by Nancy Mehl
“Sorry,” I said softly. “I got ready as quickly as I could. I’d never purposely be late for one of your delicious meals.”
My statement seemed to take the wind out of her sails. She paused with a plate of waffles in her hand. “Th–that’s okay,” she said finally. “I’ll have them to you lickety-split.”
Sam gave me a thumbs-up when his aunt wasn’t looking. I remembered the scripture that promised a gentle answer would turn away wrath. Wow. Obviously it worked.
Before long, I was full of waffles, bacon, and coffee. When Sam announced it was time to go, I got up and followed him to the front door. Sweetie stayed behind.
“Doesn’t your aunt ever go to church?” I asked when Sam closed the front door behind us.
He shook his head. “She used to when she was younger, but I guess something happened that changed her. She encourages me to go, and she reads her Bible and prays. She just won’t step foot inside a church building.” He shrugged. “I used to try to get her to tell me why, but I finally gave up. Whatever her reasons, she’s determined to keep them to herself.”
I thought about Sweetie as Sam’s truck jiggled down the dirt road toward Harmony Church. I’d met quite a few ex-church members like her—people who used to be part of congregations but had left for various reasons. Sometimes they’d pulled out because the church didn’t seem to be meeting their needs. And sometimes it was because they’d been hurt. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if more churches took care of the people already inside its borders instead of concentrating so much on bringing in new bodies. Numbers are great. I have no problem with large churches as long as they care for their members. But I’d seen firsthand what happens when people are neglected. I thought about a friend of mine who belonged to a small singles’ group at his church. Because of work, he missed several meetings in a row. “Wow, Gracie,” he’d told me. “Not one person ever called to ask me if I was okay—or to tell me they missed me.” I could still see the look on his face. He quit going to that church. A simple phone call—a little concern—would have made a huge difference in his life. Jesus’ admonition to Peter, “Feed my sheep,” slipped into my mind. Unfortunately, some of His sheep seemed to be starving.
Sam turned into the parking lot at Harmony Church, forcing me to put my thoughts on hold. “Here we are,” he said as he pulled into a space. “Are you nervous?”
I looked out the window at the people headed for the large brick building. Not one of them stared at the truck or seemed interested in who was inside. “A little bit.” The scripture about God’s peace came back to me. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go inside.”
I waited for Sam to open my door, and then I climbed down carefully, keeping my skirt in place. He was incredibly handsome in his black slacks and gray striped shirt.
“You look really nice this morning,” I said as I stepped out of the truck.
“And you look absolutely beautiful,” he said in a low voice.
I felt the blood rush into my face and had to turn away so he wouldn’t notice. He took my arm and escorted me toward the front entrance. Several people stepped up to introduce themselves as we entered. Sam told them who I was, yet no one acted as if they’d heard about my supposed thievery. I’d started to relax until we almost ran smack-dab into Ruth and her companion—Mary Whittenbauer. Their expressions made it obvious they’d been talking about me. Mary already had it in for me. Combining forces with Ruth made for a poisonous mix.
Sam’s grip on my arm tightened, and he steered me right toward the two women, even though I pulled away from him and tried to go the other way.
“Hello, Ruth. Hello, Mary,” he said, his voice a little too loud for my liking.
Ruth’s mouth dropped open. Mary just glared at him.
“G–good morning, Sam,” Ruth said after she regained her composure. “Gracie.”
“Good morning,” I mumbled. I fought a quick rush of embarrassment and had to remind myself that I had nothing to be humiliated about. “Good morning, Mary,” I said a little more forcefully.
“Good morning, Gracie.” She fired her words back at me like small, potent bullets.
I felt Sam tug on my arm, but I wasn’t quite finished. A small fire of indignation burned in my gut. “I’m looking forward to today’s sermon,” I said with a smile. I directed my gaze toward Ruth. “Maybe the pastor will preach about the ninth commandment, Ruth. Do you know it by any chance?”
“Let’s go,” Sam said gruffly. This time he didn’t try to gently lead me away from the women. Instead, he yanked me so hard I almost toppled over.
“Let go of me,” I hissed once we were out of earshot.
He stopped in his tracks and faced me. His eyes flashed with anger. “Do you feel better now that you put Ruth in her place?” He shook his head. “Don’t you know that you don’t fight wrong with more wrong? It never works.”
“She had it coming. Bearing false witness is a sin.”
“So is not turning the other cheek,” he said in a tight, controlled voice. “God is all about love and forgiveness, Grace. With your name, you’d think you’d have figured that out by now.”
As we made our way to our seats, an internal struggle was going on inside me. Self-righteousness screamed that I’d been wronged, while humility whispered that no one was more wronged than Jesus—yet He had forgiven the world. Of course, humility won, quickly followed by conviction and its close friend, repentance.
Sam sat silently beside me. As the music ministers began taking their places on the platform, I turned to him. “You’re right,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. Hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
He let out a big sigh. “I’m not embarrassed. I overreacted, too. You only said what I was thinking. But we can’t pay back evil for evil. It always blows up in our faces.”
“I know. I’ll apologize after the service.”
“You pray about that. If you feel the need, I’ll go with you.” He put his hand on mine. “You’re a wonderful person, Grace. You don’t deserve to be in the spot you’re in. I hope I’ll be able to help you.”
“Me, too.” My eyes drifted past Sam. Two rows up, Mary turned around and glowered at us. I quickly looked away. “Mary may be more of a problem than Ruth,” I said softly.
Sam grinned down at me. “You could be right. We usually sit together in church.”
I turned toward him in surprise. I wanted to tell him that ignoring Mary to sit with me wasn’t wise, but before I could get the words out, the praise and worship music began. I took one more quick look at Mary, but she’d turned her head toward the platform. As much as I resented her talking to Ruth about me, I felt uncomfortable knowing my presence caused her pain. By the time the music came to an end, I’d made a firm decision. Sam and I would have to talk about the reality of our relationship. That there wasn’t one—and never would be. He and Mary would have to sort out their own problems. I couldn’t be in the middle anymore.
As the singers and musicians left the platform, a man came up and stood behind the pulpit. I figured him to be somewhere in his middle forties, although with his receding hairline, he could have been younger. He towered over the retreating musicians by quite a bit. His thin frame and rather large nose put me in mind of drawings I’d seen of the fictional character Ichabod Crane. When he opened his mouth to speak, a rich voice rolled out. I sighed deeply as he introduced his sermon topic—“Walking in Love.” In other words, God had my number. I could almost feel the target on the top of my head. By the time Pastor Jensen finished, I’d been properly spanked. I’d learned long ago that God disciplines his children through His Word. When a sermon reaches into your heart and shines a light on your wrong attitudes, it is the Holy Spirit bringing His loving conviction.
I was convicted all right. I glanced over at Mary. My visit to Harmony had disrupted her life. Perhaps it wasn’t my fault, but my reaction to her situation was my responsibility. When the sermon came to a close and we were dismissed, I asked Sam to wait for me in
the truck. I knew he’d offered to go with me if I decided to talk to Mary, but I felt strongly that this was something I had to do alone. He gave me an odd look but headed for the exit. I caught up to Mary just as she scooted out of the pew where she’d been seated.
“Mary, may I speak to you privately for a moment?” I put my hand on her arm and held on.
“I—I don’t know...” Her expression reminded me of a fox I’d found caught in a trap once when we lived in Nebraska. It had taken quite awhile for him to trust me enough to let me open the trap and free him. I kept the light pressure on her arm.
“Please.”
She sighed, and resignation registered on her face. “I suppose it would be okay.” She pointed toward a small alcove to my left. I released her arm and followed her there. As she walked in heels higher than I’d be comfortable with, her dark, silky hair bounced in rhythm to her full but rather short skirt. I tried not to think about the appropriateness of her outfit for a church service. It wasn’t my job to judge her. Especially now. When we reached our destination, she turned and folded her arms across her chest, her red mouth pursed in a pout. “What do you want, Gracie?”
I prayed silently for the right words, clearing my throat to give me a second to hear from God. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Mary,” I said finally. “I’m not sure why, but I’d like to clear it up if at all possible.” I gazed into her deep brown eyes and saw the hurt and insecurity there. A wave of sympathy washed through me. “I’m not interested in Sam romantically,” I said gently. “He’s a wonderful man and has been a good friend since I arrived in town—but that’s all. Whatever’s going on between you two has nothing to do with me. Please understand that I’m not your problem—or your enemy. In fact, I’d like to be your friend if you’ll let me. Like Pastor Jensen said, we’re a family. We should act like one.”
Instead of the warm reaction I’d hoped for, her mouth tightened and she stepped away from me. “I honestly don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I know Sam Goodrich. He has feelings for you. It’s obvious. Maybe you don’t return them, but that doesn’t change a thing. We’re engaged—at least we were until you showed up.”
Well, I guess the soft-answer-turning-away-wrath thing doesn’t work all the time. This certainly wasn’t the reaction I’d prayed for. “Look, Mary,” I said slowly, “surely you realize that if your relationship with Sam is secure, my presence won’t interfere with it in any way. If you two are meant to be together, no one will be able to come between you—on purpose or accidentally.”
“How dare you!” she huffed. Her face flushed an angry red. “I couldn’t care less about your opinion on any subject. I understand stealing fiancés isn’t the only kind of theft you’re interested in.”
My good intentions flew out the window. Anger coursed through me in a torrent. “Look here, you little...”
“That’s enough, Grace.”
Sam’s stern tone caught me off guard. I turned around to find him standing behind us, Ruth at his side.
“But she said...,” I sputtered.
“This is all my fault,” Ruth said, interrupting what promised to be a scathing report of the injustice leveled against me.
Her words stopped me cold. “Wh–what?” I managed to get out between clenched teeth.
Ruth reached over and took my hands in hers. “I said, I guess this is all my fault.” She glanced up at Sam and shook her head. “Sam told me that you couldn’t possibly have taken the vase. I’ve known him ever since he came to live here, and if there’s one thing I can count on in this life, it’s the truthfulness of Sam Goodrich.” She squeezed my hands. “I can’t say I understand how my vase got into your trunk, Gracie. To be honest, it will take a leap of faith for me to believe you had nothing to do with stealing it. But I trust Sam. And I didn’t actually see who took it. Those two facts have to outweigh my suspicions. I have no choice but to give you the benefit of the doubt.” She smiled at me. “Could you possibly find it in your heart to give me another chance?”
“Of course, I can. I’m not a thief, Ruth. Really. I would never take something that doesn’t belong to me.” I swung my gaze toward Mary. “Not on purpose anyway.”
Ruth hugged me. “Let’s just put the whole situation behind us, okay? You’re welcome in my shop anytime. Maybe we need to have a cup of coffee together this week and get to know each other a little better.”
“I–I’d like that.”
A quick glance at Mary made it clear her anger was now not only directed at me but at her friend, as well. She mumbled something I didn’t understand and stomped away, stopping to speak to a couple exiting a pew several rows away from us.
“Don’t worry about Mary,” Ruth said. “I can handle her. She gets pretty angry sometimes, but she usually finds a way to move past it.” She put her arm around my shoulder. “I’m going to walk you back to Sam’s truck.” She frowned at him. “I just said some nice things about your willingness to be honest, Sam Goodrich. You need to do that now.” She glanced toward Mary and then back at Sam. “You understand me, boy?”
He nodded, his face pink. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled.
Ruth guided me away from Sam and Mary. When we were out of listening range, she let me go. “Sorry to rush you off like that, but Sam owes Mary a frank talk. It should have happened a long time ago.” She sighed and shook her head. “Mary pushed and prodded him into this so-called engagement. At first, Sam was too nice to tell her he wasn’t certain about it. Finally, I think he just gave in. Sometimes when you live in a town this small, you can start thinking that your choices in life are limited to what’s here. I think in the back of Sam’s mind, he figured he might as well hook up with Mary because there would never be anyone else.” She smiled at me. “Since you’ve come to town, he’s started rethinking that attitude.”
I started to protest, but Ruth pointed toward the doors of the church. “Let’s talk outside. Esther Crenshaw is on her way over here, and she’s the biggest gossip in town.”
Over my shoulder I saw a woman with curly brown hair wearing a bright red dress and a large flowered hat making a beeline toward us. Ruth quickly pulled me out the door, and we hurried to Sam’s truck where we stood on the side not facing the church. Esther followed us outside but stopped to talk to someone else, seeming to forget us completely.
“Listen, Ruth,” I said when we’d safely escaped Esther’s attention, “I have no romantic interest in Sam. He’s a nice man, and I think we’re building a friendship—but that’s all it is. For goodness’ sake, I’ve only known him for two days. That’s not enough time to fall in love.”
Ruth’s round face crinkled as she laughed. “Oh, Gracie. My husband and I fell in love on our first date. I knew he was the man for me, and he knew I was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. We were married almost forty years before he died. And every single year was happy.” She reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “Love isn’t something you buy at the store when you’re ready,” she said gently. “It’s a gift that can arrive all of a sudden—without warning. It can come at the most inconvenient time—and it almost never looks the way you expect it to.” She reached up and touched my face lightly. “The worst thing you can do is not take the gift when it comes. It may never come your way again. Believe me, I know.”
I stared at the older woman, unable to find the words to respond to her. Sam couldn’t possibly be the man for me. Everything about him was wrong. Wrong kind of man. Wrong profession. Wrong town.
“I understand what you’re saying,” I said, trying to sound convincing, “but honestly, Sam and I are not a couple. Nor will we ever be. We’re not a good match.”
She smiled. “Maybe not. Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t stick my nose into other people’s business.”
“It–it’s fine.” I cleared my throat and tried to offer her my most sincere expression. “Look, I want you to understand something. For reasons I can’t explain right now, I’m convinced someone took yo
ur vase and placed it inside my uncle’s house just so they could cast a bad light on me personally. I know that doesn’t make sense to you now, but I hope to prove it before I leave Harmony.”
Ruth’s forehead puckered. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, honey. But if someone was actually trying to set you up...” She shook her head. “You know, Benjamin Temple was the loneliest man I ever met. Now don’t get me wrong—I adored him. His honesty, his compassion. But there was something bubbling below the surface of that man. Now you come to town and things start heating up.” She studied me for a moment. “You be careful stirring that pot, Gracie. If it boils over, people can get burned.”
Was she warning me or threatening me? Truth was, I had no idea who was my friend—and who was my enemy. Could Ruth have planted the vase at Benjamin’s house? Maybe she put it there herself. And what about Mary? She had a good reason for wanting me out of town.
I looked around at the people heading toward their cars. Nice people. Friendly people. But someone in this town hid a dark secret, and I had no intention of leaving until I uncovered it. “Here he comes,” Ruth said suddenly.