by Nancy Mehl
“Not really. I guess that makes sense, but the police swear no one leaked that information. Just seems weird, that’s all.” He said good-bye to my dad and told me once more to mind my own business—for good measure, I guess. Then he left.
I started to ask my father if he’d thought Pat’s manner was a little odd, when Papa suddenly moaned from the couch. Dad got up and went over to him.
“You okay, Papa?” Dad asked.
“Yes, fine,” he answered. “But I need to take a trip to the bathroom, and I’m a little unsteady on my feet. Would you give me a hand, son?”
My father helped Papa up and guided him toward the bathroom. I checked the clock. A little after one. Less than an hour until we were due at Sam’s. I sat down at my kitchen table and thought about Pat’s interest in the source of my information. Surely he couldn’t suspect Bill of anything. He was one of the nicest men in Harmony. Then I remembered Bill’s red truck. What if he didn’t really have a nephew on the Topeka paper?
My conversation with Pat echoed over and over in my mind. Suddenly I realized how ridiculous my suspicion sounded. Bill Eberly wouldn’t hurt a fly. And why in the world was I so focused on men in Harmony anyway? It didn’t really make much sense. Pat said the murderer had committed crimes in other states. As far as I knew, Bill had lived here all his life. Jumbled thoughts collided with each other inside me, and I could almost feel my blood pressure rise. Pat was right, I was out of control. Bill Eberly was not and never could be a murderer.
I thought back to the strong sensation back at the Muellers’ when Abel read the ninety-first Psalm. I was certain God had reassured us that everything would turn out okay, but I still felt this nervous fear rolling around inside me. A sermon I heard in church popped into my head. It was about God’s wisdom being peaceful. Well, I sure didn’t feel peaceful. Either I would have to have faith that God was watching over Hannah, or I’d have to follow fear. I chose faith. It took an effort to push the voice of panic away from me, but I made the decision to do it.
“You okay, Snicklefritz?”
My dad’s voice startled me. He was helping Papa back onto the couch. “I’m fine, Dad, thanks. How are you feeling, Papa?”
“With my fingers, Gracie,” Papa said. He lowered himself gingerly to the couch and my father covered him up with the quilt.
“Can I get you anything?”
“A cup of hot chocolate would be very nice.” Papa smiled. “Essie used to make me hot chocolate when I was sick, and it always made me feel better.”
“She did the same thing for me,” I said. “Right now a cup of cocoa sounds like the perfect prescription for both of us.”
My mother came into the room from the basement where she’d been washing clothes. “What’s the perfect prescription?” she asked.
“Hot chocolate.”
She laughed. “It’s almost one hundred degrees outside, and you people want hot chocolate?”
“Hey, sounds good to me,” my father said. “It’s great anytime and in any weather.”
“Well, Gracie Marie,” Mom said with a smile, “I think the womenfolk should retire to the kitchen and whip up some cups of hot chocolate. What do you think?”
“I completely agree.”
We started toward the kitchen, but I stopped when Papa called out my name. “Hey, Gracie,” he said with a grin. “What do you call a cow with no legs?”
My parents joined in and we all said together, “I don’t know, Papa. What do you call a cow with no legs?”
We laughed when he exclaimed, “Ground beef!”
My mother and I worked together to prepare the hot cocoa. Then my family and I spent the next thirty minutes talking and enjoying each other until it was time to pick up Ida and go to Sam’s. For just a little while, the world felt normal, and everything seemed to be the way it should be. But there was someone missing. Until Hannah was home, nothing would really be the way it was supposed to be again.
Chapter Sixteen
When we got to Sam’s, he was waiting on the front porch. He’d changed his regular work clothes for clean jeans and a light-blue shirt that brought out his blue-gray eyes. I could tell he was nervous, but I had no doubt Sam would win my father over completely. Sam was everything a father could ever want in a son-in-law. He was certainly everything I’d ever dreamed of in a husband. Sam and my dad took off toward the orchard while Ida and I followed Sweetie into the kitchen.
“Been workin’ on these plans for a long time,” she said when we sat down.
She poured us both a glass of iced tea and put a plate of cookies on the table. Sweetie’s coconut pecan cookies. They were out of this world, but I only took two. My wedding dress was tight enough. If I ate too many, I’d never get into it.
“Sorry to dump so much of this on you,” I said. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing to help me.”
“Oh, pshaw,” she retorted. “Ain’t much work at all. I did expand things a bit, though, since you decided everyone who wanted to come was welcome.”
“Expand things, how?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“Well, I asked Pastor Jensen if we could move the ceremony from the small chapel to the main sanctuary. He said that weren’t no problem. ’Course this means we’ll need more decorations, but the women’s Bible study has taken over all that. They’re gonna put big white-ribbon bows on the ends of the pews with purple silk irises in the middle. And you’ll carry a bouquet with red carnations, yellow dandelions, and purple irises.”
Ida’s eyebrows shot up. “What an unusual bouquet, Gracie. Why those flowers?”
I smiled at her. “The red carnations are a symbol of love, the dandelions remind me of the wildflowers that grow in Harmony, and purple irises are my favorite flower. They were my grandmother’s also.”
Ida reached over and put her hand on mine. “What a beautiful sentiment. This will be an extraordinary bouquet.”
“I hope so. I saw one like it on an online wedding site a while back, and I fell in love with it.”
“There will be a large bunch of the same flowers in a vase on the stage where you say your vows and another bouquet on the table at the reception,” Sweetie continued. “Ruth has a long red floor runner we’ll use for you to walk on up to the front of the church.” She squinted at me. “How’s all this sound so far? Is this what you wanted?”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “What’s going on with the food?”
Sweetie shuffled through her notes and pulled out a handwritten piece of paper. “Hector has suggested three different menus. He said you should look them over and see what sounds good to you.” She chuckled. “And he said to tell you if you don’t like these ideas, toss ’em out and tell him what you want. Whatever it is, he’ll find a way to do it.”
Ida glanced at the list Sweetie put on the table. “Ach, this is so much fancier than what I had at my wedding.”
“What food was served at your reception?” I asked.
“It was very simple. Much too simple for young people today, I imagine.” Ida wrinkled her nose as she sought to remember. “We had the most delicious roast chicken with stuffing, along with mashed potatoes and gravy. I believe my mother made creamed celery and coleslaw. Of course, there was homemade applesauce.” She covered her mouth with her fingers and giggled. “It was very good, but it was not as good as yours, Sweetie. My mother would not be pleased to hear me say this.” She lowered her hand and screwed up her face again. “I remember delicious cherry pie and tapioca pudding with bread. There were warm biscuits fresh from the oven served with butter and jelly.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “It was quite a feast.”
“My father said Mom wore a blue dress for her wedding,” I said. “What did you wear?”
Ida nodded. “Ach, yes. A blue dress. Plain without additional adornment. And a black prayer covering to show I was now a married woman.” She smiled at me. “I know this sounds unattractive to you, liebling, but Herman whispered into my ear that I was th
e most beautiful bride he ever laid eyes on.” She sighed. “And I believed him. Herman always made me feel he was blessed to be my husband. No woman could ask for more, ja?”
I nodded my agreement.
“I guess all this wedding folderol seems foolish to you,” Sweetie said to Ida.
“Not at all,” she responded. “A wedding is about the bride and groom and their commitment to God. I know Gracie and Sam will put Him first in their lives. I have no doubt of their love or their ability to pursue the life God has for them.” She reached over and patted my shoulder. “The traditions we follow at a wedding shouldn’t be our main focus, child. It is what is in our hearts that matters, and how we live after our vows.”
“Wise advice,” Sweetie said.
I sighed. “Yes, it is, but all these details sure seem important right now.” I frowned at Ida. “My mother brought her blue dress for me to wear.”
“Tradition used to be that the wedding dress was only worn once and then kept as a remembrance because it is so meaningful,” Ida said. “It is very touching that she has offered it to you.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said, shaking my head. “But I bought a beautiful white wedding dress in Wichita, and I planned to wear it.”
“Then wear it,” she said emphatically.
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking …”
“Wait a minute, Gracie girl,” Sweetie said. “This is your wedding. You wear what you want. I know your mama feels the same way. Just ‘cause she brought that dress with her, it don’t mean she expects you to wear it.”
“Sweetie is right,” Ida chimed in. “I know your mother wants your wedding to be everything you desire. Why are you thinking about this?”
I let out a deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s just been on my mind. She never got the wedding she wanted. If it would make her happy …”
“It is your day,” Ida said. “One day when we are allowed to be a little selfish. You let your heart lead you, liebling.”
“Okay.” I smiled at the two women who were so important to me. “It was just a thought. Let’s move on.” But it was more than just a thought. The idea had been rolling around in my mind ever since my father told me about the dress. The idea of being married in Harmony—in the same dress my mother had worn at her wedding tugged at my heart. It gave me a sense of being a part of something really special. A connection to the past. “Ida, tell me more about your own wedding,” I said, pushing the menu from Hector out of the way.
Ida described a day that began at four o’clock in the morning. All the chores were done first, and then the wedding helpers arrived around seven. Weddings were usually held in the bride’s home unless it wasn’t large enough. First the ushers, dressed in black suits with bow ties, took their places near the front door. Their wives stood with them. When the guests arrived, they were seated on long wooden benches that had been brought in just for the ceremony. The wedding actually started at eight thirty in the morning and lasted about three hours.
“Three hours,” Sweetie exclaimed. “My goodness, after gettin’ up so early folks would be plumb tuckered out by the time the couple finally says ‘I do.’”
Ida laughed. “Believe it or not, no one seemed the least bit tired. It was such a wonderful day, I suppose the excitement kept us going.”
“Did you go on a honeymoon?” I asked.
“Well, it was not the kind of honeymoon that brides and grooms go on today. We spent our first night in my parents’ home, and then the rest of the winter we visited many of the other relatives and friends who attended the wedding and stayed at least one night with them.”
“Yikes,” I said. “That’s not my idea of a honeymoon.”
Sweetie snorted. “And just where are you and Sam going after the wedding?”
“Well, with the harvest and everything …”
Sweetie winked at Ida. “They ain’t goin’ nowhere. They’re stayin’ here to finish pickin’ fruit.”
“Yes, but that’s because there’s nowhere else we want to be,” I said quietly. “Being in Harmony as Sam’s wife, and living in this beautiful house … Well, there’s no honeymoon spot on this planet that appeals to me more.”
“Ach, liebling,” Ida said. “This is why Sam is the most blessed man in the world, and you are the most blessed woman. You have found God’s will for your lives. In His will is more joy and peace than any place or possession the world could ever offer.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon going over other details of the wedding. As we double-checked the guest list, I thought of C. J. Bradley.
“I wonder if C.J. would like to come to the ceremony,” I said. “I don’t know him very well, but since the whole town is turning out anyway, it might be a good chance for him to connect with some of the town’s people. Might help us round up some additional help for him, too.”
“I think he’d like that,” Sweetie said. “But why don’t you just ask him? I don’t think we need to send out another invitation, do you?”
“No problem. I’ll run by there and invite him.”
“I am so glad C.J. is home and caring for Abigail,” Ida said. “It puts my mind to rest.”
“Me, too,” I said. “Oh, and remember the story you told me about C.J. and the girl he loved when he was young?”
She nodded.
“Well, they’re together again after all these years. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Ida looked surprised. “I am glad to hear that. Maybelline Parker told me she thought Melanie had passed away. I am so pleased to know that she is alive and well.” She frowned. “I wonder if Abigail knows about Melanie. She would not be happy.”
Sweetie made a clucking noise with her tongue. “That woman is just plain cantankerous. I’m glad to see her plan to break those two kids up didn’t succeed after all. It might a taken awhile, but the good Lord put back together what Abigail tried to destroy. Good for Him.”
“Yes,” Ida agreed. “I will pray that this time C.J. finds happiness with the woman he loves.”
“I’ll pray for him, too,” I said.
Ida laughed softly. “Ach, I just remembered what his initials stand for.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Must be good. What is it?”
“He was born during Abigail’s involvement in some kind of odd religion. His mother named him Cosmic Journey.”
Sweetie burst out laughing. “Are you kiddin’ me? That poor man.”
“Oh my.” I covered my mouth with my hand. “I’d rather be called Snicklefritz than something like that.”
Ida nodded. “A name left over from the sixties, I believe. Maybe C.J. has had it changed. Anyway, I hope so.”
“And I thought being saddled with Myrtle was bad,” Sweetie said, giggling.
I didn’t mention that most people wouldn’t want to be called Sweetie, but she loved her nickname. Ida cast a quick glance my way, and I grinned at her. She was probably thinking the same thing I was.
We moved on to looking over Hector’s choices for the reception dinner. I finally decided on a menu, and we set a time for the wedding rehearsal.
“The rehearsal dinner will be here,” Sweetie said. “I may not be cookin’ for the reception, but I sure as tootin’ can handle dinner for the families and Pastor Jensen.”
We’d just started talking about that menu when the front door opened and my father’s voice boomed out. “Anyone here?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” I hollered.
Sam was a few seconds behind my dad, and as soon as I saw his face I knew something was wrong.
“You about ready to go, Snicklefritz?” Dad said. He ignored Ida and Sweetie, which wasn’t like him.
“I—I guess so.” I looked at Sweetie. “Why don’t you finish the menu for the rehearsal dinner on your own? I trust your instincts.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything. I could tell she’d picked up on the tension in the air. Part of me wanted to throw my hands up in the air and say, “What now?” Surely there
was enough drama going on around me without my father and my fiancé having problems.
“Dad, why don’t you and Ida go on out to the car? I want to talk to Sam a minute.”
My father hesitated for a second or two, but finally he helped Ida up and silently guided her down the hall and out the door.
“Okay, what in the world is going on?” I asked Sam after we heard the front door close.
He slumped down in a nearby chair. “Wow. I really don’t know what happened.” He shook his head. “Everything was going just fine, and then all of a sudden your dad went off on me.”
“What do you mean he went off on you?” I couldn’t keep the exasperation I was feeling out of my voice.
Sam rubbed the side of his face. “We were talking about the farm. You know, why Sweetie and I chose peaches and apples. Then he started asking about our berry crop. Suddenly, he started going on and on about weather and crop failure. What would happen if we had a couple of bad seasons? I tried to explain how we operate, that we have savings in reserve in case we have a poor crop, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Your father seems to think I can’t take care of you properly.”
“I have a job, too,” I said. “It’s not like we’re completely dependent on the farm to—”
Sam slapped the table with his hand. “I don’t need your money. I can take care of us just fine.”
Stunned, I couldn’t form a response fast enough. “I—I …”
He stood up, his face flushed and angry. “I don’t need you or anyone to support me, thank you. If you don’t believe I can provide for you …”
“All right, that’s enough, you two,” Sweetie bellowed. “I won’t have you goin’ at each other like this.” She jabbed a finger into Sam’s chest. “Sit down, young man. And I mean now!”
Sam slid back into his chair like a whipped puppy.
“And you …” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. “You watch the way you talk to this man. He don’t want no woman supportin’ him. It ain’t respectful to talk to a husband like that.”
