When Grace Sings (2 page)

Len’s lips pursed, the furrows in his broad forehead deepening. “The problem is how to really prove the people living in those communities are dissatisfied with their simple existence. Nobody’d believe it without quotes from the Plain folks themselves. And you can’t just ask them. They’d tell you they’re
perfectly content.” He grimaced, shaking his head. “No, a person would have to live among them. Win their trust. Then he could authentically uncover the reality of living Plain.”

“
Live
among them?” Briley made a face. An intentionally distasteful face. “No reporter with a wife or kids is going to want to pack up and move to an Amish town for who-knows-how-long to make friends and dig up the truth.”

Len squinted an eye at Briley, as if taking aim. “You don’t have a wife or kids. You don’t even have a dog. Are you volunteering?”

Boy, it was hard to stay in his chair. Briley linked his hands behind his head and faked a yawn. “Well, you’re right about me not having anything holding me back. I suppose I could do it.”

Len smirked. “Your subtle act is a little too well done. I know you want this story. It’s one of those rare ones that can make a reporter in this business.”

Briley offered a sheepish grin. Maybe Len wasn’t as oblivious as Briley sometimes believed. But he kept a rein on his eagerness. Len could still hand the story to somebody else, leaving Briley looking the fool. “Okay. I confess, I’d like to do it.”

“You sure?” Len lost the teasing look. “This could be the dirtiest dirt the
Real Scoop
has dug up to date. It’ll take real focus. Cunning. Pulling the wool over people’s eyes. In other words, finding a way to
fit in
so you have access to the real dirt. You aren’t exactly known for fitting in.”

Len would never know how much anger his last comment stirred, because Briley was well practiced in hiding his true feelings. But the emotion roared through his gut and sent heat from his midsection to his extremities. He clenched his fists on the back of his head and ground his teeth together. After slowly counting to five, he brought himself under control enough to answer.

Forcing his lips into a wry curl, he brought his arms down and propped his elbows on the chair’s hard plastic armrests. “Maybe I just haven’t had the right motivation to fit in anywhere yet. Doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”

Len examined him for several seconds, and Briley remained still and
unflinching beneath his boss’s scrutiny. Finally a grin tugged at one corner of the man’s lips. “All right. It might take me a little while to get everything organized for a lengthy stay in Amish country, but I’ll get it arranged. In the meantime, do lots of reading up on the Plain groups. I mean, research ’em deep, Briley. Get their traditions and religious practices in your head so you won’t go offending them the minute you hit town.”

Briley raised his hand like a Boy Scout making a pledge.

With a snort of amusement or derision—Briley couldn’t quite determine which—Len pushed off from the desk and snatched up the newspaper that had started their discussion. Tapping his thigh with the rolled-up wad of newsprint, he aimed a warning look in Briley’s direction. “Don’t get too cocky. Those people are supposedly family oriented. That’ll be unique for you, who’s never had a family to speak of. Don’t let some Amish girl sucker you in.”

Len’s comment about family cut, but Briley covered it with a laugh. “Briley Forrester taken in by a plain-clothed, plain-faced, plain-living female?” He shook his head, hunching back over his keyboard. “Not likely.”

Sommerfeld, Kansas

Late September

Anna—Grace Braun

Sissy! Sissy, you need to come out!” Small fists banged on Anna—Grace’s closed bedroom door, adding insistence to the demanding call.

Anna—Grace chuckled indulgently, familiar with the long-practiced morning routine. Who needed an alarm clock when she had an early rising little sister? “I’ll come when I’m ready, Sunny.” She pinched up one last bobby pin and raised it to her cap.

“But, Sissy, Steven is here and wants to see you now!”

Steven was here? Before breakfast? Even though Anna—Grace had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon with Steven—on the front porch with her folks’ watchful gazes aimed out the living room window—her heart fluttered as eagerly as if they’d been apart for weeks. Anna—Grace dropped the pin on her dresser top where it bounced twice and leaped over the edge. She dashed to the door and swung it open, nearly tripping over Sunny.

Laughing, she caught her little sister by the shoulders and did a side step that put her in the lead. She scurried up the hallway with Sunny trotting along on her heels, her small hand batting Anna—Grace’s arm. As she passed the wide doorway to the kitchen, she peeked in and caught Mom’s eye.

Mom gave an understanding smile. “Sunny, come here, please.”

“But—”

“Help me set the table for breakfast.”

With a sigh Sunny changed course and headed into the kitchen, allowing Anna—Grace to enter the living room free of her little shadow. She loved Sunny dearly. She’d prayed for a younger sibling every night from the time she was four until she’d turned thirteen, and she wouldn’t trade the little girl who’d come all the way from China for anything in the world. But sometimes she needed privacy.

Steven waited on the patch of tile just inside the front door. As always, the sight of her intended raised a rush of warmth from her chest to her face. Did every girl feel so giddy and light when in the presence of the one she loved? Would this wondrous feeling someday be commonplace, the way Sunny’s morning door knocks and calls were now an expected part of a daily routine? How Anna—Grace hoped she’d never lose the heart-lifting pleasure of gazing upon her golden-haired, broad-shouldered beau.

“Good morning, Steven.” She wheezed the greeting, a bit breathless from her mad dash through the house. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

He swished his thigh with his dark blue ball cap, creating a rhythmic
whisk-whisk
. “Yeah, well, it’s a surprise to me, too.”

A shy grin lifted the corners of his lips, capturing Anna—Grace’s attention. His pale-pink lips, the lower one plump and soft looking, had never kissed her except on her cheek or temple, but she anticipated the day when they would meet her lips for the first time. Only five more months now! In the Old Order faith, being a wife and mother was a woman’s highest calling, and February couldn’t come soon enough to suit her. She pushed the thoughts aside as Steven cleared his throat and continued in his easy, low-pitched drawl.

“When I went home from here yesterday evening, my folks gave me some news. They thought you should know it, too, and Mom said I’d better come
right away. Otherwise you might hear it from someone else first. You know how word spreads in town.”

There were no secrets in Sommerfeld. Sometimes the intimacy of her close-knit community gave her comfort, and other times it rankled. She offered a quick shrug. “What’s the news?”

“You know how my brother took off five years ago and we haven’t seen him since?”

Kevin Brungardt’s departure was a painful chapter in his family’s history. It had left a bruise on the hearts of many Sommerfeld residents who’d watched him grow more and more belligerent before finally sneaking off one night under the cover of darkness. Anna—Grace’s parents still prayed he’d return someday, but she didn’t hold out much hope, given the young man’s rebellious nature. Fortunately Steven was nothing like his brother. “Yes, I know.” She spoke softly, injecting sympathy in her tone.

Steven pulled in a breath and blew it out. “My grandfather—Mom’s father—deeded several hundred acres of land in Arborville to Kevin. But since my brother hasn’t claimed it, Dad petitioned to get it into his and Mom’s names instead. The court approved the request. And Dad says …” An odd expression crossed his face. “He says they’re going to sign the land over to me. As a wedding gift.”

Anna—Grace gasped. She reached for his hand and he took hold, but his grip felt clammy. He must be nervous about the responsibility. But he wouldn’t have to farm it alone. He’d have her to help him. Their own farm! She couldn’t curb her excitement. “What wonderful news! Is there a house on the land?”

Steven nodded slowly. “Just a small one, built in the 1930s or early ’40s. But Dad hasn’t been to the property in years, so he doesn’t know what shape it’s in. The land’s been rented out ever since Granddad Meiers died, with the money from the renters going into an account in Kevin’s name. Dad’s still trying to get that changed over, but he says once it’s done, I can have it, too, in case I need to build a new house or do repairs on the one that’s there. I’ll also need to buy some equipment.”

“Steven, what a blessing.” Anna—Grace fought tears of gratitude. She and Steven couldn’t help but have a wonderful start as husband and wife with a house, cleared fields, and a sum of money to see to their needs. “I feel badly that Kevin sacrificed his inheritance, but I’m so happy for you.”

“I felt funny about taking it, but Dad says it’s only right since I’m Granddad Meiers’s grandson, too. Granddad died the year before I was born, and Mom says if he’d known about me, he likely would have split it between Kevin and me anyway. So I’m not taking anything that isn’t rightfully mine.”

He sounded uncertain. Even undeserving. Her heart ached for him. Steven was such an honorable man—so good and kind and giving. Of course he wouldn’t want to take something that should belong to someone else. Anna—Grace squeezed his hand. “Your mom’s right. Even if Kevin came back tomorrow, he wouldn’t want to be a farmer.”

Although she was several years younger than Kevin and he’d been gone a good while, she remembered the scowling youth who stood to the side at community workings, only joining in when commanded by his father and then halfheartedly participating. Kevin wouldn’t eagerly claim a farmstead. But Steven had a hardworking attitude, and he’d learned farming from his dad. This gift was beyond anything she could have imagined.

She smiled so widely she felt as though her face might split. “Oh, Steven, our own place …”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed at his somber expression and gently swung his hand. “Will you go see your land soon?” Maybe she could go with him, if Mom and Dad gave her permission.

“Probably. Dad said we’d drive over some Saturday morning. Or maybe a Friday evening and spend the night. He’ll let me know.” Steven withdrew his hand and turned toward the door. “I need to get to work. Dad’s waiting for me. But I wanted you to know about the land and …” His voice trailed off as if he’d forgotten what he was talking about.

Anna—Grace shook her head, a smile of amusement playing on the corner
of her lips. The ribbons trailing from her cap tickled her neck, reminding her that soon she’d trade the white ribbons for black when she became Mrs. Steven Brungardt. And then she’d move away from Mom and Dad and the town that had always been her home. Suddenly she understood Steven’s reticence. Changes, while exciting, also meant giving up something. It would be hard to be hours away from her parents and sister and everything else familiar.

“We’ll be all right, Steven,” she said, as much for herself as for him.

A weak smile formed on his face. “Sure. Sure we will.” But the lack of confidence in his tone stung Anna—Grace’s heart.

Steven Brungardt

Steven climbed into his old Ford pickup, jammed his boot on the clutch pedal, and gave the key an almost vicious twist. The engine rumbled to life, the
chug-chug-chug
vibrating the truck’s cab. He put the truck in gear, then eased onto the house-lined street. Soon children with lunch boxes and books in hand would amble out the doors for their walk to school. But for now the dirt streets were empty, tempting him to gun his engine and drive a little recklessly. What would it hurt? Nothing. And it might dispel some of the restlessness that had kept him awake last night and still rattled through him. But he didn’t do it. Because reckless was something Kevin would be. And Steven had spent his entire lifetime trying his best not to be his brother.

As Steven drove through the center of town, his gaze drifted across the familiar businesses. Every building freshly painted, the front walkways swept clean, and the smudge-free windows reflecting the morning sun. No cars were parked outside Lisbeth’s this morning. The tiny café where Anna—Grace worked part-time as a waitress—now owned by her aunt Deborah but still bearing the name of its original owner—was never open on Sundays or Mondays. But every other day of the week, cars filled the entire two blocks on either side of the café. Mostly fancy cars driven by outsiders.

When outsiders—non-Mennonites—visited Sommerfeld to eat at the café
or purchase hand-crafted goods, rather than bemoaning the unpaved streets or questioning the lack of air conditioning in the businesses, they commented on the tidy appearance of the town, citing how different it was from their own bigger, bustling cities. Steven wished he had the courage to ask them about their cities. What was it like to live in a place that wasn’t so small a person knew every neighbor by name, where young people were free to pursue higher education, and where people didn’t need to seek the approval of the elders to buy a car or get a telephone or purchase a new piece of farm equipment? Sometimes he wanted to tell the outsiders, “Don’t envy us. You’re the lucky ones.” But of course he didn’t. Mostly, he didn’t even let himself think it. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop thinking about it today.