wonderful, Gracie. I have utmost confidence in you.”
My father gave a dramatic shudder. “I can’t forget the last meal she cooked for us. It almost turned out to be our actual last meal. I swelled up like a fat balloon.”
“Oh Dad,” I retorted, “you know that wasn’t my fault. The recipe in the paper was a misprint.”
My parents both laughed.
“Most cooks would realize that a cup of salt for eight servings of beef stew is too much,” my mother said.
“Well I know that now. But you can’t fault a gal for trying.”
“Maybe we should look over the recipe for tonight,” Dad said. “You know, for our own protection.”
“I’ll have you know that Sweetie taught me how to prepare tonight’s main course. I’ve made it twice already, and no one has died.”
“That’s just the kind of recommendation I like before I eat,” my father mumbled. “Here, try this. No one has died.”
My mother shook her head and waved a hand at us. “I’ve had enough of you two comics. I’m going to bed. See you later.”
She climbed the stairs, leaving my father and me alone. “How about something to drink?” I asked him.
“Sounds crazy since it’s so hot outside, but I’d love a cup of coffee with cream. How about you?”
My father and I shared a love of coffee. One thing I missed in Harmony—Starbucks. An iced caramel macchiato would taste great right about now. But coffee with plain cream was growing on me. “Sure, I’ll put a pot on.”
Dad followed me into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “This place brings back so many memories,” he said quietly. “Mama fixing breakfast in this kitchen. All of us crowded around the table. Papa praying. Then we’d talk about what was going on in our lives.” He stared out the kitchen window. “I think families are missing out on something important nowadays. Gathering together around the supper table. Really listening to each other. We’re becoming a generation that tunes each other out, I’m afraid.”
I filled my metal coffeepot with coffee and water and set it on the stove to percolate. Dad frowned at me. “You have electricity now. Why don’t you have a coffeemaker?”
I turned on the gas burner under the pot. “Oh, I have one, but I like the taste of coffee in a regular pot, and I don’t have a lot of counter space in here. Do you mind?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I like coffee made the old-fashioned way. Has a deeper, richer taste.”
I came over and sat down at the table. “Sam tells me you want to talk to him tomorrow. Mind if I ask what that’s about?”
He just shrugged but didn’t answer me.
“Look Dad. Anyone who spends time around Sam can see what a wonderful man he is. But I’ve noticed … I don’t know. You’ve spoken to him rather harshly a few times. And I’ve caught you looking at him in a weird way. I mean, you do like him, don’t you?”
My father let out his breath slowly. “Yes, I like him, Gracie. It’s just that in all the time you two have known each other, it’s hard to believe you couldn’t find a few days to come to Nebraska and introduce Sam to your mother and me. After all, we are your parents.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like to be young and in love. But I truly don’t believe I’d have left Harmony with your mother unless Mama and Papa knew my bride-to-be and approved of her. I’ve never been given the chance to approve or disapprove of Sam. What if Mom and I didn’t like him? Would it make any difference?”
I thought about his question for a moment. “Well, I’m certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam and I are meant to be together. What you’re actually asking me is if you and Mom wanted me to disobey God’s will for my life, would I do it? I guess the answer to that question is no.”
He was quiet for a little while, and his gaze drifted back toward the window. Finally, he sighed. “I understand, Gracie, and it sounds right. Maybe some of those old ways are still inside me, but I would have felt better about this marriage if you and Sam had made more of an effort to visit us before becoming engaged. And I really would have liked it if Sam had asked us for your hand.”
I snorted. “Asked you for my hand?” I searched my father’s face but couldn’t see any sign that he wasn’t serious. “Wow, Dad. Does anyone do that anymore?”
He frowned at me. “Yes, Grace Marie, they do. Milton Olshaker’s son-in-law went to him first before he asked their daughter, Debbie, to marry him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Who in the world is Milton Olshaker?”
“You know the Olshakers? From church?”
“Oh wait a minute. I do remember them.” I grinned at him. “Debbie Olshaker? I imagine Milton and his wife were thankful anyone wanted to marry Debbie.”
“Grace Marie,” my father gasped. “That’s unkind. Besides, Debbie looks better now. She got her braces off and has started plucking her eyebrows …” Although he tried to fight it, he burst out laughing. I joined in. “Okay, okay. Bad example,” he said, wiping his eyes. “But the point is …”
“The point is, my dear old dad,” I said softly, “you feel left out. I’m sorry. I really do understand. What can Sam and I do to make it up to you?”
He reached over and grabbed my hand. “Nothing,” he said. “You’re right. I guess I feel like I’m losing my little girl.” He let go of my hand and pointed his finger in my face. “And please don’t tell me I�
�m gaining a son. I’m not quite ready for that yet.”
“But you will be, Dad,” I said gently. “When you get to know Sam the way I do you’ll be proud to call him your son. Besides, Sam could really use a father figure in his life.”
“But he has a father, although I must admit they don’t seem very close.”
I told my father the story of Sam and Pat, getting up in the middle of my story to turn down the burner and pour our coffee. I got the cream out of the refrigerator and put it on the table. Then I finished explaining the confusing relationship the best I could.
“Oh my,” Dad said when I was done. “I had no idea.” He shook his head. “I feel sorry for them both, but Sam needs to forgive his father and find a way to build a relationship.”
“That’s what I keep telling him, but he’s still trying to work through some issues.”
Dad nodded. “People have to deal with their feelings. They just fester inside if you don’t.” He smiled. “If Sam is the man you say he is, he’ll find a way.”
“I’m counting on it. I was so encouraged last night when he insisted that Pat join us for dinner. That was a real step in the right direction.”
“I’m not so sure his aunt felt the same way.”
“Sweetie’s having a hard time. She blames Pat for leaving her sister.”
“So what really happened to Sam’s mother? You said she contacted Pat and told him where Sam was.”
“That was a few years ago. After she wrote to Pat she moved from the town where she’d been living. Left no forwarding address. Pat’s looked everywhere for her, and he has lots of ways to track people. More than a regular person would have at their disposal. But he hasn’t been successful in finding her. She said in her letter that she was really sick and wanted to tell Pat the truth before she died. Pat’s even checked through death records, but he hasn’t found anything.”
