Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1) (7 page)

Sam flushed a nice shade of pink. “Now Mary, you be nice.” His smile seemed a little tight. “This is Ben Temple’s niece, Grace. She’s here to take care of his estate.”

I saw a flicker of relief in her expression. “Nice to meet you, Grace,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Mary Whittenbauer. I own this joint.” Her grip was stronger than I’d expected.

“Most people call me Gracie. Nice to meet you. I hear you fix a mean breakfast.”

“Well, Hector Ramirez, my cook, is responsible for most of the meals here. I tell people I taught him everything he knows, but he says it’s the other way around.”

She looked at Sam. “You havin’ the usual?”

He nodded.

Mary pointed to one of the chalkboards on the wall. “That’s our menu. What sounds good to you, Gracie?”

I picked the regular breakfast with scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns, and toast. I said yes to coffee and watched Mary saunter back to the kitchen.

“I take it you two date?”

Sam looked at the tabletop like he saw something interesting there. “We’ve dated some, yes. It–it’s not that serious though.”

“Sounds like Mary thinks it is.”

His eyes bored into mine. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? I’m not comfortable...”

“I’m sorry. It’s not my business anyway.” My eyes strayed to the photographs on the wall next to us. “Tell me about these pictures.”

Sounding a little more relaxed, Sam launched into a few stories about the families that had settled in Harmony years ago. Many of the original settlers still had descendants who lived in the small town. He confirmed my suspicion that as a rule, Old Order Mennonites didn’t go in for having their pictures taken. They believed capturing your likeness on film was akin to creating a “graven image” and that excessive attention to one’s outside appearance could lead to vanity and self-worship. Their lives revolved around aspects they considered to be really important. Faith and family were at the top of the list. However, there were a few scattered pictures of people dressed in clothing that identified them as members of the Old Order community. Sam explained that down through the years, a few pictures had turned up here and there. Some families who really wanted keepsakes had pictures taken in secret, not letting the rest of the community know. I thought back to the photograph I’d found back at Benjamin’s. It tickled me to think of Papa Joe as a rebel—even back then. I was certainly grateful he’d had at least one portrait taken. I wondered if there were more somewhere. Maybe a little digging would uncover others.

I was so engrossed in Sam’s stories I didn’t even notice that Mary had returned with coffee. I looked down to see a cup in front of me. I picked it up and took a sip. Its deep, rich flavor was exactly what I needed.

“You’re probably used to that froufrou Starbucks coffee,” Sam said. “The only flavors you can add here are cream and sugar.”

I laughed. “Who told you I drink ‘froufrou’ coffee anyway? For your information, Starbucks has regular coffee, too.”

He raised his cup. “Point taken. Sorry to make assumptions.”

Before I had the chance to admit that I liked many of the flavored lattes and Frappuccinos that probably fit his “froufrou” description, the front door of the restaurant opened and a large man with a dark, bushy beard walked in. He wore the kind of straw hat I’d seen in Benjamin’s closet and on some of the other men in Harmony. His black pants and blue shirt reminded me of Benjamin’s clothes. However, he also wore a blue Windbreaker not much different than the one I had on.

“Abel!” Sam called to him.

The man raised one of his meaty hands and a wide smile spread across his broad face. “Hello there, Sam.”

Sam waved him over, and the man approached our table. His size was intimidating, but he radiated affability.

“Grace Temple,” Sam said, “I’d like to introduce you to Abel Mueller. He’s the pastor of Bethel Church.”

Pastor Mueller’s huge fingers enveloped my hand. “Grace Temple? Is this Benjamin’s niece?”

I nodded. “One and the same.”

He kept my hand nestled in his and covered it with his other hand. “We’re glad you’re here, Grace. I’m so sorry your family wasn’t notified when Benjamin became so ill. I tried and tried to convince him that you would want to know, but he forbade me from contacting anyone.”

I had to admit that Pastor Mueller had taken me by surprise. In my mind, I’d lumped him into my preconceived idea of Mennonite leaders—grumpy, judgmental, and humorless. But this man was far from that. “It was Benjamin’s choice, I guess. Not much you could do about it.”

“Thank you. That makes me feel a little better.” He finally let go of my hand.

“Emily and Hannah meeting you for breakfast?” Sam asked.

Pastor Mueller grinned. “Yes, as soon as they’re through picking out fabric from Ruth’s place. Spring is in the air, so new dresses are on the horizon.”

“Why don’t you have a cup of coffee with us until they get here?” Sam said.

The pastor looked at me. “If Grace doesn’t mind.”

“No. Please do.”

He grabbed another chair from a nearby table and pulled it up to ours, easing his large frame onto the padded seat. His eyes scanned the room. Mary stood talking to a family seated near the kitchen. The pastor waited until she looked his way and then stuck one of his fingers in the air. The restaurant owner nodded. Seemed as if Mary knew what everyone wanted before they asked for it. In Wichita, I visited the same Starbucks almost every morning, and each time the workers behind the counter acted as if they’d never seen me before.

“So, how long will you be in Harmony, Grace?” Pastor Mueller asked.

“Two weeks. I have to get back to work. And please, call me Gracie.” I took a sip from my coffee cup.

“Gracie, it is,” he said with a smile. “And what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a graphic designer. I work for an advertising agency.”

The pastor’s eyebrows shot up. “An artist, huh? I have a lot of respect for those to whom God has given artistic talent. I’m afraid that’s something He neglected to bestow upon me.”

“I’ve always loved to draw. I began when I was pretty young. My mother says I started drawing bugs when I was two years old.”

He chuckled. “Bugs, huh? Glad you moved on to other things.” He took a sip of coffee and then put his cup down. “What are your plans while you’re in Harmony?”

“I need to find a way to let people know my uncle’s house is for sale. How should I go about that?”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to spread the word in town first before you put anything in a newspaper outside of Harmony. We have a few young couples that would love a chance at that property.” He looked at Sam. “I’m thinking about Kenneth and Alene Ward. They’ve asked about Ben’s place several times.”

Sam nodded. “I think they’d buy it gladly.”

“I’m not sure why,” I said. “The house isn’t bad, but there are much nicer places around here.”

Pastor Mueller smiled. “Your uncle owns somewhere around thirty acres of the land surrounding that house. When your grandparents lived there, it was farmed for wheat and corn, but Benjamin let it all go after they left. An industrious young couple could bring the land back.”

A chill ran through me. Farming meant digging and turning over the soil. A good chance my family’s secret would be uncovered. The very thing my uncle had feared.

“You won’t have any trouble selling Ben’s property,” Sam said. “I’ll help you get the word out. Maybe we can make some flyers and post them around town.”

I nodded dumbly, but my mind was still focused on the body hiding somewhere under a few feet of dirt. Then another thought struck me. “Pastor Mueller, how did my uncle survive? Financially, I mean. Without any crops...”

“First of all, please call me Abel,” the gregarious man said. “Pastor Mueller is a little too formal for me.”

“Thanks.”

“Your uncle’s income source is easy to spot as you walk up and down our streets,” he continued. “He made all the wonderful rocking chairs scattered all over town. And the birdhouses and feeders. You’ll see many of them in Ruth’s store when you visit.” He shook his head. “Benjamin never lacked for work. He was a skilled craftsman.”

“I didn’t see any kind of workshop on his property.”

“Most of the time, he worked in the basement,” Sam said. “Have you been down there?”

“No. I thought about it last night, but without electricity...”

“Too spooky?” Abel laughed. “I can understand that.”

At that moment, Mary showed up at our table with plates for Sam and me. She set his down carefully in front of him. A pile of pancakes topped with butter and a plate of sausage. She shoved my plate toward me without as much care. I looked up to see her giving me a rather frosty stare. Was she warning me? I had no idea why she saw me as a threat to her relationship with Sam. I wasn’t going to be around long enough to cause her any problems. But maybe I was misinterpreting her actions.

She refilled our coffee cups. “Anything else here?”

“Thanks, Mary,” Abel said heartily. “Emily and Hannah should be along soon. We’ll need a round of your wonderful pancakes.”

“You got it, Abel.” She shot one more pointed look toward me and headed to another table. I glanced at Sam to see if he’d noticed, but he was busy pouring syrup on his plate.

“Abel, would you say grace?” he said after placing the syrup pitcher back on the table.

I bowed my head as the pastor thanked God for our food and the day He’d given us. I silently added a couple of requests of my own, said “Amen,” and picked up my fork. The eggs were fluffy and delicious, and the sausage reminded me of Mama Essie’s. The coffeemaker behind the counter chortled as it created another round of the fresh, robust brew. I usually try to keep myself down to one cup of coffee a day, but I decided to relax my rule this morning. Mary’s breakfast was made to be eaten with the accompaniment of her great coffee.

“So what do you think of Harmony so far?” Abel asked, looking at me.

I quickly swallowed a mouthful of food. “I haven’t seen much of it yet. Sam’s going to show me around a little.” I put my fork down and frowned at him. “This town hasn’t had a good effect on my family, you know. I have to say that I came here expecting to find something much different than what I’ve seen so far.”

Abel smiled. “You mean a place full of religious zealots and judgmental people?”

I nodded.

“Gracie,” he said with sincerity in his voice, “if you could see Harmony as it was thirty years ago, that might be exactly what you’d have found. Except for a few people, like your father, who stood up against the tyranny in this town, everyone took their orders from a man who certainly didn’t follow the real tenets of our faith. Amil Angstadt was a bully who thought his brand of religion was the only way to heaven. You see, Mennonites believe salvation comes through the grace and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. But Angstadt taught that the price our Savior paid for us wasn’t enough. That what you wore, what you did or didn’t do, or even who you spoke to paved your way to heaven.”

I shook my head at him. “But isn’t that the same thing you do? I mean, making these women wear these long dresses and odd caps. Not using electricity. None of these things produce righteousness. That comes from the inside. Not the outside.”

I saw Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. Maybe I was being too direct, but after seeing the havoc this man’s religion had played in my family, I didn’t care.

To my surprise, he smiled widely. “First of all, we use electricity. I know your uncle didn’t, but he held to some of the old ways that most of us don’t. And as far as what produces righteousness, you’re exactly right. I agree with you completely.”

“I’m confused. Then why...”

“Gracie, we don’t
make
anyone wear certain clothes or do anything else. You see, we live this way because we want to. There isn’t a single person in my church who has ever been compelled to do anything except follow the teachings of Christ: to love Him with all their hearts—and to love their neighbors as themselves.” His forehead wrinkled, and then he chuckled. “You know, I haven’t had to explain our ways for a very long time. I guess we’re rather isolated here.” He took a sip of his coffee and then set the cup down in front of him. His eyes sought mine. I saw compassion and kindness in them. Even though I hadn’t been prepared to like him, I did. Very much.

“Living a simple life isn’t done so we can earn brownie points with God,” he said in a soft voice. “It’s a lifestyle we adopt because we truly believe it’s helpful for us.” He held out his open hands. “Take television. Don’t even have one. When there’s a storm, sometimes I’ll come here and Mary will turn the set on so we can get updated weather forecasts. Or if something of national importance happens, I may go to a neighbor’s house and watch a news channel for a bit so I can keep abreast of the situation. While waiting for whatever information I need, I’ve seen snatches of several of today’s ... what are they called ... sitcoms?” He pulled on his beard. “I think our community is better off without them.”

“But there are good things on TV, too,” I said. “Shows that spread the gospel.”

“I know that. I believe television can be a wonderful way to touch the world with the Good News. But the rest of it ... Well, we would just rather live without its leaven. Please understand though—it’s not a rule of the church or anything like that. It’s a suggestion. Just as with many of our other choices. Like what we wear.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Let me ask you a question. Some of the schools in Wichita have adopted dress codes. Do you know why?”

I nodded. “Because it stops kids from wearing gang colors. Also, it helps to cut down on the attention to clothes and refocuses it back on schoolwork.”

“That’s exactly right. In wearing modest, simple clothing, we believe it helps us to focus our lives on God and His service and away from worldly concerns. It’s as simple as that.” He shrugged. “But please understand—we only ask that our members dress modestly. They choose their outfits. I don’t visit everyone’s house in the mornings and approve their choices.” He chuckled. “Not even for my Emily. She says I have no taste.”