When Grace Sings

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Today it would be easier to avoid his questions because she intended to spend the day with Anna—Grace. Of course, she’d still have to be on her guard, but at least she didn’t suspect Anna—Grace of intentionally digging for information. And in all likelihood, Anna—Grace’s focus would be on the house. The girls planned to go to the Meiers farm, take measurements of all the rooms, then drive to Wichita and shop for paint and wallpaper. Alexa found it somewhat amusing that Anna—Grace was nervous about making selections, but she didn’t say so. No sense in hurting the girl’s feelings. Besides, she enjoyed looking at paint and wallpaper samples. It should be a relaxing day. And after dealing with Nicole, whose moods changed faster than a chameleon racing through a flower garden, she’d earned it.

  She waved good-bye to the Kirkleys, then hurried in to clean the kitchen so she and Anna—Grace could leave. Anna—Grace was already there, scraping and rinsing the dishes. She smiled when Alexa came in.

  “Please don’t chase me out. You’re doing me a favor today, so I want to return it. Let me do the dishes.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t you need to go strip the beds and gather the towels?”

  She should get the laundry started before they left. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind.” Anna—Grace pointed imperiously toward the doorway and set her face in a mock scowl that perfectly mimicked Aunt Shelley. “Now go.”

  Alexa dashed off. She pulled the rumpled snarl of sheets from the bed in the room Nicole used and gathered a half-dozen towels from various places on the floor, including under the bed. She dumped the armload at the top of the stairs and then entered the 2 Corinthians 9:8 room. The bed was neatly made, and towels hung over the bars in the bathroom. If the towels hadn’t been damp from recent use, she’d wonder if anyone had even stayed in the room. It looked vastly different from the hurricane Nicole left behind. As she began to strip the bed, she noticed an envelope marked “For Alexa” propped against one of the pillows.

  Curious, she opened it and pulled out a folded sheet of the notepaper she’d placed on the dresser for guests’ use. She unfolded the page and read:

  Dear Alexa,

  We’re so grateful Mr. Plett brought us to your charming B and B. Although I’m sure it was a challenge having three people from such a different background staying under your roof, you were the perfect hostess and helped us feel very much at ease. Your grandmother told us we are some of your first guests, and we were so surprised. You have such a natural hospitality, we assumed you’d been doing this for years. You truly have a sweet spirit, Alexa, and we wish you well in your future endeavors with the bed-and-breakfast and whatever else you choose to pursue. Please use the enclosed tip to do something special for yourself. I hope you will remember us fondly.

  Sincerely, Kathy for all of the Kirkleys—

  Curtis, Kathy, and Nicole (aka “Nicci K”)

  Warmed by the kind note, Alexa peeked into the envelope again. She gasped in surprise. A hundred dollar bill rested inside! She hadn’t expected tips at all, and to receive such an extravagant one sent her pulse into a mad gallop. She forgot all about stripping the bed and raced for the stairs, leaping over the pile of laundry on the way.

  She found her grandmother in her usual spot beside the front room window, embroidery hoop in hand. She waved the bill under her nose. “Look what the Kirkleys left for me. Can you believe it?”

  Grandmother smiled. “Why, yes, I can believe it. The Lord knows you’re concerned about finances, so He’s showing you He’s able to provide.”

  Alexa blinked back tears. “They left me a really nice note, too, thanking me for my hospitality.” She sniffed and flattened the bill against her bodice. “Now I feel bad for thinking evil thoughts about the little would-be music star, Nicci K.”

  Grandmother laughed long and hard. “She was something, wasn’t she? But she definitely has an amazing talent for one so young. I hope she’ll use it wisely and not let it go to her head.”

  “Me, too.”

  Anna—Grace joined them. “The dishwasher is running, and I cleaned the table and countertops. Are you ready to go?”

  Alexa shook her head. “I got sidetracked. Let me get a load of wash going, and—”

  “Just go,” Grandmother said. “The laundry can wait until you get back.”

  “Oh, Grandmother, I can’t just leave the sheets and towels in a pile on the floor.” Aunt Shelley would be mortified.

  “Think about Anna—Grace.” Grandmother looped her arm around the girl’s waist and gave Alexa a puppy-dog look. “She’s so eager to take you to the house, she’s almost dancing in place. So go.”

  Alexa looked at Anna—Grace, who tipped her head and pleaded with her eyes. The two of them had begging down pat. She shook her head, grinning. “All right. I guess it won’t hurt to wait a few hours to wash the sheets and towels. But if Aunt Shelley comes over, don’t let her go upstairs.”

  Grandmother laughed.

  Alexa turned to Anna—Grace. “Let’s go.”

  Anna—Grace squealed. “Finally!” She grabbed both of their coats from the hooks and tossed Alexa’s to her. “Good-bye, Aunt Abigail! We’ll see you later.”

  “Enjoy your day, girls.”

  In the car Anna—Grace turned a beaming smile on Alexa. “This has been the longest week. I thought Thursday would never come. But Steven said the kitchen is done. Well, except for painting the walls. And the bedrooms are ready for paint, too. I can go over every day now and work, if I want to.”

  “I remember how much fun I had transforming the old summer kitchen into a little cottage.” Alexa sighed. She missed living out there. “I know you’ll enjoy seeing the changes in Steven’s house, too.” She turned into the lane leading to the farmhouse, and her heart leaped in her chest. She eased her car next to Paul Aldrich’s truck and then left it idling, trying not to frown. “I thought you said the kitchen was done.”

  Anna—Grace’s face pinched into a confused scowl. “I did.”

  “Then why is Mr. Aldrich still here?”

  “Well, the bathroom isn’t finished.” The girl shuddered. “Steven’s been using the outhouse all this time. Mr. Aldrich still has a lot of work to do in the bathroom.”

  Alexa’s palms began to sweat. Could she be in the house with Anna—Grace’s biological father and act naturally? Over her months in Arborville, she’d developed a comfortable friendship with the man and his son even though she still sometimes wished they were family. If she could handpick a father, she would choose someone like Paul Aldrich. But he wasn’t her father. He belonged to Anna—Grace, too.

  Anna—Grace touched Alexa’s arm. “We won’t be in the way if that’s what has you worried. Steven said so. So let’s go in, huh?”

  Alexa shut off the engine. She drew a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer for God to guard her words and her expressions. Then she said, “Lead the way.”

  Anna—Grace

  The front door wasn’t locked, so Anna—Grace stepped right on in with Alexa lagging at her heels. She’d expected more enthusiasm from her cousin. Obviously she had a knack for decorating, and she must enjoy it to have tackled enormous projects like Aunt Abigail’s house and the summer kitchen. Maybe she just didn’t like being with Anna—Grace. The last three nights of sharing a room hadn’t brought them any closer together despite her best efforts. If they couldn’t bond over choosing paint colors, something Aunt Abigail said Alexa loved to do, then it might be a lost cause. The thought made Anna—Grace sad.

  But she pasted a smile on her face and drew Alexa to the center of the front room. “Steven! Alexa and I are here!”

  He appeared at the head of the hallway. He moved directly to Anna—Grace and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he turned to Alexa. “Did you bring your measuring tape?”

  She patted her jacket pocket. “Got it.” She looked around, shaking her head in wonder. “Wow. You’ve really been working hard. How many layers of wallpaper did y
ou have to strip before you got to the plaster?”

  Steven grimaced. “Depends on the room, but in here? Seven. Unbelievable.” Scuffles and a clink-clink echoed from somewhere on the left. Steven looked in that direction. “We’re putting up tile in the bathroom. I’d better get in there and help.” He eased backward. “Do your measuring and be sure to let me know when you’re done so I can tell you good-bye.”

  “We will.” She blew Steven a kiss before he disappeared around the corner, then she took Alexa by the elbow. “Let’s start in the kitchen. I want to see how it looks now that it’s all finished.”

  They spent a few minutes oohing and aahing over the new cabinets, mossy-green tile backsplash, and the crisp gray-and-white squares on the floor. Anna—Grace couldn’t resist opening and closing a few cupboards, envisioning the shelves filled with dishes and pots and home-canned goods. She aimed a smile at Alexa. “I think I can see myself cooking in here.”

  Alexa nodded. “It’s a very nice kitchen. Will you want wallpaper or paint in here?”

  Anna—Grace held out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t know. My mom’s kitchen is painted, but the one at Aunt Abigail’s has wallpaper. What do you think would be best?”

  Alexa made a slow circle around the room. “Well, there isn’t a lot of wall to cover. The doorways to the dining room and mudroom take away wall space left over by the cabinets. But there is the soffit above the cabinets … Maybe you could paint and put up a pretty wallpaper border along the ceiling that has the same colors as the wall paint and the tile.” She peeked into the mudroom. “You could use the border in here, too, to dress it up a little bit, even if it is just an entry space.” With a brisk pace she crossed to the doorway leading to the dining room. “If you choose a border that has matching wallpaper, then you could use the paper for the walls in the dining room and pull both spaces together.”

  Anna—Grace blew out a little breath. “I would never have thought of that, but I like the idea. I’m so glad you’re here, Alexa.”

  A weak smile curved the girl’s lips. She pulled out the tape measure and held it up. “Let’s get this done so we can go choose your colors, okay?”

  Anna—Grace held the end of the tape while Alexa recorded the measurements. She took the task seriously, sucking in her lips and checking the numbers twice before writing them down. They measured every room in the house, starting with the mudroom and moving toward the bedrooms.

  “We better get the hallway, too,” Alexa said.

  Anna—Grace pressed the end of the measuring tape to the corner next to the closed bathroom door. “And then the bathroom.” She angled her head, listening to the soft scrape of tools and mutter of voices behind the door. She giggled and stage-whispered, “If they’ll let us in there.”

  Alexa didn’t laugh. She checked the tape and scratched some numbers onto the pad of paper. She put the pencil and paper in her pocket, but she didn’t move toward the bathroom door.

  Anna—Grace gave a little tug on the measuring tape. “Come on. One more to go.”

  Alexa stood her ground. “If they’re putting up tile, we’ll be in their way.”

  “But I have to know how much paint to buy.” Anna—Grace turned the door handle and eased the door open a few inches. “Steven? Can we measure the bathroom now?”

  “Just a minute.” A few more scuffling noises, these louder than before, and two soft thuds came from behind the door. Then Steven’s face appeared in the gap. “How about you give me the tape, and Mr. Aldrich and I will measure for you? We’re already tripping over each other with the boxes of tile and buckets of grout in the way.”

  Alexa scurried forward and thrust the measuring tape at Steven. “Just call out the numbers and I’ll write them down.”

  “Perfect.” The door closed. After a minute or two, Steven called, “Six feet, two inches wide. Eight feet, eight inches long. Six feet, ten inches from the top of the tile line to the ceiling.”

  Alexa repeated the measurements as she recorded them.

  The door opened, and Anna—Grace couldn’t resist sticking her head inside. Glossy squares of dove-gray tile marched along the bottom third of one wall, their sheeny, new appearance a stark contrast to the patched plaster surfaces. The carpenter stood halfway behind Steven. She held out her hand to him.

  “Hello. I met you at Aunt Abigail’s birthday party, but there were so many people there I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Anna—Grace Braun.”

  The man moved toward her so slowly it appeared he was battling a strong wind. He extended his hand, then glanced at it as well as his splotchy clothes and grimaced. “I shouldn’t touch anything. I’m pretty messy.”

  Anna—Grace linked her hands behind her back. “That’s all right. I just wanted to thank you for the work you’re doing on the house. Everything looks so nice.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s a … pleasure to work on the house where Steven and … and you will live.” He gazed into her face with such intensity she felt he was measuring her, too.

  She drew back slightly, unnerved. He hadn’t behaved so strangely the first time they met. She would remember. “Well, now that we’ve got all our measurements, we can go paint shopping.” She turned her attention to her beau, but she sensed that Mr. Aldrich’s steady gaze remained pinned to her. “Steven, are you sure you trust me to make the selections?”

  He stepped between her and the carpenter, and she nearly heaved a sigh of relief. “Get what you want. Except for pink. I’m not keen on pink.”

  Anna—Grace gestured to her dark-pink calico skirt hanging below the hem of her coat.

  “Except on you,” he corrected.

  She laughed. “All right. No pink.” She tipped her cheek for Steven’s kiss. Then she started to leave. Mr. Aldrich pushed past Steven and reached toward her. He held a chipped gray tile. She looked at the tile and then at him in confusion. “What’s that for?”

  He bobbed the tile. “Take it with you. It will help you choose a color to coordinate with it.” He seemed to watch her hand lift to take the tile from his grasp. Then he looked into her face again. Was there a shimmer of tears in his brown eyes? He blinked several times. “There are extra tiles from the kitchen backsplash in the mudroom. Please take one of those with you, too.”

  “A-All right.” Anna—Grace backed away. “We’ll do that. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His voice came out low, tight, emotional. “You’re very welcome … Anna—Grace.”

  Every other man she’d met in Arborville had referred to her as Miss Braun. Paul Aldrich’s use of her given name sent an uneasy prickle across her scalp. She turned toward Alexa, eager to retrieve the kitchen tile and leave, but the expression on her cousin’s face—anger, resentment, maybe even a hint of worry—held her in place for several tense seconds. She flicked a glance over her shoulder to find Mr. Aldrich still looking at her even though Steven had returned to work.

  Skewered between two confusing expressions, she wasn’t sure what to do. But then Mr. Aldrich gave a little jolt, nodded once at her, and turned away. His response seemed to remove whatever odd emotion had come over Alexa, because her stiff shoulders wilted and she slipped the pad of paper and pencil into her pocket.

  “Are you ready?” Alexa asked.

  Anna—Grace darted forward. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  Steven

  Steven grabbed another mesh sheet of tiles and carried it to Mr. Aldrich. The carpenter crouched on his haunches, trowel held over the bucket of Spackle, but he didn’t dip into the white paste. He seemed to stare at the blank space waiting the next arrangement of tiles. Steven looked at the wall, too. Had he set the last sheet crooked? Mr. Aldrich was a stickler for perfection. He carefully examined the placement of the sheets. He couldn’t see anything wrong.

  Steven bent down on one knee next to the carpenter. “What’s the matter with the tile?”

  The man jolted as if he’d been shocked with a live wire. “What? Oh. Nothing. Nothing
’s the matter.” He swiped his hand across his eyes.

  Steven frowned. Had the man just wiped away tears? The idea left him uncomfortable. Maybe Mr. Aldrich needed a rest. “You want me to do the Spackle for a while?”

  “No, I’ll do it. We had a … a good routine going, and you’re doing … doing …” He hung his head.

  There was something wrong. Steven sat in silence, uncertain how to proceed. He’d never seen a grown man act so emotional.

  Suddenly Mr. Aldrich angled his head and gave Steven a serious look. “Anna—Grace … you love her?” He nearly growled the question.

  Even though he sometimes wondered if they were rushing into marriage, Steven knew how to answer. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  For several seconds the carpenter glared into Steven’s face, as if seeking hidden motives. Then he slumped forward, reminding Steven of a balloon losing its air. If he hadn’t propped his elbow on his knee, he might have gone face first into the wall. “I’m glad. She … she’s a beautiful girl. And I can tell she loves you.” He bolted upright, his spine stiff and his expression stern. “You’ll take good care of her?”

  “Of course.”

  The intense expression cleared. He blinked several times, each blink seeming to ease a bit more tension. Then he nodded at the wall. “Well, let’s get back to it, huh?” He spoke so normally, Steven might have thought he’d imagined the strange, edgy exchange of only moments ago. But he hadn’t imagined it. Paul Aldrich had behaved like an overprotective—

  Chills exploded across Steven’s entire body. Was it possible Paul Aldrich was Anna—Grace’s father? He pressed the sheet of tiles into the wet Spackle, his fingers trembling so badly the entire sheet went askew.