by Nancy Mehl
I fixed myself a cup of hot tea and sat at the table for another thirty minutes until I decided to turn in.
Before leaving the kitchen, I set Snickle up with food, water, and a new litter box. He seemed happy to be home and purred as he christened his box. Then I grabbed my suitcase and headed upstairs to my bedroom. It had originally been my grandparents’ room, and although I’d kept the original furniture, I’d added some of my own touches to make the space belong to me. Buttercream wall paint created a warm glow. A large overstuffed chair with a matching footstool sat in the corner where the old potbellied stove had once been. I’d found the chair at a church rummage sale. The lovely dark green patterned upholstery had called to me. A friend helped me to move it to my apartment, where it had never really looked right. But it fit perfectly here. Funny how things turn out. The chair was like an omen for change, although I hadn’t recognized it at the time.
The faded quilt that had originally been on the bed had been bundled up and placed in a trunk in the basement for safekeeping. I’d covered the bed with the quilt Mama Essie, my grandmother, had made just for me. I’d always been afraid to use it—afraid it would be damaged—but it belonged here. On this bed. In this room. Mama Essie would be pleased to know I’d finally taken it out of mothballs.
I stared at the large picture on the wall. A portrait of an Old Order Mennonite family in their simple garb—the men and boys in wide-brimmed black hats. Although Old Order Mennonites were discouraged from having their pictures taken, Papa Joe, my grandfather, had bucked tradition for this one photograph. I smiled at Mama Essie, young and beautiful, and Papa Joe, strong and manly with a twinkle in his eye. My father and my uncle, both young boys, gazed stoically at the camera. This was the only early family picture I had and the only photograph of my uncle, Benjamin Temple. My red hair and freckles had come from him. As had my dimples.
I unpacked my clothes under the soft, golden glow of a single lamp on the dresser. All the light in the house came from a few well-placed lamps. Sam had said that later on he could wire the house with ceiling lights, but for now, this would have to get me by. After living without electricity, I felt like every outlet in the wall was a blessing.
I reached down and flipped on the electric heater. The downstairs had heat in the living room and in the kitchen. But the bathroom still needed to be set up with an air duct and a vent. The upstairs would be last to receive attention. At least we were on the right track. To be honest, I kind of liked the warm luminescence of the heater in the room. I’d considered leaving the old potbellied stove until the central heating system was completed, but Sam showed me where the metal had rusted through. Besides, it took up so much space that once it was gone, the bedroom seemed much larger.
After preparing for bed, I checked all the doors and windows before retiring for the night. Everything was locked tight, and there were no more odd lights outside that I could see. I fell asleep with Snickle curled up next to me.
When I woke up the next morning, it was almost ten o’clock. I took a quick bath, got dressed, and headed over to Ida’s house.
As I pulled up next to the plain white house, Ida’s old horse, Zebediah, trotted up to the fence near my car. I got out and went over to pet him. Zeb nuzzled my face with his soft muzzle.
“Hey, Zeb,” I said quietly, “I missed you. How are you?”
He shook his head up and down. Then he whinnied softly.
“Good.” I stroked his face a few more times before heading toward the house. I’d just reached up to knock on the door when it swung open. Ida stood there with a big smile on her face.
“Ach, my Gracie is home!”
I leaned into an exuberant hug. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the elderly woman until I had my arms around her. She’d been friends with my grandparents and had known my father when he was a boy. She’d also been close to my uncle most of his life. And now she’d become my dear, treasured friend.
“It is so cold out here,” Ida said. “Come inside where we can warm up.”
Stepping inside Ida’s house is like walking back in time. Wooden floors with handmade rag rugs and old furniture polished to a high sheen decorate the living room. Light and heat come from the fireplace, which was crackling and blazing, sending warmth throughout the room. Additional light comes from oil lamps scattered around the house. An old hurricane-style lamp flickered from a wooden table near the couch. The day had dawned dark and overcast. The light from the fireplace and the lamp pushed against the gloom and gave the room a comfortable ambience.
Ida lives without electricity as her choice—a throwback to the Old Order way in which she was raised. Although she has no belief that electricity in and of itself is evil, she prefers to live in the quiet—without the noise and interruptions that can spring from modern technology. I have to admit that Ida’s simple life holds great appeal to me.
“So you are here to stay, ja?” she asked. Traces of a German accent added a guttural tone to her voice. She pointed me toward her couch.
“That’s the plan. I’ve surrendered my apartment and have a promise from my boss that he won’t call me back to Wichita again.”
“I think that man asked too much of you,” she huffed as she sat down next to me, smoothing out her dark blue dress and black pinafore. “But you were so good to help him anyway.”
I smiled. “I don’t know how good I was. I needed the money.”
Ida reached for a ceramic teapot that sat on the coffee table in front of us. She poured hot tea into a lovely china cup decorated with small red roses and handed it to me. “I heard you were supposed to be back last night, and I so hoped you would stop by today. I kept an extra cup on the table just in case.” Her sweet smile warmed me even more than the tea possibly could, although I was grateful for it. It promised to be a frigid day. A brisk winter wind had chilled me inside and out.
“I should have called to let you know I was coming. To be honest, I completely forgot about your new phone.”
The old woman laughed. “You are not the only one. Every time it rings I almost jump out of my skin. I cannot get used to that loud noise.”
“Maybe you have the ringer set too high.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ach, I did not know it could be adjusted.”
I got up and walked over to the black phone that sat on a small table between the living room and the dining room. The instrument had a large keypad so that the numbers were easy to read. I picked it up and checked the side. Sure enough, the ringer had been turned up all the way. Not sure how good Ida’s hearing might be, I reset the tone level to medium.
“Try this,” I said, putting the instrument back on the table. “It won’t be as loud. There’s an even softer setting, but you don’t want the ringer to be so quiet you can’t hear it if you’re in the next room. Of course, if this is still too loud, we can certainly try it.”
She clapped her hands together. “Thank you, Gracie. I know I made the right decision to have a phone, but when it jangles, I begin to regret allowing it inside my peaceful home.”
As I sat down next to her, I gently reminded my friend about a couple of situations that might have caused less stress on her and others if she’d had a phone. She nodded as I talked.
“Ja, ja. I know you are right. Thank you for bringing these things to my remembrance.” She reached over and grasped my hands in hers. “Now tell me everything that has happened to you since we have been apart.”
I briefly described my time in Wichita and finished up by telling her about the baby left on the church’s doorstep.
Ida’s already pale complexion turned even whiter. “Ach, no. A baby? Some poor unfortunate mother left her baby alone in the cold? What could she have been thinking?”
“Well, Abel’s car was outside and his office light was on. She knocked on the door, so I’m pretty sure she believed the baby would be taken care of right away.” I shook my head. “It really is a tragedy. A child should be with its mother.”
&n
bsp; “That’s the truth,” Ida said. She adjusted her prayer cap, tucking in one long gray braid that threatened to come free of its pins. “But it sounds as if more needs to be done than to just deliver the child back to her. She must need help. Someone to guide her. If she does not get the support she needs, perhaps she will remain unprepared to deal with her situation.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’m sure Abel and Emily would be willing to provide some counseling. If anyone can help her, they can.”
Ida nodded, took a long sip of her tea, put the cup down, and scooted up closer to me. “Gracie, I have heard that a man is in town who wants to build some kind of new development here. Mary told me that you know something about this, ja?”
“Yes, it’s a small retirement community. It will be a couple of miles from town, but I believe the people who live there will visit Harmony and bring some much-needed revenue to our businesses.” I smiled at her. “It’s a win-win situation.”
She frowned and gazed into my eyes for several moments without saying anything. “Win-win situation?” she repeated hesitantly. “And what does this mean?”
From time to time, Ida and I have a slight communication problem. Talking to a person who never watches television or reads large newspapers means that many phrases and concepts are foreign. Obviously “win-win” was one of them.
“It means that there is no downside to the situation,” I assured her. “This project should be positive for everyone.”
She looked down as if studying her black leather shoes. “Ach, I wonder.”
I reached over and touched her arm. “What is it about this that concerns you, Ida?”
“I—I do not know. I cannot explain it. It is a feeling. A stirring inside my spirit that tells me something is wrong.”
“Please don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to reassure her. “If there was any chance the project would hurt Harmony, I wouldn’t allow it to happen. I hope you believe that.”
She grabbed my hand. “Ach, dear one. I trust you completely. It has nothing to do with you. Perhaps it is just my upbringing. My parents were very suspicious of English ways. They fought hard to keep them from contaminating our community. The idea of bringing strangers into Harmony concerns me. But I am most probably overreacting.” She squeezed my hand. “You know about the prayer that went out many years ago by the women of this town—believing that Harmony would be a special place of peace and blessing? I would hate to see anything war against the wonderful miracle God has granted to us. I do not know much about the outside world, but I have been told that there are not many locations left that are like our Harmony.” She gazed at me with tear-filled eyes. “You will protect us, ja? Make certain nothing ever comes here that does not belong?”
“I promise you, Ida. I’ll do everything I can to protect this town. It’s my home now, too, you know.”
She smiled at me and nodded her head. “Ja, I do know. And how happy that makes me. I almost feel as if my Essie has returned to me. She was my very best friend in the whole world. Now her beautiful granddaughter has taken that place.”
Ida had lost her close friendship with my grandmother when she’d moved to Nebraska to be near me when I was a child. It had fallen on me to tell Ida that Mama Essie had passed away several years ago. That news had caused the old woman pain. I was pleased to know that my presence would help to return some joy. Ida had become very important to me as well. She had begun to fill the empty place my grandmother’s death had left in my heart.
We talked about other things that had happened in the community while I’d been gone, although Ida’s uneasiness about the new retirement facility kept nagging at me. I’d hoped everyone would see what a blessing the development would be for Harmony.
It was almost noon by the time Sam’s old truck rattled up the driveway.
“Oh dear,” Ida said. “You must go so soon?”
“We’re going into town for lunch. Why don’t you come with us?”
She shook her head. “Ach, no. I am afraid the cold does not like my old bones. I believe I will stay here in front of the fire. Besides, you two young people do not need an old woman tagging along with you.”
I started to protest, but she shook her head and smiled at me. “Bless you, dear. I know your invitation is sincere, and I appreciate it. Another time, ja?”
I reached over to hug her. “Another time, ja,” I repeated softly.
Sam knocked on the door and then pushed it open so Ida wouldn’t have to get up and let him in.
“A couple of fine-looking women,” he said, grinning at us. “I’m here to take at least one of you to lunch. Both of you if you’ll let me.”
“Ach, you two young people,” Ida said, waving her hand at him. “You are too good to me. When a warmer day comes, we will all go to town together. But that day is not today.”
“Ida already turned me down,” I told Sam. “I guess we’re on our own.”
“Oh well. Guess you’ll have to do,” he said, smiling at me. “Are you ready?”
I hugged Ida one more time and then grabbed my coat.
“Gracie,” Ida said before I made it out the door, “will you please let me know if Abel finds that baby’s mother? I will be praying hard for her and her child.”
“I will, I promise. Hopefully it will be soon.” I waved goodbye and followed Sam to the truck. We decided to leave my car at Ida’s for now and pick it up after lunch. Leaving the warmth of the old woman’s house for the bone-chilling air outside hit me like a slap in the face.
“I swear it’s colder now than when I left the house,” I grumbled as I climbed into the truck. “I hope the heater in this thing is in operating order.” I knew the air-conditioning was useless. I could only hope the heat was a different matter. Sam started the engine, and a blast of hot air spat out of the vents on the dashboard.
“Wow,” I said happily, “at least something in this old heap actually works.”
Sam grunted. “Hey, everything works. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What about the air-conditioning? I sweat so much this past summer I thought I’d drown us both.”
“The air-conditioning works fine,” he said as he pulled out onto the street. “It’s called a window. I can’t help it if you didn’t want to roll them down because you’d mess up your hair.”
As we bumped down the road, I was reminded of something else the old truck was missing. Shock absorbers.
“Before you say anything else derogatory about this fine vehicle, it might please you to know that I’m thinking about buying another truck—for backup.”
I laughed. “Backup? I thought this incredible specimen of automotive excellence was perfect. Why would you need backup?”
“Well, to be honest, it broke down while you were gone. We almost couldn’t get it going again.” He stroked the steering wheel like it was a beloved pet. “What if Ida needed help or we had an emergency?”
“Well, there’s my car.”
He burst out laughing. “I’m afraid your little bitty Slug Bug couldn’t haul much fruit or farm equipment.” He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll have to pass.”
I frowned at him. “You didn’t say you needed to haul anything in it.”
“Well, you may not have noticed, but I grow fruit. Lots of fruit. Of course I need something I can use on the farm.”
“Okay. I get it. And by the way, what in the world is a Slug Bug?”
He turned to stare at me. “You mean you don’t know about the game?”
“Obviously not. What are you talking about?”
“When you’re out on the road and someone in the car sees a Volkswagen Beetle, they’re supposed to slug another passenger and call out, ‘Slug Bug!’ ”
“Oh, lovely,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “So you plan to start hitting me whenever you see my car?”
“No.” His mouth tightened slightly. “My mom and I used to play it. We didn’t hit each other hard. It
was just a game to pass the time. We traveled a lot.”
Sam didn’t talk much about his mother, so I was surprised to hear him mention her. She’d died when he was a boy. That was why he’d come to live with his aunt.
“Sounds very entertaining if not a little painful. Your mom must have been a lot of fun.”
His mouth relaxed and he smiled. “Like I said, we didn’t hit each other hard. More like a tap. And yes, she was fun. In fact, sometimes you remind me of her.”
“Thank you, Sam. That means a lot to me.”
We were quiet the rest of the way to town. I hoped someday he’d reveal more about his mom. I knew so little. Just that she’d died in a car wreck and that she’d never been married. I blew air out slowly between pursed lips. What was it about men that made it so hard to get to really know them? Put two women together and within fifteen minutes they’ll be privy to each other’s entire life story. But men… It takes a lot of trust and effort to get them to open up.
By the time we pulled up in front of Mary’s Kitchen, I felt warm and toasty. I could only hope the café wasn’t cold. When we entered the quaint seventies-style restaurant with its polished wooden floors and cerulean blue walls, I was thrilled to find that I could take my coat off and still be comfortable.
“Gracie!” someone yelled out. I turned to see Eric Beck waving at me from a table in the corner of the room. He sat across from a thin, rather rat-faced man who glared at me like I’d come into the diner just to annoy him.
I pulled on Sam’s arm and guided him over to where Eric sat. In his expensive suit he looked out of place at the old table with its yellow laminated top and stainless steel legs.