When Grace Sings (37 page)

If any other girl had responded so noncommittally to his invitation to dinner, he would have snapped something like “Don’t do me any favors” and stormed off. But he needed this girl. So he smiled. “Good. Tomorrow at six thirty. That way Mrs. Z won’t be alone for long before the nurse arrives.”

“Anna—Grace will be here.”

She didn’t look any happier about leaving her grandmother with Anna—Grace than she had about going out with him. He might have to ask about that, too. “Ah yes, I forgot. Then we could go earlier if you want.”

“I still need to fix supper for Grandmother, Anna—Grace, and Steven.”

“So six thirty after all?”

She sighed. “Yes. That’s fine.”

He forced a cheery tone. “Great! Now you scoot inside. Your face is all pink—the cold air must be kissing you too hard.”

The pink deepened to red. She jumped up and darted inside. He descended the steps in two wide strides and headed for the cottage with a bounce in his step. Success! If he turned on the Briley charm, proven time and again to coax what he wanted from someone of the female persuasion, he’d have the
nitty-gritty for his article by tomorrow night. He envisioned Alexa’s sweet face turned up to him, pink-cheeked and uncertain even while agreeing, and his steps slowed. Guilt tried to worm its way through him. What he planned to write would cause pain to the people of this small community.

Before he’d come to Arborville, he’d thought they were nothing more than a bunch of weird religious throwbacks to the 1800s. But now he knew them. He liked them. Some—like Alexa, and Steven, and Paul and Danny Aldrich, and maybe even Mrs. Z—had become friends. Could he expose them as no different than anyone else?
Should
he do it?

He jabbed his fist in the air and sent the unwelcome emotion spiraling away. He’d come to do a job. He owed Len—the man had given him his start. And how else would he finally see his name—the name of the punk kid everybody said was doomed to end up in juvenile hall—on a front page byline? He’d finish the article. These people didn’t mean anything to him, after all. Saying it enough would eventually convince him it was true.

Steven

Steven tried to focus on the blotches of paint Anna—Grace had carefully lined up on the wall in the front room. Instead of seeing shades of tan—she called them “taupe”—all he saw was Paul Aldrich’s face when the man asked,
“You’ll take good care of her?”

Anna—Grace gave his elbow a little nudge. “Well, what do you think? Which do you like?”

He made himself concentrate on the blobs of tan, darker tan, lighter tan, and tannish-gray. In all honesty, they looked pretty much the same. He shrugged. “They’re all … okay, I guess.” He looked at her. “What do you like best?”

Instead of answering, she lifted his arm and fitted herself against his length. With her cheek pressed to his collarbone, she peered up at him and smiled. “I like you.”

He should move her away. Having her so near raised temptations a decent man shouldn’t act on. The thought troubled him. He wouldn’t have suspected Paul Aldrich of being anything but decent. If that man fell from grace, anybody could. Despite his inner worries Steven couldn’t resist slipping his arm around her waist and smiling back at her.

“This is nice, isn’t it? Just the two of us?” She flicked a glance left and right, then settled her cheek back in its spot. She looked so sweet with the white
ribbons from her cap trailing past her jaw and her blue-eyed gaze aimed at him. She fit perfectly beneath his arm—as if they were two halves of one whole. She sighed softly. “I’m glad the carpenter left before Alexa and I returned.”

“Why is that?”

“He makes me nervous. He’s a very odd man.”

Recalling the man’s emotional reaction to spending a few minutes with the daughter he gave up for adoption nearly twenty years ago, Steven experienced a rush of sympathy. “Anna—Grace, that isn’t very nice.”

She stepped away from him and gave him a disgruntled look. “Are you going to get onto me about disliking Mr. Aldrich, too?”

“Who else got onto you?”

“Alexa.” Anna—Grace folded her arms over her chest. “She called me melodramatic because I said I didn’t like the way he ogled me.”

Steven brushed his knuckles along her smooth cheek. “I don’t think he meant to ogle you. I think he was just …” His hand froze beneath her chin.

She reached up and cupped his hand, pressing his palm firmly against her jaw. “He was just … what?”

What could he say? Anna—Grace hadn’t wanted to read the letters from her birth parents, which meant she didn’t want to know who they were. He wished he hadn’t figured out Paul Aldrich’s relationship to her. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss. He stroked the tender spot in front of her ear with his thumb. “Just trying to be friendly. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes. “Why are you defending him? I understand why Alexa stood up for him—he’s been friends with her family for a long time. But you—”

“He has?” Steven dropped his hand and moved a step back. “How long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just remember my dad saying he’d once been sweet on my cousin Suzy, and when I asked Alexa about it, she confirmed he and Suzy were good friends a long time ago.”

Steven’s mouth went dry. He forced a casual tone, his heart thudding. “Suzy is Alexa’s mother, right?”

Anna—Grace nodded.

Bits of information began connecting in his mind like pieces of an algebraic equation. Paul Aldrich and Suzy Zimmerman had been sweet on each other. Could Alexa’s mother be Anna—Grace’s mother? If so, instead of cousins, the girls were sisters. Possibly even twins. But why had Suzy kept Alexa and given Anna—Grace up? Why didn’t Mr. Aldrich openly claim Alexa? He obviously knew he’d fathered Anna—Grace, so didn’t it stand to reason he’d know about Alexa, too? There were still too many unknown variables for the equation to take shape.

Her brows pinched together. “I thought it was kind of strange that Alexa was so supportive of the man who’d once spurned her mother. Or maybe her mother spurned him. I don’t know. Either way, there had to have been some hurt feelings. But she still told me to be nice to him.”

“That’s always good advice.”

“I’ll be nice. But I also plan to keep my distance from him. Truthfully, Steven, he made my skin crawl.”

Steven chose his words carefully. “If you intend to work over here, you won’t be able to stay away from him. The house is pretty small, and he isn’t going anywhere else until everything here is done.” He remembered the man’s request to bring his son along on Saturday. “When there’s no school, he’ll have his son, Danny, with him. It will probably bother the boy if he sees you being standoffish with his dad.”

Anna—Grace tipped her head. Her eyes seemed to berate him. “You know I wouldn’t be intentionally unkind. Especially not to a child. And I would appreciate it if you would support me and my feelings instead of sticking up for the carpenter who’s working on your house.”

He caught hold of her shoulders and drew her into his embrace. She didn’t wrap her arms around him, but she allowed him to hold her close. He rested his chin against her temple. The mesh of her head covering felt abrasive against his flesh. “I didn’t mean to make you think your feelings don’t matter. Of course they do. But the carpenter has to be here every day until the work is
done. If you’d rather not be around him, then you’ll have to stay at your gra—” He bit the tip of his tongue to stop the word
grandmother
from escaping. “… great-aunt’s house until his part of the renovation is finished.”

She shifted slightly to look up at him. “But if I do that, it’ll prolong doing the painting and wallpapering. I said I would help.”

“It’ll keep.” Steven formed his next words carefully. “What about other people in town? You’ve been here almost a week now. Has anyone else made you feel uncomfortable?”

Her face formed a thoughtful pucker. “No. Not especially. A few have looked at me funny—questioningly, I guess. And sometimes I get the feeling Alexa doesn’t really want me around. But no one else makes my skin crawl.”

Steven couldn’t decide if her answer made him happy or sad. He pulled her close again, his thoughts racing. Should he tell her why Paul Aldrich stared at her? It might ease her mind if she knew the reason he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. Better yet, it might send her running back to Sommerfeld, and he could follow. One thing he did know—if he told her now it would be more for himself than for her. As difficult as it was to keep the information a secret, he wouldn’t tell her until he was sure it was something she wanted to know.

Once again he took her shoulders and set her aside. “I’m going to take you back to the B and B. It isn’t wise for us to be here alone like this.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong.”

In the fellowship’s eyes being alone together was wrong because it could lead to sinful behavior. The fact that Anna—Grace now stood before him proved at least one Old Order Mennonite boy and girl had given in to temptation. Although he’d always surmised his fiancée had been born to an unwed mother, knowing her birth parents were Old Order—just like he and Anna—Grace were—increased his determination to remain above reproach.

He offered a gentle smile. “And I want to keep it that way. Come on. Let’s go.” He helped her into her coat, then escorted her to his pickup. He opened the door for her and took hold of her elbow to give her a little boost into the cab.

As she settled on the seat, she turned to him. A sad smile tipped up the corners of her lips. “I know how much this farmstead means to your family. I won’t let my feelings about Mr. Aldrich keep me from being open-minded about living in Arborville. Don’t worry.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I’m not worried.” He closed the door, then blew out a breath. Not worried? A blatant lie. His biggest worry was he’d be stuck on this farm for the rest of his life, wishing his brother had stayed around to inherit this land instead. As he rounded the truck, his thoughts turned into a prayer.

Lord, forgive me for fibbing. And for withholding the truth about Paul Aldrich. Reveal it to Anna—Grace when the time is right. And, Lord?
He paused with his hand on the driver’s door handle and looked skyward. Not even a wisp of cloud hid him from his Father’s view.
Let her decision about staying or not staying be the right one. For both of us
.

Briley

Friday morning Briley asked for a second helping of Alexa’s special pumpkin pancakes. The first serving—three dessert plate–sized fluffy cakes with thin slivers of raw apple and chunky walnuts between the layers, smothered in warm, cinnamon-laced maple syrup, and served alongside sausage links—was enough to satisfy the heartiest appetite, but they tasted so good his mouth insisted on more. He’d just skip lunch later. Besides, he needed to get his fill of Alexa’s good cooking before he returned to Chicago.

As he dug into the second stack of pancakes, Mrs. Zimmerman shot him a serious frown.

“Alexa tells me you’re leaving us soon.” She held her coffee cup beneath her chin but didn’t take a sip. “Does that mean you’ve finished your article?”

Briley swallowed and swiped his mouth with his napkin. He noted both Steven and Anna—Grace paused in eating to turn attentive gazes on him. He
answered cautiously. “Not quite. I still have one more loose thread to tie up.” He shrugged. “Even so, I’ll probably head out Monday morning.”

“Well, I will tell you now, young man, I wasn’t too sure about hosting you when you first showed up here.” Mrs. Zimmerman spoke in her brisk, straightforward manner, but he detected a hint of apology in her expression. “If it hadn’t been for Alexa needing the money your stay would bring in, I would have sent you right on down the road the first time you flirted with her.” An impish twinkle brightened her faded blue eyes. “You are something of a scamp, Briley Forrester.”

Her comment raised memories of Aunt Myrt. His lips twitched into a grin.

“I also worried your worldly wise ways might cause problems with some of our young people, but I’ve watched you with Alexa, with young Danny Aldrich, and now with Steven and Anna—Grace, and you know …” She lowered the coffee cup and pointed at him. “Instead of stirring discontent, I think you’ve made us examine our lifestyle and consider it through an outsider’s eyes. You’ve given us a chance for self-examination. That’s a good thing.”