A Sister's Secret (24 page)

“Roman, don’t be so harsh.” Mom set her magazine aside and joined him at the sink, where he’d gone to put his empty cup.

He groaned. “Nothin’s been right around here for months. Not here at home or even with my business. Why, the other day when I was in town, I saw Steven Bates at the drugstore, and the fellow snubbed me. Acted like I didn’t even exist. I think he’s still put out over those cabinets that broke, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t been badmouthing me to others so I’ll lose some business.”

“I know I’m not to blame for that,” Grace said tearfully, “but I do feel responsible for what’s happened between me and Cleon, and now me and Anna.”

Martha offered Grace a sympathetic smile. “None of us can do anything about Cleon except pray that he’ll come home soon. However, we can all pitch in and do whatever we can to help make Anna feel more at ease.”

Mom nodded and turned to Dad. “You always seem to be busy in your shop, but couldn’t you make a little time to spend with your granddaughter?”

He shrugged and gave the end of his beard a quick tug. “I suppose I could. I’ve been wantin’ to crack some of those walnuts I’ve had stashed away, so maybe I’ll take Anna out to my shop and show her how to do it.”

“That’s a fine idea,” Mom said with a hopeful-looking smile. “Don’t you think so, Grace?”

Grace nodded, as the lump in her throat grew tighter. “I guess I haven’t found the right thing to do with her yet.”

“You’ll think of something. Maybe you could—”

Martha’s sentence was halted when Ruth entered the room, her lips turned down at the corners and her eyes swimming with tears.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, rushing to Ruth’s side. “Have you been crying?”

Ruth opened her mouth, but all that came out was a little squeak.

Dad stepped forward and grabbed hold of her arm. “What’s the problem? Has there been another attack?”

She shook her head. “It’s ... it’s Luke.”

“What about Luke? Has he done something to you?” Dad’s voice shook with emotion, and a vein on the side of his neck bulged.

“He won’t be honest with me about anything, and I’m afraid he may end up going English, so I—I broke up with him.” Ruth nearly choked on a sob and bolted from the room.

Grace groaned. Apparently she wasn’t the only one in the family with problems.

Chapter 24

“I don’t wanna crack walnuts,” Anna whined as Roman led her into his shop Saturday morning. “I wanna watch TV.”

“We have no TV, Anna, and you know it.” He glanced over at her and frowned. It seemed like all the child had done since she’d arrived at their house was pout, complain, and cry for her poppy. The hardest part was seeing what the little girl’s sudden appearance had done to Grace and her relationship with Cleon.

Roman grimaced. Truth was, he’d felt just as hurt and betrayed as Cleon when Grace’s secret had been revealed. If only she’d told them sooner, when she’d first returned home after living among the English. If they’d known about Anna then, maybe they could have helped Grace get her back. They surely would have offered their support.

Would you have been supportive or judgmental?
a little voice niggled at the back of his mind.

He flinched. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t have taken the news of her marriage well, and he wouldn’t have been happy that Grace had allowed someone else to raise her child. This whole episode continued to remind him of his wayward sister. Had Rosemary been afraid of her family’s reaction to her going English, or didn’t she care enough to want to see them again? Did Rosemary have any children? Was she still alive? He feared he might never know the answer to those questions.

“How come there’s so much wood in here?”

Anna’s simple question pulled Roman out of his musings, and he jerked to attention. “This is where I work. I make wooden things.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders and wandered around the room as though scrutinizing everything she saw.

“Come, have a seat at my workbench.” Roman pulled out a stool for Anna and lifted her onto it. Then he poured some walnuts out of a burlap sack and picked up a hammer. “In my opinion, this is the best way to split open a walnut.”
Crack!
The hammer came down, and the walnut shell split in two. “Now, it’s your turn.” He handed the hammer to Anna, but she stared at the smashed walnut, her eyes filling with tears.

“You killed it!”

“No, Anna, it’s—”

“It’s dead, just like my grandma.”

“Your grandma isn’t dead; she’s back at the house, probably fixing lunch by now.”

“Grandma’s dead, and Poppy’s gone away.” Tears trickled down Anna’s cheeks in little rivulets.

Roman looked around helplessly, wishing Judith or Martha were here. They seemed to have better luck at calming the child than he did. “Let’s forget about the walnuts for now,” he said. “You can sit at my desk while I do some work.”

Anna’s eyebrows furrowed, and her lower lip jutted out like a bullfrog. “I don’t want to. I don’t like it here.”

“Fine! You can go back to the house, and that will give me the freedom to go somewhere I need to go.” Roman set the hammer aside and reached for Anna’s hand. So much for them getting to know each other better.

***

Judith was about to put the last two quarts of applesauce into the pressure canner when she heard a knock on the front door.
That’s strange. It’s not likely anyone we know would use the front door.

“Martha, could you see who’s at the door?” she called. Then she remembered that Martha had gone to check on her dogs, and Grace was upstairs resting.

Sighing, Judith dried her hands on a towel, stepped into the living room, and opened the front door. An English man stood on the porch. At first she didn’t recognize him, but then she remembered him having gone to Roman’s shop when he’d asked about purchasing their land.

“Can I help you?” she asked, stepping onto the porch.

“I hope so.” He offered her a crooked smile. “In case you don’t remember, my name’s Bill Collins, and I was here a few months ago, talking to your husband about the possibility of buying your place.”

She nodded curtly. “I remember.”

“I’d like to talk to you a minute if you’re not busy.”

“Actually, I was about to put some applesauce into the canner.”

“No problem. I can wait until you’re done.”

Thinking he might take a seat in one of the wicker chairs on the porch, Judith headed back inside, leaving the door slightly open. She’d just entered the kitchen when she heard a man’s voice. She whirled around and was surprised to see the land developer standing inside the doorway.

“I’m hoping you and your husband might have reconsidered my offer about selling this place,” he said, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

“Have you spoken to Roman about this again?”

Mr. Collins shook his head. “I thought I’d talk to you first.”

She frowned. “My husband would decide if we were to sell, but I’m sure he hasn’t changed his mind in that regard.”

“I’m prepared to offer you a fair price for the land.”

“That may be so, but we have no plans to sell or relocate.”

He grunted. “Money talks, and it’s not my style to take no for an answer.”

She opened her mouth to comment, but a knock sounded on the front door again. “Excuse me. I need to answer that.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The man stood as though he had no intention of leaving, so Judith headed for the front door, figuring she would ask him to leave as soon as she saw who was at the door.

She was taken aback to see another man standing on the porch, and she grimaced when she realized it was the reporter she’d talked to in town several months ago.

“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” he asked, reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a tablet and pen.

“You’ve already done a magazine article about the break-ins we had. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Judith surprised herself by the boldness of her words and her cool tone of voice. She was usually more pleasant to strangers—even the nosey ones who wanted information about the Amish.

“I was working on some other stories in Pennsylvania, but I’ve come back to Ohio to do a follow-up story on the break-ins. So I was wondering if there have been any more acts of vandalism here.”

“I’d rather not talk about this if you don’t mind.”

“How about the law? Do they have any leads on who might have been responsible?”

“We didn’t involve the sheriff.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

Judith opened her mouth to reply when she remembered her jars of applesauce needing to be put into the canner. Besides, that determined land developer was still in her kitchen. All she wanted was for both men to leave so she could get on with the things she’d planned to do. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Walker, I have something that needs to be taken care of in the kitchen.” She left him on the porch and rushed back to the other room. Mr. Collins was still standing in the same place she’d left him.

“As I was saying,” he said, following her across the room, “I’d like to discuss the details of my offer with you.”

“It’s not my place to talk about this with you, so if you have anything more to say, you’ll have to meet with my husband.” She nodded toward the window. “He’s working in his shop this morning, so I’m sure you’ll find him there.”

He glanced at his watch and moved toward the back door. “I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t have time to talk to Mr. Hostettler right now.” He handed her a business card he’d taken from his jacket pocket. “If you have any persuasion over your husband, I’d recommend you try and talk some sense into him.” He sauntered out through the doorway.

Judith shook her head and dropped the card to the counter as she made her way to the stove. The water in the cooker was already boiling, so she set the jars of applesauce in place, closed the lid, and checked the pressure valve. When she turned from the stove, she was shocked to see Gary standing inside the kitchen door.

“Ach! You scared me. I thought you’d left.”

He nodded at the notebook in his hand. “Didn’t get any answers yet.”

She released an exasperated groan. “I have nothing more to say.”

“You never answered my question about the sheriff and why he wasn’t involved.”

“We’re trusting in God for our protection and leaving it up to Him to bring justice to those who did us wrong.”

“Are you saying that even if you knew who had done the break-ins, you wouldn’t press charges?” His pen flew across the notebook with lightning speed.

“That’s right.” She nodded toward the stove. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

Just then the back door flew open, and little Anna darted into the room.

“Back already?” Judith couldn’t believe they could have finished cracking all those walnuts so quickly.

“Grandpa killed a nut, and then he got mad and sent me back here.”

Judith’s gaze went to the back door. She saw no sign of Roman. “Where’s your grandpa, Anna?”

“He’s going somewhere.” The child’s chin trembled. “He’s not nice like Poppy.”

Concern welled in Judith’s soul. She needed to speak with her husband and find out what had happened between him and Anna and tell him about the pushy land developer and the incessant reporter. With only a slight hesitation, she opened the back door and rushed onto the porch. When she spotted Roman turning his horse and buggy around by the barn, she ran down the walkway, waving and calling his name.

He halted the horse and leaned out the side opening. “What is it, Judith? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“What happened with Anna, and where are you heading?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

Judith shivered and stepped up to the buggy. “She said you were mad at her, and that you were leaving.”

“That’s all?”

“Pretty much. Oh, and she said you’d killed a nut.”

Roman grimaced. “All she did was whine and complain, and after I cracked the first walnut, she started to bawl. Then she mentioned her other grandpa and said she wanted to go home.” His nose twitched and his eyebrows scrunched together. “I figured I’d never get anything done with her howling like a wounded heifer, so I sent her back to the house.”

“I see. And where are you off to now?”

“Going into town to get a few things I need in my shop. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course, but I think you should know that Mr. Collins, that land developer, was here a few minutes ago.”

“What’d he want?”

“To get me to convince you to sell our land.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“That he’d need to talk to you, but I didn’t think you were interested in selling.”

“You got that right. If and when he does talk to me again, I’ll tell him the same thing I told the Larsons when they asked about buying our place: I won’t sell for any amount of money.” Roman picked up the reins. “I’m off to town now.”

Before she could say anything else, he got the horse moving and steered the buggy down the driveway.