Andrew wanted to answer but discovered the lump in his throat made it impossible.
His son looked at him. “Thanks, Dad. I don’t know if I ever said it, but thanks for taking us in and making us part of your family. Who knows what would’ve become of us if you hadn’t found us that day.”
If Andrew wasn’t careful, the lump in his throat would turn to tears on his cheeks.
“I love you, Dad. You and Mom. You need to hear that, in case I never come—” Ben broke off abruptly.
It didn’t matter. Andrew understood what went unsaid. “Son, I love you too. No father could be prouder than I am of you.”
Ben must have felt the same emotions, for he turned away, clearing his throat. Minutes passed before he spoke again. “Louisa’s got quite a crush on that sailor, doesn’t she?”
“Samuel Valentine. Yes, she fancies herself in love with him, although they’ve never met.” He almost added that he worried what it would do to her if the boy died, then thought better of it, not wanting to mention that possibility. As if Ben hadn’t been referring to the same thing a short while before.
“Maybe you’d better give me his address. I’ll write to him and warn him not to hurt my sister.”
“Oh, she’d love you for that.”
Ben’s tone was droll when he answered, “Yeah, wouldn’t she?” He ended with a laugh.
Andrew smiled, thankful for a lightening of the mood. For at least a short while, he would rather not remember that young men like Samuel Valentine and Ben Henning were sailing or flying or marching into danger in places all around the world. He would rather not remember that many had died already and many more would die in the months to come.
Chapter 14
Since Ben had never seen Ashley in anything but boots and jeans, he didn’t know if she wore a dress on Sunday because she wanted to or if she wore it because she thought it was expected. No matter. She looked adorable in the blue-and-white frock with its round neckline, short sleeves, and flared skirt.
He opened the passenger-side door to his truck and, with a hand beneath her elbow, helped her into the cab. She didn’t need his help, of course, but he gave it anyway. She smiled her thanks to him once she was seated.
“Will we pick up your grandfather?” she asked as he pulled out of her driveway.
“No. He’ll meet us there in his own car. He likes to go early so that he gets his favorite chair.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Favorite chair?”
“Mmm. We know the exact place we like to sit. Perfect view of both pulpit and screen without a post in the way. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”
The look on her face suggested that her only real experience with church was what she’d seen in romantic made-for-TV movies—an old stone church with wooden pews and stained-glass windows, the setting in a small town in an unspecified state. No posts. No stage with musicians playing drums and guitars. No screens showing lyrics. No one dancing or kneeling or raising their arms in worship. All of which she would, almost certainly, experience at Ben’s church that morning. He hoped it wouldn’t overwhelm her. Instead, he prayed she would feel the Spirit moving throughout the large sanctuary and feel the Father drawing her into a new community.
The parking lot of the church was filling fast by the time they arrived. Ben drove to the end of a row and took the one remaining space. He got out of the cab, then reached behind the driver’s seat to retrieve his Bible. Before he could round the front of the truck, Ashley had opened her door. He offered his hand to help her down from the high seat.
They fell into step together as they headed for the entrance. Families, couples, and singles walked in front and behind them. The sounds of conversations and laughter grew louder as they stepped from outside to inside. The large entry hall was filled with clusters of folks.
“Would you like coffee?” He indicated the coffee bar off to his left.
She shook her head.
“That’s the bookstore.” He motioned with his head to the right, then put his hand onto the small of her back, gently guiding her through the crowd of people on their way to the sanctuary. They had to stop more than once as people spoke to him and he made introductions.
Once they were in the sanctuary and the hubbub died down, she said, “Everybody seems to know you.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Not everybody. But this has been my church for quite a few years. They’re part of my family now. Not like my grandpa, but I’m close with quite a few. I’ve served in several different ministries, and you get to know people well when you’re serving together.”
She said nothing in response. He suspected she didn’t understand what he meant. Not yet anyway.
Grandpa Grant waited exactly where Ben had known he would be. The older man’s gaze went straight to Ashley as he stood. “This must be your friend, Miss Showalter.” He took Ashley’s right hand, enfolding it within both of his. “I’m delighted to meet you at last. You’re every bit as lovely as Ben said you are.”
She blushed, her gaze lowering. It made Ben want to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her close to his side.
“Come,” Grandpa said. “Sit here beside me and tell me about the horses you like to rescue. My grandson is impressed with all you do. We talk on the phone or see each other several times a week, and you and your help with the horses have been part of almost every conversation in recent weeks.” Grandpa looked at Ben and gave him a mischievous wink.
Stop playing matchmaker, Grandpa.
He knew his grandfather wouldn’t heed the look or obey, even if he did manage to read Ben’s thought. Grandpa was a romantic. He’d been blissfully happy with Ben’s grandmother, Charlotte Henning. The two of them had moved through life in perfect harmony. They truly had become one throughout the course of their marriage.
Ken Snow appeared at Ben’s side. Despite his usual warm welcome, it was obvious all he really wanted was to meet Ashley—the first woman Ben had escorted to church in the years he’d been a member. Before Ben could accomplish the task, Todd Holly had joined Ken. Grandpa Grant noticed them, and it was he who performed the introductions. Ben felt like the proverbial fifth wheel all of a sudden. It made him glad to see the worship team step onto the platform. A short while later, the first notes of a song sounded, and people finished their conversations and moved to their seats.
Ben sat on Ashley’s free side as the lights in the sanctuary dimmed. Only the stage was bright now. The praise team—two singers, three guitarists, one drummer, and a fiddler—began to play a favorite song of Ben’s. He closed his eyes and purposefully turned his attention from Ashley to worship. It wasn’t quite as easy to make the shift as he’d expected. He caught a whiff of a fruity scent. Probably her shampoo. He’d smelled it before when close to her. It made him want to lean to his right and take a deeper breath.
In the last year or two, several different married couples in the church—happily married couples were always the first to try to be matchmakers—had introduced Ben to single women. He’d felt obliged to take the women out to dinner or a movie. But nothing had clicked for him. As a recovering alcoholic, his caution about romantic relationships had been stronger than any mild attraction he might have felt. If he was ever to marry, it would have to be because he felt the way Grandpa had felt for Grandma. Nothing less would do.
He gave his head a shake, realizing how far his thoughts had drifted from worship of the Lord. He glanced to his right. Ashley wasn’t singing, but neither did she look uncomfortable. He was glad for that.
Straightening, he closed his eyes again and allowed the music and lyrics to wash over him.
* * *
The service was nothing like Ashley had expected. Of course, her only experience with church had been Sunday school with friends when she was a child. But she’d imagined something staid, something old-fashioned and perhaps a little boring. That wasn’t her experience that morning. The band was polished, the singers excellent, the song choices upbeat at ti
mes and moving at others. During a time of greeting, she met even more people than she had on the way in. Everyone was warm, and their welcomes felt genuine. As for the sermon, the pastor wasn’t much older than Ashley herself. Perhaps five years or so. He had a great sense of humor. She’d never expected to laugh during a sermon, but she did, more than once.
Leaving church after the service took time. It seemed Ben and Grant Henning did know everyone, despite Ben’s earlier denial. It reminded her, for the second time in a week, how few people she’d allowed into her life. She wondered if the Hennings were aware how lucky they were.
“Next time,” Ben said, “we’ll get help to take care of the dogs and horses. Then we can go up into the mountains for lunch. There’s a place outside of Hope Springs that serves amazing food.”
Next time?
“Of course, that means we’d better do it soon. Winter arrives early in the mountains. Sometimes Jessica has snow at their place by mid-October.”
Next time? “Who’s Jessica?”
“My cousin. She and her husband live in Hope Springs. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes. I’ve ridden some trails up near there.”
They got into the truck and pulled out of the lot onto the street, then waited at the curb until Ben’s grandfather’s car appeared. Ben put the truck into gear and followed the old Buick down the main thoroughfare. Ashley was no expert on cars, but she’d guess the automobile was from the fifties, although it looked almost new with its shiny chrome and sparkling clean condition.
“Mexican food okay?” Ben asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Grandpa’s got a favorite restaurant in Meridian. Garcia’s Cantina. It’s kind of a hole-in-the-wall place in a little strip mall. Off the beaten path but really good. We go there a lot.”
Ashley searched her mind, trying to think where the restaurant might be located, but drew a blank. When Ben pulled into a parking lot, she knew why. Even with directions, she might have driven right past it. The signage was close to nonexistent. How did new customers discover the place?
Grandpa Grant had found a parking space near the restaurant entrance and waited for them at the front of his car. Approaching him, Ashley realized the older man’s grin was identical to his grandson’s, as was the warm look in his eyes. Genuine warmth.
“The Garcias will be surprised when Ben and I walk in with you, Ashley. They pity us because we are alone.” He offered his arm. “You are good for an old man’s ego.”
Ben held the door open before them as she and Grant entered the restaurant side by side. The moment reminded her of those wonderful father-daughter lunches she’d had before her dad died. Those times when she’d felt like a princess.
They were quickly greeted in Spanish and taken to what Ashley guessed was their usual table. There weren’t any windows near them, but they were seated across from a bright-colored mural. The painting made her feel festive and happy.
When their server—an attractive woman in her thirties, wearing white and red, her black hair caught back from her face, her dark eyes dancing—appeared, she held a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish with Grant. Despite two years of Spanish in high school, Ashley understood almost nothing the two of them said to each other.
Ben leaned close to her. “Don’t feel bad. I can’t keep up either. My Spanish is pathetic.”
“It’s on my bucket list.”
“What?”
“To become fluent in Spanish.”
“How? One of those audio courses?”
“No, I thought I’d do it at the community college. Maybe take the course online so I can do it at odd times.”
He nodded. “Good idea. Maybe I should join you. It would be nice to be as fluent as Grandpa.”
“When did he learn?”
“He was a little kid. My great-grandpa was good friends with a José Lopez during the Second World War. The two men served together for a long time, flew a lot of missions together, and I guess one of the things they did in their downtime was José teaching Great-Grandpa Ben Spanish. Years later, my great-grandpa taught my grandpa to speak it. Grandpa was only three or four when those lessons started. He’s always liked being multilingual so much that he studied it in both high school and college.”
Ashley loved hearing Ben talk about his family. She envied him too—the relationship he had with his grandfather.
“Grandpa tried to interest my mom in learning a second language when she was a girl, but she would have none of it. She didn’t want to be anything like her parents, even when she was little. If her parents tried to get her to do something, she wanted the very opposite. She hated being a farmer’s daughter. She hated living in Kuna. She hated going to church.” Ben frowned. “I’ve never understood why she is the way she is. Not toward her parents, anyway. I guess I’ll die wondering.”
Ashley’s gaze shifted to Grant Henning, and she felt grateful for his influence on his grandson. Ben could have turned out so very different from the person who’d become her friend.
Sunday, July 4, 1943
Early in the morning on the fourth of July, Andrew walked through the cornfields, feeling a sense of pride over the success of this new crop. Raising corn would do more than bring a tidy profit come the fall. It would help feed people and animals alike. In a time of rationing of all sorts, it felt good to do something to improve conditions. From what little Ben had been able to share in his letters home, food shortages and rationing were much worse in England than they were in America.
And where was Ben now, he wondered as he watched the rising sun pour a golden hue across the top of the cornfields. Bizerte and Tunis had fallen to the Allies in early May, and in the following week the remaining German and Italian forces in North Africa had surrendered, ending the war in that theater. Had Ben been part of that final campaign? And was he even now piloting one of the Allied planes that was bombing Europe?
Andrew’s heart ached when he allowed himself to consider all of the innocent Europeans who were in harm’s way thanks to the Germans and Italians. The Allies would have specific targets. The pilots were surely doing their best to avoid civilians. All the same, innocents would perish. They always did in war. He’d only been a kid during the First World War, but even a kid could take in some of the horrors reported in the news and talked about by adults.
He stopped and turned, his gaze going to the house, where sunlight had created a halo around it. He thought of the family within its walls. He thanked God for each one of them by name, ending as he always did with Ben. “Keep him safe, Lord. He is in Your hands. They are all in Your mighty hands.”
Later that day, the Hennings and the Finkels participated in an Independence Day celebration in Kuna following the Sunday-morning church service. In many ways, it was a somber affair. Several local families had been notified of the deaths of husbands or sons in recent weeks. Even though none of those families were present in the town park that day, they remained in the minds and hearts of their friends and neighbors.
The women of Kuna had managed to set out a banquet, despite food rationing. Participants dined on fried chicken and a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables as well as several types of salads. Finally, there were cakes for dessert. Andrew suspected sugar would be in short supply in many homes after all that had gone into those cakes. But, oh, the delight of that frosting melting on his tongue . . . It surprised him how much he enjoyed it. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t gone without sugar often in recent years. During the worst of the Depression, sugar had been at the bottom of the list of things to buy with their hard-earned money. Yet it seemed even sweeter today. He had no idea why.
“Andrew.” Helen leaned close on his right side. “Look.”
He followed her gaze in time to see Oscar and a girl step behind a large tree at the opposite end of the park. They didn’t reappear on the other side of the tree.
“Who’s he with?” he asked.
“Rose Atwater.”
“They’re friend
s. They’ve been friends since they were six.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”
“Probably not.” He rose from the wooden bench. “I’ll take care of it.”
Not wanting to draw attention to himself—and therefore to the sixteen-year-olds behind that tree—he didn’t rush across the park. Every so often, he stopped and spoke to someone, but he didn’t remain long. He seemed aware of every passing second. Away from the tables at last, the conversations behind him softened to a murmur, enough that he clearly heard the girl’s giggle.
Uh-oh. His pace quickened a little.
Almost exactly as he’d imagined the scene, he found the teenagers wrapped in each other’s arms, their lips pressed together and their eyes closed. Andrew cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Oscar jumped back from Rose as if burned. “Dad.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rose’s cheeks flamed. “Mr. Henning.”
“Young lady, I believe you should rejoin your family.”
“Yes, sir.” She scurried away.
Andrew turned his gaze back to Oscar. “I’m disappointed, son. Rose isn’t ready for this, and neither are you.”
“We’re not kids.” Sullen, Oscar looked at the ground as he kicked at a clump of grass.
“Maybe not. But you’re not adults either.”
“Come on, Dad.” The boy looked at him. “It was just a kiss.”
Andrew drew a slow breath and let it out. “Believe it or not, I remember what it was like to be your age.”
Oscar’s eyes said he didn’t believe it.
Andrew swallowed the urge to laugh, knowing it wouldn’t send the right message. “Come on. Your mom will wonder what’s keeping us.” He let Oscar lead the way and, with his son’s back to him, allowed the smile to come to his lips. After all, he really did remember what it was like to be sixteen.
Chapter 15
The open house for the Harmony Barn happened on the last Saturday in September. It amazed Ben how quickly it came together, once the idea had been planted and shared.
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