When Grace Sings (19 page)

Steven rested his arms on the edge of his truck’s bed and watched Mr. Aldrich pull off the property. He coughed and blinked against the cloud of dust raised by the man’s tires, but he didn’t turn aside. The community was welcoming him and Anna—Grace with open arms, just the way Mom and Dad
said they would. If Anna—Grace accepted their welcome—if she felt at home, the way Paul Aldrich had said—then he’d be stuck here. If she resisted them, decided it was too uncomfortable to be here, he could sell the place and move on. Moving on now meant not only disappointing his parents but also a host of townsfolk he hadn’t even met.

A breeze stirred bits of old, dry cornstalks and dirt across the toes of his boots. He kicked the brown curls free but the dust remained. He stared at the smudges left by Arborville soil.
God
 … Words wouldn’t form. Steven lowered his head and groaned.

Sommerfeld

Anna—Grace

As Anna—Grace placed the last of the clean plates in the cabinet, the telephone rang. Her mother was busy swishing suds from the sink, so Anna—Grace crossed to the phone and picked up the receiver. “Braun residence. This is Anna—Grace speaking.”

“Anna—Grace!” A cheerful female voice came through the line. “Just the person I wanted to talk to. This is your cousin Sandra in Arborville.”

“Hello, Sandra.” She smiled without effort. Sandra was one of the sunniest people she’d ever met. Even though they’d had little time together—for reasons beyond Anna—Grace’s understanding, the family had ceased getting together for holidays after Dad’s mother passed away—she automatically felt drawn to Sandra. She had what Mom would call a magnetic personality. Sandra attracted people to her.

“Are you still planning to come to Arborville at the end of the month?”

Mom mouthed,
Is it for me?

Anna—Grace shook her head, pointed at her own chest, and answered Sandra at the same time. “Yes, I am. It’s all arranged from this end.” Mom left the kitchen, giving Anna—Grace privacy for the call. As Mom rounded the corner to the living room, worry attacked. Anna—Grace gripped the telephone. “Does it still work for you to host me?”

“Oh, of course! But I wanted to bounce an idea off of you. If you don’t want to do it, it’s no problem at all—we can just toss you in the basement like we’d originally planned.”

Anna—Grace couldn’t stifle a laugh. Sandra’s way of hosting sounded more like condemning someone to a dungeon than welcoming a guest. “What’s the idea?”

“Well, you know our family farmhouse has been turned into a bed-and-breakfast inn, compliments of my sister’s daughter, Alexa. This time of year is slow in the B and B business, so she has rooms available. My mother wondered if you’d rather stay out at the farm where you’d be next door to the Meiers farmstead. She said it would be easier for you to go back and forth and help work there if you weren’t in town.”

“Oh …” She sought a diplomatic way of addressing the topic. “I, um, I’m not sure I can afford to—”

“They don’t intend to charge you!” Sandra’s sweet laughter spilled. “Silly girl, you’re family. It would be just like you were staying with me … except you’d be staying with Mother and Alexa.”

Anna—Grace chewed the inside of her lip and considered Sandra’s suggestion. Part of her liked the idea of being closer to the house that could very well be her home in the next few months. But if she were at the farm, away from town all the time, how would she know if she could settle into the community?

“Anna—Grace? Are you still there?”

Apparently she’d left Sandra waiting too long. “Yes. I’m here. I’m sorry. I was thinking.”

“Did I offend you?” Real concern came through the line. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get rid of you.”

“I’m not offended at all.” And she wasn’t. She hoped Sandra believed her. She didn’t want to ostracize anyone before she even arrived in town. “I appreciate knowing there’s another option, and you’re right that it might simplify things if I was closer to the farmhouse. I do want to help in the renovating as much as possible.”

“That’s exactly what Alexa said.” Anna—Grace was certain she heard Sandra smile. “You’d want to be as involved as possible since it will be your home.”

Well, maybe it will be
 … “Do I have to tell you right now if I want the room at the B and B?”

“No. As I said, Alexa doesn’t have any guests scheduled for the next several weeks, so she doesn’t mind holding a room for you.”

“I’d like to talk to my parents.” Anna—Grace fingered the curly cord on the telephone, her thoughts tripping ahead of her words. “See if they think it would be okay for me to stay closer to Steven. I wouldn’t want to start tongues wagging.”

“With my mother keeping an eye on you, you won’t have a chance to get into mischief.” A giggle met Anna—Grace’s ear. “You can tell your folks I said so.”

Anna—Grace laughed. One of the best parts of being in Arborville would be getting better acquainted with her cousins. “I will. Thank you, Sandra. I’ll call you soon and let you know for sure where I intend to stay.”

They disconnected the call, and Anna—Grace remained in the kitchen for several minutes, the pros and cons of the lodging options forming in her mind. Oddly, she found an equal number of reasons both for and against each location. Mom and Dad would have to make the decision.

She entered the living room and sat next to Mom, who’d lifted out her basket of mending and put a needle and thread to work. For a moment Anna—Grace sat and watched the needle go in and out, closing the tear on the skirt of one of Sunny’s little dresses. Mom stitched with such care, the tear slowly disappearing into a nearly invisible seam. Such a gift her mother had, to make worn things seem like new. She wished she’d inherited it. She could sew but not with the natural ability her mother possessed. But that was probably because Mom wasn’t her real mother. Tears stung and she sniffed.

Mom stopped midstitch and looked at Anna—Grace. Concern lined her brow. “Was the phone call bad news?”

Anna—Grace shook her head. She explained the purpose of Sandra’s call while Mom listened carefully. When she finished, Mom took her hand. “You’re not feeling cast aside, are you?”

“No!” Her answer was half-true. Every time she thought of her biological mother she felt cast aside. But Sandra hadn’t done anything wrong. She tamped down the brief stab of guilt and said, “Sandra made it very clear I’m welcome with her. She just wanted me to know there was another place if I preferred it.”

“I see.” An unreadable expression on her face, Mom seemed to examine Anna—Grace for several seconds. Then she spoke quietly. “You don’t have to go at all, you know. Steven would understand.”

He’d said as much before he’d driven off that morning. Her heart warmed, recalling his tender embrace and whispered assurance that whatever was best for her would be best for him, too. A smile tugged at her lips. “I know he would. But I want to give it a chance. I can’t make Steven give up his inheritance without knowing for sure living there would be too difficult for me.”

“That’s unselfish of you, sweetheart.”

“I want to be unselfish, Mom. And fair. I really do.”

“Of course you do.”

Mom spoke so matter-of-factly, with such sureness, more tears stung. These of gratitude. “If you didn’t have a needle in your hand, I’d hug you.”

Mom laughed, set aside the little dress pierced with a silver needle, and held open her arms. Anna—Grace melted against her, savoring a few minutes of being little again, being comforted, feeling secure. Somehow the letter from her birth parents had sucked much of the security out of her world—the opposite of what parents were supposed to instill in their children.

She pulled back and stood. “I’m going to go write Steven a letter and then walk it to the post office. Do you need anything from town?”

“No. Tell Steven hello from your dad and me.”

“I will.” Anna—Grace went to her bedroom and sat at the little student desk
where she’d finished homework, written dramatic poems in her diary, and penned letters to friends over the years. She laid out her stationery and picked up a pen.

Dear Steven
, she wrote in her neatest handwriting. Steven had beautiful penmanship for a man, and she always felt as though she should write just as neatly.
I know you only left this morning, but I miss you already. I’ll be counting down the days until the 24th, when you come home for the weekend. And after that, I’ll get to see you every day
.

A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard. Gripping the pen, she continued writing.
I love you so much, Steven. When you told me to do what was best for me because it would be best for you, too, I almost cried from happiness. I want to make sure what I do really is best for both of us. I’ll be praying every day for God to help me see His will in this situation, and I know you will be praying for the same thing
.

She wrote until she filled the page, then she signed with her customary
My love always, Anna—Grace
and sealed the letter in an envelope. Gazing at the plain envelope with Steven’s letter inside reminded her of the envelope she still hadn’t opened. Even though she’d closed it in a drawer, putting it out of sight, it continued to tug at her to peel back the flap and remove the missives.

Leaning over the envelope on the desk, she hurriedly added Steven’s new address, stamped it, and then headed for town with his letter gripped between her fingers. As she dropped it into the outgoing mail slot, she recalled her mother’s affirmation that of course she wanted to be unselfish and fair. The remembrance solidified her decision to leave the truth of her parentage sealed inside that envelope. Because if she didn’t know their names, she could go to Arborville and face the people there without any preconceived notions about the ones who gave birth to her and then gave her away. She could treat everyone fairly and kindly.

Until she figured out who they were. Then being fair and kind would be a test beyond anything she’d ever experienced before.

Arborville

Alexa

Alexa watched as Grandmother tore the check from her checkbook and laid it on the corner of the bed. She stared at the slip of paper, unwilling to pick it up. “I’m sorry you’re having to pay the utility bill this month.” She’d refigured the amounts in her checkbook every day that week, hoping for some miracle that would multiply the amount, but Friday morning’s finding was no better than Monday’s had been.

“Don’t worry about it.” Grandmother dropped the checkbook in her lap and wheeled her chair to the dressing table. She transferred the checkbook to the drawer in the dressing table, then turned and rolled back to the bed. She picked up the check and pressed it into Alexa’s hand. “I think you forget I’ve been taking care of the bills for this house for more years than you’ve been alive. I certainly don’t expect you to cover everything just because the house is going to be shared with guests now from time to time.”

When she opened the bed-and-breakfast at Grandmother’s farm, Alexa had vowed to cover the bills so Grandmother could keep her money for herself. Having to dip into Grandmother’s account to cover basic expenses left her feeling as if she’d failed. Alexa released a heavy sigh. “But I expect it of myself. I really want the B and B to pay for itself and even experience some profit.”

“Give it time, Alexa.” Grandmother shook her head, the ribbons from her cap gently swaying beneath her chin. “You only opened for business two months ago. It can take two years to get a business up and running. Be realistic.”

“Well, you aren’t going to cover expenses for that long! I’ll find some other way to bring in money.” She rose and paced the room, fanning herself with the check. “Steven Brungardt’s mother paid me well for putting together that cooler of sandwiches. Maybe I could start catering parties or picnics for people.”

“Picnics in October?” Grandmother sounded skeptical.

Alexa’s defenses prickled, but she kept her tone in check. “Okay, maybe not picnics, but with the holidays coming, people will be hosting get-togethers with family and friends. Wouldn’t there be an interest in hiring someone to set out a variety of hors d’oeuvres or to bake cupcakes or pretty cookies? Maybe I could even do wedding cakes.” Hope built in her chest. She looked at her grandmother. In one glance, her hope disintegrated.