Simple Deceit (The Harmony Series 2) (6 page)

He let go of my hand and grabbed his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. “Don’t worry about it. I understand, and believe me, I’d feel exactly the same way.” He studied me for a moment. “You know you can come back to my house if you’d feel safer.”

I’d taken up residence in his home for a while when it appeared someone in Harmony meant to harm me. Sweetie’s impeccable restoration to the home’s original Victorian glory had produced an incredible interior as well as an eye-catching exterior. You’d never know she had the talent to design and furnish a house by just looking at her. She’s eternally dressed in old, ratty overalls from her homeless haute couture collection. I almost said yes to Sam’s proposal just so I could snuggle into my favorite bedroom. Decorated with purples and reds, it’s one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever seen. I’d loved every moment I’d spent in it. But I finally had my own house, and I had no intention of allowing anyone to chase me out.

“Thanks, but I’ll stay here,” I said with as much conviction as
I could muster. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. And now that I actually have a phone, I can call you if I need help.”

He chuckled. “Remember when we had to use walkie-talkies to communicate with each other? Seems like a lifetime ago.”

I shook my head. “To you maybe, but not to me. I still thank God every time I walk past that beautiful telephone.”

“Well, I’d better get back before Sweetie comes looking for me. You call me if you see anything else, Grace. Do you want me to take one more quick look before I go?”

“Oh, would you? I’d feel so much better.”

He smiled. “Sure. If I see any cause for concern, I’ll come back to the house. If not, I’ll just head on home, okay? And we’ll still take another look in the morning when it’s light if that will make you feel better.”

I grabbed his arm. “Yes, it would. Thank you, Sam. I want to enjoy this house without feeling like someone’s out to get me. There’s been enough of that.”

He nodded slowly, his expression grave. “I’m sorry. I should have been more understanding.” He started toward the front door but turned back before putting his hand on the knob. “I know you’re tired and want to sleep late and putter around in the morning, but why don’t we go to lunch at the café? Mary’s been asking about you, and I know there are other people who would like to say hello.”

“I’d love to. Mary sent me the sweetest note before I left Wichita. Believe it or not, I think your ex-girlfriend and I are going to be great friends.”

He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I’m glad. She’s been pretty nice to me lately. It didn’t happen overnight, but I don’t get a knot in my stomach anymore when I see her.”

I laughed. “That’s a huge improvement over a few months ago. Why don’t you come by around noon, and we’ll drive into
town together? I’ll probably run over and visit with Ida first, so if I’m not home when you get here, check for me over there.”

After assuring me he would, he left. I went back to the kitchen and sat in the dark, gazing out the window. True to his word, he headed out toward the trees once again with his flashlight. The moon was only a sliver tonight and clouds passed quickly in front of it, plunging us into inky blackness. The beam from Sam’s light bounced around for several minutes, disappearing for a while when he stepped past the tree line. Finally, he reappeared and strode quickly toward the front of the house. I heard the engine of his old truck start up and listened as he drove away. Obviously he hadn’t found anything this time either. I felt a little guilty for making him look twice, but his thorough searches comforted me. Whoever had been out there was obviously gone. I’d probably never know the identity of my late-night visitor, but it was a mystery I felt no strong desire to uncover—as long as it never happened again. The light had been suspiciously close to the place where Jacob Glick was once buried, but I had to agree with Sam. It didn’t make sense to think someone had been out there in the dark and the cold trying to find a grave that had been empty for months.

I fixed myself a cup of hot tea and sat at the table for another thirty minutes until I decided to turn in.

Before leaving the kitchen, I set Snickle up with food, water, and a new litter box. He seemed happy to be home and purred as he christened his box. Then I grabbed my suitcase and headed upstairs to my bedroom. It had originally been my grandparents’ room, and although I’d kept the original furniture, I’d added some of my own touches to make the space belong to me. Buttercream wall paint created a warm glow. A large overstuffed chair with a matching footstool sat in the corner where the old potbellied stove had once been. I’d found the chair at a church rummage sale. The lovely dark green patterned upholstery had called to me. A
friend helped me to move it to my apartment, where it had never really looked right. But it fit perfectly here. Funny how things turn out. The chair was like an omen for change, although I hadn’t recognized it at the time.

The faded quilt that had originally been on the bed had been bundled up and placed in a trunk in the basement for safekeeping. I’d covered the bed with the quilt Mama Essie, my grandmother, had made just for me. I’d always been afraid to use it—afraid it would be damaged—but it belonged here. On this bed. In this room. Mama Essie would be pleased to know I’d finally taken it out of mothballs.

I stared at the large picture on the wall. A portrait of an Old Order Mennonite family in their simple garb—the men and boys in wide-brimmed black hats. Although Old Order Mennonites were discouraged from having their pictures taken, Papa Joe, my grandfather, had bucked tradition for this one photograph. I smiled at Mama Essie, young and beautiful, and Papa Joe, strong and manly with a twinkle in his eye. My father and my uncle, both young boys, gazed stoically at the camera. This was the only early family picture I had and the only photograph of my uncle, Benjamin Temple. My red hair and freckles had come from him. As had my dimples.

I unpacked my clothes under the soft, golden glow of a single lamp on the dresser. All the light in the house came from a few well-placed lamps. Sam had said that later on he could wire the house with ceiling lights, but for now, this would have to get me by. After living without electricity, I felt like every outlet in the wall was a blessing.

I reached down and flipped on the electric heater. The downstairs had heat in the living room and in the kitchen. But the bathroom still needed to be set up with an air duct and a vent. The upstairs would be last to receive attention. At least
we were on the right track. To be honest, I kind of liked the warm luminescence of the heater in the room. I’d considered leaving the old potbellied stove until the central heating system was completed, but Sam showed me where the metal had rusted through. Besides, it took up so much space that once it was gone, the bedroom seemed much larger.

After preparing for bed, I checked all the doors and windows before retiring for the night. Everything was locked tight, and there were no more odd lights outside that I could see. I fell asleep with Snickle curled up next to me.

When I woke up the next morning, it was almost ten o’clock. I took a quick bath, got dressed, and headed over to Ida’s house.

As I pulled up next to the plain white house, Ida’s old horse, Zebediah, trotted up to the fence near my car. I got out and went over to pet him. Zeb nuzzled my face with his soft muzzle.

“Hey, Zeb,” I said quietly, “I missed you. How are you?”

He shook his head up and down. Then he whinnied softly.

“Good.” I stroked his face a few more times before heading toward the house. I’d just reached up to knock on the door when it swung open. Ida stood there with a big smile on her face.

“
Ach
, my Gracie is home!”

I leaned into an exuberant hug. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the elderly woman until I had my arms around her. She’d been friends with my grandparents and had known my father when he was a boy. She’d also been close to my uncle most of his life. And now she’d become my dear, treasured friend.

“It is so cold out here,” Ida said. “Come inside where we can warm up.”

Stepping inside Ida’s house is like walking back in time. Wooden floors with handmade rag rugs and old furniture polished to a high sheen decorate the living room. Light and heat come from the fireplace, which was crackling and blazing,
sending warmth throughout the room. Additional light comes from oil lamps scattered around the house. An old hurricane-style lamp flickered from a wooden table near the couch. The day had dawned dark and overcast. The light from the fireplace and the lamp pushed against the gloom and gave the room a comfortable ambience.

Ida lives without electricity as her choice—a throwback to the Old Order way in which she was raised. Although she has no belief that electricity in and of itself is evil, she prefers to live in the quiet—without the noise and interruptions that can spring from modern technology. I have to admit that Ida’s simple life holds great appeal to me.

“So you are here to stay,
ja
?” she asked. Traces of a German accent added a guttural tone to her voice. She pointed me toward her couch.

“That’s the plan. I’ve surrendered my apartment and have a promise from my boss that he won’t call me back to Wichita again.”

“I think that man asked too much of you,” she huffed as she sat down next to me, smoothing out her dark blue dress and black pinafore. “But you were so good to help him anyway.”

I smiled. “I don’t know how good I was. I needed the money.”

Ida reached for a ceramic teapot that sat on the coffee table in front of us. She poured hot tea into a lovely china cup decorated with small red roses and handed it to me. “I heard you were supposed to be back last night, and I so hoped you would stop by today. I kept an extra cup on the table just in case.” Her sweet smile warmed me even more than the tea possibly could, although I was grateful for it. It promised to be a frigid day. A brisk winter wind had chilled me inside and out.

“I should have called to let you know I was coming. To be honest, I completely forgot about your new phone.”

The old woman laughed. “You are not the only one. Every
time it rings I almost jump out of my skin. I cannot get used to that loud noise.”

“Maybe you have the ringer set too high.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ach, I did not know it could be adjusted.”

I got up and walked over to the black phone that sat on a small table between the living room and the dining room. The instrument had a large keypad so that the numbers were easy to read. I picked it up and checked the side. Sure enough, the ringer had been turned up all the way. Not sure how good Ida’s hearing might be, I reset the tone level to medium.

“Try this,” I said, putting the instrument back on the table. “It won’t be as loud. There’s an even softer setting, but you don’t want the ringer to be so quiet you can’t hear it if you’re in the next room. Of course, if this is still too loud, we can certainly try it.”

She clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Gracie. I know I made the right decision to have a phone, but when it jangles, I begin to regret allowing it inside my peaceful home.”

As I sat down next to her, I gently reminded my friend about a couple of situations that might have caused less stress on her and others if she’d had a phone. She nodded as I talked.

“Ja, ja. I know you are right. Thank you for bringing these things to my remembrance.” She reached over and grasped my hands in hers. “Now tell me everything that has happened to you since we have been apart.”

I briefly described my time in Wichita and finished up by telling her about the baby left on the church’s doorstep.

Ida’s already pale complexion turned even whiter. “Ach, no. A baby? Some poor unfortunate mother left her baby alone in the cold? What could she have been thinking?”

“Well, Abel’s car was outside and his office light was on. She knocked on the door, so I’m pretty sure she believed the baby would be taken care of right away.” I shook my head. “It really is a
tragedy. A child should be with its mother.”

“That’s the truth,” Ida said. She adjusted her prayer cap, tucking in one long gray braid that threatened to come free of its pins. “But it sounds as if more needs to be done than to just deliver the child back to her. She must need help. Someone to guide her. If she does not get the support she needs, perhaps she will remain unprepared to deal with her situation.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sure Abel and Emily would be willing to provide some counseling. If anyone can help her, they can.”

Ida nodded, took a long sip of her tea, put the cup down, and scooted up closer to me. “Gracie, I have heard that a man is in town who wants to build some kind of new development here. Mary told me that you know something about this, ja?”

“Yes, it’s a small retirement community. It will be a couple of miles from town, but I believe the people who live there will visit Harmony and bring some much-needed revenue to our businesses.” I smiled at her. “It’s a win-win situation.”

She frowned and gazed into my eyes for several moments without saying anything. “Win-win situation?” she repeated hesitantly. “And what does this mean?”

From time to time, Ida and I have a slight communication problem. Talking to a person who never watches television or reads large newspapers means that many phrases and concepts are foreign. Obviously “win-win” was one of them.

“It means that there is no downside to the situation,” I assured her. “This project should be positive for everyone.”

She looked down as if studying her black leather shoes. “Ach, I wonder.”

I reached over and touched her arm. “What is it about this that concerns you, Ida?”

“I—I do not know. I cannot explain it. It is a feeling. A stirring inside my spirit that tells me something is wrong.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to reassure her. “If there was any chance the project would hurt Harmony, I wouldn’t allow it to happen. I hope you believe that.”

She grabbed my hand. “Ach, dear one. I trust you completely. It has nothing to do with you. Perhaps it is just my upbringing. My parents were very suspicious of English ways. They fought hard to keep them from contaminating our community. The idea of bringing strangers into Harmony concerns me. But I am most probably overreacting.” She squeezed my hand. “You know about the prayer that went out many years ago by the women of this town—believing that Harmony would be a special place of peace and blessing? I would hate to see anything war against the wonderful miracle God has granted to us. I do not know much about the outside world, but I have been told that there are not many locations left that are like our Harmony.” She gazed at me with tear-filled eyes. “You will protect us, ja? Make certain nothing ever comes here that does not belong?”