Simple Deceit (The Harmony Series 2) (34 page)

He nodded. “That’s right. And the look on her face when she saw that baby.” He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief he took from his pocket. “Well, let’s just say that I’m not the least bit worried about the baby getting all the love she needs. And Thelma is just as crazy about her. They named her Trinity, by the way.”

“Oh my. That’s lovely.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I hesitate to say this, but from what you’ve told me, it almost sounds like Rand’s death was a blessing in some ways.”

He studied the surface of the table for a moment before replying. “The death of any man who doesn’t know God is a tragedy beyond description,” he said. His voice broke. “Believe me, I stay up some nights thinking about people like him. People I couldn’t get through to. I wonder if I’d done something different—or better—maybe they would have found the Lord.”

I started to say something, but he shook his head. “I know those thoughts are wrong. The Holy Spirit convicts every person, and in the end, it is their decision. But thoughts like these are part of the territory when you’re a minister.” He cleared his throat. “But back to your comment. As far as Thelma and Jessica, yes. Their lives will be much better now that Rand is gone.”

“That’s a sad commentary on anyone’s life,” I said.

“It certainly is.”

“Will they be okay? Financially, that is?”

Abel smiled. “You know better than to ask that.”

I returned the smile. “You’re right. Sorry. The church will step in and take care of them.”

“That’s what we’re called to do. And we love doing His work.”

A thought popped into my mind. “Will they sell their property to Eric now?”

Abel frowned. “Strange about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thelma has no idea what Rand was thinking in trying to sell his land to Mr. Beck. Rand had mortgaged the place to the hilt. Of course, he didn’t spend the money on his family. He used it for drinking and gambling. I guess he was a regular at a casino near Topeka. All Thelma can surmise is that Rand figured he could pay off his first mortgage and get another loan on the house so he could throw that money away as well.”

“And then he got greedy and decided he wanted to not only pay off his loan but make a little more from Eric and his investors.”

Abel shrugged. “That’s about the only thing that makes sense. I think he kept the fact that he didn’t have a clear title from Mr. Beck.”

“So if Thelma sells her place to Eric, will she make any money?”

“Not much after paying off the mortgage. But it doesn’t really matter since she never wanted to leave her home in the first place. Thelma feels as strongly about Harmony as most of us do. She wants to stay here—in her own home.”

“So what now?” I felt overwhelming compassion for Thelma and her daughter. Rand had certainly left them an unhappy legacy.

“That’s an interesting question. Seems when Thelma started calling family this afternoon to tell them about Rand’s death, she found out Rand has a life insurance policy. It was taken out on him when he worked for the family business back in Iowa. After Rand left to come to Harmony, Thelma’s brother kept it going because he was concerned about Thelma and Jessica. With Rand’s drinking, he figured there was a good chance he’d die early, and the brother wanted his sister and niece to be protected. It’s enough money to pay off the mortgage and get the farm back on its feet.”

“Oh, Abel. That’s wonderful news. I can hardly believe it.”

“God is already providing,” he said with a wide smile. “And the church will make sure those fields are taken care of the way they should be. Thelma will have enough money to live comfortably on her land as long as she wants.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment, and Abel noticed the pensive look on my face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just that…”

“That Rand’s death has actually benefited his family?”

I nodded.

Abel put his hand on my arm and patted it. “Rand chose to use the gift of life God gave him to be selfish and cruel to the people he should have cherished. His life could have been completely different. We can do a lot of things to help others, but we can’t make their choices, Gracie. Even God Himself won’t override our will.”

I nodded my agreement. There wasn’t much else to say. It was a sad ending for a sad man.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Abel said. “I’m sure after the past few days, you’re looking forward to enjoying some time relaxing with Sweetie and Sam.” He patted his round stomach. “And eating Mary’s food.” He beamed. “I recommend the sauerbraten. It’s delicious.”

I laughed. “Is there anything Hector can’t cook?”

“He is a marvel, isn’t he? Please keep him and his family in your prayers. His wife, Carmen, is pregnant and has been having some problems. Her doctor has ordered bed rest for the last three months of her pregnancy. That means she has to leave her teaching job at the school in Sunrise. With three other children, things are already tight. Hector has no idea how they’ll make it.”

“I’m sure folks here will pitch in and help.”

“Of course. Several of the town’s women have volunteered to help Carmen around the house and with the children. But that’s as much as Hector will allow us to do. He won’t accept financial assistance. He believes supporting his family is his responsibility.”

“I respect that, but all of us need help sometimes.”

Abel sighed. “I agree. But I have to respect his wishes.”

“I’ll definitely keep him and his family in my prayers.”

“I know you will.” He rose to his feet. “I think I see Mary with my sauerbraten. Now I must enjoy my dinner—but without showing too much enthusiasm.”

I stood up, too. “I don’t understand.”

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Because if my wife suspects I enjoy Hector’s sauerbraten more than hers, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He stepped back with a big grin on his face. “You be sure and call us so we can set up a time for dinner. And bring Sam with you.”

I kissed the big man on the cheek. “I can hardly wait. And thanks, Abel, for telling me about the baby. Please thank Jessica for me, too.”

“I will. God bless you, Gracie.”

I watched him go back to his table. Emily and Hannah waved at me. What a great family. And what wonderful friends they had become. I could hardly believe that when I first came to Harmony, I’d been so negative toward Abel and his religion. Just proves it’s impossible to judge justly through preconceived opinions and prejudices.

When I got back to our table, Sam and Sweetie looked at me expectantly. “Well,” Sweetie said, “who’s the mother?”

I sat down. “I can’t tell you.”

“What?” Sweetie screeched loudly enough to be heard by dogs in the next county. Several patrons turned and looked our way. I noticed the Crandalls sitting in a booth across the room. They
smiled at me, and I raised my hand in greeting.

“Hush,” I scolded. “The mother has asked Abel to keep her identity secret—for now. You’ll know the truth soon.”

Sweetie wasn’t happy about being kept out of the loop, but she grudgingly accepted my promise that she wouldn’t have to wait long for the information she wanted. “Why did Abel tell you who the mama is?” she asked in a subdued voice.

“Because of that awful letter. The mother felt bad about it and asked Abel to apologize to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t her fault,” Sam said. “But that’s very thoughtful.” He shook his head. “When the truth comes out, I hope the person who wrote that letter feels like the judgmental gossip they are.”

“Most critical, judgmental people are too busy thinking about everyone else to look at themselves. I think that’s why God commanded us not to judge people. We can’t see into another person’s heart, and we have no idea what we’re talking about.”

“Besides that, we got that huge two-by-four stuck in our eyeballs,” Sweetie added.

I chuckled. “You’ve got it right, Sweetie.”

Sam winked at me.

“Here you go,” Mary said, stepping up to our table with a tray of drinks. She put a coffee pitcher and two cups down in front of me and Sweetie. Then she handed a huge glass of Mountain Dew to Sam. “I don’t know how you can drink caffeine this late in the day. It would keep me up all night.”

“Sweetie and I can drink coffee almost up to bedtime, and it doesn’t bother us,” I said.

She grinned. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She looked at Sam. “I never understood how you can drink that stuff any time of the day and never have a problem.”

He smacked his lips and took a big gulp. “Best drink on the
face of the earth,” he said with a sigh. “Hardly ever go through a day without it.”

“That’s the truth,” Sweetie said. “I cart that stuff back from Sunrise by the caseload.”

“You guys decide what you want?” Mary asked.

“Abel recommended the sauerbraten,” I said. “Think I’ll go with that.”

“You won’t be sorry. It’s fabulous.” Mary scribbled my order on her pad. “It comes with potato pancakes and sauerkraut—is that okay?”

“Sounds great.”

“And what about you two?”

“Bring me the biggest, juiciest rib eye you got,” Sweetie said. “I’ve got a real hankerin’ for steak tonight.”

Mary wrote down her order, not asking about side dishes because she already knew what Sweetie wanted. “Sam?”

“Put me down for the second biggest, juiciest rib-eye in the place,” he said. “After all that work in the orchards, I’ve got the same hankerin’.”

“You got it,” Mary said. As with Sweetie, she didn’t ask about sides. “Hey, Gracie, you still coming here tomorrow night? The roads should be pretty good by then.”

“Sure. It sounds great. What time?”

“I’ll close up around seven. It might take me another thirty minutes to get everyone out of here. Will that work for you?”

“Perfect. I’ll be here. I look forward to it.”

She left to take an order at a nearby table. I recognized Bill Eberly, the kind man who had moved his car for Ida and me the day of the meeting. I held my hand up and smiled at him. He waved back. I noticed he sat alone at his table. “Sam, do you know Bill Eberly?” I asked when Bill turned his attention to Mary.

“Sure. Nice man. He and your uncle got along really well. He
and his wife moved here about ten years ago with their two kids. A boy and a girl. They’re both in college now. One’s in California and the other is somewhere back east. Edith passed away almost four years ago. Cancer, if I remember right.”

“So he lives all alone?”

Sam nodded.

“He’s about Joyce Bechtold’s age, isn’t he?”

“Yep, they’re about the same age,” Sweetie said. “But it won’t do you no good to try to fix them two up. Bill ain’t been interested in any woman since Edith passed. He’s a one-woman man, I guess. And anyways, Joyce is gone.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Joyce had been in love with my uncle for many years before he died. Although I was certain he’d felt the same way about her, he’d never acknowledged it. Before I left town the last time, Joyce and I had spent several hours painting the last birdhouses, feeders, and rocking chairs my uncle had crafted before his death. Working together had been a joy, and we’d begun developing a real friendship.

“Her sister died, and Joyce moved to Dodge City to take care of her nieces and nephew,” Sam said. “She left about a month ago.”

“I wonder why she didn’t tell me.” I couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. Maybe we weren’t as close as I thought.

“To be honest,” Sam said, “I’m not sure her brother-in-law needs her that much. I think Joyce just wanted to get away. Harmony reminded her of your uncle. She needs time to heal. Maybe she’ll come back someday.”

I sighed. “Well, I hope so. We still had some birdhouses left to paint.”

“She finished ‘em,” Sweetie said. “I shoulda told you, but with everything goin’ on I just forgot. They’re all stacked up in the basement. She told me to tell you to do whatever you want with them.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Sam said kindly. “Joyce didn’t leave you; she left her painful memories. She thinks the world of you.”

“Well, I’ll miss her. Guess I’ll have to come up with someone else for Bill.”

Sweetie snorted. “You don’t listen much, do you? I told you he ain’t looking for nobody.”

I smiled at her. “Everyone’s looking for someone, Sweetie.”

Sam laughed. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Why, thank you so much,” I replied. “I resemble that remark.”

Sweetie and Sam started talking about what work needed to be done on the farm during the upcoming week. I’d certainly learned the hard way that farmwork continues even when the trees aren’t blooming. My attention began to drift when Cora, Amos, and Drew Crandall approached our table.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Cora said in her sweet, high-pitched voice.

“Not at all,” I said, happy for a reprieve from farm duties. “How are you guys?”

“We’re doing very well,” Amos said. “Thanks to Sam and the other men who cleared the roads near our house.”

“We didn’t get to every street,” Sam said. “Wish we could have done more.”

“Well, you made it possible for us to get home and to church tonight,” Cora said. “We want to thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Sam said with a smile.

“We’re really looking forward to spending some time with Mr. Hampton tomorrow,” Cora said.

“Grant?” I said. “I don’t understand. I figured he was on his way back to Wichita.”

“He called us yesterday and asked if he could talk to us about Drew. He has a special son like ours.” Cora put her arm around Drew, who gave his mother a big smile. “I told him we are far from
perfect, but we would be happy to help him in any way we can. He’s staying a few more days so we can spend some time together.”

I was touched that Grant had seen something helpful in this wonderful couple. “I know you’ll be able to give him some needed advice,” I said. “He really does need it.”

“I hope we can be of assistance,” Amos said. “We intend to do our best.” He tipped his hat. “You folks have a nice dinner. It’s time for us to head over to the church.”

We said good-bye, and I watched them as they left. “What wonderful people. Isn’t it odd that with all the organizations and social workers in Wichita, it took a Conservative Mennonite couple in Harmony, Kansas, to give Grant the support he’s been looking for?”