Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) (3 page)

She nodded vigorously. “It’s a cryin’ shame, too.” She swiped at her eyes with her muddy hand, leaving a trail of grime on her face. “He was a good man, Gracie girl. A good man.”

“Thank you.” I put my hand back on the doorknob. “Now if you’ll excuse me...”

“Sure, sure.” She frowned and took a step back. “Well, if you need anything, alls you gotta do is set this pot of petunias on the porch rail.” She bent down to pick up a large pot of flowers sitting near the steps and handed it to me.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I called you?”

She exploded with coarse laughter, and her face turned beet red. “You’re gonna have to get used to livin’ like the old Mennies,” she sputtered after regaining her voice. “There ain’t no phone here.”

No phone? I hadn’t counted on that. “I have a cell phone...”

“I wouldn’t count on it workin’ out here,” she said, interrupting me. “But you can go down to one of them shops in town. There’s phones there. Not all these Mennies live by the old rules like your uncle. Only a handful of those kind left now.” She grinned at me like a deranged Cheshire cat. “You got lucky and inherited one of the few houses around without no electricity or a working phone. For a city girl like you, it’ll be quite an adventure, I reckon.”

I stared at the woman as I set the flowers on the porch. Even though I found her irritating, it occurred to me that she might be one of the only people who really knew my uncle. Although I abhorred the choices he’d made, seeing the house where my father had grown up sparked a desire to learn what I could about Benjamin. “You know, I am rather curious about my uncle. Maybe while I’m here you could answer some questions I have about him.”

“Well,” she said, staring up at the sky, “it’s gettin’ pretty late. I got a roast in the oven that’ll be burnt to a crisp if I don’t get a-goin’.” Myrtle waved once and jumped off the porch. Then she headed down the road like her overalls were on fire.

I shook my head as I watched her scurry away. Had I scared her off? Maybe it was best not to question my good fortune. I had to consider that maybe old Sweetie was a few bricks shy of a full load. Besides, I was determined to stay focused on my goals. I fully intended to sell the house, grab a few things for my mom and dad, and leave well within my two-week deadline. Trying to learn more about my uncle would probably only sidetrack me.

Before opening the front door, I glanced up and down the road. Besides the big, red home in the distance, I spotted a couple of other houses on Faith Road. They sat like silent sentries in the middle of crop fields. It didn’t make any sense, but I suddenly had the strange feeling they were watching me—wondering what I was going to do next. A curious sense of uneasiness filled me, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from trembling as I slid Benjamin’s key into the lock.

I had to jiggle the ancient key several times before the front door creaked open. Anticipating the worst from a lifelong bachelor, I was pleased to find a clean, orderly, and rather attractive living room. A bright rag rug lay on the polished hardwood floor, adding a splash of color to the surroundings. To the right of the entryway, a carved wood staircase led to the upstairs. The massive cherry secretary next to the window was beautifully carved and intricate, with a drop-down lid that doubled as a desk. The makeshift desktop held paper, pens, and a large leather Bible. Another wall was lined with bookcases. A rocking chair, a close cousin to the one on the porch, sat in the corner, and against the farthest wall, I was surprised to find a lovely couch upholstered in a rich gold brocade fabric. The material had been well cared for but appeared somewhat faded by time. Someone had carefully folded a colorful handcrafted quilt and laid it across its back. In another corner of the room, next to a cast-iron stove, was a brown leather upholstered chair, and next to it stood a tall grandfather’s clock made from some kind of dark wood. Perhaps mahogany. The pendulum sat unmoving. I fumbled around on top of the clock and found the key that unlocked the front piece. Same place we kept our key at home. After checking my watch, I set the time, pulled up the weights, and started the pendulum moving. The slow ticking filled the silent room, making it feel as if life were coming back into the abandoned house.

The furniture surprised me. Rather than being plain and without character or design, I found well-crafted pieces that had obviously been created with excellence.

I checked out the old potbellied stove that was probably used to supply heat to the main room during the winter. Good thing it was spring. I didn’t relish the idea of having to gather wood and start a fire on a frigid Kansas morning.

Two paintings hung in the living room. One was of horses standing near a fence. The other, a landscape depicting a field of golden wheat under gathered storm clouds. Both displayed a high level of talent, and I wondered about the artist. Against the far wall a large cross-stitch sampler declared “Fear not for I am with thee.” The scripture touched my heart, as if God were speaking directly to me, reassuring me that even in this rather strange situation, I wasn’t alone.

As I began my search through the rest of the house, I felt happy beyond words to find a fairly modern bathroom. The large claw-foot tub was different than what I was used to. I found the lack of a shower rather annoying, but I could make do. I’d been expecting an outhouse. I still remembered the summers my family went camping and fishing at a lake not far from our home. The only available facilities left much to be desired. Not much more than holes in the ground, I visited them only when absolutely necessary. My cousin, Jonathon, used to tell me stories about big, hairy spiders that lived at the bottom of the toilets. Needless to say, any outing to the bathroom was made in great haste and with severe trepidation. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be having nightmares about spiders while I was here.

I liked the kitchen with its lemon yellow paint and handmade oak cabinets. A small oak table with two chairs sat near a window that looked out on the property behind the house. The table was covered with a green-and-white-checked tablecloth, and matching valances hung over the windows. A large tublike sink with a water pump sat directly under one of the windows. Two colorful rag rugs lay on the floor. A white hobnail hurricane lamp hung from one of the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. The stove and refrigerator bordered on antique, but at least they appeared to be clean. A stainless-steel teapot waited on the stove. As Myrtle warned, I couldn’t find any electrical outlets. I peeked out the window and discovered that a propane tank had been set up next to the house. That explained how the appliances worked.

A sudden knock on the front door startled me, and I sighed with frustration. So far, my visit to what I’d pictured as a peaceful Mennonite community had turned out to be something quite different. Hoping Sweetie hadn’t made an unwelcome return, I cautiously opened the front door. A nice-looking man stood on the porch, dressed in jeans and a blue-checkered shirt. I guessed him to be not much older than me. He flashed me a crooked grin.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but I wonder if you’re Benjamin’s niece, Grace?”

For crying out loud, did everyone in this town know me? “Yes, I’m Gracie Temple. And you are?”

He brushed a lock of sun-bleached hair out of his face. “I’m Sam. Sam Goodrich.”

“Goodrich? Any relation to...?”

“Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly, his face flushing. “I’m her nephew. Don’t tell me she’s been here already.”

“Yes. In fact, she introduced herself before I even got inside the house.”

He shook his head. “Sorry about that. My aunt was pretty close to your uncle. She took his death hard. I think she’s still trying to look out for him.”

I couldn’t leave this man standing on the front porch much longer. It was becoming evident he wasn’t going anywhere. Reluctantly, I pushed the screen door open. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you, I would. But first let me get something from my truck. I brought you a housewarming gift.”

I watched as he bounded off the porch and hurried over to a battered, weather-beaten truck that must have been blue at one time before rust took over. With a start, I realized it was the truck I’d seen parked in front of the beautiful red house down the road. Did this guy live there? I found him handsome in a roughshod, country kind of way. Not anything like the guys back home. Most of my dates came through hooking up with other people in advertising. I was used to the slicked-down, suited-up type who sported black-framed glasses and had their hair carefully styled to look messy. Never could quite understand the popularity of that look. I achieved it every morning when I rolled out of bed, and it didn’t cost me a cent.

Frankly, Sam reminded me more of the boys in Fairbury—the ones I’d wanted to get away from. Funny how they’d never made my heart beat faster—the way it did now. Sam grabbed a large wicker basket from the back of his truck and trudged back to where I stood waiting.

“I thought you might like some fresh fruit,” he said, smiling. “I have a farm about half a mile down the road. I brought you some fresh blackberries and strawberries. I also grow peaches and apples, but they’re not ready to harvest yet. I stuck in some jars of peaches from last season, along with some apple preserves and a jar of apple butter.” He carried the basket straight to the kitchen. He’d obviously been here before.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. It will be nice to have something to eat. I haven’t had time to look around to see if there’s anything else in the house.”

He set the basket on the table in the corner of the kitchen. “You don’t need to worry about that.” He stepped over to the refrigerator and swung the door open. To my amazement it was stocked with food. “After your father called Pastor Mueller to say you were coming, we made sure you’d have what you needed.” He stepped over to a door next to the kitchen cabinets. “There’s also quite a bit of food in the pantry.”

Inside a small room lined with shelves, I found almost every kind of canned food imaginable. Lots of collard greens, spinach, hominy, and bags of white beans sat waiting for someone who might appreciate them. That sure wasn’t me. I was relieved to see a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and on the floor, a few bottles of pop.

“There are two wooden boxes on the floor near the door,” Sam said. “They contain bird food and squirrel food for Ben’s friends.”

“I saw the bird feeder, but where did he feed the squirrels?” I closed the pantry door and almost ran into Sam. He colored slightly and took a step back. “There’s a feeder on the south side of the roof. Ben has a ladder leaning up against the house. Just carry the food up there and dump it in. You’ll have all kinds of squirrelly visitors. I mean besides my aunt and me.” He grinned when I laughed. “Why don’t you let me feed them the first time? It will only take a few minutes.”

“Thanks. That would be great. I ... I can’t thank you enough for everything. If you’ll tell me how much you spent on supplies, I’d be happy to write you a check.”

His friendly smile ratcheted down a notch. “You don’t owe us anything. That’s just the way things are done around here. Besides, Ben was our friend.”

Although my first reaction was to insist once again that he allow me to compensate him, I could tell it was best to back off. I didn’t want to offend him. “Why don’t I get us something to drink while you feed my uncle’s pets? Then maybe we could visit for a while?”

His answering smile indicated that our rather awkward moment had passed. Sam showed me where the glasses were kept. Then he shoveled some bird and squirrel food into two metal pitchers and carried them outside. I checked out the fridge and found a pitcher of fresh lemonade. As I poured some into our glasses, I heard the ladder hit the side of the house. I carried the ice-cold lemonade into the living room and waited for him to finish. As promised, it took him less than five minutes. He came in, put the pitchers back in the pantry, and joined me in the living room. I sat on the couch while he took the rocking chair.

“I have to admit that the furniture in this house surprises me,” I said after he’d made himself comfortable.

He smiled. “You thought it would be plain? A lot of straight lines and lack of decoration?”

I nodded.

“You’re thinking of Shaker furniture. For the most part, even Old Order Mennonites were allowed to have nice furniture.” He pointed at the secretary. “I believe that’s been in your family for many years. If I remember right, Ben told me it was built by your great-great-grandfather.”

“Really? My dad sent me down here to rescue our family heirlooms. I’m certain he’ll want it.” I shook my head. “There’s more furniture here than I anticipated. We’ll have to rent a pretty big trailer to get all this stuff to Nebraska.”

Sam nodded and took a drink from his glass. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he smiled. “One of the reasons I came by was to show you how to use the propane tank and explain how the plumbing works.

“We do have plumbing in the big city.”

He laughed. “I know that, but in this house, water is collected in a cistern that flows into a tank in the basement. If you want to take a bath or wash clothes, you have to turn on a small gas-powered generator that runs water through your pipes.”

“Well, how does the ... um ... the...”

Sam grinned and put me out of my misery. “I won’t explain all the intricacies to you, but an air compressor allows everything else in the bathroom to work the way you’re used to. And let me put one other rumor to rest. Old Order Mennonites do use toilet paper. You’ll find it in the bathroom cabinet.”

The relief I felt must have shown in my face, because he chuckled again. I liked the way he laughed. It was deep and real. His irises were an unusual shade of bluish gray. I’d never seen eyes that color before. His blond hair almost reached his shoulders, and he kept pushing it off his sunburned face. It gave him the kind of romantic look many movie stars would probably sell their souls to possess.