Bygones

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “And I believe,” Joanna went on, sniffling, “that our prayers will bring Dad around, too. If he bends, everyone else in the family will follow suit, from Abigail down to Conrad. So don’t lose heart, okay?”

  Marie didn’t have to force this smile. She tipped her head to touch Joanna’s forehead, the little sign of affection she had used often as they were growing up. “I won’t.” Straightening, she added, “But I hope—”

  A rap at the front door interrupted her words. Joanna’s eyes flew wide. “See! I bet that’s Abigail, Ben, and Conrad with their families, here to spend a little time with you.”

  Marie’s heart pounded, and she licked her lips as her breathing increased. She mentally prepared a greeting for her older brother and sister as she followed Joanna to the front room, wiping her hands on the apron. Kyra, Kelly, and Gomer came from their bedrooms at the same time, and they were all gathered together when Hugo pulled the front door open.

  To Marie’s disappointment, two men from town stood on the porch, hats in their hands, their expressions somber. Hugo invited them in, and Joanna bustled forward.

  “Kurt, Robert, how good to see you this evening. I have some pumpkin pie and whipped cream left over if you’d like a piece.”

  The men exchanged glances, and the taller of the pair shook his head. “That’s kind of you, Joanna, but we didn’t come for socializing.”

  Hugo crossed his arms, his brows pinching together. “Oh?”

  Marie’s scalp prickled when both men fixed their gazes on her.

  The second man said, “There’s been some trouble in town today, and we thought you needed to know about it.”

  An arm slipped around Marie’s waist. Marie jerked her gaze and found Kyra close. She gave the young woman a quick smile of thanks before looking back at the men.

  “What trouble?” Hugo asked.

  “Leonard Dick returned to his home after spending the afternoon at his daughter’s place. His front door stood open. The sleeping bench from his second bedroom was gone.”

  Marie’s knees buckled, and she would have gone down if Kyra hadn’t supported her. Joanna guided her to the sofa, where she sank onto the cushion, her ears ringing, her heart pounding furiously. Beth had mentioned a sleeping bench when speaking of the items she hoped to buy. But she wouldn’t. . .would she?

  “We’re telling everyone in town to be careful,” the taller man said. “Be sure your doors are locked, and maybe put the things you value under cover so they can’t be seen by peeking in windows.”

  “Thank you, Kurt. We’ll do that.” Hugo’s voice sounded strained.

  The man shifted his feet in a nervous dance. Marie focused on his hands, which twisted the brim of his hat. “Some of the men in town are going to set up a community watch day and night. If you want to be involved—”

  “I sure do,” Hugo inserted.

  “We’re getting together at eight this evening at the meetinghouse. We’ll see you there.”

  The men left. Hugo closed the door, then turned his grim expression on Marie. “It sure would have been better if Beth had stayed here with us today.”

  Joanna gasped. “Hugo! You don’t think—”

  “I don’t want to.” Hugo pushed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “But everyone else in town was with family, celebrating the holiday.”

  Marie rose on shaky legs. “She went home. I know she did. She’ll be there, waiting for me. You’ll see.”

  Hugo looked at Joanna, who beseeched him with her eyes. Turning back to Marie, he said, “It’s getting dark. I’ll drive you.”

  Marie knew it was a desire to satisfy himself to Beth’s whereabouts that brought about the offer, but she nodded mutely. She hugged her sister, nieces, and nephew, then followed Hugo to his car.

  Lights shone in every house—more lights than Marie had seen before. People stood in yards in small clusters, talking. They stared as Hugo drove slowly down the shadowy streets. Please be there, Beth. Please, let’s be able to prove them wrong.

  When Hugo pulled into Lisbeth’s yard, Marie noticed windows glowing in the front bedroom—Beth’s room. Her tense posture sagged with the rush of relief that swept through her. Hugo drove to the back of the house, where Marie’s car waited a few feet from the back porch, in the same spot she had left it yesterday when she returned from the café.

  Her chest flooded with elation. “See? The car’s here, and Beth is here.”

  Hugo walked her to the porch, but instead of stepping onto the wooden platform, he moved to Marie’s car and placed both palms on the red hood. He jerked his gaze toward Marie. The look on his face made her break out in a cold sweat.

  “It’s warm.”

  “I’m telling you, we need to go to that house, knock on the door, and demand to look around.” Jay Albrecht stood with crossed arms at the end of his bench, his dark eyebrows pulled down in a ferocious scowl. Albrecht had assigned himself as leader of the meeting. Having had his grandfather’s mantel clock taken, he was the angriest of all the thief’s victims.

  Henry noticed several men nod in agreement of Albrecht’s bold suggestion. Every male over the age of twenty-one appeared to be in attendance at this community meeting, including all four of Marie’s brothers, two adult nephews, and her father, who sat in a silent row on the preachers’ bench behind the empty podium.

  “And if we found things, what then?” The question came from the back of the room, offered by Allen Wedel. The Wedel place had lost several enamel buckets and a hand plow.

  “That would be proof,” Albrecht declared in a booming voice. “We could then take the Quinns to the police.”

  The thought of Marie and Beth being hauled to the police station in one of the larger nearby towns made Henry feel as though someone had kicked him the stomach. He wanted to speak out in their defense, but his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth.

  Henry’s nephew Jacob rose and faced Albrecht. “Even if we did find the missing items, we wouldn’t be able to prove the Quinns stole them. Not unless they were seen taking them.”

  Albrecht snorted. “Why would they have them if they weren’t responsible for the stealing?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Maybe someone else took the things and hid them there.”

  A snicker went across the room. Doug Ortmann asked, “For what purpose?”

  “To make it look as though the Quinns were responsible.”

  Albrecht waved his hand. “Bah! No one else has a reason to take those things. We all know why those women are here—to get whatever they can lay their hands on. And that’s exactly what they’ve been doing!”

  The murmur of concurrence made Henry’s stomach churn.

  Hugo Dick stood and joined Jacob. “I don’t agree, Jay. Maybe the daughter came to get what she could, but I don’t think we can say that about the mother.”

  “Then why do you think she’s here?” Albrecht’s tone turned derisive.

  Hugo glanced at Henry. “As an answer to prayer.”

  Henry looked at his feet, certain his face was glowing red.

  “My wife, Joanna, her aunt Lisbeth Koeppler, and Henry Braun here have all prayed for years that Marie would return to this community. That she would be able to restore lost relationships. I think Marie came for that reason.”

  Mumbled voices rose and fell. Henry couldn’t resist the urge to look at Marie’s family. All faces were stoic, their gazes downcast except for J.D., who stared straight ahead with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Albrecht’s scowl deepened, his angry glare fierce. “You know as well as I do that nothing like this has ever happened in our community. But these two women arrive, and immediately there’s trouble.”

  Ortmann turned in his seat to face Jacob and Hugo. “I agree with Jay. I believe that girl wants our things badly enough to take them.”

  “No one saw Beth take anything,” Jacob said, raising his voice to be heard over the rumbles that rolled across the r
oom. “No one has even seen the goods.” His gaze swept the room, silencing the murmurs. “I thought we came here to organize a community watch to prevent future burglaries, not form a trial and jury.”

  “You’re being sassy, boy,” Albrecht growled.

  Henry’s ire raised with Albrecht’s condemnation. With a silent prayer for strength, he pushed to his feet and put his arm around his nephew. “Jacob has a right to speak his opinion, just as you do, Jay.” He spoke calmly. “And in this case, he’s right. We’re not accomplishing anything here with all this faultfinding. Let’s organize our watch and wait to see what happens.”

  “And if the thief never shows again? What then?” Ortmann demanded.

  “Then we’ve been successful,” Jacob said.

  Albrecht threw his arms outward. “But we don’t get our things back!”

  “Maybe not.” Henry looked around the room. “But I think we need to look at our motivations here.” His gaze flitted toward Albrecht. “Some folks here seem bent on revenge. But the Bible says vengeance belongs to the Lord.”

  An uneasy silence fell over the gathered men. Albrecht’s face turned scarlet. He sat down abruptly, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “Who brought paper?” Jacob asked.

  Henry patted his shirt pocket. “I have a small pad and a pen.”

  Jacob smiled at him. “Good. Uncle Henry, would you please write down the names of all the men in attendance?”

  Henry flipped open the pad and jotted down the names. He looked up, pen poised. “Jay?” He waited until Albrecht lifted his head. “Would you like to schedule everyone’s time for watching?”

  The man’s gaze narrowed, and for a moment Henry feared he would storm out of the room. But he gave a brusque nod. “Four-hour shifts?”

  Several nods and mumbles came from the group.

  Albrecht fired out time slots and called for volunteers. Henry carefully recorded the information. In the midst of the planning, he heard a shuffle along the side bench.

  J.D. Koeppler stood, his sons and grandsons following suit. The entire Koeppler family filed out of the meetinghouse without volunteering for a shift. Henry watched them go, his heart heavy. None of them had said a word in support of Marie throughout the entire meeting.

  But then something else occurred to him. Neither had any of them condemned her.

  TWENTY

  This is nice.” Beth cupped her hands around her coffee mug and smiled across the table at her mother. “With all the hours you’ve been spending at the café, we don’t get much time together anymore. I’m glad we decided to leave the place closed all weekend.”

  Marie’s throat tightened at her daughter’s words. She, too, had missed time with Beth. Lately, even when they were together, the tension made it difficult to enjoy Beth’s company. Last night, when Hugo discovered the car’s engine was warm—evidence that it had been driven recently—Marie approached Beth, intending to ask where she’d gone. But her daughter’s defiant attitude made her change her mind. Maybe a part of her feared knowing the answers to the questions that pressed her mind.

  But this morning she saw no sign of yesterday’s defiance. Beth seemed relaxed, open, more like the girl she’d been back in Cheyenne. Marie’s heart rose with hope that what Joanna had said was true—Beth was merely experiencing growing pains and their relationship wouldn’t be irreparably damaged by their time in Sommerfeld.

  “What should we do today?” Marie gave a cautious sip at her mug.

  “How about packing our bags and taking a quick trip?” Beth’s eyes danced. “If we left here in the next hour, we could be in Kansas City by midafternoon.”

  Beth’s enthusiasm gave Marie’s heart a lift. “What would we do there?”

  Beth shrugged. “Rent a room in a nice hotel, sit in a hot tub, watch television. . .something normal. Since the café won’t open again until Tuesday, we could stay clear through Monday. It’d be like a minivacation.”

  “But I have service Sunday.” Marie was struck by two simultaneous emotions—surprise that attending service had become so important to her, and regret that her daughter’s enthusiasm immediately deflated.

  Beth shook her head, her hair spilling across her shoulders. “Mom, I don’t get you. You’d blow an entire weekend away from here just to go to that little church?”

  Marie lowered her head. She wished Beth understood the changes taking place in her heart. But she couldn’t quite comprehend it herself, let alone explain it to someone else. All she knew for sure was she didn’t want to miss service at the meetinghouse. Reaching her hand across the table, she touched Beth’s rigid arm.

  “Honey, I don’t mean to disappoint you.”

  Beth jumped up and moved stiffly to the stove, where she poured another cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, she fixed her mother with a unwavering glare. “The last thing I expected when we came here was for our family to fall apart.”

  A pang pierced Marie’s heart. For many years “family” had meant the two of them. But now it was so much more. Even if the rest of Marie’s family never came around, surely Beth would benefit from having Joanna and some of her cousins in her life. How could she help her see that?

  “You aren’t the same mother I’ve had for twenty years. You dress different—I can’t remember the last time you wore a pair of jeans. You talk different—bringing God and prayers into nearly every conversation. And you act different—all quiet and accepting instead of standing up for yourself. I don’t feel like I even know you anymore!”

  Marie tipped her head, narrowing her gaze as she reflected on Beth’s statement. “I suppose I have made some changes since we arrived. Being here has helped me remember the teachings of my childhood and how important they were to me. They’ve become important to me again. I hope the changes aren’t bad ones.” She spoke slowly, thinking carefully as she formed words. “But I’ve seen you change, too. You’ve become resentful, snappy, and. . .sneaky.”

  Beth jerked upright, her brow creasing sharply.

  Marie knew she’d struck a nerve. She proceeded with caution. “What do you do while I’m at the café all day?” Although she kept her tone soft and noncombatant, Beth’s face blazed pink.

  “Here we go again. Crazy Beth is robbing everybody blind.”

  “If it isn’t true, why not prove them wrong? What are you trying to hide?”

  Beth shifted her gaze to the side, the muscles in her jaw twitching. Although Marie waited for several moments, Beth didn’t answer.

  Marie released a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  Beth swung back, flinging one arm wide. “See? That’s exactly what I mean! Back home, if I tried to keep something from you, you’d bug me until I caved in.”

  “You want me to bug you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Beth stared, her body angled forward as if poised for a fight. “I want us to go back to how we were before. You and me against the world. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was secure.”

  Marie shook her head. “Sweetheart, I love you, and I always will. You’re my daughter—my precious gift.” Her throat went tight as love filled her so completely she ached. “But I don’t think we’ll ever be the way we were before. I’ve found something here that I lacked for too many years. And I know I’ll never be able to let it go again.”

  Beth poked out her lips, her expression sour. “You’re talking about God, aren’t you?”

  Marie wasn’t sure which feeling took precedence at that moment—elation that Beth had recognized the light of God in her mother’s bearing, or sorrow that she spoke of it with such disdain. “Yes, I am.”

  Beth marched to the sink and dumped the coffee. Dark spatters rose with the force of her swing. “And I suppose you’ll choose Him over me, just like you’ve chosen your family over me.”

  Marie bolted from her chair and rushed across the floor to envelop Beth in her arms. Even though her daughter stood stiffly, kee
ping her arms at her sides, Marie held her close, stroking her hair with a trembling hand. “Sweetheart, I’m not choosing anything over you. Nothing will change how much I love you. But I can’t give God up for you. I hope you understand that.”

  Beth allowed the embrace for a few more seconds before she pulled back. The hurt in her eyes stabbed Marie. “No, Mom, I don’t understand. And frankly, I don’t want to.” She moved to the doorway leading to the hall and then paused, her shoulders tense. “Since you don’t want to go away this weekend, I guess I’ll go on my own. I could benefit from some normalcy. Maybe I’ll call Mitch, see if he wants to fly in and meet me.”

  Marie clamped her jaw, refusing to respond. There was no point—Beth already knew how Marie felt about her spending time with Mitch. Instead, she posed a practical question. “How will you pay for your minivacation?”

  “Maybe I’ll take some of the money out of the account in McPherson. . .unless you have a problem with that.”

  Marie sighed. “That account will be yours soon anyway. I won’t oppose it.”

  Peeking over her shoulder, Beth sent Marie a brief questioning look. When Marie met her gaze, remaining silent, Beth released a huff and disappeared around the corner.

  Marie sat back at the table and buried her face in her hands. God, her heart cried, I won’t choose Beth over You. But please don’t let me lose her. She means so much to me. . . .

  Henry glanced at the overcast sky as he slid into his vehicle. He released a shiver. The temperature had dropped overnight. The gray sky and the snap of the air gave the promise of snow. He smiled. From the time he was a boy, he had anticipated the first snow of the season. Often it came right after Thanksgiving, which always brought a rush of eagerness for Christmas.