Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) (28 page)

“Of course.”

“It is because of Sarah Ketterling. We have developed a fine friendship, and I just can’t desert her, Gracie. The poor child is so isolated. At least Gabriel lets me talk to her. And he even allows her to visit me from time to time. I am afraid if I start attending Bethel, he will forbid our relationship.”

I told Ida about running into Sarah in town and my desire to learn wood-block printing from her.

Ida nodded slowly. “I wonder if Gabriel would allow her to teach you if you met here in my home.”

“I—I kind of doubt it,” I said. “He wasn’t very nice to me. Told me my uncle would be ashamed of me.”

Ida’s face flushed crimson. “That man had no business speaking to you that way. He is so filled up with hate, he can’t love anyone.” She shook her head. “Your uncle would be so proud of you, Gracie. You are such a lovely young woman. Good and kind—and full of love. Do not listen to Gabriel. I knew Benjamin better than most folks. He was a troubled man—but he was a good man.”

She turned her attention to the old letter and unfolded its yellowed pages slowly. “Now, let us read this letter before that handsome, young Sam Goodrich breaks in, looking for a piece of my pie.”

I nodded and settled back in my chair. Listening to a letter from my grandmother written twenty years ago gave me a lump in my throat. How I wish I could talk to her one more time. Feel her hug my neck or call me her “little gift of grace.”

“‘My dearest friend, Ida,’”
the old woman read in her age-crackled voice.
“‘I know our leaving has caused you pain. I am so sorry. When we drove away from Harmony for the last time, all I could think of was you. I know you have felt alone since Herman’s passing. In the past few years, our friendship has grown even stronger. Surely you realize how much I treasure it—and you. But I cannot allow Grace to grow up without her Mama Essie and Papa Joe. When we visited Daniel and Beverly, my heart broke when we had to leave. Gracie cried for us as we walked away. I cannot bear it, Ida. Can you understand that, my friend? If I could have both of you, I would. Joe and I talked about asking you to come with us. But I know you do not want to leave your home, and I respect that. Can you respect the yearning in my heart for my beautiful grandchild? I wish you could see her, Ida. She has the most beautiful green eyes and bright red hair. She looks so much like Benjamin. Joe and I are hopeful that he will join us soon. My little gift of grace will love her handsome uncle—I am sure of it. And oh, Ida, if you could only see Daniel and Beverly. What a lovely home they have made for themselves. They are so much in love, even today. It is such a blessing to be near them.

“‘I know Bishop Angstadt was angry about our decision, but I have come to realize that the love of God I read about in the Bible is not the kind of love I see in him. I will not speak ill of anyone, Ida, but I will ask you to remember that Mennonites are dedicated to following God’s love and living in peace with everyone. It is because of my love for Him and
His ways first, and the love of my family second, that I have embraced the decision my husband made to move to Nebraska. This does not mean that my heart is not broken because I had to leave Benjamin and you behind. Maybe someday soon I will be able to come to you—to greet you once again with a holy kiss. I pray for this.

“‘Please take care of yourself, my dearest friend. And if you can find it in your heart, please forgive me for any pain I have caused you. I want you to know that I will love you every day I live. And if I never hear from you again in this life, I will wait for that kiss in the fields of heaven where we will take off our socks and shoes and dip our toes into God’s holy waters. I love you today and forever.

“‘Your loving sister in Christ, Essie Temple.’”

Ida lowered the letter with trembling fingers. Tears coursed down her face, and I realized with a start that my face was wet, too. As we looked at each other, I was filled with a desire that seemed to speak straight from my heart. I rose to my feet and walked up to Ida. Then I leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “This is from Essie,” I said, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

The old woman’s breath caught, and she reached up and put her arms around my neck. I hugged her back while we both cried. When I straightened up, my shoulder was damp with her tears.

“Oh, my dear Gracie,” she whispered. “My dear, dear Gracie.”

I sat back down and tried to compose myself. I couldn’t help but compare this letter to the one my uncle had left for me. The first letter brought fear and confusion. This one had delivered healing and love. Ida reached into her pocket and took out a hankie, which she used to dry her face. Not having a tissue handy, I wiped my tears with my sleeve. Finally, I started to giggle. “My goodness, if Sam finds us like this, he’ll think we’ve lost our minds.”

A grin erupted on Ida’s face, and we soon found ourselves wiping away tears of laughter instead of sorrow.

“My goodness,” she said once she managed to stop. “What joy you’ve brought to my home today. I am so grateful and happy I read Essie’s letter with you. It made it even more special.”

“She always loved you, Ida.” I followed that statement with a rather loud, high-pitched hiccup.

Ida chuckled. “I think it is time for something to drink, ja? Coffee or lemonade?”

“Lemonade, please.” I tried to stop the next hiccup before it got past my lips. My attempt only made it worse, culminating in a sound that was a cross between a hiccup and a squealing pig.

Ida hurried off to the kitchen, probably afraid I might actually implode before her eyes. She was back almost immediately with a tall, cold glass of homemade lemonade. I swallowed half the glassful in only a few seconds. When I pulled the rim away from my mouth, we both waited in anticipation. Thankfully, my embarrassing bout was gone. Peace reigned once again in my body.

“I–I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess laughing and crying at the same time makes me hiccup. I have no idea why I can’t hiccup like a normal human being. It’s humiliating.”

Ida’s eyes filled with tears once again even though she smiled. “Your grandmother sounded exactly like that. I used to tease her about it unmercifully.”

“You’re right. I’d forgotten.” Sometimes at family gatherings, my father and grandfather would purposely pester my grandmother until she got the hiccups. She would scold them for it, but somehow it just made the situation funnier. Mama Essie had a way of wrinkling her nose when she was amused that reminded me of a young girl. I fought against the emotions the memory brought. There had been enough crying for one afternoon.

“You know,” Ida said in a dreamy voice, staring out the nearby window. “Growing up Mennonite wasn’t bad at all. Oh, there were challenges as a young girl, but the positive things always outweighed the negative.”

“Tell me about it, please. My father never talked much about his childhood.”

“Well, school was the hardest. I grew up in Pennsylvania. We moved to Harmony when I was ten. In Pennsylvania we had our own community school. But when we moved here, I had to go to regular school in Sunrise, a town about ten miles from here. That was hard. We looked different than the other children. And we weren’t allowed to participate when they stood for the Pledge of Allegiance.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, frowning. “What’s wrong with the Pledge?”

“We were taught that our allegiance was only to God and His kingdom. Not to any government.”

“Oh. Did the other kids tease you?”

She nodded. “And not just about that. The way we dressed, the way we wore our hair, and the buggies we rode to school in. There was always something, it seemed. As a child, your heart cry is to fit in. Yet we never did.”

“Do those memories make you sad?”

Ida smiled. “No, child. When I was young, it seemed as if my life was very hard. But now, I’m grateful. I would not want it any other way. Being raised the way I was taught me what is really important in this life. Goodness, God has blessed me so much. I could never repay His kindnesses to me. Why, look at the blessing He has given me through you. I know we are going to be very great friends.”

I started to remind her that I wouldn’t be here long, but I couldn’t get the words out. Of course, driving to Harmony for weekend visits wasn’t impossible. This town had grabbed a piece of my heart, and I knew I’d have to return whenever I could.

We sipped our lemonade in satisfied silence. I could look out Ida’s front window and see Benjamin’s house. The sight of the silent, deserted structure reminded me of a question I wanted to ask her.

“Ida, did you happen to notice any cars at Benjamin’s house on Saturday?”

“Let’s see.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I did see one automobile there. I can’t quite remember what time it was.”

“Do you know who it belonged to?”

“Why, certainly. It was Sam’s.”

Disappointment must have shown in my face, because Ida frowned and reached for my hand. “I’m sorry, my dear. That doesn’t seem to be the answer you were looking for. Were you hoping I had seen someone else?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not important.” I had no intention of telling her about the vase. I felt certain she would believe in my innocence, but I didn’t want her to worry about me.

I heard the rumble of Sam’s truck on the dirt path that led to Ida’s house. The old woman rose to her feet.

“Sounds like I need to cut some pieces of pie,” she said happily. “It is so nice to have company. I—I certainly wish you lived here, Gracie. It would be wonderful to have you close.” With that, she headed toward the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” I called after her.

She turned around and smiled. “Not necessary, child. You stay there and let Sam in, ja? I’ll be back lickety-split.”

I got up and opened the front door. Sam came bounding up the steps. “Hey, there,” he said when he saw me. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was still damp and he’d changed into a clean shirt.

“Hey, yourself. I hate to tell you this, but Ida and I ate all the pie.”

He stopped cold and gaped at me. “I hope you’re kidding...”

I tried to keep a straight face but found it impossible. His shocked expression made me laugh.

“You are in so much trouble.” He flashed me a crooked grin. “I will get you. Somehow. Someway. Somewhere.”

“Wow, watch out. I’m shaking.” I opened the screen door for him, and he stepped inside. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me in a big hug. He smelled of bath soap and cologne. Startled, I pushed him away. He stepped back quickly and tried to smile, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Sorry. I’m just glad to see you.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have done that. You—you just surprised me.”

“Forget it,” he said brusquely. “I understand.”

He walked away from me before I could say anything else. Regret coursed through me. He’d obviously showered and dressed for me. And in his mind, I’d just rejected him. I chided myself for shoving him away. Why had I reacted that way? For some reason, an uncomfortable tension grew inside me that had nothing to do with Jacob Glick or the stolen vase. There was a war waging in my soul. A war I couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

I sat down in Ida’s chair and listened to Sam and Ida teasing each other in the kitchen. They had a wonderful friendship based on mutual trust and admiration. I wasn’t sure I had that in my life. I had friends, sure, but after spending a few days in Harmony, they were beginning to look more like acquaintances. Maybe it had to do with living in a small town. Whatever it was, I couldn’t seem to put my finger on the difference.

“Here we are,” Ida called out. Sam followed behind her, carrying a tray with three plates of pie and three cups of coffee. Ida wrinkled her nose and laughed. “I told this man I could carry that tray by myself, but he would not let me do it. Thinks I am an old lady, I guess.”

“That’s not it,” Sam said, winking at me. “I just need the exercise so I can keep up with you.”

I smiled at him. Thankfully, the friction between us seemed to have disappeared. Ida moved the flowers off the table next to the couch and pulled it over so it sat between us. Sam put the tray on top of it while Ida carried the vase over to a long table against the wall.

“Did you see the flowers Gracie brought me?” she asked Sam.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, smiling.

She fingered them for a moment and then leaned over to smell them. When she turned around, her eyes were moist. “They remind me so much of Herman. Thank you again, Gracie.”

“I’ll bring you flowers after Grace leaves,” Sam said. “Wish I’d thought of it myself.”

Ida tottered back over to the couch. “Pshaw. Men don’t understand flowers. Women do though. And my Herman.” She reached over and tousled Sam’s hair. “You show your concern every time you drop by to see if I need anything. And when you fix things that are broken.” She looked at me. “This man completely replaced my roof when it got weak and water began to leak in. He also built new back steps and fixed Zebediah’s barn when it started to rot. I could not ask for a better neighbor.”

“Oh hush,” Sam said good-naturedly. “You know I only do those things so you’ll feed me.”

Ida chuckled as she took the pie plates and coffee off the tray. She handed me the tray, and I set it down next to my chair.

“This table is not very big, but it will hold our pie,” she said. “Now before we eat, will you say grace, Sam?”

We bowed our heads while Sam prayed over the food and asked God’s blessings on his friend. We all said, “Amen,” and dug into our yummy-looking dessert. It was topped with a rich whipped cream, and the strawberries were encased in a flavorful gelatin. All this was supported by a flaky piecrust that practically melted in my mouth.

“This is delicious,” I said after taking my first bite. “My goodness, you definitely would give my grandmother a run for her money.”

“I almost forgot,” Sam said after swallowing a big bite of pie. “Did you read the letter?”

“Yes, we did,” I said. “It was wonderful. We both cried, and I got the hiccups.”