Simple Secrets (The Harmony Series 1)

by Nancy Mehl

  Emily turned on her heel while mumbling something about taking the material she held into the bedroom, but I could see the smile on her face as she left the room.

  Still chuckling, Abel encouraged us to eat our cobbler while it was warm. The crunchy topping was perfect for the warm peaches dusted with cinnamon. The ice cream tasted homemade. It had a rich, creamy goodness that store-bought ice cream couldn’t begin to match. Sam and I finished our desserts, and Hannah took our bowls and refilled the coffee cups. A sense of peace settled all around me, and I realized I was really enjoying my time in the Mueller’s house. However, a glance at the clock on the wall reminded me that I really needed to call my parents. I’d originally planned to call them from Sam’s, but it was later than I’d suspected. I was afraid they might be worried. I asked Abel if I could use his phone, and he led me to a small alcove at the end of the hallway where a built-in shelf held their telephone. I got my calling card out of my purse and dialed the necessary numbers to have the charges billed to my home phone. After a couple of rings, my father’s deep voice boomed through the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dad! It’s me.”

  “Snicklefritz! It’s about time. We’ve been concerned about you.”

  “I know. Sorry, Dad. Benjamin’s place doesn’t have a phone. I knew you’d be wondering about me—even if it’s only been two days.”

  His warm laugh drifted through the phone. “I know it doesn’t seem long to you, honey. But to parents, two days feels like an eternity. Now tell me what’s happened so far. How do you like Harmony? Who have you met? Are people being nice to you?”

  “Whoa. Too many questions. Why don’t I just start from the beginning?” I told him about my arrival in his old hometown, but of course I left out the most important things: the letter, the theft, and the fact that I wasn’t staying in Benjamin’s house. My father seemed most interested in the people in Harmony. If I mentioned someone he knew, he’d stop me and ask about them. He knew Emily and wondered how she was. When I told him she was married to the pastor who’d called him about Benjamin’s death and that they had a daughter, he seemed very pleased. He was interested to hear that I’d met Levi Hoffman but even more excited that I planned to spend some time with Ida Turnbauer.

  “Ida and your grandmother were such close friends,” he said. “I always liked her. An honest woman and a wonderful Christian. She encouraged your mother and me when we told her we were leaving Harmony. One of the few people who did. Please tell her we said hello.”

  “I will,” I promised. “She certainly was shocked to find out that Grandma had passed away. Uncle Benjamin didn’t tell her.”

  “I wanted to contact Ida when Mama died, but Papa said no. He still had some resentment toward a few folks in Harmony. I guess Mama tried to explain their leaving to Ida, but she wouldn’t listen. That church...”

  “Actually, it wasn’t the church, Dad.” I proceeded to explain the situation to him.

  “Goodness,” he said after taking a deep breath I could hear clearly through the receiver. “I guess I blamed everything on the church. Perhaps that wasn’t completely fair.”

  “I’m finding out that most of the bad things that went on here came from Amil Angstadt. A lot of people disagreed with him, just like you and Mom.”

  “Well, more of them should have stood up to him. That man caused a lot of grief and confusion.” I recognized the sharp tone in his voice. It meant this discussion is off-limits. Move on to something else. Life in Harmony had certainly left my father with some unresolved feelings.

  I changed the subject and started telling him about Benjamin’s house and the things I’d found there. I debated telling him about his old room, but when he asked about it, I knew I couldn’t lie.

  “He left it like it was when I moved away?” He repeated his sentence twice as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I—I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, Dad. Maybe it’s best not to try to figure it out. I—I mean, at least he kept all your things. M–maybe that means something.”

  With everything that had happened, I was certain Uncle Benjamin had truly loved my father, even if his decisions made it look otherwise. But my main proof was contained in the missing letter, and I couldn’t tell my father anything about that yet. I could only pray that someday, when the truth came out, Dad would know that his brother cared deeply for him. After sharing with him that there seemed to be interest in the house and land, I informed him that we’d need a moving truck to cart all the family heirlooms to Nebraska.

  “That’s not a problem. I’ll rent some storage, and we can put everything there until we decide what to do with it. When do you want me schedule the truck?”

  I named the last Saturday before the Monday I was supposed to be back to work.

  “Can’t you put the sale of the house in someone else’s hands and leave sooner? Maybe you could come here for a few days before heading back to Wichita. Mom and I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Dad. I’ll visit you guys the first free weekend I have after I go home. I promise. But I really think I need to spend the next two weeks here. There’s a lot to do, and besides, I really like Harmony. Since I’ll probably never be back, I’d like to hang around as long as I can.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone told me that my father was having a hard time accepting my sentiments about a place he still held in a negative light.

  “It’s really different now,” I continued. “The people are very nice, and the pastor isn’t anything like Angstadt. He’s more like Pastor Buchannan at your church.”

  “Well, I must admit that even though we only spoke briefly, Pastor Mueller seemed like a very nice man. I–I’m glad things are going well for you there. I’ll have to take your word about the positive changes in Harmony. If you say things are different...”

  “I do.”

  I promised my father I’d call him again in a couple of days. Now that I was at Sam’s, it would be much easier to contact him. However, not telling him the truth about where I was really staying made me feel a little guilty. It suddenly hit me that I’d only been in Harmony a couple of days and I was already collecting secrets of my own.

  I started to say good-bye when I decided to take the plunge and ask him the question I really wanted to. I prayed it wouldn’t make him suspicious.

  “By the way, Dad,” I said as casually as I could, “do you remember a man named Jacob Glick?”

  The deep intake of breath from my father was matched in stereo from behind me. I whirled around to see Emily Mueller standing a few feet down the hall, the same look of terror on her face that I’d seen at the diner. I told my dad I had to hang up, and I’d call him back. I didn’t hear any response, but I knew I had to speak to Emily right away. I quickly put the phone down. I’d have to square things with my father later.

  “Emily,” I said in a low voice, “I need to know about this Glick person. I can’t tell you why, but it’s very important. Please, please, tell me the truth. Why does he frighten you so much?”

  She lifted a trembling hand to her face and pushed back a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her bun. We studied each other for several moments before she spoke in a sharp whisper. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to dredge up Jacob Glick. Why can’t you just leave the past buried? It won’t do anyone any good to talk about him.”

  My mouth almost dropped open at the use of the word “buried.” “Listen Emily, as I said, I can’t tell you why I need to know about him. But it’s very important. People’s lives could be adversely affected if I don’t find out the truth.” I frowned at her and took a step closer. “If you know anything ... please, please, help me. I promise it will stay between us. You have my word.” Even as I gave her my promise, I wondered if I’d be able to keep it. Eventually the truth about Glick was going to come out. Keeping Emily insulated from the fallout might be impossible.

  I could actually see her interna
l struggle play out on her face. Finally, she grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward a door in the hallway.

  “I’m taking some measurements for Gracie’s dress,” she called out loudly enough for her husband to hear. “Stay out of the bedroom.”

  “All right, dear,” Abel yelled back. “I’m going to take Sam outside to see the garden. Hannah’s with us.”

  Emily waited until we heard the door to the porch slam shut. Then she opened the bedroom door and guided me inside. It was a lovely room with lace curtains and dark mahogany furniture. A homemade spread covered the bed. Emily sat down on top of it, still clutching the material for my dress. She pointed to a spot next to her. I took a seat, curious yet almost apprehensive about what she was getting ready to share.

  “Growing up in a Mennonite home was wonderful,” she said slowly, measuring her words carefully. “We had no distractions like television or video games. We just had each other. I played with my brothers and sisters all the time—and we knew each other. I mean, really knew each other. And I read. A lot. I especially loved the classics. Dickens was a favorite. And Little Women. But then Amil Angstadt came to Harmony.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Everything changed. I lost all my books. We were only allowed to read the Bible and certain religious books approved by the church. Children were supposed to work—to be productive. Playing was discouraged. It was worse on the girls. Bishop Angstadt made us feel that unless we were being prepared for marriage, we were useless. And he insisted that all engagements come through him for approval. I cared deeply for one young man, but the bishop forbade me to see him. It broke my heart to tell this man we couldn’t marry.” She sighed and wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek.

  “Why didn’t someone stand up against Angstadt?”

  She shook her head. “Mennonites are taught to be respectful and submissive to authority. Many of the adults were confused. They were torn between their responsibility to the church and their concerns about what was happening. Some people did leave. Like your parents. Others met secretly, trying to find a way to change things, but they were faced with resistance by certain members who felt they were trying to personally attack Bishop Angstadt.” She sighed so deeply her body trembled. “It was a terrible time for everyone.”

  “I–I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said gently. “But what does this have to do with Jacob Glick?”

  “I swore I would never mention that man’s name again.” Her voice shook with emotion.

  I held my breath and waited for her to continue. I could see my questions were causing her distress. After reading my uncle’s letter and remembering something Abel had said at dinner, I had a pretty good idea what she was getting ready to tell me. On the one hand, I wanted to hear it. On the other hand, I dreaded the words I feared were coming, but I couldn’t do anything to stop her. I had to know the truth. This was too important to me—and to my father. Finally, she took a deep shuddering breath and looked into my eyes. The raw pain I saw in her face shook me.

  “Jacob was hired to do maintenance work around the church. Although he wasn’t actually a member, he was almost like the bishop’s second in command. Anyone wanting to see Bishop Angstadt had to get through Jacob first. He was always at the church. He even lived in the basement.” She cleared her throat and stared at the material in her hands for a few moments. When she looked up, her face was pale—almost ghostly white. “No one else knows what I am about to tell you. I vowed I would never say anything, but I’m afraid you’re going to keep digging until it comes up in a way I—I can’t control.”

  I put my hand over hers. “Emily, please understand that unless it was absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t put you through this. Glick may be involved in something that could seriously hurt my family unless I find out everything there is to know about him. I realize it seems unfair to ask you to tell me your secrets when I can’t tell you mine, but if you could only trust me a little.”

  She smiled slightly and nodded her head. “I hope I can, Gracie. Because what I’m about to tell you could damage my family, as well.”

  Once again, something rose up inside me that wanted to stop her. To stop this entire thing. To go home and forget that Harmony, Kansas, existed. But somehow I knew that the secrets buried in Harmony were meant to come out. That the truth would set people free. Something Abel had said at dinner floated through my mind. But sometimes people try to bury things they haven’t dealt with. And when that happens, the past won’t stay silent. It manifests in other ways—interfering with your life and not allowing you to move forward. I suspected this was true for Emily. Maybe today would be the day she would take a step forward from her past. I prayed it was true.

  I squeezed her hand. “I understand. Please...”

  She grabbed my hand back with such force I almost yelped in pain.

  “I—I was only seventeen. My—my mother sent me to the church to pick up some hymnals that were torn and needed mending.” Her voice trembled and tears fell down her cheeks. “J–Jacob was there. He—he told me the hymnals were in the basement. I—I followed him down there.”

  She took a breath and held it. Without realizing it at first, I held mine, too. Even before she spoke, I knew what was coming. Then in a rush of words she said “When I got down there, he led me to a room—his room. And then he...”

  I put my fingers on her lips to stop her. Neither one of us needed to hear the rest. I opened my arms, and she leaned against me and sobbed as if her heart would break. After several minutes, she gently pushed me away.

  “After it happened,” she said haltingly, “I ran to a special spot near the lake. I liked to go there sometimes to think ... you know, to be alone.”

  I could only nod, afraid to trust my voice at that moment.

  “I sat there for a long time, looking at the water, wondering what to do. Finally, I got up and went home. I made the decision to never tell anyone.” She sighed. “You see, I was afraid. Afraid of what people would think about me. Afraid that my parents wouldn’t love me anymore. Afraid Jacob would tell lies about what happened.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t stand that.” She patted her prayer covering with trembling fingers. “I never went back to my favorite spot again. It always reminded me of ... of...” Emily straightened her back and stared at me with a frank expression. “I’m certain I’m not the only one Jacob molested—or tried to molest. There were complaints, but Bishop Angstadt always protected him.”

  “The picture in the dining room. That’s you, isn’t it?”

  She nodded slowly. “I loved to paint when I was a girl, but it was frowned upon in our community. I painted that picture at school after the ... incident. When the year was out, I snuck it home and hid it in our attic. I should have thrown it away, but for some reason I didn’t. I brought it with me when Abel and I married. Even though I hid it, he found it and insisted we hang it in the dining room. He said he was proud of my talent. I couldn’t tell—tell him...” She wiped her wet face. “I don’t know why I kept it in the first place. Maybe because it was the last thing I ever painted. I don’t know. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “So Abel has no idea what it represents?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice. “You’ve kept it to yourself all these years?”

  Emily grasped my arm with her small fingers. “Yes. I hate that painting. Every day it mocks me. Reminds me of what Jacob took from me.” Her fingers tightened on my skin. “I’ve wanted to say something—to tell Abel the truth, but I couldn’t. Not in all these years. If only I’d told someone what happened after Jacob ... um, left, but I was still too ashamed. And afraid. Of course, the longer I waited, the harder it became to confess. Now, I just want the whole thing to go away.”

  “But like your husband said, these kinds of situations don’t just fade away by themselves.” I tried to keep my voice soft and nonthreatening, but there was a sense of fury building inside me. Against Glick and men like him. And against toxic secrets that people hide inside themselves, ru
ining their lives. Was the church to blame for some of this? Are we too afraid to be honest with each other?

  As if reading my mind, Emily said, “Please don’t blame anyone in the church—except Bishop Angstadt. There were many people who cared about me. I alone made the decision to keep this secret. No one forced me to.” Another deep sigh escaped through her lips and shook her thin body. “I realize now that I could have told my parents. They would have believed me. And they would have done something. Maybe the truth would have even stopped Jacob from hurting another young woman. I live every day with the guilt of my decision and wonder how much damage my cowardice caused.”

  “This secret has been kept too long, Emily,” I said matter-of-factly.

  She smoothed her hand over the apple-green cloth in her lap. “It’s too late now, Gracie. I will not allow Abel and Hannah to be hurt by something that happened so long ago.”

  “But don’t you realize that Abel already suspects there is something you haven’t told him? Didn’t you understand that his admonition about buried secrets was directed at you?”